Elbow, tonight's expenses are on Mr. Cao

"Only a 2.71 rating?"

When the report came out, the private room at Miracle Media erupted in cheers.

Only Cao Cheng frowned, his expression visibly displeased.

"..."

Gradually, the others caught on, and the cheers died down.

After all, if the boss was unhappy, it wasn’t appropriate to celebrate too loudly.

Then, when they heard Cao Cheng’s remark, Sister Ali nearly fell off her chair.

Only 2.71?

What do you mean, "only"?

Sister Ali massaged her temples. My dear young master, do you even understand what you’re saying?

You’ve always been so loud and confident, acting like the entire entertainment industry is trash and you’re the only genius.

And now…

You sound completely clueless.

"Young Master," Sister Ali said helplessly, "Do you have some misunderstanding about ratings?"

Cao Cheng frowned at her. "What do you mean, Sister Ali? Are you saying I don’t get it? Let me tell you, no one in this world understands ratings better than I do."

"..."

Sister Ali almost laughed in disbelief.

Do you even believe your own nonsense?

Cao Cheng sighed. "Not even hitting 3? This is a failure on our part. Ah, forget it. You all enjoy the meal. I need some air."

"..."

"..."

The executives were left speechless, exchanging bewildered glances.

Seriously, Young Master…

The mood had been thoroughly dampened, and no one knew what to say.

Sister Ali and The Fourth stood up.

Sister Ali said, "Our Young Master’s ambitions are different from ours. His sights are set on the stars—he’s looking much further ahead."

"Everyone, eat and drink as you please. I’ll go check on the boss." Sister Ali and The Fourth left the room together.

But the news quickly spread outside.

After all, many of the company’s executives loved to show off—monkey see, monkey do.

One of them posted on social media—whether it was a "status update," a "blog," or something similar.

A certain Miracle Media executive wrote:

"After a year of hard work, the first episode’s ratings are finally out—2.71. Everyone was thrilled, but… Boss Cao brought us back to reality with one sentence: ‘Why celebrate when we didn’t even hit 3?’"

"At first, I thought Boss Cao’s standards were too high. But then Sister Ali explained that his goal isn’t to compete with other entertainment companies—he doesn’t even see them as rivals."

"Boss Cao is chasing something far greater, a vision only he can see."

"He’s always told us that entertainment is a nation’s soft power."

"We’re in the entertainment business, but we shouldn’t just entertain for entertainment’s sake. We must have a higher purpose, a grand ambition…"

"Maybe I still don’t fully understand, but I’m in awe."

"I’m honored to learn under Boss Cao. I hope one day to reach his level of thinking—it might take me half a lifetime, but it’s a pursuit worth striving for."

"..."

Since this was an insider’s post, many in the industry saw it.

Some nearly spat blood in frustration.

What the hell?

Is your company just a breeding ground for pretentiousness?

From top to bottom, everyone’s obsessed with showing off?

And—

Did you really have to broadcast your bootlicking to the entire industry?

No shame at all?

What kind of toxic culture is this?

Besides, it’s just a talent show. Did you really have to elevate it to national soft power?

The fish rots from the head down.

……

Meanwhile, Sister Ali and The Fourth caught up with Cao Cheng.

He stood alone, smoking under the moonlight, looking pensive.

He was thinking—Damn, breaking 10 won’t be easy.

Right now, it’s only around 2.7.

Please don’t let me eat my words.

Ugh!

Cao Cheng gritted his teeth.

Sister Ali said, "Young Master, this rating isn’t low."

"Not low? My benchmark is Super Girl Season 2—that hit 11!"

Sister Ali smiled wryly. "Young Master, you’re being too hard on yourself. That was just promotional talk—did you take it literally? Besides, this rating could still surpass Super Girl. Remember, even Super Girl Season 2’s first episode might not have started this strong."

"Really?" Cao Cheng was taken aback.

"Of course." Sister Ali realized the young master genuinely didn’t understand ratings.

So she patiently explained, citing various data points.

Especially the recently aired Happy Girl!

"And Young Master, our real competition isn’t Super Girl Season 2—that was just a slogan, a marketing angle. Our actual rivals are this year’s Happy Girl and other talent shows."

"Last month, Happy Girl held nationwide auditions and online qualifiers. On the 26th, their first elimination round aired—their rating was only 1.9…"

Sister Ali was thorough.

She didn’t just present numbers—she broke down the difference between ratings and audience share.

Even with that low rating, Happy Girl was still the top show at the time.

In the end, Sister Ali emphasized that whether The Voice could break 10 depended on future content quality.

As long as it didn’t crash, hitting double digits was very possible.

Cao Cheng smirked. "I know all that. I just came out for a smoke. Come on, tonight’s on me—Cao Cheng’s treating!"

"..."

"..."

……

The next day.

The show exploded in popularity.

It was already trending, but Cao Cheng had also hired influencers to steer the conversation.

Soon, the entire internet was raving about The Voice’s freshness and impact—something Super Girl and Happy Girl could never match.

Look at this season’s Happy Girl—

Still full of androgynous contestants…

And the stage design was downright embarrassing.

"If I had never seen the light, I could have endured the darkness."

This was the line Cao Cheng had planted.

Slowly, the narrative took hold.

With Happy Girl as a foil, every detail of The Voice was scrutinized. The comparison made it clear what professionalism and big budgets could achieve.

Even Happy Girl fans had to admit defeat—it wasn’t even close.

Aside from a few diehards, most recognized that Happy Girl was outclassed.

Some rational fans, knowing they couldn’t win, brought up past glories instead.

One fan commented:

"Honestly, this season’s Happy Girl can’t compete. But if it were Season 2—with Brother Chun, Bibi, and Liang Liang—they might’ve stood a chance against The Voice."

"Get real! The Voice has top-tier mentors and stage production. Rumor has it their sound system alone cost millions—one speaker probably cost more than Super Girl’s entire budget."

"Exactly! And their mentors? All A-list musicians. Their critiques are so professional I can’t even understand them…"

"Word is, each chair spin costs hundreds of thousands."

"The mentors’ fees are insane too. Money talks."

"Why can’t our Hunan TV invest more? Get better teams and contestants!"

"Seriously! Feels like any The Voice contestant could easily make Happy Girl’s top 10. The gap is just too big."

"Sorry, I've switched sides!"

"+1..."

There were genuine fans here, but also those stirring the pot.

The incident continued to escalate, and "The Voice" gained traction beyond its usual audience.

Even people who didn’t follow the entertainment industry had heard of the show.

For example, at street-side stalls…

Any place with a TV would replay it on loop.

Online, the rerun viewership was skyrocketing…

The signs of a phenomenon-level variety show were beginning to emerge.

And this was just the first episode.

By this point, industry insiders had already sensed the severity of the situation—but they still underestimated it.

Meanwhile, Miracle Media kept pushing the promotions.

By the third episode, the ratings soared to 4.3%, leaving competitors in the dust. It even cannibalized part of the audience from "Super Girl," further worsening its already low ratings.

At the same time, news broke that the TV station had sold ad slots during the broadcast for 30 million yuan.

Online rerun ad revenue surpassed a million.

Ads and SMS revenue from telecom providers like China Mobile and China Telecom were also surging.

All of this was publicly disclosed—part of the promotional strategy.

No need to keep it under wraps.

By the sixth episode, ratings hit 5.8%!

Rumors also spread that the four mentors weren’t paid a fixed fee but instead earned a share of the profits—based on their trainees' performance and popularity, including revenue from SMS votes and ringtone downloads.

That’s why the mentors fought so hard to recruit contestants.

If their trainee became the champion or gained massive popularity, the mentor stood to make a fortune.

Exactly how much the mentors could earn remained unclear.

But "theoretically"—emphasis on theoretically—the highest-earning mentor could take home over 100 million yuan.

This became yet another wave of promotion.

The entertainment industry was in an uproar.

Of course, there was some exaggeration—no way they’d actually earn that much—but that didn’t stop fans from getting hyped.

"Go, Brother Sheng, go for the championship!"

"No wonder the mentors on 'The Voice' are so competitive—they’re not just employees, they’re high-level partners."

"This model is brilliant."

"What does 'production and broadcasting separation' mean?"

"Miracle Media is pretty impressive."

"Miracle Media only has two artists under contract—Brother Sheng and that ‘bus girl.’"

"...Calling her ‘bus girl’ is too much. She already debunked those rumors. Can’t we show some love to a young girl?"

"Wasn’t she from the first season of 'Super Girl'? Guess she switched to the winning side..."

"Shut up, does my Hunan TV have no dignity?"

"..."

By now, no one was comparing this year’s "Super Girl" to "The Voice" anymore.

They weren’t even in the same league.

Any comparison would just be embarrassing.

The entertainment industry had also quieted down.

There wasn’t much they could do—aside from using fans to stir up drama. A full-on boycott was out of the question.

...

The local TV station in Zhonghai was in a grim mood.

The higher-ups were holding a meeting.

The topic? The station’s missed opportunity with "The Voice"—and who was to blame.

Director Gong bore the brunt of the fallout.

One opponent directly confronted him: "Director Gong, you were in charge of negotiations with Miracle Media. There were multiple rounds of talks, and for some reason, you ultimately gave up on collaborating with them."

"Later, I recall you went back to Miracle Media and claimed they had already partnered with CCTV."

"Since when did Zhejiang TV rebrand as CCTV?"

"Has anyone else heard about this?"

Director Gong wiped the sweat from his brow, cursing internally but not daring to show it. Trembling, he addressed the station head at the head of the table: "Station Head, this was indeed my mistake. I was misled by Tianyu Entertainment back then. Later, I tried to salvage the situation, but clearly, Miracle Media had already moved on..."

"Not so fast, Director Gong. Miracle Media only finalized their risk-sharing agreement with Zhejiang TV this year—not last year, as you claimed," the opponent pressed on.

Director Gong silently cursed ("Damn you to hell!") but quickly defended himself: "In the end, Miracle Media was bound to win that agreement, so Zhejiang TV probably didn’t gain much either."

His point was that losing the deal with Miracle Media wasn’t a huge loss.

This was the only argument he could scrape together.

But...