"I can't get out of the storm zone. There's no time to escape. Stop thinking. I can't think anymore…"
Hearing the song playing through the Sony Walkman, Luke froze.
Without realizing it, it was already 2001. While he'd been busy filming Jurassic Park III, Jay Chou had released his debut album Jay on November 7, 2000—officially kicking off his legendary career in music.
The song playing, Tornado, was one of the tracks from that first album.
"Do you like this song? He's a new artist, but I really like his music," Yuffie asked.
A new artist? Luke couldn't help but smile—what a strange feeling.
A new artist named Jay Chou.
As for the song? Of course he liked it.
For Luke—and for most people born in the '80s, '90s, and even the 2000s—Jay Chou was something special.
His music had been the soundtrack to their youth, carrying them through life's ups and downs, eventually becoming the anchor point of countless memories.
In Luke's past life, the very last thing he remembered before darkness took him was the sound of Jay Chou's voice.
"I like his music too," Luke said. "He's going to become a legend in Asian pop."
"You really think that highly of him?" Yuffie asked curiously.
She could hardly believe it. Sure, Jay's music was good—but he was still brand new. Who knew how long he'd last? Maybe he'd just fade away after a few hits.
"Of course. Truly talented people never stay buried forever."
"Sounds like you're talking about yourself," she said with a teasing smile.
"Alright, that's enough talk. Let's get some sleep. It's late," Luke said, glancing at his Rolex.
"Okay. Sleep it is."
She pulled a pink blanket from her backpack, gave it a quick shake, and draped it over herself—only halfway.
Seeing Luke look her way, she shut her eyes and said, "Go to sleep already. You can have part of the blanket—don't catch a cold."
It all seemed casual and natural, but the faint blush on her ears betrayed how flustered she really was.
The blanket was small—barely enough for two people unless they were pressed close together.
And the fact that she'd brought only one blanket said plenty.
Luke wasn't about to call her out on it. He quietly lifted the edge and slipped underneath.
Mutual affection really was something beautiful—something desperate one-sided lovers would never understand.
As he closed his eyes, he could smell her faint floral scent—like lilies, soft and sweet.
Her gentle breathing, the subtle rise and fall of her chest—it was soothing, almost musical.
Even through their jackets, he could feel her warmth under the blanket. Cozy, comforting, peaceful.
You could almost call it… sleeping under one blanket together.
He did have a blanket of his own in his bag, about the same size. But if he'd been dumb enough to pull it out now, that would've ruined everything.
Under the blanket, Luke slowly reached out and wrapped an arm around Yuffie's slender waist.
She tensed up for a moment, then relaxed and let him hold her.
From the outside, hidden beneath the blanket, no one could see a thing.
And besides, she'd already said he could hold her waist—so it wasn't really crossing any lines.
After that, he didn't push it any further. He simply let his mind drift off to sleep.
—
Ouch!
A sharp, tingling pain jolted him awake.
He shook his numb right arm and quietly sat up, lifting the blanket.
Holding Yuffie in his sleep had felt amazing—but the price was poor circulation and a completely dead arm.
Looking out the window, he saw it was still dark.
It was 4 a.m., and Yuffie was sleeping soundly.
Even asleep, she looked perfect—an angel from every angle.
Luke carefully tucked the blanket around her and adjusted the U-shaped travel pillow before heading to the restroom at the back of the train car.
He walked softly, careful not to wake the other sleeping passengers.
He didn't notice that a pair of bright little eyes had opened, watching his back as he left.
When Luke returned from the restroom, he was surprised to find the little blonde girl waiting for him outside.
"You're Luke, right?"
"That's me," he replied. "And you are…?"
"Ha! I knew it!" she said, grinning—then quickly lowered her voice. "I wasn't sure at first. You look so different without the traditional costume from your movie. I was afraid I might've mistaken someone else."
"So, you're a fan of mine?" Luke asked.
Given how Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon had become a hit in North America, it wasn't shocking that a few people recognized him.
Still, he'd assumed most fans would gravitate toward Chow Yun-fat, Michelle Yeoh, or Zhang Ziyi. His own role wasn't that big—he hadn't expected to have fans of his own.
But he'd seriously underestimated the impact of that sword dance scene.
That short sequence had been hailed by many Western viewers as one of the most beautiful and captivating portrayals of Eastern elegance ever filmed.
Countless people had replayed that scene over and over.
"Could I get your autograph?" the girl asked eagerly, holding out a small notebook and pen.
"Of course. What's your name?" he asked kindly.
"Taylor. Taylor Swift," she said earnestly.
"…"
Luke froze.
No wonder she'd looked so familiar. She was a young Taylor Swift!
If there was one female artist who would dominate the next two decades of pop music, it would be the woman affectionately nicknamed "Tay-Tay" by her fans—Taylor Swift.
Red, Shake It Off, Blank Space, I Don't Wanna Live Forever… she would go on to create countless chart-topping hits that defined an era.
Fourteen Grammys, thirty-two American Music Awards, twenty-three Billboard Music Awards—her list of achievements went on and on.
But more than the awards, it was the height and longevity of her career that truly set her apart.
And the fact that she wrote most of her own music made her talent stand out even more.
Her influence on Western pop music would eventually rival—if not surpass—Jay Chou's impact on Asian music.
After all, Jay mellowed out later in his career. Taylor, though—she never left the top.
And now, one of the future biggest stars in the world… was standing here asking for his autograph.