Chapter 108: Let Me Show You Something

“Alright, CUT!”

After Yukihiko Tsutsumi called it, Ye Zhao, feeling drained, sank directly to the ground.

Rie Tomosaka and Tsuyoshi Domoto hurried over to help him up. “Thank you,” Ye Zhao exhaled deeply, leaning on them as he stood. His intense focus had left his mind blank for a moment after the director’s shout.

“Niisan, your acting just now was incredible. I was really startled by your gaze,” Rie Tomosaka said.

“It was like someone flipped a switch inside you,” Tsuyoshi Domoto added with a metaphor.

Ye Zhao took a few sips of water from Yuuki Uemura and smiled. “There are still two scenes left before we wrap. If you keep praising me like this, I might get carried away.”

“Ye-kun, that was truly impressive,” Yukihiko Tsutsumi praised. “I remember Masaki Fukazawa once said your acting has a certain spirit to it, and it’s true.”

Today’s scriptwriter at the set was not Masaki Fukazawa but a newcomer named Gakusei Kato. For standalone episodes where each story completes within a single installment, it’s common not to have one writer handle the entire series. Instead, a head writer drafts the main script, then passes it to other writers for collaboration. To keep the narrative on track, the head writer usually handles the first, a middle, and the final episodes.

Though both Tsutsumi and Fukazawa spoke of his spirited acting, Ye Zhao was not a naturally gifted actor. One outstanding scene did not suddenly unlock some secret talent that made him invincible. In the following two scenes, he did not replicate the same level of superlative performance.

But it wasn’t all for naught. Whether Ye Zhao himself or others, they could sense his progress in acting during those last two scenes. To put it metaphorically, from a god’s-eye view while he performed, little signals of “Skill +1, +1, +1” might have been popping up above his head.

Ye Zhao’s final scene was a reshoot: after the first victim appeared, everyone discovered the only suspension bridge leading outside had been destroyed. To escape the vacation villa, they split up to search for a path through the forest. Eiji Tono and Miyuki Nanase were paired, and Miyuki, startled by a pigeon suddenly flying out, stumbled into a trap and was injured by an axe.

As for the indoor scene where Miyuki returned wounded and Kindaichi scolded Eiji Tono, that had already been filmed back in the studio.

This scene went smoothly; Ye Zhao’s acting was natural and required little effort before it was declared finished. When director Tsutsumi called the final “CUT” of the day, Ye Zhao helped Rie Tomosaka up from the ground. “Good work.”

“Ye Zhao-san, your part ends here!” the assistant director announced the wrap, and a staff member presented Ye Zhao with a bouquet prepared in advance. “Congratulations on wrapping, Ye Zhao-san.”

“Thank you!” and “Congratulations!” voices rose in succession. Surrounded by everyone, Ye Zhao bowed in thanks while holding the flowers. The investment in this Kindaichi drama was modest, and the pressure for ratings was not severe, so the atmosphere among cast and crew was very harmonious—a definite perk of low-budget productions.

“Ye Zhao-san, please share your thoughts,” a staff member prompted.

“First of all, I’m grateful to the director, the staff, and all my co-actors for their support. As a newcomer, I caused a lot of trouble during filming, and I sincerely apologize for that,” Ye Zhao bowed. “This period has been extremely enjoyable. Thanks to the Kindaichi series, I experienced acting for the first time, and I’m truly thankful.”

As per tradition, the cast gathered for a commemorative photo. This was before the era of instant social media sharing, so there was no need to worry about the notoriously strict Johnny & Associates’ image rights. The entire cast of episode two, including Tsuyoshi Domoto, along with the director and key staff, posed for a group photo.

Interestingly, about a week later, this photo was sent to Ye Zhao’s agency.

When filming wrapped and the crew began packing up, Ye Zhao approached Yukihiko Tsutsumi. “Tsutsumi-san, do you still have movie work to attend to next?”

“Before the movie, I have to work with the editing team to finalize this episode,” Tsutsumi replied. “Once the drama’s post-production is done, the movie’s production team is waiting for me to join them for post-editing. I’ll be busy.”

After finishing this episode’s shoot, Tsutsumi would temporarily leave the Kindaichi team. Editing episode two was the last thing he’d do for this production for the time being.

“Ye-kun, is there something you wanted to talk about?” Tsutsumi asked with keen sensitivity.

“It’s like this: once I’m back in Tokyo, if you have time, could you contact me? I have something I want to show you.”

“Something?” Tsutsumi hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Alright. But you might have to wait a bit.”

“I’ll wait.”

There was a kickoff dinner but no celebration banquet upon wrap. After filming, Tsuyoshi Domoto had to rush back to Tokyo for a program recording, and Rie Tomosaka headed to TOKYO FM for a radio session. As for Tsutsumi and the staff, they still had heavy cleanup work ahead. So after exchanging farewells, everyone left accompanied by their agents.

...

Tsutsumi did not keep Ye Zhao waiting long. Two nights later at eleven, Ye Zhao, working on the drama’s soundtrack in the mixing room, received a call from Tsutsumi.

“No need to ask—you’re still awake, right?” Tsutsumi said bluntly.

“Of course, otherwise how could I answer?” Ye Zhao stretched in his chair.

“Just ten minutes ago, the drama’s post-editing was completed. I remember you told me you had something to show me. I was worried I might forget if I delayed, so I took this moment to ask. You’re free, right?”

“At times like this, even if I weren’t free, I’d put everything aside and say I’m available.” Ye Zhao removed his headphones, stood up, and grabbed his bag off the table. “But Tsutsumi-san, could you wait a moment? I’m at the mixing studio in Shibuya and need to go home to get the item first.”

“Hm, where do you live, Ye-kun?”

“Sancha,” Ye Zhao answered.

“Good area,” Tsutsumi reminisced. “When I first came to Tokyo, I shared a place near Sancha with a friend. We pretty much explored all the izakayas and small theaters around there.”

“Impressive,” Ye Zhao replied reflexively—a phrase he used like “kawaii,” to express surprise without much deeper meaning.

“In that case,” Tsutsumi decided, “let’s meet at an izakaya near Sancha. I remember a great place called...” Tsutsumi thought for a moment. “Right, it’s named HOTARU.”

This little eatery called HOTARU was tucked deep in the labyrinthine streets of Sancha. Two firefly-like paper lanterns hung at the entrance, and a cloth banner bore the kanji for “firefly” written in brush script. Without Tsutsumi’s directions over the phone, Ye Zhao might never have found it.

Inside, besides the bar counter, there were only four small square tables. Ye Zhao and Tsutsumi sat opposite each other at one. A middle-aged man with a crew cut, the owner, chef, and waiter all in one, first served a small dish of well-seasoned peas. They ordered sashimi, tempura, and a few small dishes perfect for drinking. After finishing a beer, they switched to sake.

Ye Zhao poured Tsutsumi a full cup.

Chewing on sashimi, Tsutsumi got straight to the point: “What’s this thing you wanted to show me?”

“A movie script.”

“A movie script?” Tsutsumi crossed his arms. “Is it an adaptation of an existing work, or an original?”

“Anyway, it’s not an adaptation.” Ye Zhao opened his bag and took out the bound script.

“Pretty fast, huh? I remember you said you went to a screenwriting school, but I didn’t expect you’d have a script ready so soon.” Tsutsumi teased without looking at it.

Ye Zhao felt a little embarrassed. “Tsutsumi-san, you don’t dislike outsiders dabbling in filmmaking, do you?”

Tsutsumi shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong. Some industry people don’t like crossovers from other fields, but I don’t share that prejudice.”

“That’s a relief.” Ye Zhao exhaled. “Entering a completely unfamiliar field, I was worried I might recklessly harm the efforts you’ve invested here.”