Chapter Nineteen: Where There Is a Sister, There Is Hope

After entering the room, Ye Zhao casually set his guitar down in the corner. "Why did you come here alone?"

Ye Qing didn't answer, her large eyes swept over the tiny room where Ye Zhao lived, muttering, "Mom and Dad really should come see this. How can they just leave their own son unattended…"

"I'm doing pretty well, actually," Ye Zhao replied. "At least if I want braised pork tonight, I can go buy some immediately." He tossed the room's only cushion to Ye Qing. "Have a seat."

Ye Qing pushed the cushion aside and sat directly on the tatami. "No need. You don't even have a seat yourself, so I won't take it." She paused, then bluntly asked, "Is that woman not home?"

"That woman" referred to Mika Ogawa. After the previous Ye Zhao was thrown out by their parents, Ye Qing initially kept sneaking to Tokyo to visit him. But after he started living with Mika Ogawa, the two women—one older, one younger—were like bitter rivals. Whenever they crossed paths, sparks flew, escalating to the point that when Ye Qing visited and Mika Ogawa was home alone, she'd pretend not to hear the door and leave Ye Qing locked out. After this happened several times, Ye Qing stopped coming to Tokyo. In fact, if she hadn't been so shocked by Ye Zhao releasing a single, she wouldn't have risked a showdown with Mika just to come here.

Thinking of this, Ye Zhao said, "Don't worry, we've broken up."

"Nicely done!" Ye Qing's face lit up with a mischievous smile. Then she teased, "But judging by how you were wrapped around her finger, I bet ninety-nine percent you got dumped, right?"

"Ahem!" Ye Zhao coughed, quickly changing the subject. "I asked you earlier—why did you come by yourself?"

At this, Ye Qing took a CD from her backpack and placed it on the table. "Because of this! Did you forget, big brother? I took that photo. Even if the photo was a coincidence, your name certainly isn't. And besides, you really are something—becoming a singer and not telling me."

"I'm not a singer. That single is an indie release I paid for myself."

"Huh? Indie single? Where did you get the money?" Ye Qing looked incredulous.

"I entered an advertising contest, won a million yen, and used it to produce the CD. Oh, right," Ye Zhao stood up and took a paper bag out of a drawer, "This is for you, a gift from the company after the ad shoot."

Ye Qing opened the bag. "A pager?"

"I remember you're still using Dad's old phone that he scrapped when he upgraded, aren't you?" In front of his sister, Ye Zhao slipped easily into the role of older brother—mostly because he’d had a sister seven or eight years younger in his previous life, too.

"Thank you, big brother!" Ye Qing hugged the gift, tilting her head up. "But even so, spending a million yen just to release one single—you really are extravagant!"

"What would you do if you won a million yen?"

"Um… I'd save it all, or maybe buy a computer?"

"Then just think of my spending on the single as buying something I like—it's the same as you wanting a computer," Ye Zhao patiently explained.

"I can't believe you've gotten so good at pretty words after just a few months," Ye Qing said with a hint of disdain. "And if you spent all your money on the single, what about living expenses?" She started searching her wallet. "Mom raised my allowance recently, so I've saved a bit…"

"No need, Xiao Qing," Ye Zhao stopped her. "I'm earning my own money now, and I'll earn more in the future, so you can live in a big house and travel the world."

"…Living in a big house is another matter, but absolutely no illegal business, okay?" Ye Qing said as she slowly put her wallet away.

Ye Zhao was speechless. It wasn't the first time he'd heard this kind of thing. Did he really look so much like a criminal?

Dinner was prepared by Ye Qing—mapo tofu, braised pork, minced eggplant—all authentic Chinese flavors. After all, their ancestors had run a Chinese restaurant, and Ye Chong and You Xiangrong had always upheld Chinese education at home. Not only were the siblings fluent in Chinese, but Ye Qing was especially adept at cooking Chinese food.

After dinner, stuffed full, Ye Qing rolled herself onto the tatami and lazily declared, "No way, I'm stuffed. Big brother, the glorious task of washing dishes is all yours."

Ye Zhao gathered the dishes, grumbling, "Watch your posture, your underwear is showing."

"Ugh!" Ye Qing pressed down her skirt and made a face at him.

By eight o'clock, Ye Qing still showed no sign of leaving. Ye Zhao couldn't help but ask, "Aren't you going home?"

"It's fine!" Ye Qing replied, eyes glued to the TV. "Shizuka's parents went to Osaka for a relative's wedding this weekend, so it's just her and her sister at home. I told Mom and Dad I'm staying at her place tonight—don't worry, we've coordinated our stories, so no one will suspect a thing."

…The problem was, the apartment only had one set of bedding. No matter how close, siblings shouldn't sleep together, right? Ye Zhao sighed; looks like he'd have to let Ye Qing have the futon and sleep on the tatami himself.

By ten thirty, Ye Zhao was already sleepy from his recent early-to-bed habit, but Ye Qing was still in front of the TV, yawning as she flipped channels.

"Xiao Qing, aren't you going to sleep?"

Ye Qing glanced at the clock on the wall and shook her head. "Wait a bit longer, there's something important."

"Something important?"

"You'll see soon!"

At eleven twenty, Ye Qing stretched, switched off the TV, grabbed her backpack, and pulled out a portable radio to adjust.

Ye Zhao saw the radio and couldn't help but sigh, "Brings back memories."

"It's just a radio. No need to act like you haven't seen one in years," Ye Qing said, a bit exasperated.

But it really had been years… Ye Zhao thought quietly.

"So, which station are you tuning in to?"

"Gentle Night Walk with Keisuke Kuwata… I think that's the name," Ye Qing mused.

Ye Zhao knew Keisuke Kuwata's name all too well. Not to mention anything else—just the Hong Kong music scene's covers of his songs would make anyone realize his influence. For example, his classic "Fruit of Midsummer" was famously covered as "Love You More Every Day" by the God of Songs. There were countless more examples; while not as overwhelming as Miyuki Nakajima, he truly was a "savior of Hong Kong's music scene among international friends."

"You like Keisuke Kuwata?" Ye Zhao asked.

"Not really. Actually, I've never listened to this program. Shizuka told me about it—Mr. Kuwata recommends new artists on air, and if your song gets played, that's huge publicity. You put so much effort into releasing your single, surely you don't just want to amuse yourself? The more people who hear it, the better!"

Ye Qing's words suddenly enlightened Ye Zhao. Right! Even in the information explosion era, radio was still a top platform for music alongside TV and the internet—let alone now. Plus, there’s no rule against artists requesting their own songs; just one radio play would be far more effective than singing on the street ten or twenty times.

In truth, the reason he hadn’t thought of this was because he was used to TV and internet for information. Even when he did listen to radio while driving, it was just for entertainment, never imagining he could be part of the broadcast.

This sister really was a little angel bringing hope!

"Big brother, the show’s starting! You listen here, I’ll go downstairs to make the call." Ye Qing handed him the radio, slipped on her shoes, and left the room. Through the thin door, Ye Zhao could still hear her footsteps thudding downstairs.

As for Keisuke Kuwata, this uncle’s musical talent was unquestionable, and his character nearly flawless. Even his flirtatiousness was limited to harmless banter—at most, a few risqué jokes, inviting bikini-clad dancers to liven up his concerts, never indulging in scandals like some other band leaders. He’d been married for decades to his bandmate Yuko Hara, always devoted—a model husband.

Not that this was meant to praise him, but since he was a flirtatious man doing a late-night radio show at eleven thirty, the content was bound to be a bit uninhibited. Ye Zhao listened with amusement as Kuwata, using his hoarse, worldly voice, traded suggestive jokes with his guests. He couldn't help but laugh along. Of course, he was also grateful Ye Qing had volunteered to call in; otherwise, if the two siblings listened together, the awkwardness would be beyond words.

(This part is purely my imagination—I haven’t actually listened to Keisuke Kuwata’s broadcasts. But his penchant for risqué jokes is real.)