Chapter Six: The Unexpected Arrival of the Selection Letter

Street performers in Japan make up a considerable community; many popular singers have also gone through a period of busking, including renowned artists like Yuzu, Ikimono Gakari, and Ayaka. These singers all garnered attention through street performances, which served as their ticket into the music industry.

Looking worldwide, the train station is naturally a common spot for street performances. Stations see massive crowds daily, with passersby of all ages, making for a broad musical audience. However, the era Ye Zhao found himself in was the aftermath of the economic bubble burst. Countless companies had gone bankrupt, and the entire country was mired in a state of negativity and confusion. The Japanese people, constantly anxious about their jobs and hurrying along their commutes, could hardly spare the leisure to listen to street music—if they didn’t roll their eyes at you, that was already fortunate enough.

After much thought, Ye Zhao finally chose the shopping street in Shibuya as his stage. In Tokyo, Shibuya is the favored haunt of young people. The thronging crowds naturally attracted street performers, to the point that a genre known as “Shibuya-kei” emerged. Talent scouts, too, understood that hidden gems could be found here, often coming to search for new talent.

At three in the afternoon, Ye Zhao emerged from Shibuya Station with his guitar and found that there were already a few street performers scattered along the road. Realizing he was a fellow busker, a young man playing an electronic keyboard shot him a look that clearly said, “Don’t steal my business.”

Feeling a bit awkward, Ye Zhao turned away. Busking isn’t like selling vegetables, where you can simply lower the price to attract customers; to do well, you really have to rely on your skill.

He kept a reasonable distance from the other performers. With nothing but his guitar, Ye Zhao sat down on the ground. No audience, no introduction—he tuned his guitar, cleared his throat, and began to sing.

“I want you to hear this song, the words I’ve always wanted to say…”

“Just spreading out the map, just waiting for the wind…”

“Now I will fly to the other side I’ve imagined, relying on these wings…”

“Chasing after my rainbow…”

This song, titled “Rainbow,” was a smash hit released by Masaharu Fukuyama in 2003. It served as the theme for Fuji TV’s drama “Water Boys,” and the single sold 900,000 copies that year, ranking second on the annual singles chart, just behind SMAP’s national hit “The Only Flower in the World.” By 2003, record sales in Japan were already declining, so to achieve such numbers—even with Fukuyama’s star power—was a testament to the song’s quality.

Fukuyama’s music leans toward folk rock, so Ye Zhao didn’t make any major changes to the arrangement; with only his acoustic guitar, he could faithfully recreate the song.

Without a microphone, Ye Zhao had to project his voice as much as possible, relying on his natural tone to attract listeners. And it worked—he drew quite a few curious glances from passersby. In truth, it was probably because he looked different from the typical street performer.

In later years, it became common to see young people singing simply with a guitar on the street, but at this time, most buskers chose electric guitars and microphones, dressed in flashy clothes with brightly dyed hair, relying on eye-catching looks and amplified sound to draw attention. So when a clean, fresh-faced youth in a white shirt and blue jeans appeared, people couldn’t help but take a second look.

The song ended quickly, and a few passersby tossed some coins into Ye Zhao’s guitar case. Perhaps only a hundred yen or so, but getting any response at all was already a victory! Ye Zhao’s fingers swept across the strings, and he launched into his second and third songs. Aside from the opening hit, “Rainbow,” the rest were tunes that, while not very popular in the future, had catchy melodies in his opinion, along with a few current hits.

After three hours, his throat began to feel the strain, so Ye Zhao stopped singing. Glancing into his guitar case, he found several dozen coins from ten to a hundred yen, and a solitary one-thousand yen bill. Counting it up, he’d made 3,210 yen. When working at the convenience store, he earned 900 yen an hour. At first glance, busking seemed to pay better, but the income was extremely unstable; with luck, one night could bring in tens of thousands of yen, but on a bad day, it might not even cover a bottle of water. Moreover, you could work eight hours straight at a regular job, but singing for eight hours straight would probably ruin your voice.

For three consecutive days, Ye Zhao sang at the same spot at the same time. He neither encountered a wealthy patron handing him ten-thousand yen notes, nor did he have such poor luck as to earn only a handful of coins. Each day’s income was a steady three to five thousand yen—quite good for only three hours of singing.

But for Ye Zhao, earning money wasn’t his only goal. If he’d simply wanted to make a living, he could have found a stable job. His real reason for coming to Shibuya was the hope of encountering a “talent scout.” Yet over those three days, although some people took interest in his unfamiliar songs and told him he was impressive, most were simply passersby. The only scout he met was interested in his looks, wanting to sign him as an actor. Even though the man assured him that he’d arrange for a singing debut when the time was right, Ye Zhao knew all too well that unless he made it as an actor first, that promise was nothing but a pipe dream.

At dusk, after finishing his set, Ye Zhao sipped an ice-cold cola from the convenience store at the station and headed back to his apartment with his guitar. As he climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor, he found a girl in a T-shirt dress, long chestnut hair draped over her shoulders, squatting outside his door, looking as if she’d been waiting for some time.

“…Natsumi Fujii?”

“How cold! Just a few days without seeing you, and you’re already addressing me so formally?” Natsumi Fujii stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from her dress as she complained playfully. Her voice was sweet and soft, almost as if she were pouting.

“Of course not.” Ye Zhao smiled. “I’m just surprised to see you here, that’s all.” As he spoke, he took out his keys and opened the door. “Come in and sit for a while… It’s a bit messy, don’t mind it.”

“You really aren’t modest at all.” Standing in the entryway, Natsumi Fujii commented as she surveyed the chaos.

“Well, honesty has always been one of my virtues,” Ye Zhao replied with a straight face.

“Save it.” Natsumi Fujii shot him a sidelong glance. “Doesn’t your girlfriend ever come over to tidy up for you?”

“We broke up a long time ago.”

“In that case—” Natsumi Fujii took a deep breath, as if summoning some hidden energy. She picked up a T-shirt lying near the genkan, quickly folded it, and set it aside. Then, as if she were at home, she found a trash bag in the kitchen and started cleaning up the bento boxes and drink cans on the table.

Watching her bustle around his small apartment, Ye Zhao couldn’t help but call out, “Natsumi…”

“No need to thank me. I just couldn’t stand seeing you buried alive in a pile of trash,” Natsumi replied without looking up as she wiped the table.

…That wasn’t really the point, was it?

After cleaning his room at whirlwind speed, Natsumi Fujii sat down comfortably on the tatami and stretched with satisfaction.

Ye Zhao fetched two cans of cola, handing one to her. “All I have is cola—hope that’s okay.”

“Thank you.” Natsumi took the can, popped the tab, took a small sip, and suddenly hugged the can, laughing softly.

Ye Zhao gave her a puzzled look.

“I never would have guessed that someone as neat-looking as you could live in such a mess,” Natsumi mused, pausing before adding, “But I actually find that kind of contrast rather charming.”

Is that what they call an ‘appealing contrast’?

“By the way, how did you find this place?”

“I found your employment information in the manager’s office and followed the address listed there,” Natsumi explained, taking an envelope from her bag and handing it to Ye Zhao. “I came to deliver this.”

Ye Zhao accepted the envelope. The sender was NTT DOCOMO. Opening it, he found a printed letter inside: “Dear Mr. Ye Zhao, Congratulations! You have been selected for the final round of our advertising audition. Please attend the interview at [address], Chiyoda, Tokyo, on May 29th at 2 p.m…”