Dragon Raja: Lu Mingfei finds a Freylian

"But wouldn't it be a shame if you didn't spend your best years with the person you loved most?"

He pushed the glass of shochu towards Kiritani again, gesturing for him to have some more.

"Even if you become a big shot in the future, working in a high-rise building in Shinjuku, walking to the window of your large single office and looking down, the buildings to the east and west are all yours. But you'll still remember sitting side by side with Asuna in this car when you were young, eating ramen. Her breasts were big and beautiful, and she exuded the wonderful aroma of miso soup. You were just over twenty then, and she was still willing to talk to you, willing to share a bowl of ramen with you, willing to sit next to you with her breasts on the table. Back then, you thought there was plenty of time, that there would be plenty of opportunities in the future, and that you would wait until you became better before pursuing her."

He paused, then continued stirring the soup pot with his spoon, his expression focused, as if he were stirring something very important. His words were clearly vulgar and crude, yet the way he spoke them so eloquently stirred something within one's heart.

"But when you really become a big shot, with money and status, and then go back to look for her, she'll have already married someone else, and her child will be in elementary school. When you stand in that big office and look down, what you see isn't those buildings that belong to you, but that bowl of noodles you didn't finish more than 20 years ago, and her face that has never smiled at you since then."

He turned around and looked at Kiritani, his eyes holding something indescribable—not sadness, nor regret, but more like a calm understanding that had long since settled.

"You'll regret it, Kiritani-kun. You'll regret being too proud when you were young, and you'll regret those days of indecisiveness. By then, it will be too late for regrets. You can buy another apartment in Shinjuku, but you can't go back to that rainy night from twenty years ago."

He spoke slowly, each word carefully considered before uttering. Kiritani lowered his grip on the chopsticks, the spoon resting on the rim of the bowl, making a soft clinking sound. He gazed at the heavy rain outside the shed, his thoughts drifting elsewhere.

The scene of sitting here side by side with Asuna that night suddenly appeared before my eyes with unparalleled clarity.

Was it a rainy night like that too? No, it was a night in late October. The sky was high and clear, the night breeze was cool, but not cold enough to need a thick coat. After the astronomy club's observation activity ended, he casually asked as he packed up his telescope, "Want to go get some ramen?" To his surprise, she nodded and smiled, saying, "Sure."

He led her for fifteen minutes, from the school's observation deck to the small street behind the school gate. She was wearing that off-white knitted sweater, her long brown hair braided into two plaits that hung down behind her ears, with a few stray hairs at her temples that shimmered softly under the streetlights. Her slender calves were encased in white knee-high stockings, and a glimpse of her "absolute territory" (a sliver of skin) was visible between her skirt and the stockings, dazzlingly white in the night.

She sat next to him, on this very wooden stool, in this very spot. When the steaming noodles were served, she lowered her head to blow on the soup, her chest resting naturally on the edge of the table—just as Chef Yue had said, steadily, as if finding a fulcrum. She ate slowly, her chopsticks not quite nimble enough; a noodle or two would slip off when she tried to pick them up, splashing a few drops of soup. She smiled shyly, covering her mouth with her finger, and said, "I'm not very good at eating noodles." Her voice was soft, with a touch of coquettishness, completely unlike her usual dignified and aloof demeanor at school.

What did they talk about? They talked about the astronomy club's observation plans, the upcoming meteor shower, and a comet she had seen in Kobe when she was a child. She said her father was too busy with work to spend much time with her, except for that one night when the comet appeared. He made an exception and took her to Mount Rokko, where he set up a telescope at the observation point and told her that the star with the long tail was called "Comet Hyakutake." She said the night sky was exceptionally beautiful that night, and her father pointed to the comet and explained its orbital period and the formation of its tail. She didn't understand a word, but she remembered her father's rare smile.

As he listened to her, something inside him quietly melted. The goddess who was the center of attention at school, the ever-perfect and elegant senior student, had such a soft side. It wasn't that she didn't want to get close to others; she just hadn't found the right person.

When she finished her noodles, she took out her wallet to pay. He said, "No need, it's on me." She paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Thank you then, I'll treat you next time." That smile was especially touching in the dim light, like sunshine after rain.

But "next time" never came. They met a few more times at the astronomy club, and she still smiled politely at him and called him "Kiritani-kun," but never mentioned ramen again. He didn't ask either, always feeling it was just a casual polite remark, and taking it seriously would be a loss.

Looking back now, maybe it wasn't just polite talk? Maybe she really was waiting for him to ask her out a second time?

Chapter 711 The Ramen Master (Part 2)

Kiritani held his wine glass, which was already empty. He hadn't noticed that Master Yue had poured him another glass sometime during the night.

“Master Yue,” he suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse, “did you experience something like this when you were young?”

Master Yue paused for a moment, then continued. He didn't answer immediately, but instead pulled a small aluminum flask from under the cutting board and poured himself a glass. He picked up the glass, took a sip, and stared into the rain outside the shed, remaining silent for a long time.

The rain was still falling, heavier than before. Raindrops pounded on the awning, making a dense, pattering sound, like countless small pebbles falling from the sky. Occasionally, a car would drive by, splashing water everywhere, its headlights casting long shadows in the rain before disappearing around the corner.

“Yes, it happened,” Master Yue finally spoke, his voice much lower than before, “It happened a long time ago.”

He took another sip of wine, put the glass down, and continued stirring the soup. The soup had been simmering for over ten hours, the essence of the bones infused into it, giving it a rich, milky white color. He scooped up a spoonful, examined it under the light, poured it back in, and adjusted the heat.

“Back then, I was about your age, in my early twenties, an apprentice at a ramen shop in Yokohama Chinatown,” he said, his tone calm, as if telling someone else’s story. “There was a regular customer, a female student, two years younger than me, studying at Yokohama National University. She would come every Wednesday night, order a bowl of salt ramen, and add extra green onions. She always sat in the same spot, the single table by the window. She wasn’t particularly pretty, but she had a beautiful smile; her eyes curved into crescent shapes, revealing two small canine teeth.”

He paused, as if recalling something.

“She always ate noodles very slowly, one strand at a time, as if she were counting them. After finishing her noodles, she would read a book for a while, or stare blankly at the street outside the window, and only leave when it was almost closing time. I don’t know why she always stayed so long, or what she was waiting for. But I would always add a little extra char siu or half an extra soft-boiled egg for her, pretending it was ‘today’s special service.’ She would always thank me with a smile, and that smile kept me up all night.”

Tong Gu listened quietly. He had finished his noodles, and only a little soup remained in the bowl. He didn't touch his chopsticks again, just sat there listening to Master Yue talk.

"About half a year passed like this, and I never dared to talk to her. It wasn't that I didn't want to, but I didn't know what to say. I was just an apprentice, living in a small room behind the shop, and my monthly salary was only enough to eat. She was a college student, well-dressed, and spoke softly; she was clearly from a good family. I felt that I wasn't good enough for her, so I just kept putting it off, thinking that it wouldn't be too late to get to know her after I graduated and became a full-fledged ramen chef."

Master Yue gave a wry smile and shook his head.

"Then one day, she suddenly stopped coming. A week, two weeks, a month, two months, and she never showed up again. I started to panic. I hoped she would come every day, and I looked out the window every day, but she just wouldn't come. I asked the other customers in the shop if they had seen her, and they all said no. I went to Yokohama National University to look for her, but it's such a big school with so many students. I don't even know her name. How am I supposed to find her?"

He put the lid on the soup pot, turned around, and faced Kiritani. The light shone on his face, making the wrinkles particularly clear.

"Later I learned that her father was transferred to a different job that winter, and the whole family moved to Osaka. She came to the shop once before she left to say goodbye, but I was off that day and not in the shop. She left a letter for the shop manager, thanking me for taking care of her for the past six months, thanking me for always giving her extra char siu and soft-boiled eggs, saying that the shop was her favorite place, and saying—"

He stopped, his throat moved, but he didn't continue.

After a long pause, he continued, "There was also a photo tucked into the letter, a picture of her in her graduation gown on campus. On the back was written: 'To the ramen chef who always adds extra char siu, I wish you all the best in becoming the best ramen chef. Ayako Miura.'"

He looked down at his hands. His hands were covered in burns and knife scars, yet they looked exceptionally gentle under the light.

“I’ve kept that letter and the photo. But what’s the use? She’s been married for a long time, and her child is a doctor. I went to Osaka once later and saw her from afar. She was walking with her husband in front of a shopping mall, and they were laughing happily. I didn’t dare to go up and say hello. I just watched her from a distance for a long time, and then I turned around and left.”

He looked up at Kiritani, his eyes holding something indescribable.

"So I'm telling you, Kiritani-kun, don't end up like me. Don't wait until it's too late to regret it. You feel ashamed now, you feel like you'll be laughed at for failing, but those who laughed at you will forget what you even look like in a few years. And what about you? You'll remember it for the rest of your life. Remember that rainy night, remember the way she sat next to you eating noodles, remember her saying, 'Next time, it'll be my treat.' Then you'll ask yourself over and over again: What if I had said yes back then?"

He picked up his glass and downed the rest of the wine in one gulp.

"I've been asking myself this question for forty years. And I still don't have the answer."

Outside the shed, the rain continued to fall. Inside, neither of them spoke; only the bubbling of the soup pot mingled with the patter of raindrops hitting the roof, becoming the sole background noise in the dead of night.

Kiritani gazed outside. In the halo of the streetlights, raindrops slanted down like a curtain woven from countless silver threads. Master Yue's words echoed repeatedly in his mind, overlapping with Asuna's smile that night, so vividly clear as if they were right before his eyes.

Chef Yue turned around and continued stirring the soup. His back appeared slightly hunched in the dim light, but his movements remained steady and powerful. The soup in the pot bubbled, its aroma filling the entire shed, warm and comforting.

After a while, Tong Gu spoke up: "Master Yue, another bowl of noodles, please."

Master Yue didn't turn around, but simply replied, "Okay, add an egg?"

"Add an egg," Kiritani said, his voice much firmer than before. "Also, I'm inviting her to eat noodles again tomorrow. If she comes, please don't say anything like 'put it on the table to eat noodles' again."

Master Yue finally turned around, a smile spreading across his face. The smile smoothed out his wrinkles, making him look much younger.

"Don't worry, I'll just cook the noodles tomorrow and won't say a word," he said. "But if she really comes, don't forget to tell her that the char siu here is a traditional recipe passed down from Yokohama Chinatown, and it's the only one of its kind in Tokyo."

Kiritani smiled, picked up his glass, and took another sip. The wine was warm, warming him from his throat to his heart.

The rain was still falling, pattering against the awning, causing the dark blue cloth banner to tremble slightly.

Chapter 712 Black Panther and Ramen (Part 1)

A black sports car appeared at the end of the long street.

It glided silently through the puddles, like a black panther stalking its prey in the rainy night. Rainwater wove a flowing net across the car's body, only to be torn apart by the speed, turning into sprays of water on both sides. The roar of the engine was suppressed beneath the steel exterior, leaving only the soft, silk-like sound of the tires tearing through the puddles.

Kiritani held his wine glass, his gaze following the car's trajectory. His eyes held the gleam of a young man seeing his dream come true—a Maserati GranTurismo. He had once stood outside the Shibuya showroom for an entire afternoon, just to catch a few more glimpses of it. Now, it stood before him, a real, elusive beast, silently lurking in the rain.

The sports car quietly parked on the side of the road, no more than ten meters away from the ramen stall.

The wipers swept the rain off the windshield, left and right, a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. When the transparent fan-shaped area appeared, Kiritani could see the person inside the car. He paused for a moment; there sat an elderly man with white hair, wearing a black suit and a rose-red bow tie, which stood out like a drop of blood in the dim light of the car.

People like that shouldn't be on ramen carts late at night.

Kiritani subconsciously turned around, wanting to share this discovery with Master Yue. An old man driving a Maserati, with white hair like his Master Yue, seemed to come from two different worlds.

He stopped himself from speaking.

Master Yue stood before the soup pot, a bamboo basket for scooping noodles still in his hand, but his gaze passed over Tong Gu's shoulder, fixed on the end of the long street. The rain was still falling, a curtain of water hanging from the edge of the shed, cutting the outside world into countless swaying fragments. But Master Yue's gaze pierced through these fragments, fixed on the black sports car, unmoving.

Kiritani had never seen Master Yue with such an expression.

That face, always bearing a lazy smile, now resembled a stone sculpture soaked by rain, all expression sinking into an unseen depth. He was still wearing that faded ramen chef's uniform, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his lean forearms, an apron tied around his waist, the apron stained with dough. But in that instant, this person suddenly became a stranger.

He was as lofty as if he were standing atop a distant mountain.

Kiritani blinked, trying to dispel this strange feeling. But Master Yue was still Master Yue, simply standing there, doing nothing, saying nothing, yet he changed the entire atmosphere of the ramen stall. The colorful lights hanging on the awning, the empty bottles piled in the corner, the small 14-inch color TV—all became insignificant existences at the foot of the mountain. And where Master Yue stood, was the mountaintop.

The car door opened.

A pair of custom-made leather shoes stepped into the puddle, their surfaces glistening black from the rain. An elderly man with an umbrella stepped out of the car; the black umbrella opened up a dry, circular patch of sky above him, while curtains of rain poured down from all directions, weaving a mobile cage around him. He stood in the rain, looking at the ramen stall through the curtain of water.

Two elderly people with white hair looked at each other across ten meters in the rainy night.

Kiritani sensed something was amiss. He raised his glass, trying to break the unsettling silence: "Oh! A Maserati! You have a nice car!"

He turned to the old man holding the umbrella, raised his glass in greeting, and put on the knowing smile of a young man.

"Kiritani-kun, I'm closing up shop."

Master Yue's voice came from behind, as calmly as if he were saying that today's noodles were sold out. Tong Gu turned around and saw that Master Yue had already put down the bamboo basket for scooping noodles and was taking off his apron.

"This drink is on me, sorry. Come again next time."

"Is that customer over there also here for noodles?" Kiritani pointed to the old man next to the Maserati. The old man had already closed his umbrella and was walking towards them at a leisurely pace, the puddles splashing up tiny droplets at his feet.

"Whether he eats noodles or not, I'm closing up shop." Master Yue folded his apron and draped it over the counter. "All sorts of monsters and ghosts appear late at night."

He pulled Kiritani's schoolbag from under the counter, handed it to him, and patted his shoulder with a slightly firmer pat than usual.

"Keep it up, get Asuna in your life soon, and bring her to my place for noodles."

Kiritani was speechless, choked by those words. He took his schoolbag, stood up, and glanced back as he walked past Master Yue. Master Yue had already turned his back to him and started clearing the dishes, his movements as swift as ever, as if nothing had happened.

As he walked past the Maserati, he brushed past the elderly man holding an umbrella.

The old man was very tall, almost a head taller than him, with neatly combed white hair and a sharp suit jacket. Rainwater slid down the ribs of his umbrella, leaving a trail of water behind him. Kiritani subconsciously stepped aside to let him pass, but the old man didn't look at him. His gaze went past Kiritani's shoulder and landed in the direction of the ramen stall.

That gaze sent a chill down Kiritani's spine. It wasn't fierce, nor was it scrutinizing; it was something deeper, like an archaeologist looking at an unearthed artifact, like a hunter looking at prey reunited after many years, like an old man looking at another old man.

Kiritani quickened his pace and disappeared into the rainy night.

Master Yue returned to the car and turned off the string of colored lights surrounding the sign.

The shed suddenly darkened, leaving only the lone incandescent bulb above the soup pot, its dim light illuminating a small, warm patch of space. The soup in the pot was still bubbling, steaming, its aroma wafting in the rain, quickly swallowed by the damp air.

He stood by the pot, his back to the rain outside, to the Maserati, and to the old man walking towards him.

The footsteps stopped behind me. The soft squeak of leather shoes squeezing through the puddles followed by the sound of an umbrella folding shut.

"Hey, a bowl of noodles, please." The old man's voice came from behind, his pronunciation too clear, like a foreigner who had studied Japanese. "I rushed here overnight after receiving your message, and I haven't even had a midnight snack yet."

Master Yue didn't turn around; his hand remained on the cutting board.

"Are you deaf? I'm closed for the day."

“But I’m not prepared to pay,” the old man said with a smile. “In that case, you’re not considered to be in business.”

Master Yue suddenly turned around.

Under the dim light, Angers was already sitting on the bench under the shed, leaning his black umbrella against the table. His suit was slightly wet, with dark water stains on his shoulders, but he didn't care. He picked up the sake bottle on the table and poured himself a cup.

That was half a bottle of cheap sake that Kiritani had left over, the kind that sells for 300 yen in supermarkets.

Angers picked up the small cup, brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and drank it all in one gulp. After finishing, he opened his eyes, smacked his lips, and poured himself another cup. This time he drank more slowly, letting the liquid linger on his tongue for a moment before swallowing.

"Sixty years have passed," he said. "Japan has changed so much. But the taste of this sake is still so... simple."

Chapter 713 Black Panther and Ramen (Part 2)

Master Yue stood there, looking at this uninvited guest. More than sixty years had passed; Angers had aged considerably, they all had aged. But those eyes remained unchanged, still holding that unsettling quality from back then. Was it sharpness? Was it spirit? It was something that time could never dull.