Chapter Forty-Five: Go Wander

On this day, it happened to be the regular gathering of the BEER Club. Compared to last time, Norihiko Maeda and Michiya Haruhata from TUBE were absent, but MANISH was present in full, with both Mirei Takahashi and Mari Nishimoto attending. The two veterans from B’z were busy with recording; they stopped by to show support, had a few drinks, and quickly left to resume their arrangements.

Seeing Mirei Takahashi again, Ye Zhao greeted her, “Mirei, it’s been a while.”

“Mirei?” Mika Kawashima, sharp as a cat catching a scent, looked back and forth between them. “Calling her so intimately—what’s going on? Tell me everything.” Teased like this, Mirei Takahashi’s cheeks instantly flushed with twin spots of red.

“She just gave me a vocal lesson once, that’s all—what else could it be?” Ye Zhao was a bit speechless. “Mika, it’s fine for thick-skinned people like me, but don’t bully this sweet girl.”

“I’m just joking,” Mika Kawashima said, patting Ye Zhao on the shoulder. “Mirei is such a good girl. As her senior, it’s my duty to look out for her so she doesn’t get tricked by bad men. Even you, Ye, aren’t an exception.”

“…I’m terribly sorry; I’m just that kind of bad man who deceives women.”

…

After the gathering, Ye Zhao called out to Noboru Uesugi, “Mr. Uesugi, if you’re not busy, would you come to the studio with me? I have a song I’d like you to hear.”

Hearing this, Uesugi’s eyes flickered as he replied, “Don’t tell me Nagato asked you to write one for WANDS? If that’s the case…”

“Before you refuse, could you at least listen to it? If you’re not satisfied, I’ll accept a return,” Ye Zhao interrupted with a smile.

Uesugi stared into Ye Zhao’s eyes for three seconds, then nodded. “I suppose I can listen.”

Instead of returning to BEING’s headquarters studio, they went to Minato-ku Shibaura Stage, not far from the restaurant. As a studio under BEING, they were quickly assigned a recording room upon arrival.

When it comes to mastering the exquisite balance between rock and pop, Tamio Okuda stands as one of the finest. Tracing his steps back, he started in a band called UNICORN. Debuting in 1987 and disbanding in 1993, the band’s active years spanned only seven; their sales never reached miraculous heights, but their impact on the RB pop scene was real. Not only did they produce authentic Japanese rock, but their satirical, critical lyricism also shook up a music world dominated by idol singers and overabundant love songs, ushering in new possibilities for songwriting. Many later singer-songwriters were influenced by them—and as the soul of UNICORN, Tamio Okuda’s musical achievements are beyond question.

After UNICORN disbanded, Okuda debuted solo, entering a vibrant era of RB music where J-pop, folk, pop rock, electronic, R&B, metal, and even hip-hop all flourished. While many musicians were busy seeking stylistic transformation and fusion, Okuda remained true to pure rock. The music magazine ROCKIN’ON JAPAN once dubbed him the “Rock General,” and HMV ranked him twenty-fifth among the greatest RB singers, ahead of both B’z and Mr. Children.

As for why Okuda’s grasp on pop is also considered unparalleled, it’s because he would, two years later, become the producer for a girl group called PUFFY. At a time when the Komuro family dominated the charts and visual kei bands were on the rise, PUFFY broke through, pioneering the path of “talented idols.” Even across the Pacific, in America, PUFFY achieved a notable degree of fame, making them one of the rare RB acts to succeed abroad. In the ‘90s, many capable singers or band members transitioned into producing—Tetsuya Komuro, Tamio Okuda, and later Tsunku, producer of Morning Musume, among the standouts.

…

The song Ye Zhao ultimately chose was Tamio Okuda’s 1998 single, “Sasurai” (“Wander On”). In the days spent searching for a song, Ye Zhao realized that no matter how fitting a piece he provided for WANDS, it would never truly satisfy Noboru Uesugi and Hiroshi Shibasaki, who were determined to create their own music. In that case, why not gift them a song of blessing and encouragement?

They each found a chair and sat. Ye Zhao picked up the guitar resting in the corner and quickly tuned the strings. Okuda’s music is marked by a sense of carefree abandon; you might say it lacks delicacy, but that unadorned ruggedness is what moves listeners most. The song’s first line is: “Wander on, in this dazzling world, drifting and singing as you go.”

At this, Uesugi’s previously indifferent expression softened slightly and he shifted forward in his seat. Ye Zhao, unfazed by the change, continued singing.

Uesugi’s own lyrics are known for their subtlety, touching the softest parts of the heart, while Okuda’s words are bold and unconstrained, full of a wanderer’s nonchalance. This very ease is precisely what the still-hesitant Uesugi now lacks.

The song lasted just three and a half minutes, its straightforward, fierce melody paired with bold, simple lyrics. Each time Ye Zhao repeated “Wander on,” Uesugi felt as if the song was urging him to live true to himself.

As Ye Zhao gently muted the guitar strings, Uesugi nodded, his expression now tinged with warmth. “It’s a good song, but I get the feeling you have some ulterior motive.”

“You’re joking, Mr. Uesugi. What motive could I have?” Ye Zhao set down the guitar. “It’s just that, after what happened recently, I’ve come to understand some things, and poured those feelings into the lyrics.” He spoke half in jest.

“That makes sense.” Uesugi smiled. The conflict between WANDS and the company wasn’t yet public knowledge—no way a newcomer like Ye Zhao could know everything. “I underestimated you. I didn’t expect you to write this kind of rock.”

“In your eyes, I’m probably just someone who writes hits for fame and profit.” Ye Zhao laughed.

“I never said that.” Uesugi raised his hands. “It’s a great song, but if you want me to use it as our new single’s title track, I’d like to tweak the lyrics.”

“In fact, I thought it might be presumptuous to write the lyrics too. If you have any suggestions, please say so.” The RB copyright system is strict, and there aren’t many opportunities for singers to earn from live gigs, so almost every artist strives to participate in songwriting—handling both lyrics and music if possible, or at least learning to write lyrics for a bigger share of royalties. At BEING, lyrics are typically penned by the singer themselves. For Ye Zhao to present both music and lyrics outright was a bit forward.

“I don’t think it was rude. The lyrics are quite good; in fact, it’s precisely because of them that I want to sing this. I just want to change the last line.”

The song’s final line is: “If you’ve never wandered even once, it would be a shame to just die for nothing.”

Uesugi thought for a moment, then said, “I want to change the last line to: ‘If you’ve never wandered even once, you might as well just die.’ If you agree to this, I’ll sing the song. As for the band, even if Shibasaki and Kimura have objections, I’ll do my best to convince them.”

“Might as well just die”—such a powerful sentiment made Ye Zhao realize Uesugi had already made up his mind to leave. With that, he nodded. “All right, I agree to the change. Next, there’s President Nagato…”

“You haven’t given it to him yet?” Uesugi was a bit surprised.

“I think, since it’s meant for WANDS, the first people who should be happy with it are you and your bandmates.”

Uesugi looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Ye, you really are an interesting person.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ye Zhao replied.

The following evening, Ye Zhao received Uesugi’s response: both Hiroshi Shibasaki and Shinya Kimura agreed to sing the song. With their approval, Ye Zhao found Daikichi Nagato and handed him the demo for “Wander On.”

Nagato was effusive in his praise, his eyes full of admiration for Ye Zhao. “I never imagined you could switch styles so effortlessly—remarkable.” He felt even more vindicated in his decision to keep Ye Zhao. After complimenting the song, he turned to the lyrics. “Uesugi’s lyrics are highly literary. Yours are a bit too casual. If he could write the lyrics, it might be better.”

“If Mr. Uesugi isn’t satisfied with the lyrics, I’m happy for him to rewrite them.” Ye Zhao’s candidness pleased Nagato. But when he sent the song to WANDS, Uesugi gladly accepted Ye Zhao’s lyrics, requesting only the change to the final line. Since they had already agreed in private, Ye Zhao had no objections. The smooth progress surprised Nagato, who had no idea that the two had already come to an understanding behind the scenes.

WANDS’s new single, “Wander On,” quickly entered production. Even though Uesugi had changed only the final line of the lyrics, Ye Zhao insisted on being co-credited for the songwriting. With his task for WANDS complete, Ye Zhao’s own new single was added to the schedule. After the scandal, prospects for the single were uncertain; though it was now well known that conclusive evidence had been presented and Shukan Shincho was being sued, this only served to erase the public’s prejudice, bringing his reputation back from negative to neutral.

To build that score up from zero, he would have to create good music—and keep creating it. If he couldn’t, the fickle public would abandon him in an instant, and his career as a singer would once again sink into shadow.