A Young Woman's Heart

"Don't worry, it's just more of a place for drinking, it won't be too chaotic. It's actually similar to our noodle shop."

"Then let's go to an izakaya." Mo Zhuyou didn't have too many ideas. "Since Yinyin wants to go so much, let her go. After all, it's a rare opportunity."

So Wang Jiale then selected an izakaya in Japanese. After several conversations, she decided to ask her to help her book a small izakaya that she personally recommended.

It is said to have a history of over 150 years and is located in a small alley in the city.

After making the reservation, they called again and gave me the specific address.

……

(two)

Although this is the capital, a world-renowned metropolis.

But there were many low-rise houses. Walking on the street, looking at the neon-lit signs and the small shops along the roadside, Mo Xueyao even had the illusion that she was still in Hangzhou.

The bustling city did not abandon the everyday life of ordinary people from its lofty position. Compared to those skyscrapers, Mo Xueyao preferred these small shops that had not been planned and had sprung up everywhere according to personal preferences.

Mr. Yuki, holding a map of Tokyo, was leading the way. After turning several corners, the group finally arrived at their destination.

The sky had completely darkened, and although the stars were nowhere to be seen, the ubiquitous twinkling lights made the city even more beautiful than during the day.

Although it's a narrow alley that cars can't even drive into, the road is still very clean, and in some corners, there are discarded old furniture pieces.

Wang Jiale said that anyone who needs it can take it directly.

But Mo Xueyao always felt that it was just trash that was thrown there because there was nowhere else to throw it...

Perhaps it's because people here always like to make things look particularly beautiful that they come up with all sorts of comforting sayings.

……

(three)

The izakaya's sign wasn't hung at the top, but rather vertically in front of the door.

The sign above reads three Chinese characters: "Hometown Tree".

The shop door was open, but a curtain was hanging there, partially obscuring the people and things inside.

"It looks like the cloth in a bathhouse..." Mo Xueyao teased softly, then followed Mr. Xue as he lifted the cloth and went inside.

The space inside was smaller than she expected, or rather, none of the six members of the Snow Music Band, including Mr. Snow, had imagined it would be so small.

Lanzhou noodle restaurants in China are much more spacious, with enough room for at least several tables and chairs. But this place is different. As soon as you enter, you see an open kitchen that takes up more than a third of the space. The tables are directly connected to the kitchen countertop, separated by a long piece of wood.

The same thing was done on the wall behind, just like the tables in a convenience store, with a long table nailed to the wall without legs.

There was only one round table that looked normal in the very corner, but it was a small table that could only seat four people in China, but it was surrounded by six chairs.

"So small..."

The shop was filled with a faint smell of soy sauce, and the range hood on the wall was on, but not very loud.

After Wang Jiale explained in Japanese that he had made a reservation, the white-haired old man smiled and invited them to sit down.

"Jiong Guoda Nei?"

"YES!" Mo Xueyao could already understand the Japanese. She nodded vigorously and smiled proudly.

"Oh—" he started babbling again, and Mr. Xue next to him had to translate for him.

Although Wang Jiale could understand it, he was far from being able to provide simultaneous interpretation.

"Would you like some wine?" Mr. Xue asked, sitting next to Mo Xueyao and helping to translate.

"Yes!" said Hua Yinyin.

"Since we're already here, let's drink." Mo Xueyao said indifferently.

"Shu'er can't drink it." Mo Zhuyou blinked. When her older sister wasn't by her side, she actually looked a bit like her older sister.

"Hmm..." Yu Shu bit her lip gently, seemingly a little frustrated, but she didn't want to cause trouble if she got drunk. "Hmm... I know."

"By the way, I heard that in Japan you can only drink alcohol when you're twenty?" Mo Xueyao asked curiously. "We're not even twenty yet, we're just eighteen."

Mr. Xue did not answer, but simply repeated Mo Xueyao's question verbatim.

Then I saw the boss, who looked to be in his sixties or seventies, throw his head back and laugh.

“It’s okay if he’s a foreigner.” This time, Wang Jiale was the translator, and she seemed rather unwilling to be outdone by Mr. Xue. “Then… he asked us what we needed?”

“Omakase,” Mr. Xue replied quickly.

"Xiaoxue, do you want the chef's recommendation? Hmm... I want to order myself..." Wang Jiale craned his neck to look at the kitchen counter. There was fried tempura, oden, and barbecue items. As for stir-fries, there didn't seem to be any. At most, there were fried rice and fried noodles.

"I want wine!" Hua Yinyin's focus wasn't on the food at all.

To be honest, she doesn't have a very high alcohol tolerance; she's the type who can be knocked out by half a jin of baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor), so I don't know why she particularly likes drinking.

Mo Xueyao muttered to herself, of course, she was using herself as the standard. In reality, being able to drink this much was already quite impressive, after all, not everyone can drink two or three kilograms of strong liquor and only get slightly tipsy like her.

"I want cheap and good-tasting wine," Mo Xueyao added.

"Lele—could you ask around for me if they have any fruit-flavored beer?"

"I...I want to eat a few skewers of oden first..." Yu Shu, who couldn't drink alcohol, said softly.

"One by one, come on, Shu'er first, what do you want?"

"I want……"

……

(four)

When drinking at an izakaya, the food isn't served all at once. Instead, it's prepared and served one dish at a time, so that the food is always kept hot.

The only person working there was an old man who was both the owner and the chef, and the only helper was a girl in a kimono who looked pretty and gentle.

But—she must have been wearing makeup.

"Wow, Xiaoxue, what's that?"

“Carry a lantern,” Mr. Xue translated after a moment’s thought.

"Lantern?"

"That is, the chicken's ovary and the undeveloped egg."

"Ugh—what a terrifying thing that is!" Hua Yinyin's brows furrowed. "Is it edible?"

"Delicious." Mr. Xue smiled as he put the whole skewer into his mouth and savored it with great enjoyment.

Yu Shu was eating a large piece of radish. She didn't actually like radishes, but seeing such a big radish, she couldn't help but want to try it. Unexpectedly, it tasted so good that she even raised her hand to ask for another piece.

Just as everyone began to enjoy their dinner, the curtain outside the door was suddenly flung open, and a man with a full beard and dark circles under his eyes staggered in.

He looked fat, but not in an exaggeratedly obese way; he had a rather robust appearance. He plopped down next to Yu Shu, startling her. She looked at him nervously, her body involuntarily leaning towards Mo Zhuyou.

He had a loud voice, and after raising his head, he shouted a few words. The owner seemed to be an old acquaintance of his, and after exchanging a few jokes with him, he placed a bottle of wine and a string of meatballs in front of him.

"Oh ho? From abroad? Hello!" he greeted loudly, this time in Chinese. But Yu Shu was so startled that she stood up and hid behind Hua Yinyin.

The two naturally switched seats, and Hua Yinyin, who was also quite talkative, sat next to the man.

"You speak Chinese, and you speak it so fluently!" Hua Yinyin looked at him curiously, but no matter how she looked at him, he seemed like an unemployed bum who didn't have a job.

Although he didn't smell bad, his clothes were wrinkled, and if you smelled closely, you could also smell a strong tobacco smell.

"Haha, I'm self-taught, just to read original Chinese books." He said, without even taking a bite of the meatball, he picked up the bottle and gulped down a large mouthful of liquor. "My name is Sakai Ginkawa, what's yours?"

"Hua Yinyin".

"Oh—what a nice name."

"You drink so much!"

"Ha, this isn't high-proof liquor, it's just a little better than water."

"Why not drink the strong one?"

"I have no money." The man's answer was quite direct and frank. "I often post on Chinese forums and chat with people online. My Chinese is good, right?"

"That's really impressive."

"Haha, you drink too? Little girl, come on, have a drink!"

"Okay..." Hua Yinyin, who had been clamoring to drink just now, was now hesitant and only took a small sip...

……

Chapter 5. The Drunkard

(One)

Sakai Ginkawa seemed to be a regular here. Not long after he sat down, the other guests sitting behind him glanced at him a few more times and couldn't help but laugh.

Someone called out loudly, "Yinchuan, you're here again! Have you paid back the debt you owed last time?"

Sakai Ginkawa blushed and shouted defiantly, "I'll pay you back! This time it's cash!"

"Was it stolen from a primary school student?!"

“I have a job, this is my royalties… royalties…” Sakai Ginkawa’s voice trailed off. He pursed his lips and began muttering things like ‘literary artist,’ ‘high level but no one reads it,’ ‘the world doesn’t know how to appreciate it.’

All of the above is in Japanese, and the translator is Mr. Yuki, who is standing next to me.

Mo Xueyao strongly suspected that he had used a template from Kong Yiji in his translation.

Finally, he stopped paying attention to those people and switched to Chinese with an accent, but which was at least understandable: "Hey, young lady, are you here for tourism?"

Hua Yinyin bit into a fried shrimp, making a crisp sound.

"Um, sir, do you come here for drinks often?"

"Ah, yes, but I'm not some old man, I'm only twenty-five!"

"Ugh, you look like you're thirty-five... cough cough!" she muttered, accidentally letting it out loud, and quickly coughed twice. "I mean... uh... you look quite mature."

"Hahaha—I do look older." He said, biting off a meatball, chewing it vigorously, then swallowing it. He then took a big gulp of sake, let out a satisfied "ha," and shouted at the kimono-clad girl who was clearing away the plates.

Mr. Yuki chewed on the fish tofu in his mouth and mumbled a simultaneous interpretation: "Um... Nyaruko, come here for a second."