Have you ever been a celebrity? Why are you writing about entertainment?

"This song feels pretty bland."

This was the first reaction of netizens upon hearing "So You're Here Too": simple chord progressions, no complicated arrangement...

Compared to Yu Wei's latest song, this song's intro is clearly not catchy enough.

Such arrangements were common in Chinese pop music ten years ago, carrying the unique freshness of that era.

However, for today's listeners, especially those "spoiled" by Yu Wei's many masterpieces, the beginning of this song is only average.

Please allow me to settle down.

The past was buried in silence.
I came from the sea, covered in wind and rain.

He then secluded himself in this desert.

Compared to other indigenous singers, Liu Ying's voice is relatively plain. Her voice is not particularly distinctive, but it has a stable texture. It is not harsh or flamboyant; it simply narrates calmly.

This style suits the song well, but it's too bland, which means it's hard for netizens to have a deep impression of her.

The arrangement here remains minimalist, with only subtle strings appearing in the background, leaving ample space for her voice.

As we move into the second verse, the melody begins to fluctuate slightly, like an undercurrent beneath a calm sea.

Things that should be hidden will always become clear.

A thousand words can only leave one speechless.
Love is a superstition of timing and circumstance.

Oh, so you're here too.

Upon hearing this, netizens finally understood the meaning of the song title. It's not just about the surprise of meeting someone, but also about the relief of finally finding the answer after a long search.

That exclamation of "You're here too" contains so much of the possibility of missing out, and so much of the chance for good fortune.

The lyrics of this song are subtle and concise, yet full of blank spaces, making people unconsciously fill in the stories behind those blanks.

However, this subtle style may make some listeners feel alienated, lacking directness and impact...

The line “Love is a superstition of timing and location” is probably the most widely remembered lyric in the entire song.

It elevates the randomness of love to the level of destiny, but the use of the word "superstition" dissolves the solemnity of this destiny, leaving behind a helpless humor.

This contradictory description of love—that it is both fate and superstition—perfectly illustrates the complex attitudes people have towards relationships.

"So You're Here Too" is a work with both clear strengths and limitations. It's not the kind of masterpiece that will conquer everyone immediately, but it provides a stable emotional vessel.

Compared to mainstream hits, this song is undoubtedly more like a niche gem.

From a musical point of view, "So You're Here Too" does not have any groundbreaking innovations. The song is easy to sing along to, but it also lacks technical highlights.

Yu Wei's much-vaunted singing skills were not showcased in this song; it was simply mediocre...

This song would be a great hit for any other singer, but for Yu Wei right now, it's clearly lacking.

"Old Yu has fallen behind, but it's also possible that the last song was too good."

"Where do I poop? I feel a strong urge to do that."

"Although I also like this song, I have to admit that for Yu Wei now, not being able to satisfy the vast majority of listeners is just average."

"So Young 2: Never Gone" is certainly not bad, but netizens nowadays have too high expectations for Yu Wei. Others' strengths are just his passing grade, especially in a fake competition where masterpieces are frequently produced.

The essence of this song is its content; it sits quietly, waiting for a moment to be discovered and elicit the exclamation, "So you were here all along."

In the eyes of netizens who have been spoiled, Yu Wei really messed up this time.

However, this competition includes more than one song. Let's listen to another song, "The Wind Blows Through the Wheat Fields," first. Little La doesn't count as La.

……

At six o'clock in the afternoon, the Tokyo subway flowed slowly and heavily, like a tired blood vessel.

Misaki squeezed into the carriage with the flow of people and found a small foothold near the door.

She skillfully took out noise-canceling headphones from her backpack, put them on, and blocked out all the surrounding noise.

The Yamanote Line is as crowded as ever during rush hour.

She saw her tired reflection through the glass window. She was a 23-year-old college graduate who had just completed three months of internship at an advertising company in Ginza. Every day, she wavered between "trying harder" and "I may not be a good fit for this place."

The music app on her phone pushed out daily recommendations, and as she swiped her finger, a song title suddenly caught her eye.

"The Flower That Is Loved and the Flower That Is Not Loved," Misaki's finger hovers over the screen. The song title carries a simple poetic quality, yet it also seems to hint at some profound philosophical thought.

She remembered the lavender plant on her apartment windowsill that was almost withered; she had been working overtime all week and had completely forgotten to water it.

The difference between a flower that is loved and one that is not is probably whether or not someone remembers that they need water...

She clicked on the song.

The prelude is a simple piano melody, as clear as a mountain stream, yet carrying an indescribable sense of loneliness.

Misaki leaned against the carriage wall and closed her eyes.

The subway was emerging from underground, and the afterglow of the setting sun suddenly filled the carriage, casting a warm orange-red glow through my eyes.

Then, an unfamiliar male voice rang out.

Unlike many male singers from the cherry blossom region she was familiar with, this was a voice full of narrative. As she listened, she quickly became immersed in the story the singer had woven.

Misaki didn't understand music theory, but she could sense something real in the sound, something that wasn't a carefully packaged product, but rather a plant growing from the soil of life.

"Red flower ゆれる爱されてゆれる
(The red flowers sway in the wind because they are loved.)
爱されて頬そめて色じらっている (cheeks turn red and sway shyly because of being loved). "

As the train passed Shinjuku Station, more passengers poured in, and Misaki was squeezed into a corner, but her mind was completely absorbed in the music.

The lyrics are incredibly evocative; she immediately pictured a bright, beautiful red flower, confidently displaying its beauty because it is so beloved.

This seems to correspond to those people and things that are naturally favored by the world.

"白い花ゆれるうつむいてゆれる

(The white flowers swayed in the wind, their heads bowed.)
love love love shame love love love

(Swaying in shame because she is not loved.)

Then, the image of another flower appeared: a silent, humble, and even somewhat self-conscious white flower.

It swayed in the wind as well, but it bowed its head in shame because no one paid any attention to it.

The two verses contrasted with each other, gently touching Misaki's heart.

She thought of the senior colleague in the company who was always praised, and herself, the intern who was often overlooked.

She did the same work, put in the same effort, and often worked even later, but her seniors' proposals were always more easily approved, and her suggestions for revision were always adopted more often.

The seniors are like "flowers that are loved," while I am probably a "flower that is not loved"...

As the song enters its chorus, the melody suddenly becomes expansive, like a crack appearing in a gloomy sky, allowing sunlight to pour down.

"爱される花も爱されぬ花も"

(Whether the flower is loved or not)

咲いて三るひと春に変わりないのに
(It's no different in a spring of blooming and withering.)

Misaki suddenly felt her eyes burning.

She blinked hurriedly, thankful that she was wearing a mask. The simple lyrics were like a key, unlocking a locked drawer in her heart.

Yes, whether they are loved or not, whether they are dazzling red flowers or simple white flowers, they all go through the same life cycle, blooming in the same spring and eventually withering away.

She recalled her initial reason for choosing the advertising industry: not because she was particularly talented, nor because she believed she could be the best, but simply because she liked it.

Like the blooming of an "unloved flower," it doesn't bloom to be seen, but simply because the wind comes and it happens to have petals.

The train carriage swayed slightly, and the tall buildings outside the window rushed past.

The piano music gradually faded away, and a violin melody began, long and sorrowful, yet beautiful enough to break one's heart.

This interlude is like a speech, telling something that cannot be expressed in words; at least, they all truly blossomed.

The subway announcements were playing, but Misaki didn't hear them at all; her mind was completely absorbed by the music.

As the song neared its end, all the instruments gradually quieted down, leaving only the piano and the singing, lingering in the ears for a long time.

After the music stopped, there was a few seconds of complete silence before the sounds of reality returned—the sound of the subway running, the coughs of the surrounding passengers, and the ringing of a cell phone somewhere.

Misaki opened her eyes and found that she was in tears without even realizing it.

She hurriedly wiped away her tears, only to find that the more she wiped, the more tears she shed. It wasn't just that she was moved by the song; it was more like some long-accumulated emotion finally finding an outlet.

The loneliness of the past three months in Tokyo, the uncertainty about the future, and the self-doubt were all released in this moment with tears…

She looked at the display screen inside the carriage and realized that she had missed her stop. Strangely, she did not feel panicked or anxious; instead, she felt a wonderful sense of calm.

Compared to the emotions this song evokes, what do these things matter?

Thank you……

By the way, she didn't know who the singer was. Such a healing voice, she might be a hidden gem among unknown new singers!

Misaki then remembered to look at the singer's name, but the two Chinese characters that caught her eye made her pause in surprise.

Is there something wrong?
The word "cherry blossom" appears, but when put together, it has no clear meaning. Rather than being a forced combination, it sounds more like a name, a Chinese person's name...

"Eh!!!"

Misaki let out a startled cry in the carriage, somewhat disregarding her image, drawing stares from everyone. This scene made the shy girl blush instantly, but the shock in her heart did not diminish in the slightest.

How come this heartwarming and healing Japanese song was written by a foreigner?

She hadn't noticed at all that the lyrics of this song were quite mature, even philosophical, in terms of both wording and details.

It's no exaggeration to say that this song is of higher quality than most new works by domestic singers on the market today.

Is this really something a foreign singer could write? They've actually had someone else interfere in their own field...

But after a brief moment of surprise, Misaki was overjoyed. As an ordinary listener, it was obviously not important where Mr. Yu was from.

She should be glad that she heard this "niche singer".

The train announcement revealed her stop, and this time, Misaki got off the train just in time.

Night had fallen, but Tokyo was brightly lit. Under each light, there was probably someone like her, perhaps a "flower that is loved," or perhaps an "unloved flower," but all growing in their own way.

"Thank you, Mr. Yu."

This tongue-twisting name is quietly entering their lives. (End of Chapter)