Chapter Sixty-Two: Private Getaway (1/2)

Kazumi Kawanishi also served as a director of the Association of Music Affairs. Without his approval, the Grand Record Prize would have had nothing to do with Ye Zhao; this remark finally resolved Ye Zhao’s confusion about the inexplicable award.

When outsiders mention BRUNING, their first thoughts are always of organized crime and yakuza. Yet their dominance in the entertainment industry is primarily because they control most of the resources and media outlets. The acquisition of these assets depends less on their yakuza connections and more on the Z world.

Such mastery over both the shadow and the legitimate spheres truly makes them the undisputed pinnacle (or cancer) of the industry.

“In that case, it seems I should thank Mr. Kawanishi,” Ye Zhao said.

“You’re welcome,” Kawanishi replied, thick-skinned as ever. “Ye-kun, favors are meant to be exchanged. As the saying goes, you only come to know someone after crossing swords. Isn’t that the very essence of it?”

He had nearly destroyed Ye Zhao, but in the end, Ye Zhao owed him a favor. Ye Zhao cursed the old fox inwardly, yet had to admit that this was the best resolution he could expect for now.

In a world where brute force is the fundamental rule, no clever tricks or minor schemes can stand before absolute power. Ye Zhao was lucky the storm came from Kawanishi, not BRUNING; otherwise, with his current strength, he wouldn’t have lasted a single round.

Never talk tough when you lack power—a truth handed down by the ancients. Ye Zhao smiled faintly. “Mr. Kawanishi, you’re quite right. If I could have your guidance, I’d be delighted.”

Kawanishi was pleased with Ye Zhao’s tact. “By the way, I heard you’ve opened your own agency. Are you managing the finances alright? If you’re having trouble, I’d be happy to help.”

“It’s fine, really. It’s just a small office for personal affairs—I can manage for now,” Ye Zhao quickly blocked Kawanishi’s intentions.

Fortunately, Kawanishi wasn’t truly interested in this humble venture, and he left it at that.

Thus, while Ye Zhao ended up battered and inexplicably owing Kawanishi a favor, the crisis was at least temporarily defused—though Kawanishi’s “cultivation” rhetoric left Ye Zhao uneasy.

On the surface, Kawanishi seemed not only willing to let him off the hook but even inclined to offer assistance. It appeared to be a fortune hard to refuse.

In reality, it had become a game of cat and mouse. As the absolute power, Kawanishi would look down from above for a long time. When he tired of the game, or if Ye Zhao’s actions ceased to amuse him, he would swallow Ye Zhao whole without hesitation.

It was the same expansion tactic BRUNING always used: first provide financial aid to encourage independence, then absorb the newly independent agencies into their fold.

Though the humiliation stung, Ye Zhao did not feel defeated. At least this gave him room to maneuver—a chance and hope to escape the dangerous situation.

…

On the morning of January 28, after finishing a round of work, Ye Zhao and Yuuki Kamimura boarded a flight to Naha. Of course, their purpose was not to embark on an island-hopping chapter that started from Hokkaido and ended with a tour of the Ryukyu archipelago.

Time rolled back to January 14, when Yuki Tamura delivered a postcard to Ye Zhao’s desk. The front depicted the picturesque scenery of Tokashiku Beach.

On the reverse, written in graceful penmanship: “Hello, Brother Ye Zhao! The snow in Hokkaido really startled me! The snowscape of Mount Tengu was as beautiful as an ink painting. My first time skiing, I took several solid tumbles, but lying in the snow felt wonderful!”

“At Sunaba Onsen, I saw many swans—they weren’t afraid of people at all. On our last day in Hokkaido, we climbed Mount Hakodate. They say its night view is worth a million; if so, it was truly a luxurious trip!”

“Brother Ye Zhao, my parents are very grateful for your hospitality, so they asked me to invite you. If you have time, please be sure to visit Okinawa! My family and I will be glad to host you!”

…

Yukie Nakama’s family lived in Tenpura City, which had been the capital of the Chuzan Kingdom from the twelfth to the fourteenth century, leaving many ancient Ryukyu relics in the area.

Okinawa’s public transport is the least developed in RB; the main island has only a single monorail line. After arriving at Naha Airport, Ye Zhao and Kamimura took a taxi along Route 330 to Tenpura. Naha and Tenpura are adjacent, and despite a brief traffic jam, they reached Tenpura smoothly after thirty minutes.

It was the brief Okinawan winter, but even so, the temperature remained high and the ultraviolet rays relentless.

Nakama’s house, like any ordinary local residence, was unremarkable. After locating the neighborhood by address, they had to work hard to distinguish her family’s two-story detached home from a row of near-identical houses.

The Nakama family was large; her parents raised five children, including Yukie. Though both parents worked, life was tight until recently, when her eldest brother and second sister started working, easing their housing and finances.

Incidentally, with three brothers in the family, Yukie Nakama made Ye Zhao think of an old saying: A beauty with many brothers has always been an ill omen for men, ever since the days of Faust.

…

It was a Saturday, and with prior arrangements, Ye Zhao’s visit found everyone at home except Nakama’s eldest brother in Naha and second sister in Kagoshima.

Having raised a daughter of striking beauty, Nakama’s parents were themselves quite handsome, and even her two brothers could be considered attractive among ordinary folk, though years under intense sunlight had roughened their skin.

“Thank you for your care, Ye Zhao-san. Now that you’re here in Tenpura, please stay a few days and let us show you our hospitality,” Nakama’s father said in the family living room.

“We’d love to stay longer in Okinawa, but there’s much to do in Tokyo, and we have a show to record early the day after tomorrow. So we’ll have to head back tomorrow night, and regretfully decline your kind offer,” Ye Zhao replied.

Though disappointed, the Nakama family understood. As arranged, Yukie and her third brother acted as guides, with Kamimura driving the family’s silver Nissan sedan as the four set out to tour Okinawa.

The ruins of Shuri Castle were vividly colored, strikingly Ryukyu in style yet blended with Chinese and RB architectural traditions. It was said to be the largest wooden structure on Okinawa, but after seeing the grandeur of Chinese palaces, Ye Zhao was unimpressed; Kamimura, on the other hand, repeatedly exclaimed, “Amazing!”

At the Ryukyu Cultural Village, all four donned traditional costumes. Yukie, who had studied Ryukyu dance, was coaxed into a brief performance before retreating bashfully behind her third brother.

That evening, Nakama’s parents treated Ye Zhao and Kamimura to an authentic Okinawan dinner. Her father worked in deep-sea fishing, and thanks to him, a rare sea snake soup was served. To Ye Zhao, who had never tried such an odd ingredient, the dish seemed bizarre. Under the expectant gaze of the Nakama family, Ye Zhao took a bite…

“No, I surrender,” Ye Zhao declared, raising both hands in defeat.

After dinner, Ye Zhao and Kamimura checked into a hotel in Tenpura. Early the next morning, they resumed their unfinished tour with the Nakama siblings, visiting Cape Zanpa and Manzamo. Limited by time, they missed the more distant islands, leaving Yukie even more regretful than Ye Zhao, as if unable to fulfill her role as hostess.

“How about this,” Ye Zhao mused, “Pick your favorite nearby spot, the one you love most, and take me there. Would you?”