When Spring Burns - Chapter 38

As soon as the Kunqu opera “The Jade Hairpin” aired, the ratings defied expectations, instead of dropping, they actually increased.

A small wave of discussion formed online. Humans are visual creatures, and the audience was immediately captivated by the handsome male and beautiful female performers in the opera.

The fresh and elegant costumes of the female Taoist immortal caught everyone’s attention, holding their gaze firmly. The performers’ exquisite acting skills, lively expressions, and the unique, delicate vocal style of Kunqu elevated the visual enjoyment to an unprecedented level.

The refined and gentle scholar Pan, despite his simple attire, carried himself with grace and dignity. His appearance rivaled that of the legendary handsome Pan An, and his every movement exuded the aura of a noble young master, making him a true feast for the eyes.

Both performers’ looks and acting skills were on par with seasoned veterans. For the audience, it felt like they had been subsisting on bland broth for years, only to have the TV station suddenly serve up a lavish dish of shark fin and abalone, they couldn’t help but exclaim how exhilarating it was.

Even Director Zhao and the Head of Broadcasting were taken aback. Typically, such a program, even if scheduled during prime time to boost its performance, would only manage to maintain the ratings of the preceding singing show for the first few minutes. In other words, it would rely on the residual audience from other programs to build momentum.

This kind of strategy is common in television: a hit drama draws in viewers, raising the baseline and boosting ratings. After two episodes, a mediocre or even poorly received show follows, often benefiting from the initial high ratings in its first episode.

However, if the content fails to impress, the ratings plummet immediately. Audiences are pragmatic, they might give the next program a minute or two of patience, but if it doesn’t meet their expectations, they’ll switch channels or turn off the TV, preferring to scroll through their phones instead.

Similarly, the lineup of programs can lead to vast differences in ratings between shows.

The program preceding “The Jade Hairpin” was a singing show featuring celebrities and veteran singers, which had decent ratings and attracted a younger audience, teens drawn by pop idols and middle-aged viewers nostalgic for the classic singers. There was almost no overlap with the potential audience for the Kunqu opera that followed.

Yet, despite this near-total lack of shared viewership, “The Jade Hairpin” not only retained the audience from the previous program but also managed to increase the ratings.

This meant, it not only benefited from the previous show’s momentum but also brought in new viewers!

As the discussion heated up, viewers posted and debated screenshots and clips from the performance.

New viewers wondered: Am I living under a rock? How does Yan City TV have such talented Kunqu performers? Their looks and acting skills are totally on par with the entertainment industry!

Fans lamented: Darn it, you Kunqu folks get to enjoy such high-quality performances?!

Discerning passersby remarked: This is what real acting looks like! Those so-called actors in the entertainment industry need dubbing, and without it, they just mumble numbers like 1234567, sounding weak and lifeless, it makes my blood boil. Look at these Kunqu performers: every word is filled with emotion, a single line takes over ten seconds to sing, and they do it with such vigor. What have I been watching all this time?!

Middle-aged viewers directly shared on their social media and family group chats, effortlessly sending 30-second voice messages.

“Happy Dragon Boat Festival, everyone! Is anyone watching TV? There are two kids singing Kunqu opera, and they sound amazing! They’re so good-looking too. Auntie San, I remember you used to love Kunqu opera the most. What do you think of these two kids’ performance?”

Then she shared a video clip of the Dragon Boat Festival Kunqu opera program playing on her family’s TV and tagged Auntie San.

Before Auntie San could respond, other family members chimed in.

Niece: “My parents are watching it, and I’m watching this program too.”

Cousin’s son: “No one at home is watching TV; we’re still out playing. I don’t understand Kunqu opera, but judging from the video, they really are handsome.”

Second Aunt: “What a coincidence! We have a bunch of kids over at our place, and they’re all gathered around the TV watching this program. They’re not even interested in eating zongzi.”

Auntie San arrived late and sent a 10-second voice message: “Is that ‘The Jade Hairpin’ they’re singing? I haven’t watched it in over thirty years and almost forgot about it. Let me turn on the TV and check. Strange, opera programs used to air after 10 p.m. Why is this one playing at 8 p.m.?”

…

Meanwhile, under Sheng Tingmian’s account, fans were ecstatically cheering.

[Why is Little Bear Called Bear]: “Baby, you’ve outdone yourself this time! You’re even more stunning than the proverbial ‘fish sinking and geese falling, the moon hiding and flowers shaming.’ Your singing is so beautiful, I just want to give you a kiss!”

2nd floor [Clear Soup Grandmaster Here]: “The world’s morals are declining, it’s unbearable to watch! I hereby sentence you to be Tingmian’s concubine! Let me be the main wife instead!”

Someone posted a meme of Pretty Sheep falling with the caption: “Tingmian, fall fall, help help.”

2nd floor: “You win, sis.”

3rd floor: “Can you wean off the milk before going online?”

Amid the flood of comments praising the acting, beauty, costumes, and production, someone noticed the advertising issue.

[momo]: “Did no one notice that Tingmian’s program is sponsored by GULAN Group?”

2nd floor: “Just looked it up, I’m shocked! GULAN Group is a top 100 global company, and they’re only sponsoring Tingmian’s Kunqu opera program? What level is this?”

3rd floor: “If I remember correctly, there was a luxury watch ad before Tingmian’s segment. I was wondering why a big brand ad was inserted there.”

4th floor: “Was there also a Castile chocolate ad that popped up afterward? I’ve tried Castile, it’s seriously delicious.”

5th floor replying to 4th: “Really? If it’s that good, I’m going to order some.”

4th floor OP: “Not lying, it’s better than Lindt. The ingredients are solid, my mom buys it every year.”

6th floor: “After seeing that luxury watch ad earlier, my budget doesn’t allow for such an expensive timepiece. I’ll just buy the chocolate instead, as a way to support the sponsor for backing Tingmian’s Kunqu program.”

7th floor replying to 6th: “Let’s not call them ‘sponsor daddy.’ GULAN Group’s founder is a woman, and her daughter is the heir. We should call them ‘sponsor mommy.'”

6th floor: “Makes sense, makes sense! Please, sponsor mommy, show more love to our Tingmian! [bows]”

A data expert who usually analyzes TV drama statistics noticed the buzz around the ads for this small Kunqu program and decided to look up the ratings and advertising data. What he found was astonishing.

[Kevin]: “For the same Dragon Boat Festival programming slot, the CVB ratings for ‘The Jade Hairpin’ on Yanshi TV were even higher than CCTV’s program and broke 1. Meanwhile, CCTV’s CVB ratings for the same time slot actually dropped. Unbelievable.”

As soon as this was posted, clueless passersby instantly popped up in the comments: “What does this mean? I don’t get it.”

[Kevin]: Let me show you some data and you’ll understand. “The Jade Hairpin” has an average CVB of 1.2, while the previous singing program had a CVB of 0.7. That means it single-handedly raised the CVB by 0.5.

[Bystander]: Does CVB mean viewership ratings?

[Kevin]: Real-time viewership ratings.

[Bystander]: I still don’t quite get it. Is raising it by 0.5 really impressive?

[Kevin]: Programs broadcast by CCTV during the same prime time slot only have a CVB of 1.0. You have to understand that CCTV, like CCTV-1 and CCTV-8, has had an inherent advantage over local TV stations since their inception. Over the years, they’ve accumulated a much larger audience than local stations, and you can see a glimpse of that in the viewership ratings.

Local TV stations’ ratings typically hover around 0. something, while CCTV’s baseline is 1.0. Nowadays, when people in China turn on their TVs, they’re almost certainly tuning into CCTV. Whether they’re sweeping the floor, cooking, or cleaning, they’d rather have CCTV on just for background noise. So CCTV’s ratings have a solid foundation, and local stations’ CVB has long been suppressed by CCTV.

Now, “The Jade Hairpin” actually outperformed CCTV, and CCTV’s CVB dropped from 1.3 to 1.0. That 0.3 drop in viewership likely came from viewers who switched from CCTV to Yanshi TV during that time slot. For this Kunqu opera program alone, it can be said to have broken the decades-long trend of CCTV dominating local stations.

After being educated, bystanders and fans suddenly looked at “The Jade Hairpin” with newfound respect. They had thought it was just a small Kunqu opera program, popular only online, and assumed its popularity was solely due to Sheng Tingmian’s looks.

[Clear Soup Elder]: Data expert, can you analyze the ads for “The Jade Hairpin”?

[Kevin]: The ads for “The Jade Hairpin” are quite special. Local TV stations rarely attract big-name advertisers, let alone global ones. With ratings consistently around 0. something, they have very few viewers, and sometimes the ratings can even drop below 0.1, leading to massive losses. Advertisers would flee overnight, and competitors would mock them relentlessly. Generally, advertisers would rather invest in CCTV, which guarantees at least a 1.0 CVB baseline.

[Clear Soup Elder]: Out of curiosity, why did GULAN Group place ads on this program?

[Kevin]: It’s hard to say. It’s possible GULAN Group had a keen eye and accurately identified “The Jade Hairpin” as the most promising program during the Dragon Boat Festival lineup. Whether it was foresight or not, the 1.3 viewership rating undeniably surpassed CCTV. Being able to steal viewers from CCTV is no small feat, and the two actors deserve a lot of credit. Also, GULAN Group’s wristwatch ad, title sponsorship, and the in-program “Ruyi” pop-up ad were all huge wins.

Fans and bystanders were utterly amazed by the explanation and rushed back to Sheng Tingmian’s account to comment: “Baby, we had no idea you were this incredible!”

Meanwhile, Sheng Tingmian was unaware of the buzz. She received a call from her aunt, who praised her performance.

Sheng Tingmian glanced at the woman beside her and couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t embarrass you, Auntie.”

Sheng Xiaoyun’s voice was full of joy. “I’m planning to make zongzi tomorrow. Do you want to come over?”

Sheng Tingmian: “Sure, I’ll come. I want the ones with salted egg yolk filling.”

After hanging up the phone, Sheng Tingmian thought about the advertisement her sister had placed during the show earlier. She eagerly leaned in and asked, “Sister, what kind of zongzi would you like to eat?”

He Jianxue glanced at her enthusiastic expression. “Are you buying them or…?”

Sheng Tingmian smiled, her eyes curving. “I’ll make them myself. I’m going back to my aunt’s place tomorrow to wrap them, and I’ll bring some back for you.”

He Jianxue thought for a moment. “Either egg yolk or corn zongzi will do.”

“Okay,” Sheng Tingmian noted it down. Corn zongzi… such a mild flavor. “Just wait for me to bring them to you tomorrow.”

…

Early the next morning, Sheng Tingmian returned to her aunt’s place.

Unexpectedly, Du Jingya was also there. Seeing Sheng Tingmian arrive, she teased, “Perfect timing. Sit down and get ready to wrap zongzi. The boss has already prepared the fillings and glutinous rice.”

Sheng Tingmian set down her bag, rolled up her sleeves, and headed to the kitchen. “Auntie, did you buy the corn?”

Sheng Xiaoyun replied, “Yes, yes. Why the sudden craving for corn?”

Sheng Tingmian didn’t want to explain the reason. “I want to try making a new flavor, corn zongzi.”

Sheng Xiaoyun handed her a bowl of glistening corn kernels. “The people at the market helped shuck them.”

Sheng Tingmian said, “Great, I’ll start wrapping the zongzi now.”

Sheng Tingmian had learned the technique from her aunt and was quite skilled at it. Her slender fingers deftly folded the bamboo leaves, and she poured in the glutinous rice mixed with corn, a special batch made just for her sister.

It was her first time making zongzi with this flavor, and there were no additional fillings inside.

As she wrapped one small triangular zongzi after another, she noticed Du Jingya filming her. “What are you doing, Du Jingya? Are you slacking off?”

“Not at all,” Du Jingya replied. “I’m recording a video for you. I’ll send it to you later.”

Sheng Tingmian thought she could send it to her sister to show how hard she was working and how considerate she was, even making zongzi for her personally. “Fine, go ahead and film. But hurry up and come help after.”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” Du Jingya said, putting down her phone and joining her. She couldn’t resist chatting. “When you watched the show yesterday, did you notice our program featured several ads?”

Sheng Tingmian added an egg yolk to one of the zongzi. “I saw. Sister placed them.”

Du Jingya remarked, “As expected. Miss He is so generous, it feels like our show is gilded.”

Sheng Tingmian sighed, a bit worried. “I wonder if it’ll end up being a loss, placing so many ads.”

Du Jingya reassured her, “Probably not. I heard some people were recommended Castile chocolate, and the reviews are pretty good.”

After wrapping all the zongzi, Sheng Xiaoyun put them in a pot to simmer for two hours.

Sheng Tingmian ate two zongzi at home and was full. She took out a thermal lunchbox and, burning her fingers a little, picked out several egg yolk and corn zongzi to pack inside.

Sheng Xiaoyun saw she was taking too few and insisted on stuffing ten more zongzi into her bag to take back.

“Enough, Auntie! I can’t carry any more,” Sheng Tingmian protested, but she couldn’t refuse and had to take them back.

When she returned to the He residence, Sheng Tingmian found He Jianxue in the study. She immediately went to the kitchen, peeled one corn zongzi and one egg yolk zongzi, cut them into small pieces, arranged them on a plate with a small fork, and brought it over personally.

Knock, knock, knock!

After receiving a response, Sheng Tingmian carried the zongzi to He Jianxue and asked with a smile, “Sister, would you like some zongzi?”

“It might have to wait a bit. I’m busy right now and can’t free up my hands,” He Jianxue said, her eyes fixed on the documents on her computer.

Sheng Tingmian glanced at the zongzi on the plate. If she didn’t eat it soon, it would get cold and lose its flavor. She had rushed back precisely so her sister could enjoy it warm.

“Sis, should I feed you? It’ll get cold if we wait any longer.” Sheng Tingmian speared a small piece with a fork and held it out to her.

He Jianxue paused, glanced at her, then looked at the neatly sliced zongzi on the plate. After a moment’s hesitation, she parted her red lips and took the bite.

“How is it?” Sheng Tingmian asked eagerly.

He Jianxue savored the zongzi her sister had made herself. “It’s lightly sweet, just the way I like my corn zongzi.”

After saying this, He Jianxue set her work aside, took the fork and plate from her sister’s hands, and prepared to enjoy the zongzi properly.

Sheng Tingmian glanced at the back of her hand, which her sister had just touched, and smiled. She sat down in front of her, propping her chin in her hands, watching with delight as her sister ate.

“Sis, I don’t know why, but watching you eat something I made gives me such a satisfied feeling.”

“Because I’m being a good audience for you?”

“It feels like more than just that.”

“Then what else is it?”

Sheng Tingmian thought for a moment but couldn’t quite put it into words. Shaking her head, she said, “I’m not sure.”

Perhaps it was because such an impressive sister always finished every meal made by a young girl like her, filling her with an almost surreal sense of happiness.

It felt like a dream, light and euphoric.

Yet there was a faint worry that the dream would end too soon, making this fleeting moment all the more precious.