Chapter 75

Guang Tai sprinted into the dojo, his voice arriving before he did: “Master Liu, there’s a woman outside calling herself Luo Quan—says she’s a friend of Junko.”

“Luo Quan…” Liu Yanzhai stroked his short beard, paused thoughtfully, then recalled: “Bring her in. Junko often mentioned her—she was Junko’s closest friend in high school.”

Guang Tai beamed: “Yes!”

Soon, Luo Quan and Wen Xia were led into the dojo.

Liu Yanzhai sat in the reception room, while the adjacent chamber—where disciples trained—was separated only by a thin wooden sliding door, filled with the rhythmic shouts of sword practice.

“Elder, greetings!” Luo Quan felt an unexplained tremor at the sight of the imposing old man seated cross-legged in the center.

“No need to fear me—I won’t eat you,” Liu Yanzhai chuckled, gesturing for Luo Quan and Wen Xia to sit.

Before him stood a small tea table, cluttered with an array of tea utensils—he was clearly preparing tea.

In Japan, tea ceremony is a highly refined art, and many regard tea preparation as spiritual cultivation; thus, esteemed elders often use it to hone their inner calm—and Liu Yanzhai was no exception.

Seeing Liu Yanzhai so amiable, Luo Quan still dared not relax.

These elders were all smiling tigers—smiling to your face, yet turning on you faster than flipping a page; one moment they made you feel like basking in spring breeze, the next they exploded in rage.

But since the situation was unclear, Luo Quan followed the host’s lead and sat down.

In Japan, sitting meant kneeling—but unlike in Huaxia, Japanese kneeling involved resting the buttocks on the heels, the body neither fully relaxed nor bowed, a common daily posture with no hint of humiliation.

This custom originated in ancient Huaxia, where kneeling was first developed; it later spread to Japan and endured, while Huaxia itself abandoned it long ago.

“I heard Junko lived with you for a long time. Thank you for your care,” Liu Yanzhai said, pouring hot tea for both Luo Quan and Wen Xia, his tone polite.

Luo Quan hurriedly waved her hands: “Don’t say that—we’re close friends, no need to speak of care or favor… By the way, has Junko returned to the dojo?”

Luo Quan asked cautiously, eyes fixed on Liu Yanzhai’s expression.

Liu Yanzhai nodded, his face calm: “Yes.”

Luo Quan exhaled in relief: “Then I’m glad. But I need to see Junko—she hasn’t explained everything to me. I must ask her in person.”

“Still have questions?” Liu Yanzhai frowned, but since Luo Quan was Junko’s close friend, he didn’t press further.

Besides, Luo Quan’s name had recently become wildly famous in Japan—even Liu Yanzhai, who rarely went online, had heard of her. After learning of her deeds, he believed it was harmless, even beneficial, for Junko to befriend such a girl.

“I’ll send someone to call her,” Liu Yanzhai said, glancing at a disciple beside him, who immediately turned and walked inside.

While waiting, Luo Quan and Wen Xia sipped their tea, outwardly calm, but their hearts churned.

“Luo-chan!” A joyful cry rang from within—Junko, dressed in a sheer kimono, rushed to Luo Quan’s side, beaming.

“Ask your questions,” Liu Yanzhai coughed lightly, instantly dimming Junko’s smile.

Luo Quan smiled faintly and said to Junko: “Junko, I need to ask you—do you still intend to pursue your idol dream?”

“Of course!” Junko nodded without hesitation, then paused halfway and glanced at her grandfather.

Liu Yanzhai’s face had turned dark—he never expected Luo Quan’s question to be this. Had he known, he would never have let Junko come out!

“Idol? Nonsense! Even if you won’t learn our family’s sword art, you must still attend university properly! How can you speak such irresponsible words?!” Liu Yanzhai slammed his fist on the tea table, sending utensils flying and hot tea splashing everywhere.

Junko lifted her chin defiantly, eyes unwavering: “Being an idol is my greatest dream—how is that irresponsible? I’ve spent my whole life obeying you, following your expectations. This time, I only wish to follow my own heart. Please, Grandfather, support me!”

“Impossible!” Liu Yanzhai’s tone was even more absolute than Junko’s. He could not believe becoming an idol was a worthy path; in his view, whether attending university or inheriting the family’s sword tradition, both were ten thousand times better than idolhood—a profession of stage antics, singing and laughing for crowds, no different from the courtesans of Gion!

Seeing this, Luo Quan quickly interjected: “Elder, you shouldn’t hold such prejudice against idols. It’s a legitimate profession, and Junko’s dream—why can’t you support her?”

“Support?” Liu Yanzhai laughed bitterly, glaring at Junko: “Then let me ask you—can you guarantee you’ll become as famous in Japan as your friend Luo Quan? Do you have the talent to reach the top of this industry? Do you have the strength to guarantee you’ll win public favor?”

Each question was posed one by one, each making Junko’s face whiter.

Wen Xia, who had remained silent until now, suddenly spoke: “I can guarantee it. With me, even if Junko doesn’t become the top, she will absolutely reach the highest tier. I was once at the peak of idol excellence—my words are not empty boasts!

Junko’s talent and diligence surpass ordinary people. With proper guidance, she can become an outstanding idol!”

“I can help too!” Luo Quan added quickly.

Liu Yanzhai took a deep breath and asked gravely: “Even if you can offer her all this support, what if she still fails? Don’t tell me ‘it will surely succeed’—who can predict the future? I ask you: if Junko ultimately fails, forgotten by all, how will you make up for the years she wasted?”

Junko raised her clenched right fist: “I’m young—I can take a leave of absence now and return to school later!”

Liu Yanzhai snapped: “That’s your plan? Just squandering your youth because you’re young—ultimately, it’s still irresponsibility! You’re wasting your time chasing a phantom dream!”

“I can help make up for it,” Luo Quan placed her hand on Junko’s shoulder, taking the burden onto herself. “Have you heard of the Hokushin Ittō-ryū?”