Chapter Seventy-One: Sing One and See

When Ye Zhao parted ways with Izumi Sakai, it was not yet eight in the evening. Once in the car, Yuuki Uemura glanced back from the driver’s seat and asked, “Ye Zhao, where to next?”

Ye Zhao suggested, “How about another round? I know a great place near Honda Theater—the owner’s grilled pork belly is truly flavorful.” Now that he was past his twentieth birthday, he could finally enter clubs and izakayas openly, enjoying a few drinks wherever he pleased.

Yuuki Uemura’s brows drooped. “Ye Zhao, I still have to drive, you know.”

“Right,” Ye Zhao replied, a touch disappointed. After a moment’s thought, he continued, “The agency isn’t far from here. Why don’t you leave the car in the lot and we’ll grab a taxi… Kitazawa is too far, so let’s just find somewhere in Roppongi to sit for a while.”

…

In the end, they went to a live house called Flip Erika.

Entering through a narrow doorway, they took the elevator slowly up to the fourth floor. The corridor, neither long nor short, was plastered with posters and graffiti of rock stars: BOØWY’s “JUST A HERO,” Anzen Chitai’s “Anzen Chitai IV,” and more.

On a small blackboard at the entrance, “Flip Erika—Night” was written. A stern-faced male attendant stood guard. After paying 4,800 yen and passing a metal detector inspection, Ye Zhao and Yuuki Uemura each received a blue rubber wristband as proof of entry.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, they found the venue—capable of holding about two hundred people—already packed. People of all genders and ages stood before the stage; there were no seats in the hall.

Ye Zhao and Yuuki Uemura were likely the last to arrive. As they entered, the attendant followed them in and casually closed the door.

While waiting for the show to start, Ye Zhao took in the walls, which were, like the hallway, covered with posters of rock stars. Near the stage, several wooden frames displayed autographs from artists like The Blue Hearts, The Tiger Dance Dragons, and Seiichiro Kuribayashi.

“What a great place…” Ye Zhao murmured.

At that moment, the lights in the venue gradually dimmed. A ripple of excitement ran through the crowd, swelling into enthusiastic cheers as the stage lights slowly brightened.

…

This place, Flip Erika, had been open here for a full ten years. At eight-thirty in the evening, once the word “Morning” on the blackboard at the door was changed to “Night” after Erika, what was an ordinary cafe by day instantly transformed into a lively live house.

After leaving Chaska, Riku Watanabe had come here through a friend’s recommendation, performing as a supporting bassist.

Earlier that evening, when Ye Zhao decided to have a drink in Roppongi, he suddenly remembered that Riku Watanabe worked nearby. After confirming by phone that Riku was performing tonight, he and Yuuki Uemura came to check it out.

…

The opening act was a five-member male band called STARIN. They performed four songs—two originals and two covers: The Beatles’ “Run For Your Life” and Unicorn’s “Great Confusion.” The audience gave them hearty applause as they left the stage.

Next up was a petite young woman in her early twenties, accompanied by Riku Watanabe and three other supporting musicians. Though she appeared delicate, her voice was surprisingly powerful. After two PRINCESS PRINCESS songs, still unsatisfied, she boldly tackled Mari Hamada’s challenging “Return to Myself” for her third number, making Ye Zhao, watching from below, break out in a cold sweat on her behalf.

Afterward, there was a mixed-gender trio, a nine-member band that filled the small stage to the brim—complete with a saxophonist—and a stylish male vocalist in leather pants and jacket, sunglasses accentuating his pose.

The headline act was a band known in the underground scene as “Galaxy Railway,” fronted by a daring girl with a buzz cut. Their original songs were all full of character.

The show lasted about two hours, with no live talk, only genuine performances. The crowd responded with enthusiasm, cheering and supporting the acts; even Ye Zhao, before he knew it, found himself swept up in the atmosphere.

…

After the performance, the audience gradually filed out. Ye Zhao and Yuuki Uemura left first, then returned, circling to the club’s rear via the safety stairs. Riku Watanabe was waiting outside.

As Ye Zhao moved to bow in greeting, Riku caught him by the arm and patted him heartily. “It’s been too long, Ye.”

The three made their way to the backstage lounge as they talked. Riku said, “I got the local treats you sent last time. Naoko loved those clay Daruma dolls—she keeps saying she wants to treat you to dinner to thank you.” Naoko was Riku’s girlfriend; they’d been together since university, and now she worked at a publishing house in Tokyo.

“Dinner’s no problem, but there’s no need for thanks, it’s a bit embarrassing,” Ye Zhao replied with a smile. “By the way, Riku, you and Miss Naoko have been together nearly five years now, haven’t you? Any plans to get married?”

Riku glanced back at Ye Zhao. “I met Naoko’s parents this New Year. We talked about marriage, but the details still need to be worked out.”

“When you have the wedding, don’t forget to invite me.”

“Of course, you don’t even need to ask,” Riku said, pushing open the lounge door.

…

The lounge was a spacious room of about ten square meters. The walls were lined with a dozen or so guitars and basses; other performance instruments were also stored here. It was more a storeroom than a lounge.

Near the entrance stood two old sofas. The stylish male singer from earlier was slouched on one; the other was occupied by a young woman with shoulder-length hair and delicate features, whom Ye Zhao recognized as the supporting keyboardist who had performed with Riku earlier.

Seeing Riku enter, the girl quickly stood and greeted him, “Thank you for your hard work today, Watanabe.”

The male vocalist was more casual, waving from the sofa with a languid tone. “Hey, Riku, you brought friends backstage tonight?” He glanced at Ye Zhao and Yuuki Uemura, paused, and said, “Ye Zhao?”

“Good evening, tonight’s performance was outstanding,” Ye Zhao said with a smile.

The singer looked embarrassed. “Oh, not at all.” He hurried to stand. “Please, Ye Zhao, have a seat.” Then he bid Riku farewell, “Time for me to head home—see you next week, Riku.”

“Don’t be fooled by Nagasawa’s flamboyance on stage,” Riku explained, motioning for Ye Zhao and Yuuki Uemura to take the sofa Nagasawa had vacated. “In private, he’s actually quite shy.”

The young woman politely shifted over to make room for Riku.

…

Once seated, Riku introduced, “This is Kawamoto. Just like you back in the day, I found her in Ueno Park.”

The girl bowed slightly. “Nice to meet you, Ye Zhao. I’m Kazuyo Kawamoto.”

“Hello,” Ye Zhao replied in kind.

“Kawamoto’s the real deal—formally trained, unlike us amateurs.”

Kawamoto demurred, “You’re exaggerating, Watanabe. I just attended a music high school and two years at a junior college.”

“A junior college?”

“Jin’ai Women’s Junior College, do you know it?” Seeing Ye Zhao’s puzzled look, she explained, “It’s in Fukui City, Fukui Prefecture, with a piano department. After graduating last year, I taught piano to children locally for a while, then decided to try my luck in Tokyo. I ran into Watanabe and he introduced me to this wonderful place.”

“Don’t be fooled by her piano major—she’s pretty good at guitar and has quite a voice, too. Honestly, it’s a bit of a waste for her to be just a keyboardist here,” Riku said, praising her highly.

“In that case, Miss Kawamoto, why not audition as a lead singer instead of just a keyboardist?” Ye Zhao asked. Riku was never one to praise lightly; for him to speak so highly, this Kawamoto Kazuyo must be quite talented.

Kawamoto looked a bit troubled. “Well…my voice might not be suited for singing.” Even Riku had described her vocals as “full of character,” not exactly good or bad.

This only piqued Ye Zhao’s curiosity. “Miss Kawamoto, forgive my rudeness, but could you sing a little for me? I believe, unless one is tone-deaf, there’s no such thing as an unsuitable voice.”

…

When leaving the club, Ye Zhao and Riku walked ahead, with Yuuki Uemura and Kawamoto Kazuyo trailing a few steps behind. Taking advantage of the privacy, Ye Zhao whispered, “Riku, I get the sense you introduced Miss Kawamoto to me on purpose?”

“So you caught on?” Riku chuckled slyly. “Don’t blame me for meddling. I wasn’t planning on it, but when you suddenly called to say you were coming, I thought I’d give her a push. She truly has the ability; even if she doesn’t become a singer, she could easily work behind the scenes at a record company.”

Ye Zhao asked abruptly, “Riku, you’re thinking only of Miss Kawamoto—what about yourself? I don’t know about her abilities yet, but with your bass skills, you’d have no trouble joining a record company. Haven’t you reconsidered what I mentioned before?”

He was referring to the invitation to join BEING. After the incident with Mika Ogawa last year, Ye Zhao had introduced Riku to Daikou Nagato, who said that if Riku passed an audition, he would be welcomed as a musician under BEING.

Riku smiled. “There are plenty of talented musicians in this world.” With that, he tactfully let the subject drop.

Seeing this, Ye Zhao didn’t press further.