Chapter 32: Finding a Place to Live

“Get everything packed—we’re heading out.” Luo Quan combed her golden hair with a wooden comb, turning to the two girls.

Wen Xia played with her phone: “Why go out? Staying home is better—it’s so sunny outside.”

Luo Quan sighed: “How can you be more homebound than me? We’re going to look for an apartment. Don’t you think this place is too cramped?”

Sensitive Juniko’s nose instantly prickled with tears: “Ah, is Qian-chan implying that my arrival made the rooms feel crowded? I’m so sorry—I’ll sleep in the living room tonight!”

“Stop adding drama!” Luo Quan rolled her eyes. “I didn’t imply anything. This place is just too small for three people. I want to move to a bigger one—so all three of us can have space to do our own things.”

Wen Xia put down her phone and nodded: “Actually, you’re right. Three people in one room is pretty tight. This is almost as cramped as the trainee dorm I lived in back in Korea.”

Luo Quan stood up: “Then change clothes quickly—let’s find a place today and move all our stuff over.”

As soon as Luo Quan finished speaking, Wen Xia and Juniko immediately opened their suitcases, carefully selecting outfits to change into.

As the saying goes, a Buddha needs golden robes, a person needs fine clothes. Both were already stunning beauties with great taste in fashion; after changing into stylish outfits, their entire aura improved dramatically.

Wen Xia, former leader of a popular Korean girl group, dressed in Korean style: a cropped tight tank top on top, paired with loose, high-waisted military-green pants—clean, fresh, and brimming with youthful energy.

Juniko’s outfit was more Western: a light pink, backless strap dress made of smooth, breathable fabric. To shield against the harsh sun, she’d also brought a straw green sunhat adorned with a circle of pink flowers.

“You’re going out in that?” After changing, they glanced at Luo Quan’s outfit and were stunned.

“What’s wrong with it?” Luo Quan spread her hands, puzzled. “I wear this whether I’m at home or out—this is my usual summer look.”

Wen Xia shook her head, smiling: “Fine, do whatever makes you happy.”

“Enough talking—I called Miki to pick us up. Let’s go downstairs.” Luo Quan stepped out the door wearing flip-flops.

Wen Xia stared at Luo Quan’s back, utterly speechless: “Such a pretty girl, yet so careless about her appearance.”

Juniko laughed: “Qian-chan has always been this carefree—like a boy.”

The three reached the ground floor; blazing sunlight instantly hit their faces. Wen Xia put on sunglasses, Juniko put on her sunhat, and both had applied sunscreen earlier.

Only Luo Quan walked out with no protection at all.

Seeing Juniko and Wen Xia prepared, Luo Quan grew worried. She’d heard some people’s skin was sensitive to UV rays—exposure could cause photodermatitis, turning the face red and swollen. She wondered if her own skin was that fragile.

Whether from psychological suggestion or not, Luo Quan suddenly felt a stinging sensation across her face. After a moment’s thought, she said: “I’m going back up to get something!”

Three minutes later, Luo Quan came back down, holding a folding fan in her right hand and rubbing sunscreen onto her face with her left.

Wen Xia barely held back her laughter: “You look like you could star in a movie as an old man playing chess in the courtyard.”

Luo Quan tucked her hands behind her back, smugly declaring: “This is postmodern street style—returning to simplicity, hiding in plain sight. How could you common folk possibly understand the depth behind this look?”

Wen Xia rolled her eyes: “You’re a genius at explaining mediocrity as avant-garde. Stay far away from me when we go out—don’t say you’re my best friend. I’d be too embarrassed.”

“Hmph, you don’t understand art.” Luo Quan lifted her chin and strode confidently to Juniko’s side.

Soon, Miki’s car arrived. Having seen countless female idols at work, he was momentarily stunned by the three stunning beauties before him—but quickly recovered, avoiding any embarrassment in front of them.

“Miss Luo, where exactly are we going today?” Miki asked Luo Quan, who sat on his left.

“Do you know of any decent apartments near Sony’s headquarters? I want to move—nothing fancy, just clean and quiet.”

“You could consider our company’s employee apartments—they’re on the street near the office, and hardly anyone lives there. It’s definitely quiet.”

Luo Quan’s interest sparked: “What’s the rent?”

Miki laughed: “Miss Luo, you’re one of the company’s key new talents. An apartment? No problem—I’ll just file an application for you. One phone call, and you’re in.”

“There’s such a thing?” Luo Quan beamed. “Then please help me!”

Miki stepped on the gas: “I’ll take you to see the employee apartment first. If you like it, I’ll call a moving company to transfer your belongings.”

Soon, they arrived at Sony’s employee apartment complex in Shibuya. Floors twelve through eighteen belonged to Sony Records and were not open to the public—only for internal staff. Both purchase and rental prices were far lower than market rates for comparable units, a perk reserved for major company employees.

Fortunately, this benefit had only recently been implemented, leaving two full floors of apartments vacant. Each unit was a standard three-bedroom, one-living-room, one-bathroom layout, 65 square meters in size.

Compared to China, a 65-square-meter three-bedroom apartment was quite small—but in expensive Shibuya, even such a compact unit could sell for six million RMB.

If rented, monthly rent started at 180,000 yen; few employees rented one alone—they usually split the cost among three.

But employee benefits varied. After learning of Luo Quan’s housing needs, Director Ishimura immediately signed off, assigning her a vacant unit with rent and utilities fully covered.

A Shibuya apartment was indeed expensive—but Director Ishimura knew better than to undervalue a brilliant young singer.

The two sides were still in the sweet spot of their partnership. After all the buzz, Luo Quan had shown potential to become a major female artist; her album had already sold 750,000 copies—three platinum—and the momentum suggested total sales would far exceed the four-platinum projection.

Sony would pay any price to keep such an unpredictable talent. If securing her goodwill now meant she’d sign a long-term contract, even giving her the apartment for free wouldn’t be too much.

Of course, Luo Quan had no intention of signing any contract with any company—at least not yet.

But she felt Sony’s generosity and sincerity, and she’d remember it. As long as the collaboration remained smooth, she was willing to grant Sony exclusive rights to her songs.

Luo Quan had peeked inside the apartment. It wasn’t as spacious as she’d imagined, but the furniture was complete, the decor simple and clean—ready to move into immediately.

The location was excellent too: a large international mall was nearby, one of Tokyo’s busiest areas.

Luo Quan was extremely satisfied with this setup—especially after hearing that Director Ishimura had waived her rent and utilities. Wen Xia, listening, felt a pang of envy.

Wen Xia sighed with a touch of bitterness: “Original singers really are something else. My senior colleagues who spent ten years at SM never got this kind of treatment.”

Luo Quan smirked: “Don’t start. If you went back home, agencies would be lining up to give you cars and apartments. You don’t need me to tell you which East Asian country pays artists the most.”

Juniko listened, dazzled. She hadn’t realized the two girls beside her were already this wealthy—being an artist really could make you rich!

“Enough of that. We came to Shibuya—let’s not waste it. Who’s ready to go shopping?” Wen Xia raised both hands high.

Hearing the word “shopping,” Juniko’s eyes lit up and she raised her right hand.

Wen Xia looked expectantly at her friend: “Only you’re left, Luo Luo.”

Luo Quan smiled helplessly and nodded: “Alright, let’s go.”