Chapter 371: The Righteous, Evil Zhou Hui Min, and the Heartless Yet Warm Wei Ming

Guo Master asked again if he knew what had become of his three colleagues who went to Hong Kong.

Originally, Liu Rulong had also wanted Guo Master to go to Hong Kong, but back then he hadn't made up his mind, and he didn't know the real boss was actually the man beside him.

"They're doing fine. The salary isn't as high as in Japan, but it's still two or three thousand Hong Kong dollars, and at least the language barrier isn't so tough."

Not only did the three former employees of Meiying Factory stay behind, but even one of Ah Long's university classmates chose to drop out after seeing Hong Kong's prosperity and joined him.

Hearing how much less his colleagues earned compared to himself, Guo Master felt a flicker of pride—choosing Japan had been wise—but when Wei Ming brought up the language issue, he grew confused again.

He was on probation; if language problems affected his work, he might get fired, but his whole family counted on him sending money home for a better life, and then he might end up stuck in Japan washing dishes.

Then switch to the underworld? In his past life, Ah Long followed exactly this path.

This was his first time landing in Tokyo in this life, and Wei Ming couldn't help thinking how in his past life, every time he came to Japan, Ah Long would pick him up and arrange everything from start to finish, then…

"Cheng Long is here!"

"Jackie! I love you!"

"Ah, don't hold me back—let me touch your big nose!"

Before Wei Ming could even reflect on how things had changed, the screams of Cheng Long's fans pierced his eardrums.

A flight from Hong Kong had just landed, and Cheng Long was on it—he was here primarily to promote his Hollywood blockbuster *Bullet Train*.

Although technically he wasn't the lead actor, the Japanese studio promoted him as such, placing him and former James Bond Roger Moore side by side on the poster.

After all, Cheng Long had already earned billions of yen in Japan with films like *Drunken Master*, *Snake Fist*, *Laughing Kung Fu*, and *Junior Disciple*, becoming the next action superstar after Bruce Lee with massive box-office appeal across Asia.

Were these crazy women part of the "Only Cheng Long for Me" fan club?

When the crowd thinned out, Wei Ming and Guo Master got separated too, but it didn't matter—they weren't traveling together anyway.

At the exit, Wei Ming spotted a slender figure holding a large sign with Chinese characters reading: "Welcome Wei Ming."

At this point, Wei Ming's literary works hadn't been translated or published in Japan; his fame was limited to the two songs he'd collaborated on with Sarah and the covers of songs by Sadao Watanabe—without writing his name in English, no one would know who he was.

"I didn't expect you'd come pick me up yourself," Wei Ming said, shaking Sadao Watanabe's hand. "Don't you have an assistant?"

"How could I send an assistant to greet a distinguished guest like you? I had to come personally to show sincerity." Sadao Watanabe's financial pressure had eased greatly thanks to Wei Ming's songs, and his gratitude was genuine.

After leaving the airport, Wei Ming got into Sadao Watanabe's car—a Toyota—and headed from the airport to the train station.

He knew Wei Ming had come to Japan mainly to watch the soccer match, so they took the Shinkansen directly to Osaka.

Though flying would've been convenient too, it required switching airports, and since this was technically a trip, taking the train let them enjoy the scenery along the way.

The remaining two matches of the Women's Volleyball World Cup were all scheduled in Osaka.

Sadao Watanabe planned to bring Wei Ming back to Tokyo for his concert only after the volleyball games ended.

In the car, Wei Ming saw the streets of 1980s Japan for the first time—tall buildings, full of vitality—but they hadn't changed much from what he'd seen over a decade later.

After all, the Plaza Accord was just a few years away, and Japan's explosive economic momentum would be brutally crushed.

What year was that again? 198…5? Wei Ming strained to recall the details of the Plaza Accord.

In his past life, domestic media had reported on it, and later, when his company filmed short dramas involving reincarnation stories, the memory had been reinforced.

In the car, Wei Ming also chatted with Sadao Watanabe about Cheng Long he'd met at the airport.

Sadao Watanabe said: "Cheng Long? Oh, I've seen *Drunken Master*—it was truly amazing…"

Seeing Sadao Watanabe about to demonstrate a martial arts move while driving, Wei Ming quickly warned: "Watch your driving safety—we'll spar after we get off."

But it was clear Cheng Long was extremely popular in the Japanese market; with one movie earning 1 billion yen, that's roughly five million U. . dollars—far surpassing Hong Kong's market.

Sadao Watanabe scratched his head: "In Japan, the famous Chinese figures in film are definitely Hong Kong's Cheng Long, in music it's Taiwan's Deng Lijun, and in literature, it's you."

"Me? Does anyone even know me? I mean, the novelist me?"

Sadao Watanabe: "Of course they do. Recently I read an article by a Japanese writer about you—every word dripped with admiration and respect."

"About me? I don't know any Japanese writers—though I do know a few publishers."

"Yes, a new writer named Haruki Murakami—he wrote a novel called *Hear the Wind Sing*. He said he met you in Frankfurt, Germany, that you're deeply respected abroad and are the face of Asian literature, and that he greatly admires how you set aside your status as a great writer to promote your country's culture."

Haruki Murakami? He was in Frankfurt too?!

"Set aside his face"? He must mean those last two days of merchandising.

Wei Ming smiled. He hadn't expected such a connection with the future king of Japanese literature—he wondered if Murakami, watching him chat with Günter Grass on stage, would mutter: "At thirty-two, I stood in the corner like a nobody."

"I should buy one of his books when I get the chance."

Sadao Watanabe: "Can you read it?"

"I came to Japan—I have to bring back some Japanese specialty, don't I?"

"I can give you my entire album box set!"

Wei Ming: "That works too."

Both laughed, but what Wei Ming truly wanted was another kind of Japanese specialty.

They arrived at the train station, and Sadao Watanabe handled all of Wei Ming's ticket purchases and related matters—thoroughly considerate.

Japan's largest city is undoubtedly Tokyo; recently Yokohama's population surpassed Osaka's, but economically and culturally, Osaka remains Japan's second-largest city.

Once aboard, the Shinkansen from the largest city to the second-largest took only three hours.

The distance between them is five hundred kilometers—comparable to Wuhan to Nanjing in China, nearly a full day's journey, and that's precisely the motivation we're chasing.

Zhou Hui and her mother, along with Wei Lingling and her daughter, arrived in Tokyo yesterday and spent yesterday and today sightseeing there.

Ah Min thought her Aunt Ling was incredible—she accompanied all three of them, and between outings, she made a few phone calls and finished her work.

Then she suggested they visit Osaka, Japan's second-largest city, and fly back to Hong Kong from there.

Osaka, Nagoya, and Kumamoto Castle are known as Japan's three great cities, offering scenery different from Tokyo's.

When boarding, Ah Min wore headphones—her mother had bought her a Walkman.

Sony's little device was a dream come true for music lovers—portable, letting you listen anytime, anywhere, and she'd be able to hear countless songs on the ride home.

Thinking of this, Ah Min was extremely optimistic about the music industry's future; she believed that as this product spread, cassette tapes would sell better and better.

Because this product was wildly popular domestically in Japan, production couldn't keep up, so it hadn't yet been sold overseas—Ah Min had only seen one once, from a classmate who'd visited Japan, and many foreign tourists traveling to Japan bought one as a souvenir.

Also in Ah Min's bag were several popular cassette tapes by Japanese singers—songs with styles very different from Cantopop and English pop, enough to keep her listening for a long while.

Suddenly, while walking and listening to Seiko Matsuda, Zhou Hui looked up sharply and pulled off her headphones.

"What's wrong?" Wei Lingling asked.

Zhou Hui laughed sheepishly and shook her head: "I just thought I saw Ah Ming."

Of course, she knew that was impossible.

Ahead, Zhou's mother couldn't help shaking her head—love-struck girl.

Soon after the four boarded, the train began accelerating; Zhou Hui finished one cassette and switched to another.

But as the familiar melody began, her eyes widened in shock, her pupils dilating.

"Ah Min, what now?"

She excitedly shoved one earbud into Wei Lingling's ear. Wei Lingling: "Is this… First Love?"

Zhou Hui nodded, then pulled out the cassette's outer packaging and found the insert with the creator's info and lyrics—among the Japanese, Chinese characters, and English, she joyfully spotted several "Wei Ming"s.

Zhou Hui said: "Some Hong Kong singers often cover Japanese songs, but I never expected Japanese singers would cover Ah Ming's songs—and not just one!"

Wei Lingling commented: "The guy singing it isn't bad."

"I think it's average—he doesn't understand first love at all." Still, Ah Min decided to buy another cassette in Osaka and mail it to Ah Ming.

The Tokyo-Osaka Shinkansen line was vital, and since it was the weekend, the train was nearly full despite the high price; halfway through, Zhou Hui suddenly stood up to use the restroom between the train cars.

Maybe the sashimi didn't agree with her—she had a stomachache.

Just as Zhou Hui entered, Wei Ming arrived; he waited a long time, but she didn't come out.

"Is she having a long one?"

Wei Ming hesitated, then went to the restroom on the other side.

After finishing, he returned to his seat and said to Sadao Watanabe: "We're about halfway there, right?"

"Mm, we're almost at Nagoya—it'll stop longer there." Sadao Watanabe had brought some local snacks, like dorayaki; this time of day was just right for a snack.

"You can eat these now—I'll treat you to Kobe beef in Osaka."

Wei Ming laughed: "I absolutely love beef."

Then he thought of Ah Min, who didn't eat beef—wondering what she was doing now. Today was Saturday—was she practicing piano or vocal training?

Answer: She was pooping.

Ah Min finally emerged, still wearing her headphones; seeing others waiting in line, she felt embarrassed—listening to music while using the restroom made you feel no rush.

This was just music—if you could watch TV while going, you might never come out.

As she left, she glanced back and saw a few young people gathered around a man with glasses, holding pens and notebooks—he looked familiar. Was he a Japanese celebrity?

When she returned to her seat and finished Sadao Watanabe's new album, she was about to switch cassettes when she suddenly cried out, "Ah!"

Lin Ni, amused and exasperated: "Ah Min, why are you so dramatic on the Shinkansen? What's wrong now?"