Chapter Sixty-Seven: Dining Together Is an Eternal Theme

Since his rebirth, aside from his own boss, Masayuki Nagato, the first major figure in the industry Ye Zhao had met was Kawanishi Shigeo of BRUNING, and the second was now Kuniko Oori, a senior executive at AMUSE, to whom Masaharu Fukuyama had introduced him.

Kuniko Oori carried herself with a regal poise, lacking the arrogance of someone in power yet never without the grace of authority, forming a sharp contrast to the cunning and wily Kawanishi Shigeo.

In its early days, AMUSE had received assistance from BRUNING—a typical tactic in BRUNING’s expansion across the entertainment world. Their lending division always kept a close watch on ambitious newcomers to the industry, ready to stoke their ambitions at the right moment.

In essence, the agreement now between Ye Zhao and Kawanishi Shigeo was equivalent to ZYE accepting aid from BRUNING—though not in cash.

However, once AMUSE had grown strong, it broke away from BRUNING, becoming one of the industry’s leading companies. Its external dealings were markedly different from the aggressive style of the “Burning” group, setting the two apart in vivid contrast.

“Executive Oori, this is Ye Zhao,” Fukuyama introduced.

Ye Zhao quickly bowed. “Hello, Executive Oori, I’m Ye Zhao.”

Kuniko Oori nodded. “Hello, Mr. Ye, I’ve been hearing your name quite often lately.”

The three of them sat down in the lounge. Kuniko Oori began, “I’m already aware of your collaboration. Fukuyama here has praised you endlessly, making me eager to meet you in person. You truly live up to your reputation.”

“Executive Oori, you flatter me.”

Kuniko Oori smiled faintly. “Excellence is excellence. There’s no need for excessive modesty. I appreciate outstanding people and do not dislike pride. On the contrary, a touch of pride in the talented is rather endearing. Mr. Ye, I’ve discussed the dual A-side single with Fukuyama, and together with the record company, we’ve listened to both songs. Emotionally, of course, we’re inclined toward Fukuyama, but in terms of merit, your ‘Sakura’ is outstanding as well. So, we’ve agreed to release a dual A-side single. The corresponding tie-ins and MV production will also be fully supported on our end. You both can proceed with confidence.”

“Thank you, Executive Oori. That’s wonderful,” Ye Zhao and Fukuyama both bowed in gratitude.

Apparently impressed with Ye Zhao, Kuniko Oori said before leaving, “I heard you’ve started your own agency, Mr. Ye. Striking out alone is never easy. If you ever encounter difficulties, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you. Hearing that from you is truly reassuring,” Ye Zhao replied.

After stepping out of the elevator, Fukuyama said, “Don’t take Executive Oori’s words as mere formality. She rarely makes such promises. If she’s said this to you, she really will help if you need it. AMUSE is not like other agencies; it’s full of warmth and human touch.”

“I believe it,” Ye Zhao nodded.

“If you didn’t already have your own agency, I’d be urging you to join ours,” Fukuyama said, half joking, half serious.

“If I’d had such an opportunity at the start, I would have joined,” Ye Zhao replied with a laugh.

“By the way,” Fukuyama suggested, “why don’t we exchange personal contacts this time?”

“No problem,” Ye Zhao agreed.

Looking back, his first true benefactor, the one who brought him his breakthrough, was Keisuke Kuwata, an AMUSE artist. Later, he somehow became an official rival of Masaharu Fukuyama, then, finding themselves in accord, they decided to co-produce a single. Now, Fukuyama had introduced him to AMUSE’s top brass, granting him a figurative “lifesaving thread.”

All manner of connections had convinced Ye Zhao of the profound bond he shared with AMUSE.

...

After the New Year holidays, Izumi Sakai threw herself into the recording studio, meticulously preparing her new album scheduled for release in March.

Though usually gentle and easygoing, Izumi Sakai was fiercely obsessive when it came to music, often scrapping entire arrangements over the subtlest imperfections—like the timbre of a drum track. As her authority in production grew, so did this perfectionism, frequently causing release dates to be postponed due to her “inconstancy.”

The most famous example was the song “Turning the Wheel of Destiny.” Reportedly, it went through eighteen arrangements, and because she couldn’t settle on a final version, its release was delayed from June all the way to September seventeenth—a textbook case of procrastination.

Ye Zhao arrived at the studio precisely on time, as previously arranged with her.

“Is it all right to go in now?” Ye Zhao asked Ms. Imai, the assistant.

Ms. Imai checked her watch. “It should be about done by now. It’s fine.”

...

However, it seemed Sakai was dissatisfied with the way she sang a certain line, so she remained in the booth working.

In the control room, engineer Katsuhiro Shimada, wearing monitor headphones, nodded slightly to Ye Zhao before turning his attention back to work. Since Izumi Sakai always insisted on closing the curtains in the recording booth during sessions, she had no idea a second person had quietly entered the control room.

Waiting was dull, and, curious, Ye Zhao signaled Shimada for permission, then put on a pair of monitor headphones.

Izumi Sakai’s voice was as clear and luminous as her persona—perhaps not the most technically accomplished, but her natural timbre alone merited the title “born singer.”

The song she was painstakingly re-recording was the title track of her new album, “forever you.” Among all the songs released in her life, this one held special significance, as it was written for her past—her “song to Sachiko.”

Though she had previously used “Don’t Give Up” to express her attitude, truly emerging from the shadows had taken a long time. Only with the 1995 release of “forever you” did she finally draw a line under her past, writing lyrics such as “I have no regrets about what’s gone by.”

At this moment, hearing the unadorned voice through the headphones, Ye Zhao felt a strange sense of traveling through time.

...

Feeling a bit tired, Izumi Sakai removed her headphones, lifted a corner of the curtain, and signaled Shimada to pause. To her surprise, she saw not just Shimada, but also Ye Zhao, also wearing monitor headphones.

A flicker of surprise crossed Sakai’s face. She checked her watch and realized that, unwittingly, over thirty minutes had passed since her scheduled meeting with Ye Zhao.

Returning to the control room, Sakai apologized, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Ye.”

“It’s fine,” said Ye Zhao. “But I must admit, I feel a bit guilty for eavesdropping on your recording, Sakai-san.”

Sakai smiled gently. “It’s all right.”

Assistant Ms. Imai brought a mug of warm honey tea for Sakai, while Shimada left to fetch two glasses of warm water, handing one to Ye Zhao. Glancing between them, he tentatively asked, “Do you two have something to discuss?”

Ye Zhao glanced at Sakai, and, seeing she remained silent, took the initiative. “Nothing much, Mr. Shimada. Ms. Sakai accidentally sent me something with her New Year card. I came to return it.”

Satisfied with the answer, Shimada returned to his seat and sipped his water.

...

Ye Zhao set his disposable cup on the table, retrieved a necklace sealed in a zip bag from the chest pocket of his denim jacket, and handed it over.

“Sakai-san, is this the one?”

Izumi Sakai opened her left hand and took the necklace. Her fingers were pale and slender, her nails neatly trimmed.

“That’s right. Thank you, Mr. Ye. I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Ye Zhao replied with a smile. “Do you enjoy handicrafts, Sakai-san?”

Sakai carefully placed the necklace into her bag and looked up. “Yes, I really enjoy the creative process.”

With another recording session scheduled the next morning, Ye Zhao didn’t linger long before taking his leave.

As she saw him to the door, Sakai said, “I put you to all this trouble with my mix-up. I ought to make it up to you.”

The extra trip was nothing, Ye Zhao thought to himself, but the emotional energy wasted was another matter. Outwardly, though, he maintained a calm expression.

“I’ll be busy with the new album, and you have your single to record as well...” Sakai considered for a moment. “How about this—when things settle down, let’s have a meal together sometime?”

“That would be wonderful!” Ye Zhao hesitated for only two seconds before eagerly agreeing.

...

The new single was being spearheaded by BMG and AMUSE, so recording took place at a BMG studio.

They met once again at the Shibuya studio, but this session was not for the final recording; instead, both parties would do a trial run to confirm their compatibility.

To emphasize the collaborative nature of the single, both songs would be performed as duets. With the help of the BMG-appointed producer, Fukuyama and Ye Zhao quickly divided and adjusted the lyrics, determining their vocal parts and harmonies.

When two singer-songwriters collaborate, there’s little need for outside interference. Fukuyama worked with his usual arranger, while Ye Zhao took “Sakura” back to BEING for arrangement.

This time, however, he was assisted not by Masao Akashi, but by Hirohito Furui, a rising arranger at BEING.

Hirohito Furui’s name was well known for his arrangements for artists like ZARD and Miho Komatsu, as well as for being the keyboardist and arranger for GARNET CROW. Beyond his superb arranging skills, his virtuoso keyboard playing was legendary.

Though the duo of Shiro and Masao Akashi was iconic, BEING had never ceased recruiting new blood. On the arranger side, aside from discussing composers, Daisuke Ikeda and Hirohito Furui were among the standouts.

For this song, Ye Zhao set aside rock influences, drawing inspiration from the original duo Kobukuro and incorporating piano into the arrangement. The addition of this instrument lent the song a deeper lyricism, imbuing it with a dreamlike romance.