Chapter Nine: A Free Dinner

Inside the lounge, which measured around a hundred square meters, those who had already finished their interviews appeared far more relaxed than when they had been queued outside the conference room. A few outgoing individuals gathered together, chatting about popular music and games for their age group, while others claimed their own seats, either spacing out or picking up magazines from the lounge and flipping through them.

Ye Zhao found a chair near the corner, sat down, and casually picked up a magazine. One glance at the cover left him feeling a bit disoriented, not only because of its garish colors and scantily clad cover model, but also because of its name: "Weekly Truth."

"Weekly Truth" was a men’s magazine, infamous for its sensationalist content. Unlike the reputable "Weekly Bunshun," known for breaking major industry news, "Weekly Truth" was jokingly said to have only the word "Weekly" as truthful, while the rest of the magazine was filled with outlandish gossip—rumors of actresses entering adult films, male celebrities fathering secret children, and other scandalous, fabricated stories. Despite its lack of credibility, the magazine sold well due to its plentiful swimsuit and risqué photo spreads of gravure idols. Just a quick flip through its pages made Ye Zhao feel guilty—was it really appropriate to look at such things in public?

As evening approached, the interviews concluded. Of the forty finalists, six were absent and thus forfeited their chance. When the reviewer representative entered the lounge, the previously subdued commotion instantly fell silent.

"First of all, thank you all for coming to participate in this interview," the reviewer representative began. "This advertising selection received over fifteen thousand applications. You are the best among them, and so the review committee had an intense debate in selecting the champion." He paused, his tone deliberate. "After careful consideration, I now announce the winner of the NTT DOCOMO advertising selection—"

As with teachers handing out exam papers after a test, there was the universal habit of suspenseful pauses before announcing important results.

"The winner of the NTT DOCOMO advertising selection is—" The reviewer representative, having drawn out the anticipation, declared through the microphone, "Number 26, Ye Zhao! Congratulations!"

"Now, will our champion please follow me to the reception area on the first floor, where a press conference will be held, lasting about thirty minutes."

Taking a deep breath, Ye Zhao slowly rose from his seat, enduring the gaze of curiosity, jealousy, and admiration from all sides in the lounge, and walked toward the reviewer representative. "Hello, I am Ye Zhao."

He then left the lounge, surrounded by the reviewer representative and four staff members.

In his previous life, Ye Zhao had been an ordinary, unremarkable person—not an academic prodigy, nor someone with dazzling talents. Aside from being used as a human prop for school events a few times, he had never truly stood in the spotlight. So he had no idea that being at the center of the stage, encircled by flashbulbs, could feel so exhilarating.

Now, standing at the press conference, facing the barrage of cameras from dozens of newspaper and media outlets, Ye Zhao finally understood why so many people desperately tried to break into the entertainment industry. The feeling of being the focus of all attention, as if you were the center of the world, was intoxicating—like a seductive drug, impossible to resist.

Yet, though he appeared onstage as the champion, the real protagonist was not Ye Zhao, but the NTT DOCOMO vice president seated beside him. Microphones were thrust toward the vice president, with questions about the selection process and the release date of the new product. Ye Zhao, throughout, was only asked one question: How did it feel to win the championship?

Ye Zhao smiled and replied, "Of course, I’m very happy. And I feel honored, too. After all, being able to add 'NTT DOCOMO spokesperson' to my future resume is a rare achievement—not everyone gets the chance."

Finally, the staff presented a large cardboard check for one million yen. Ye Zhao and the host posed together with the check for the media. This news would occupy a small space in the next morning’s newspapers and broadcasts—a tiny stone cast into the vast waters of the entertainment industry, its ripple potential unknown.

By the end of the press conference, it was past seven in the evening. The hosts were heading to a high-end restaurant in Roppongi for a celebratory dinner. Despite being the winner, Ye Zhao was not invited. The reason, he surmised, was that in the eyes of the RB people, such gatherings were their internal affairs, and Ye Zhao was not considered part of their "circle." One could call it strictness, but frankly, it was because RB was a nation both rigid and petty.

Chiyoda Ward was the heart of Tokyo, home to many corporate headquarters. Since it was not a commercial district, the streets at night were especially quiet.

"These stingy RB people, they didn’t even offer a boxed meal..." Ye Zhao grumbled, stomach rumbling with hunger.

A white Cadillac slowly approached from behind. When it drew near, the driver’s window rolled down, and a voice called, "Mr. Ye."

By the dim streetlights, Ye Zhao recognized the woman as the aunt from the daytime selection.

"Is there something you need?"

"I’ve reserved a table at a Western restaurant in Ginza. Would you care to join me? You haven’t had dinner yet, right?"

"No," Ye Zhao declined flatly. "Ginza is too far from where I live. By the time we finish, the trains might have stopped running."

The woman smiled wryly. "Come on, it’s just dinner, not farming or fishing. Besides, even if the trains stop, I can drive you home."

"Auntie, there’s an old saying in China: 'No one offers kindness without reason; if not a thief, then a schemer.'… You probably don’t understand, do you? It means that when someone is overly nice for no reason, there’s always an ulterior motive. It’s late, and we’re unrelated—why would you treat me to dinner and even drive me home?"

"Alright." The woman raised her hands in surrender. "I’m a manager from Ken-On Talent Agency. I think you have great potential and would like to speak with you privately, if that’s alright." As she spoke, she took out a business card and handed it over.

Ye Zhao accepted the card, which read: "Yuko Nakano, Chief Manager, Ken-On Talent Agency." "So you’re from Ken-On. Auntie, you could’ve just said so from the start."

Yuko Nakano pretended not to hear the "Auntie" part again. "Now will you come with me?"

Ye Zhao shrugged, expressing his agreement by action, and directly opened the rear door and got in. After all, a free meal was on offer, and he could hear what Yuko Nakano had up her sleeve—why not?

The restaurant Yuko Nakano chose was near Ginza Station. It was peak dinner hour, with most patrons being local office workers. Yuko ordered salad and seafood soup, with herb-roasted lamb as her main course. Ye Zhao chose salmon and vegetable soup, with a main of black pepper steak. Since he was still a minor, he didn’t order any alcohol.

Ravenous, Ye Zhao dispensed with courtesy and started eating. Though he ate quickly, he remained perfectly composed; to Yuko Nakano, his manner seemed relaxed and elegant. But she wasn’t there to watch Ye Zhao eat. From the moment she first saw him, she had been struck by his presence. Though his looks were not the most striking among the finalists, his aura was exceptionally clean, and his talent shown through his performance of "Secret Base" had won her admiration. She immediately resolved to persuade him to join Ken-On, and even the things she said during the day were meant to catch his attention and facilitate a later approach.

To be fair, Yuko Nakano’s instinct was spot-on. Among the twelve reviewers, had she not spoken up, Ye Zhao would not have remembered her, and might have walked away before she could hand over her card.

"Auntie Nakano, if you have something to say, now’s the time," Ye Zhao prompted, having satisfied his hunger.

"I’ll get right to the point." When it came to business, Yuko Nakano’s demeanor shifted to that of a capable professional woman. "I’m very optimistic about your potential and talent, and I want to sign you as an artist for Ken-On Talent Agency."

A talent scout approaching you is always because they see something in you. Ye Zhao knew that this woman was different from the many scouts he’d encountered in Shibuya; if he showed any interest, she could quickly finalize a contract, and he needn’t worry about being tricked into anything strange afterward.

"If I sign with your agency, what terms can you offer me?"