Chapter Text
Touya stared at the sales figures on the computer screen through the lenses of his glasses, his pale blue side of the bangs hanging down in front of his left eye, silver eyes reflecting bleak numbers. His fourth mystery novel, “Blender,” had been on the market for three months, and the first five thousand copies had sold only seventeen hundred. The publisher‘s editor had tactfully hinted in an email that if the next book still had this result, they might consider not renewing the contract.
He rested his chin on the desk, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the keyboard. Outside the window was Tokyo‘s late autumn dusk, maple leaves lighting up the streets like flames. He was already twenty-eight years old, had been in the business for five years, and had written four novels. The critics all said he was “smart in his writing and well-constructed,” but readers just couldn‘t remember his name.
“Maybe I really am not suited to writing detective stories...” he muttered to himself.
The phone rang. It was the editor.
“Aoyagi-san,” the editor‘s voice was tentative, “I have a suggestion... Would you consider... adding some other elements?”
“Other elements?”
“For example... romance?” the editor said carefully, “Currently, complex themes of romance plus mystery are very popular in the market. You write so well, you must be excellent at writing romance dramas too.”
Touya fell silent. Had he ever written about love? Yes, he had. In his detective novels, love was often the catalyst for tragedy: jealousy, betrayal, hatred born of love. But he had never made love the main thread, never allowed love to become a light illuminating the darkness.
“Let me think,” he said.
After hanging up the phone, Touya stood in front of the window for a long time. The maple leaves spun and fell in the wind, like some silent hint. He suddenly remembered a book he had read a long time ago—a nonfiction about the flower street of the Edo period, in which a true story was recorded: A samurai lurking in the flower street, and an Oiran with a blood feud, fell in love during the turmoil of the last years of the shogunate, and eventually both perished.
That story had been buried in his heart for many years. He had always wanted to write it, but felt that his penmanship was insufficient, unable to master the atmosphere of that era. But now was perhaps the right time.
He began to write.
Three months later, “Kaede do Tsubaki” was completed.
The story takes place in Kyoto at the end of the Shogunate. Samurai Kaede is a secret agent of the Fallen Shogunate faction, lurking in the flower streets, collecting information from high-ranking officials of the Shogunate as a patron. Oiran Tsubaki is the most famous beauty in the flower streets, ostensibly a favorite of a certain great name, but in fact secretly plotting revenge against a certain important official of the Shogunate, who is precisely the murderer of his entire family.
The two met in the Flower Street. Kaede was attracted by Tsubaki‘s wisdom and calmness.
Tsubaki, on the other hand, became curious about Kaede‘s unyielding and lonely temperament, which did not belong to the flower street. They probed each other, hid from each other, and gradually drew closer through one deduction after another and games. In the end, Kaede discovered Tsubaki‘s true identity and revenge plan, and Tsubaki also recognized Kaede‘s identity as a spy. They faced a choice: to continue their respective missions, or to give up everything for each other?
Touya wove mystery and love together. Every chapter had a riddle: the murder in the flower street, the conspiracy of the shogunate, the signals of the Fall of the Curtain, and the solution of the riddle was often connected to the progress of the relationship between the two people. He wrote with unprecedented intensity, as if those characters were really living, breathing, and loving each other before his eyes.
The publisher didn‘t look forward to this book. “Love plus mystery?” The president frowned, “This kind of subject matter is difficult to balance, readers might not like either side.”
“Let me try,” Touya said. “If this one doesn‘t work either, I’ll give up.”
The first printing was only three thousand copies. Touya didn‘t expect much, just calmly accepted the reality.
Then, a miracle happened.
Akito‘s social media account has eight million followers.
As an actor from an idol background, he debuted at eighteen, transformed at twenty-four, and at twenty-eight had already become one of the most sought-after stars in Japanese film and television circles. His orange hair with yellow and green highlights and green eyes were iconic features, and the media often said he was “the male protagonist who walked out of a manga.” But few people knew that, beneath his polished appearance, Akito had a secret hobby that persisted for three years: reading Touya‘s mystery novels.
His shelves were neatly lined with records of various styles, with only a few books next to them. Touya liked to read, whether in a café, before going to bed, or during travel, he could always find peace in books. While Akito wasn‘t good at reading for long periods of time, and reading too much would give him headaches, Touya‘s books were the only exception. He would read during filming breaks, while waiting for flights, and late at night. Touya‘s words calmed him, making him forget the noise and pressure of the entertainment industry.
He had discovered Touya‘s novel by chance three years ago. It was in a remote secondhand bookstore. To pass the time, he casually picked up a novel with a simple cover, and after reading a few pages, he was attracted. The calm touch of the pen, the exquisite structure, and the insight into the subtleties of human nature amazed him greatly.
He bought all of Touya‘s works and became a loyal reader. But he has never publicly recommended them. It‘s not that he doesn‘t want to, but he doesn’t dare. As an idol-type actor, his public image needs to be carefully maintained, and any “non-professional” behavior could be seen and magnify the interpretation by the media and fans.
Until “Kaede do Tsubaki” was published.
Akito found it on the new bookshelf in the bookstore. When he saw the author‘s name, his heart beat faster. Touya, the name he had silently followed for three years. He immediately bought it and finished reading it overnight.
Then, he did something he had never done before: publicly recommended it on social media.
“Just finished reading an amazing book.” He posted such a message, accompanied by a photo of the book cover, “The author is Aoyagi Touya-san, who has previously written several very excellent mystery novels, but doesn‘t seem to be very well known to the public. This Kaede do Tsubaki is his first time tried romance and mystery, but I didn‘t expect the balance to be so good. The mystery part is still wonderful, and the emotional drama is also delicate and touching. The setting of Flower Street at the end of the curtain has a very atmospheric feeling, the characters are three-dimensional, and the ending made me cry. I strongly recommend it.
After the message was sent, the comments section instantly exploded.
“Akito actually recommended a book? That Akito who gets headaches just reading books?”
“Who is this author? I‘ve never heard of him.”
“I‘ve memorized the title, go buy it right away!”
“A ending that would make Akito cry... I have to see it.”
What was even more surprising was that Akito‘s updates were widely retweeted and made hot searches. Publishers urgently reprinted, bookstores replenished their stock, and “Kaede do Tsubaki” surged from obscurity to the top ten bestsellers within a week.
But that wasn‘t all.
Akito‘s recommendation triggered a chain reaction. Readers began to look back at Touya‘s previous works, discovering that this “low-profile writer” actually had such solid skills and a rich creative history. Reviewers also re-focused on this neglected writer, writing praise articles. Touya‘s previous novels were reprinted, and sales steadily increased.
A month later, Touya‘s four works all entered the bestseller charts, and he himself turned from a “small-time mystery writer” to a “very-watched literary star.”
Touya watched all this, feeling unreal. He called his editor, who was incoherent with excitement: “Aoyagi-san! You‘re hot! Really hot!”
“Why?” Touya asked in confusion, “What happened?”
“Akito! That actor Shinonome Akito recommended your book! His fans have sold out your book!”
Touya was stunned. Shinonome Akito? His high school classmate? The person he had been secretly in love with in high school?
He turned on his phone, searched for Akito‘s name, and found the recommendation feed. He stared at the screen for a long time, his silver eyes flashing with complex emotions: surprise, gratitude, nostalgia, and some indescribable emotion.
“Akito...” He whispered the name softly, as if reciting an ancient incantation.
Touya and Akito‘s high school days are a vague and distant memory.
They went to an ordinary public high school in Shibuya. They were in the same class for three years, but didn‘t interact much. Akito was a popular figure at the time. Although his grades were poor, he was athletic and good-looking. He was the object of secret crushes among the girls and the envy of the boys. Touya, on the other hand, was a quiet existence that was almost transparent. She sat in the corner of the classroom, always holding a book, not participating in club activities, and didn‘t actively talk to people.
Touya could count on her fingers what they had said:
“Excuse me, please make way,” Akito said as he squeezed past him in the corridor.
“Thank you,” Akito said as Touya helped him pick up the fallen notebook.
“You like this song too?” Akito asked one day before graduation, when he heard him inadvertently humming a certain song. It was their longest conversation, lasting about three minutes, about the structure of the song and the creative thinking.
Touya himself couldn‘t figure out why he had secretly fallen in love with such a classmate he barely interacted with at that time. Perhaps it was because the light radiating from Akito was too warm, causing his heart to be involuntarily ignited.
Then, after graduation, they went their separate ways. Akito went to the talent agency, Touya went to the literature department. They never contacted each other, never interacted on social media, like two parallel lines stretching far apart.
Touya never thought that these parallel lines would suddenly intersect ten years later.
Akito‘s recommendation was not an impulse.
Late that night after he finished reading “Kaede do Tsubaki,” he sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his apartment, looking at the night view of Tokyo, and felt a strange palpitation. Not because of the book‘s ending, although that ending did make him cry, but because of the characters in the book.
Samurai Kaede. Orange-haired, green-eyed, and hard-willed, but he showed rare gentleness toward Orian Tsubaki. He lurked in the flower street, daily accompanied by hypocrisy and danger, and only in front of Tsubaki could he drop his guard and reveal his true self.
As Akito read, he felt his heart being gently gripped by something. That samurai resembled him too much. It wasn‘t his appearance, although he indeed had orange hair and green eyes, but that loneliness, that loneliness that still felt alienated in the crowd, that loneliness that could only disappear in front of certain people.
Tsubaki, on the other hand, had blue hair and silver eyes. Beneath his gentle appearance, he hid a cold, vengeful heart. He was good at disguising himself, good at reading people‘s hearts, and good at gathering information while chatting and laughing. But when facing Kaede, he would unconsciously lower his guard and reveal an innocent smile, just like an ordinary boy.
When Akito read to the end, he suddenly realized: Did Touya think of something when he was writing this book? The characters‘ personalities, habits, and even certain details: such as Kaede scratching her head when embarrassed, Tsubaki biting her lower lip when thinking, these details were all too familiar. As familiar as if they were certain moments from high school.
He shook his head, dispelling this absurd thought. Touya couldn‘t have remembered him, couldn’t have thought of him while writing the book. They were just ordinary classmates who had exchanged a few words, not even friends. And in his eyes, Touya had carried a noble elegance and melancholic maturity atmosphere even during high school. Just sitting in his school seat was like a noble depicted in an oil painting, beautiful and fragile like a delicate glass nightingale. Akito felt that Touya back then was completely someone from a different circle from himself. How could he have written about him and himself in a book?
But that throbbing wouldn‘t go away. So he sent that message, half a sincere recommendation, half wanting Touya to know: someone was reading his books, someone was appreciating his talent, someone had been following him.
After Touya saw Akito‘s recommendation, he did something he had never done before: he started using social media.
He searched all of Akito‘s work: television dramas, movies, variety shows, interviews. He found that he knew almost nothing about this high school classmate. He knew Akito had become an actor, knew he was popular, but had never seriously read his work.
Now he did. One by one.
Akito‘s acting skills were much better than he had imagined. It wasn‘t the kind of flamboyant performance of idols, but an understated, precise, layered performance. He could convey complex emotions with his eyes, and could show the inner transformation of characters with tiny changes in expression. In a socialist film, he played a father who had lost his daughter, and that suppressed grief and gradually uncontrollable anger made Touya tear up watching.
“So he‘s this amazing...” Touya muttered to himself.
He watched Akito‘s interview. Akito spoke eloquently in front of the camera, his orange hair carefully styled by the stylist, his green eyes sparkling in the lights. He talked about roles, about acting, about his love for the acting career. But occasionally, between certain questions, Touya noticed a hint of fatigue flash in Akito‘s eyes—the kind of fatigue crushed by too many expectations and stress.
Touya wrote this sentence in his notebook, “He has a strong personality but is gentle with those around him.” Then he froze for a moment. Wasn‘t this the word he used to describe Kaede?
He continued watching. Akito‘s variety shows, documentaries, and even fan-clipped videos. He found himself getting to know this person more and more, not as an image created by the media, but as a real, flesh-and-blood person. Akito would take care of new actors on set, remember the names of regulars at fan meetings, and post some meaningless movements late at night and then instantly delete them.
Touya became a fan of Akito. Not the kind of fanatical, screaming fan who followed him on every trip, but the kind of quiet, appreciative fan who watched his movies late at night and then wrote about their impressions.
He had followed Akito on social media, but had never interacted with him. He didn‘t know what to say. “Thank you for the recommendation”? Too formal. “You‘re such a good actor”? Too polite. “Do you remember me? A high school classmate”? Too abrupt.
So he just silently watched, silently appreciated, silently recorded those moments that moved his heart in his notebook.
When the director found Touya, the camellias were in full bloom.
“Aoyagi-san,” the director was a veteran TV drama director in his fifties, famous for adapting literary works, “I want to adapt ‘Kaede do Tsubaki’ into a TV drama. I would like to ask your opinion as the original author.”
Touya was stunned. He had never thought that his work would be reprinted, especially this book that had just become popular.
“I... I need to think about it.”
“Of course,” the director said with a smile, “but I want you to be involved throughout the process, not only as the original author‘s advisor, but also as the script and director. You know this story best, and you know these characters best.”
Touya was moved. He had always dreamed of bringing his story to the screen, watching those words become images, those characters become real actors.
“Okay,” he said, “but I have one condition.”
“Please speak.”
“About the main actress Kaede‘s role, I have a candidate to recommend.”
The director raised his eyebrows: “Who?”
“Shinonome Akito,” Touya said, her voice calm but her heart racing, “I think he‘s the only one suitable to play Kaede.”
The director fell silent. Akito was a top star, highly paid, with a tight schedule, and had never acted in a period drama. From a business perspective, inviting him was risky; but from an artistic perspective...
“Why did you recommend him?” the director asked.
Touya thought for a moment and said, “Because Kaede is a person who still feels lonely in a crowd. His toughness is to protect his inner self.”
Soft, his gentleness is only for certain people. Shinonome-san... he understands this loneliness. I can see it in his performance.
The director looked at him, his eyes flashing with admiration. “I‘ll contact his firm,” he said, “but I can’t guarantee it will work.”
Three days later, the director brought good news: Akito had read the script, was very interested, and was willing to take on this role.
Touya was drinking black coffee when he heard the news. His hand trembled, and the coffee spilled on the table.
“He... agreed?”
“Agreed. And,” the director smiled meaningfully, “he says he‘s looking forward to working with you.”
The first time we met was in a conference room at the production company.
Touya arrived half an hour early and sat in a corner, flipping through his script notes repeatedly, trying to calm himself down. Unlike usual, his blue hair was tied back, his bangs parted in the middle, and he wore a long dark green shirt with a gorgeous pattern. He looked more like a famous model who had just finished shooting the cover of a fashion magazine than a popular writer.
The door opened. Akito walked in.
He was more handsome than on the screen, stronger, his orange hair cut a little shorter, his green eyes like two emeralds in the conference room lights. He was wearing a red button-down shirt, a black leather jacket, and black ripped jeans. He wasn‘t wearing makeup, but he looked well.
Their eyes met.
Time seemed to stand still.
Akito‘s eyes widened, not with surprise, but with something deeper. He looked at Touya, at those silver eyes, that blue hair, that beautiful, dignified posture, and felt his heart hit hard by something.
“Aoyagi-san...” he said softly, his voice a little hoarse.
“Shinonome-san.” Touya stood up and bowed slightly. “Long time no see.”
“Long time no see,” Akito approached him, extending his hand, “or should I say... finally meeting.”
They shook hands. Akito‘s hand was warm and dry, Touya’s slightly cool and soft. The moment they touched, both felt a strange electric current, like some deeper resonance that spanned years.
“I...” Akito began, then stopped. He wanted to say “I‘ve read all your books,” wanted to say “I’ve been following you for a long time,” wanted to say “that recommendation wasn‘t accidental,” but the words were on his lips, turning into: “I‘m honored to be able to play Kaede.”
“I‘m honored that you can act,” Touya said, a sincere smile in her silver eyes. “You‘re the only one who fits him.”
The director and other staff members arrived one after another, and the meeting officially began. But Akito and Touya were both distracted—they looked at each other from time to time, and when their eyes met, they quickly looked away, the corners of their mouths unconsciously curling up.
After the meeting ended, Akito stopped Touya in the corridor.
“Can we... talk alone?” he asked, his green eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness.
Touya nodded.
They went to a nearby café. The evening sun streamed in through the window, forming warm patches of light on the table surface. Akito ordered a latte and a strawberry muffin, Touya ordered black coffee. Just like in high school, Akito liked sweet things, while Touya never touched anything sweet.
“So,” Akito began, his fingers unconsciously caressing the rim of his cup, “you became a writer. And a very good one at that.”
“You became an actor,” Touya replied, “and a very good one. I‘ve seen all your work.”
Akito‘s eyes lit up: “Really?”
“Really.” Touya smiled, “From ‘Stray Bad Dog’ to ‘Overcome One‘s Limits,’ I‘ve seen all your works.”
Akito‘s heartbeat quickened. He looked at Touya, at the gentleness and honesty in those silver eyes, and felt something suppressed for many years.
Things are waking up.
“Me too,” he said, his voice soft but clear. “I‘ve always been a fan of your books. Ever since the first one.”
Touya was stunned. “You... you mean...”
“That recommendation wasn‘t accidental,” Akito said, his green eyes sparkling. “I‘ve read all your books, every one of them at least three times. Your penmanship, your structure, your insight into human nature... I‘ve always admired you.”
Touya felt his eyes grow hot. He lowered his head, his bangs falling slightly over his eyes.
“I didn‘t know...” he said softly, “I didn’t know you were watching me.”
“I didn‘t know you were paying attention to me either,” Akito said with a smile. “We... seem to have missed a lot of years.”
“But it‘s not too late now,” Touya looked up, a smile in her silver eyes, “isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Akito reached out and covered the back of Touya‘s hand, “it‘s not too late now.”
Their fingers intertwined, as if completing some ancient contract. The camellias outside the window fluttered in the wind, as if countless late springs and autumns had finally arrived at the same time.