Chapter 24: Dreams and Reality

Luo Quan widened her eyes: “Did I hear that right? You want to be an idol?”

Yuichi Junko nodded: “Yes, it’s been my dream since I was very young—I thought I told you before?”

“I thought you were joking,” Luo Quan sighed. “Now I understand why your grandfather scolded you—turning your back on Tokyo University to become an idol? What else is that but a deviant path?”

“I can’t stand hearing that,” Wen Xia crossed her arms, her expression serious. “Idols aren’t some deviant path—they’re a legitimate profession that fulfills the spiritual needs of teenagers, maintains social stability, and boosts economic growth. The idol industry in Asia’s three major countries is booming with enormous potential. What’s wrong with being an idol?”

“Besides, Purezi’s face is so adorable—she’s a top-tier newcomer in Japan who could debut right where she stands; just a little exposure and she’ll go viral!”

Yuichi Junko whispered: “Actually… I want to debut in Korea.”

“What?” Wen Xia was startled. “The Korean idol market is so fierce—why go there?”

Yuichi Junko said earnestly: “Precisely because it’s fierce, I want to prove myself there. Besides, I can’t accept many things in Japan’s idol industry—I want a new environment.”

Wen Xia frowned: “Success in Korea demands exceptional skill. You’re already around eighteen—quite old for a trainee.”

Yuichi Junko exclaimed: “I’m not unprepared! I can dance, and I’ve trained my singing too!”

“Then show me a dance,” Wen Xia said, leaning back. Luo Quan quickly pressed against the wall, clearing a small space for Yuichi Junko.

Japan has a dance form called Butoh, created in the 1960s during Japan’s “de-Westernization” movement by blending Eastern and Western dance styles.

Luo Quan had seen this dance a few times on TV—it was eerie, possessing a dark, twisted, despairing beauty that perfectly matched Japan’s native character.

But Luo Quan couldn’t see what was beautiful about it; she found it sinister and terrifying, and after watching it once, she had nightmares for several nights.

She had assumed Purezi’s dance meant Butoh—after all, in her mind, Purezi was a traditional Japanese girl who would surely learn such folk art.

But to Luo Quan’s shock, after rolling up her long skirt and pinning it to her thighs, Purezi performed a jazz dance for her and Wen Xia.

Though there was no music, Purezi’s performance wasn’t hindered—her waist and hips moved with infectious rhythm, her arm motions and footwork perfectly coordinated; the only flaw was her movements lacked crispness, appearing soft and limp.

After finishing the dance, Purezi let down her skirt, crossed her hands over her stomach, and stared anxiously at Wen Xia.

Luo Quan exclaimed: “Purezi, when did you learn dance? Why have I never seen you dance before?!”

Yuichi Junko blushed: “I secretly enrolled in a dance class—I told no one.”

“Your dance… I can only give you four points,” Wen Xia said seriously.

Luo Quan laughed: “Not bad—you’re two points from passing.”

“Ten points is the minimum standard for debut,” Wen Xia said, plunging the room into silence.

Yuichi Junko’s face fell; she slowly sank to the floor: “My level is still far too low.”

Luo Quan questioned: “Wen Xia, aren’t you being too strict? Purezi’s dancing isn’t much worse than trainees back home—why only four points?”

Wen Xia shook her head: “You said ‘back home,’ but Purezi wants to debut in Korea—in Korea, this level of dancing isn’t impressive at all.”

Luo Quan glanced at the dejected Yuichi Junko and encouraged: “Then Purezi, sing a song—if your singing’s good, it’ll add plenty of points.”

“Okay!” Yuichi Junko clenched her fists, stood up, and played music on her phone—it was Luo Quan’s song “Lemon.”

Unfortunately, Purezi’s singing was even worse than her dancing; aside from staying in tune, there was nothing noteworthy about it.

Wen Xia said nothing, only glanced at Luo Quan—clearly meaning: you’re the expert, you handle the bad cop.

Looking at Purezi’s hopeful eyes, Luo Quan rubbed her head in discomfort: “Um… Purezi, your pitch is accurate, but your vocal technique has a lot of room for improvement—you need to work harder.”

“A lot of room for improvement” meant her skill was extremely low—Purezi understood this subtext.

But she’d already prepared herself mentally; though saddened, she still smiled: “It’s fine—I’ll train twice as hard to improve my dancing and singing. Debuting as an idol is my dream—I won’t give up easily!”

Wen Xia sighed: “I don’t want to dampen your spirits, but your chances of debuting in Korea are slim.”

“You’re only eighteen, but you’re already quite old for a trainee. To meet debut standards, you’ll need at least two or three more years of training—the older you get, the lower your chances. And with such fierce competition there, your odds of becoming popular are minuscule.”

Yuichi Junko fretted: “Then… what should I do?”

“You don’t have to cling to one tree,” Wen Xia smiled like a fox. “Switching locations might actually open better prospects.”

“How?” Purezi, unsuspecting, stepped deeper into Wen Xia’s carefully laid trap.

Wen Xia grinned: “For example—you could debut in Huaxia! The competition there isn’t as fierce as Korea’s, but the market is even larger than Japan’s, and entertainers hold far higher status with the highest income of the three countries—you could absolutely become an idol in Huaxia!”

“If you’re interested, I can teach you dance during this time, and Luo Quan can help with your singing—your skills will improve dramatically in a short while.”

“Really?!” Yuichi Junko jumped up excitedly.

“But how’s your Mandarin? Mastering Mandarin is essential for debuting in Huaxia.”

Yuichi Junko spoke in Mandarin: “I minored in Huaxian language at university, and during high school I learned a lot from Quan-jie—daily conversation isn’t a problem, though my accent is a bit…”

Wen Xia nodded: “That’s already impressive. As long as you practice speaking regularly, your accent won’t be a big issue.”

Mandarin is one of the world’s hardest languages, recognized by UNESCO. Though Japanese script derives from Chinese characters, pronunciation differs drastically—many Japanese struggle to distinguish retroflex and alveolar consonants, or front and back nasal sounds. Yet Purezi excels here; given time, she could speak Mandarin with perfect diction.

“Because of me, you’ve gone through so much trouble—I’ll be grateful for your guidance!” Yuichi Junko suddenly knelt before Wen Xia, startling her into leaping back.

“What are you doing? You don’t need to bow like this to thank me!” Wen Xia hurriedly pulled Purezi up.

But Purezi didn’t find it strange—in Japan, kneeling is a common gesture of apology or deep respect.

As they were still talking, Luo Quan’s phone rang again.

Wen Xia glanced curiously: “Another friend coming to see you?”

“I only have one friend in Japan—Purezi,” Luo Quan picked up her phone, frowning slightly. “It’s Mom.”

“Oh… Aunt Luo!” Wen Xia exclaimed, surprised and delighted.

“Hello, Mom?”

“Sweetheart, I finally reached you! How have you been these past few days? Your allowance must be gone by now—Mom’s fault for leaving in such a rush, and the island’s signal’s terrible—I’ll send you money right away!”

Hearing her mother’s apologetic tone, Luo Quan smiled: “No need—I’ve made a fortune now.”

“What fortune?” Luo Quan’s mother paused.

“I debuted as a singer—my album’s selling like crazy. Soon I’ll be able to buy an apartment in Tokyo!”

“Really?!” Luo Quan’s mother gasped. “My daughter does everything so well—I’m so proud!”

“Enough about me—how are you on the island? Did you find Dad?”

Luo Quan’s mother lowered her voice: “I found him. I rented a house near where he lives—I see him walking his dog every morning. He’s still as handsome as ever~~~”

“Oh my god…” Luo Quan slipped into her hometown dialect. “Why are you acting like a lovesick fool? If you found him, just go up to him! Hiding and spying on him like a stalker—is that what you want?”

Luo Quan’s mother’s voice grew quieter: “I… I’m afraid he’ll run away again like before…”

“Mom, listen to me—long suffering is worse than quick pain. Hiding won’t get you anywhere.”

“Then I’ll go see your father tomorrow!”

“Good. No matter what, I’ll never abandon you. Good luck!”

After hanging up, Luo Quan exhaled deeply.

Yuichi Junko and Wen Xia knew Luo Quan’s background; having overheard the mother-daughter conversation, they understood roughly what had happened and didn’t ask further.

Thus, Luo Quan’s cramped apartment now had one more resident—and the shrinking living space had already pushed her to look for a larger apartment.