Chapter Four: You Are a Good Person

Early the next morning, Ye Zhao awakened from his dreams. In his previous life, ever since smartphones became widespread, the time he went to bed each night was repeatedly delayed, making getting up in the morning an almost impossible task. But now, there were no smartphones, computers, or gaming consoles to speak of, not even television dramas he liked; as for variety shows, perhaps due to cultural differences, not only did he fail to understand their humor, he even found some of the sketches peculiarly nauseating. So, after recording his song, he simply washed up and went to sleep.

Still, the reason he was up so early wasn’t an excess of energy from a lack of entertainment, but because he was headed to his part-time job at a convenience store. To be fair, though his predecessor had taken many wrong turns, being able to support himself through part-time work while stubbornly pursuing his dreams was, in its own way, rather admirable.

After a quick wash and a breakfast of discounted bread bought the day before, Ye Zhao boarded a train and headed for his workplace—a convenience store called Little Raccoon.

However, when he arrived, full of energy, he was greeted by the store manager’s words of dismissal.

The manager, Mr. Tanaka, was a middle-aged man who looked honest enough, but his words were blunt: “You’ve skipped work without reason, never take the night shift, and we don’t need such a lazy employee here. Here’s your remaining pay. You’re fired.” With that, he turned and went straight back to his office, not giving Ye Zhao any chance to defend himself.

At the register, the cashier, Natsumi Fujii, looked at Ye Zhao with a face full of regret. “I didn’t expect the manager to be so heartless. Ye, what do you plan to do now?”

“What can I do? Just take it one step at a time.”

Natsumi Fujii sighed. “It’s lonely to think I won’t see you around anymore.”

From his memories, it seemed Natsumi Fujii had a bit of a crush on his predecessor. Unfortunately, the previous Ye Zhao wasn’t interested in the cute-girl type like her, but was instead more susceptible to the charms of a woman like Mika Ogawa, whose allure was hard to resist.

Ye Zhao interrupted her. “Come now, we’re all still in Tokyo. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into each other again someday.”

“You’re right.” Natsumi Fujii perked up a little.

He collected eighty thousand yen in wages from the manager, and after leaving the store, Ye Zhao went straight to the nearest bank to transfer next month’s rent to his landlord. Though he’d been fired, he didn’t see it as a disaster—at least he could keep his place and didn’t need to borrow money just to get by.

When he returned to his apartment, the clock on the wall read nine o’clock in the morning. In a building where everyone left early and returned late to make a living, being at home at this hour would mark someone as an idler. And certainly not as a well-off gentleman—for who would choose to live in an over-forty-year-old wooden two-story apartment, tolerating cockroaches and paper-thin walls that turned every amorous night into a live broadcast, unless they were truly strapped for cash?

He slipped the cassette tape he’d recorded yesterday into his pocket, and since it was still early, headed to the nearby post office. He asked for a shipping label and wrote the address of Sony Records in the recipient’s box. The reason for sending his demo to Sony Records was simple: while searching for a tape recorder, he’d come across a music magazine called "What's In" in a drawer. Published by Sony, the magazine included the company’s address—a godsend for someone who didn’t even know where a record label’s door might be. There was simply no other option.

After taking care of this most important matter, Ye Zhao, now in high spirits, didn’t hurry home. Instead, he wandered the streets of Ikebukuro. Compared to the fashionable and distinctive Shibuya and Shinjuku, Ikebukuro—though also one of Tokyo's sub-centers—lacked the same glamorous edge and even seemed a bit provincial. Because of this, it was often mocked by Tokyoites, who claimed it should really be the capital of neighboring Saitama Prefecture. The arrogance and self-importance of Tokyo’s residents was evident in such remarks.

Wandering aimlessly, Ye Zhao found himself drifting off the main road into a quieter alley. Suddenly, from behind him, a girl ran up and, without warning, clung to his arm.

Bewildered, Ye Zhao stared at the girl who had appeared out of nowhere, racking his brain to recall if he knew her. Before he could say anything, the girl, in a voice that was almost coquettish, said, “Long time no see, Kazunari!”

Kazunari? Who was that supposed to be? Just as Ye Zhao was about to tell her she had the wrong person, the girl leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Sorry, I’m being followed by a strange man.” At one meter eighty-two, Ye Zhao was much taller than the petite girl, who had to tiptoe and cling to his shoulder just to whisper to him. The scene looked for all the world like a girl in love clinging to her boyfriend.

Her breath on his ear made Ye Zhao shift uncomfortably. Hearing that she was being stalked, he instinctively glanced back. Sure enough, some thirty meters behind them, a balding, red-nosed man with a seedy demeanor was lurking behind a utility pole. Perhaps feeling guilty, the man bolted the moment Ye Zhao looked his way, stumbling as he fled.

“All right, he’s gone now. You can let go,” Ye Zhao said.

Only then did the girl seem to realize how forward she’d been, clinging to a stranger’s arm. Flushing, she released him. The sudden loss of her soft embrace left Ye Zhao with a small pang of regret.

“Thank you!” she said, flashing him a radiant smile.

The girl looked about fourteen or fifteen, with long, straight bangs—a hairstyle common among schoolgirls. “Girl” hardly seemed to do her justice; “maiden” was perhaps a more fitting word. She was slender, wearing a crisp white short-sleeved shirt tucked into a pale blue pleated skirt that reached her knees, matched with low-top white canvas shoes—an image of pure and delicate charm. Thanks to the bloom of adolescence, her cheeks still bore traces of baby fat, but the refinement of her features promised she’d grow into a true beauty.

With looks like hers, it was no wonder she’d caught the eye of a Tokyo creep.

“By the way,” Ye Zhao asked, curiosity piqued, “why did you choose to ask me for help?” The street might have been quiet, but he was hardly the only pedestrian.

“Because you just seemed like a good person,” the girl replied, blinking.

Though he’d just been given the proverbial “good guy card,” Ye Zhao was still pleased to be trusted so instinctively by a stranger. In such a good mood, he even managed a joke: “You know, the standard answer in this situation should be, ‘Because you look so handsome and reliable.’”

She burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you said something so narcissistic!” Realizing she might have overreacted, she quickly changed the subject and introduced herself. “By the way, I’m Yuko Takeuchi. I came to Tokyo from Saitama Prefecture to visit a friend. And you?”

He’d just mocked Tokyoites for calling Ikebukuro the capital of Saitama, and now he’d actually run into someone from there… But Yuko Takeuchi? Hearing her name, Ye Zhao couldn’t help but study her face more closely. Suddenly, he understood why she’d seemed oddly familiar.

Even though he wasn’t a die-hard drama fan, he’d seen more than a few films and series starring Yuko Takeuchi. Born in 1980 in Tokorozawa, Saitama, she was discovered by a talent scout in Harajuku while still in high school, and from there enjoyed a meteoric rise. She starred in hit dramas like “Lunch Queen,” “Unhappy Gene,” “The Flower Shop Without Roses,” and “Pride,” becoming one of Japan’s undisputed goddess-level actresses.

To randomly meet a stranger on the street, only to discover she was a future superstar—what were the odds?