Chapter 149: This Is Truly Not Just Empty Encouragement

“Going back to university?” Yukihiko Tsutsumi was taken aback for a moment.

“Judging by Tsutsumi-san’s reaction, it seems like he just heard something strange,” someone remarked.

“Not exactly,” Tsutsumi regained his composure and shook his head. “It’s just that your ever-changing ideas are a bit startling. Why on earth would you think about going to university now?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m unwilling to let my future belong only to them,” Zhao Ye said, half-joking but with a serious expression.

The lack of cultural depth was glaringly obvious. Take the case of “Crying Out Love, in the Center of the World”—if he had sufficient literary cultivation, he could have written and published the work himself, instead of having to rely on the radio drama route.

Although Japanese and Chinese characters look very similar, and if traced back, Japanese indeed derives from Chinese characters, they are still two completely different languages. Despite inheriting the memory of its predecessor, being able to fluently converse, correspond, and communicate in Japanese is one thing; using Japanese to carry out deeply layered literary creation is quite another.

Aside from the minor setback with the “Crying Out Love” matter, Zhao Ye also felt that whether he continued to navigate within the entertainment world or ventured into other areas, having a respectable academic background would be a valuable asset. Besides enriching himself through study, entering a prestigious university is like stepping into a new social circle where alumni often support each other in future endeavors.

Even within the entertainment industry, it’s noticeable that artists with higher education tend to be more favorably regarded. Television anchors and similar professions invariably hire graduates from top universities.

Of course, beyond these obvious advantages, another thought accompanied Zhao Ye’s desire to attend university: the story of an underachiever’s triumphant comeback, perfectly embodied in a certain film.

Indeed, that movie, titled “Bottoming Out Girl,” tells the inspiring tale of a delinquent girl with a deviation score of only 30, abandoned by both her school and father, who, through attending cram school, raises her score to 70 within a year and gains admission to the legendary top private university, Keio University.

When the film was introduced domestically, Zhao Ye himself had gone to the cinema to watch it.

Though it appeared to be a simple story of relentless study leading to university admission, the director’s narrative skill, filming techniques, and the story’s core were all excellent. Even Zhao Ye, who normally disliked feel-good stories, was captivated and watched it through without distraction.

Or rather, this film couldn’t really be called mere “feel-good fluff,” because the protagonist, Sayaka Kudo, attended a private girls’ high school that offered guaranteed advancement to university. Her family was relatively well-off, and she had an unconditionally supportive mother. In other words, even without effort, she wouldn’t be doomed.

Just like Zhao Ye today.

Having already amassed considerable wealth, if he were content with modest comfort as a prolific and well-paid musician, he could simply do nothing and indulge in pleasure. Even if he were to lie down and sleep now, his life would never truly fall into decline again.

But is that enough? If he doesn’t strive for something, though life might be comfortable now, it would also be pitifully hollow. Everything he currently possesses isn’t truly his own.

In terms of talent, there’s an unbridgeable gap between geniuses and ordinary people. Yet beyond talent, he refused to give up effort. Even if geniuses sweep everything aside, he would strive to catch up through diligent study where possible. Besides, when it comes to studying, he considered himself fairly sharp.

“That phrase, ‘unwilling to let the future belong only to them,’ sounds pretty cool,” Tsutsumi laughed. “So, which university are you aiming for, Ye-kun? Actually, for an artist like you, it’s easier than for ordinary people to do something like this. At least, if it were you, you wouldn’t need to spend all day at cram school—you could just hire a private tutor.”

“That’s true,” Zhao Ye nodded. Sayaka Kudo’s turnaround within a year was due not only to excellent teaching and her own effort but also to having a good mother who was willing to borrow money and work to provide financial support. So, if you want to get into a prestigious university, the first exam is actually about your economic conditions.

“Just as Tsutsumi-san said, since I have such good conditions, I should set my sights high,” Zhao Ye put on a thoughtful expression, though in his heart he was already somewhat confident. “Speaking of high goals, it has to be the Faculty of Letters at Keio.”

“Eh?!” Tsutsumi was genuinely shocked this time. After a moment, he smiled wryly and said, “That’s an extremely high goal. But do your best. If you succeed, it will truly be a story worth telling.”

Zhao Ye wasn’t merely dreaming too high; he had a measure of confidence in himself.

Having been tempered by the college entrance exams in his previous life, plus the experience of failing once in this life, and having only just left school a little over a year ago, his study habits were still intact. With a private tutor, and if he recalled correctly, the entrance exam for Keio’s Faculty of Letters didn’t require math and allowed a dictionary during the English test. With this top-notch setup, if his goal was merely to get into a university like Tokyo Metropolitan University, it wouldn’t even be worth trying.

Moreover, if he were just a high school graduate, starring in a film about an underachiever’s comeback wouldn’t be very convincing. But if he worked hard, got admitted to Keio’s Faculty of Letters, and then starred in the film, the university admission itself would become the biggest promotion and highlight.

…Though even if he came in last, he’d still be a delinquent at best, not a cross-dressing icon.

Unlike “The Kirishima Thing,” which was a modest box office success, “Bottoming Out Girl” was a blockbuster hit, despite its budget being no higher than “The Kirishima Thing.”

Today was August 21, 1995. The centralized entrance exam was about five months away, scheduled for January next year.

Photo booths were introduced in 1995, the gyaru (gal) fashion trend was sweeping Shibuya alongside Namie Amuro’s rise to fame, and the nationwide university entrance exam system had been implemented five years earlier, in 1990.

So, the three key elements to filming this movie were all in place, weren’t they?