Chapter Eight: Do Not Gasp for Breath

Although with the progress of the times and the continuous advance of technology, pagers would gradually be replaced by mobile phones in the market and eventually disappear from the communications industry, for now, they remained indispensable. NTT DOCOMO, as the largest telecommunications operator in RB, launched a new pager this year targeting young people. Not only was the product more fashionable and colorful, but in a novel move, the company also held a nationwide search for a brand ambassador.

RB is a nation obsessed with auditions, from those organized by talent agencies to TV stations seeking leads for new dramas, and all sorts of Mr. and Miss contests with curious titles—the majority are held in Tokyo. Tokyo is a city so vast it can accommodate the dreams of countless people, and naturally, it is also vast enough to bury just as many.

At 1:30 p.m. on May 29, Ye Zhao arrived half an hour early at the audition venue in Chiyoda Ward. After showing his invitation, Ye Zhao was led by a staff member to the registration desk in the corner of the lobby, where he filled out his information and received a number tag with “026” on it. Rumor had it that over 15,000 people had applied for the audition, but only 40 had received interview notices; the competition was fierce.

The interviews took place on the third floor. When Ye Zhao stepped out of the elevator, he saw a long line already formed in the corridor. The candidates had come from all over the country, and since they were strangers to each other and competitors, an awkward silence hung in the air. Ye Zhao quietly took his place at the end of the line and looked around. Indeed, having made it through such a large pool, the candidates were all good-looking, and among them were two or three young men with sharp features and deep-set eyes, clearly of mixed heritage.

“Number 1, Ryo Uemura.”

“Here!” A slightly trembling voice answered, betraying his nerves, and the audition officially began.

The candidate at the front entered the room holding his number tag. About ten minutes later, he came out and, guided by a staff member, headed to the waiting room on the fifth floor to await the final results. The next person quickly followed.

As the line grew shorter, the previously nonchalant Ye Zhao, who had treated the whole thing as a bit of fun, began to feel restless.

At last: “Number 26, Ye Zhao.”

Guided by a female assistant in a black suit, Ye Zhao entered the conference room. The spacious room held a row of about a dozen judges. Nameplates on the table revealed their varied identities: senior executives from NTT DOCOMO, television producers, advertising directors, and so on.

Standing in the center of the room, Ye Zhao bowed slightly and introduced himself: “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Ye Zhao. I’m nineteen years old and currently a freelancer.”

A middle-aged man seated in the center was the first to pick up the microphone and asked, “You’re here to audition as a brand ambassador for the pager. What do you know about pagers?” The nameplate before him read: Vice President, NTT DOCOMO.

What did he know? This wasn’t a new employee interview at NTT DOCOMO—it surely wasn’t a question about technical knowledge. Ye Zhao thought for a moment and replied, “Actually, I don’t know much about pagers.” The man’s already stern face grew even more serious at this answer.

“However,” Ye Zhao continued, changing his tone, “although I know nothing about how they work, I understand that a pager is an indispensable part of daily life. If I ever forget to bring it with me, I feel uneasy, afraid I might miss an important message.”

The middle-aged man nodded and said nothing more, but his expression softened.

“Very good.” A man with long hair spoke up. “Since this product targets young people, if it were up to you, how would you express the feeling of ‘youth’?” This man was the advertising director.

Unlike boys who were still living through their youth, Ye Zhao, whose soul was already nearing thirty, felt that youth was like a season of blossoms already past. While he could still imagine the flowers in full bloom, the fragrance was no longer quite the same. Now, given a second chance, youth had become something he was living through once more, tangible and close, but it was impossible for him to truly become a boy again.

So, he had to avoid his weaknesses and play to his strengths. Speaking of youth… “Excuse me, is there a guitar here?” Ye Zhao asked.

The advertising director glanced at the female assistant, who quickly fetched a Yaeri-brand acoustic guitar.

Ye Zhao carefully took the guitar, swiftly tuned the strings, and prepared to play. “Secret Base ~What You Gave Me~,” a song made famous by the RB girl band ZONE, was a hit in both China and RB. It had served as the theme for the drama “Kids’ War,” the ending for the anime “Today in Class 5-2,” and was later used as the ending for the anime “Anohana,” earning its place as a beloved classic among fans.

In his previous life, after watching “Anohana,” Ye Zhao had been deeply moved not only by the story but also by the song’s unique youthful innocence. He’d even looked up guitar tabs online to learn it. Now, without hesitation, he chose this song as his trump card and began to strum.

“This is the summer with you, our dreams for the future,”
“The wishes we made together, I’ll never forget,”
“In August, ten years from now, believe that we’ll meet again,”
“Give me the most beautiful memory...”

As the song unfolded, the judges’ once severe faces began to thaw, replaced by looks of surprise and softness. Their gazes toward Ye Zhao lost their previous skepticism and scorn. Those who had thought he was simply putting on a show now understood what he meant.

In the lean years of youth, expressing one’s feelings was not as simple as it was for adults, who could give expensive gifts or travel together. The shyness and awkwardness of adolescence made it hard to speak openly of one’s heart, so a guitar and a few melodies became the perfect way to confess. Wasn’t that what youth was about—bold yet reserved, daring to leap but still cautious?

Amidst their reflections, the judges suddenly realized: they’d never heard this song before.

After finishing the first verse, Ye Zhao instinctively covered the guitar’s sound hole, ending the performance. The abrupt silence left the judges wanting more. The advertising director picked up the microphone. “When I was young, I had experiences just like those in your lyrics. Your singing brought back memories of my own youth. But I’m curious—I’ve never heard this song before. Can you tell me who wrote it?”

Having sung it, whether it was his or not, Ye Zhao knew he had to claim it as his own. With a twinge of guilt toward the original creators, he replied, “It’s my original composition.”

His embarrassment at being a literary thief made his reply slightly hesitant, but to the judges, this humility from a boy not yet twenty who had written such an excellent song, and yet was not boastful, only made him more likable. Their evaluation of Ye Zhao rose even higher.

“Impressive,” one judge asked, “Did you study at a music school?”

“No,” Ye Zhao shook his head. “I’ve just been playing in bands since high school.”

At this, a middle-aged woman suddenly said, “What a pity.” Her words drew everyone’s attention, including Ye Zhao’s. Strangely, there was no nameplate in front of her indicating her identity.

Ye Zhao’s heart skipped a beat. At first, he’d only come for the fun of it, but things had taken a promising turn and he’d begun to daydream about winning. Now, with this mysterious woman seemingly about to throw a wrench in the works, he couldn’t help but grow nervous.

But she wasn’t here to cause trouble. Seeing all eyes on her, she spread her hands and said, “With your talent, you’d sweep the competition at any record company’s rookie audition.”

If you’re going to praise me, just praise me, Ye Zhao thought, no need to be so dramatic, as if you were about to launch an attack.

This small episode quickly passed. The judges conferred in hushed voices, and then the NTT DOCOMO vice president who had first questioned Ye Zhao spoke again: “Please go to the waiting room now and wait for the final results.”

Ye Zhao bowed again, left the conference room, and, guided by the assistant, took the elevator to the ninth-floor waiting room.