I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 246 Surprise! Excitement! All the attention! The filming techniques of "A Bite of Neon" have become a sensation!
At 7:50 p.m., the studio of "Future Comics Club" was as bright as day.

On the long table were freshly delivered sashimi bento boxes and chilled beer. Seven or eight young cartoonists sat around the television. Misae stood at the front, clutching the remote control, her knuckles white from the force.

"Everyone, just ten more minutes! We'll be able to see Hiroshi-kun's new film soon!" Misae shouted as she turned around, her voice full of excitement, her cheeks still smeared with blue paint from drawing manga that afternoon.

Rina Sato, who was sitting on the far left, was touching up her lipstick in front of the mirror. Hearing this, she looked up and smiled: "President Misae, you're even more nervous than us! Didn't you say yesterday that Hiroshi-kun's films would definitely be good?"

“That’s different!” Misae immediately retorted, but couldn’t help glancing at the TV screen. “This is Hiroshi’s first time making a documentary, and I’m worried that some people might not appreciate it…”

"how come!"

The manga artist Keisuke Yamada, standing nearby, put down his beer can and said confidently, "Hiroshi-kun can even draw stories that both children and adults love about Doraemon, so his documentaries must be just as good! Don't you remember when 'Midnight Diner' aired, the whole company watched it together, and you even cried!"

Misae's face instantly turned red, and she quickly picked up the lunchbox to cover it up: "That's because the oden inside is the same as what my mom makes... Oh right, look! They're showing a trailer for 'A Bite of China' on TV!"

Everyone immediately looked at the screen—in the video, Masayoshi Nomizu's hands were untying the boat ropes in the morning mist, and the shouts of bidders during the tuna auction mixed with the sound of the waves, finally settling on the subtitle "10 PM on October 15th".

"Wow! This shot is absolutely stunning!" Rina Sato exclaimed. "Look at the color of the seawater, it's even more vibrant than in our manga! Hiroshi-kun is such a great photographer!"

“I think Nomizu-san’s hands have a lot of stories to tell.” Yamada Keisuke rested his chin on his hand. “They’re much more interesting than the faces of those idol stars—the last time Kamiki Shunsuke did an ad, his hands were thinner than a girl’s, he looked like he’d never done any manual labor.”

Misae immediately nodded: "That's right! Hiroshi-kun said that when filming people, you have to capture the details. The calluses on Nomizu-san's hands speak volumes about his hard work, more than any dialogue."

As they were talking, the wall clock pointed to eight o'clock, the television screen went dark instantly, and then a clear sound of waves could be heard.

Misae instinctively held her breath, and the studio instantly fell silent, with only the sound from the television remaining.

As Masayoshi Nomizu steered his fishing boat out to sea, and the fishing net unfurled in the air, Rina Sato couldn't help but exclaim, "My God! This scene is so spectacular! It's even more beautiful than what I've seen when I've been to the beach!"

Keisuke Yamada also came over and pointed at the screen: "Look at the texture of this morning mist, it must be Saito-san who adjusted the lighting! Hiroshi-kun said last time that Saito-san is the best at shooting these kinds of atmospheric shots."

Misae didn't speak, her eyes glued to the screen. When she saw the slow-motion animation of Masayoshi Nomizu slicing sashimi, the texture of the tuna clearly visible under the light, she couldn't help but swallow hard and whisper, "I should have known better than to order the sashimi bento. Watching it in the video makes it look so much fresher..."

Everyone in the studio laughed, but the atmosphere remained focused.

When Nomizu Masahiro said at the end of the film, "We should eat whatever the sea gives us and not be greedy," Misae's eyes suddenly reddened—she remembered that her grandfather used to be a fisherman, and every time he came back from the sea, he would tell her, "Cherish the gifts of the sea," which was exactly the same sentence that Nomizu-san had said.

“It’s so beautiful…” Misae sniffed, her voice a little choked up. “Hiroshi really understands the stories of ordinary people like us. He didn’t film those glamorous things, but captured the most genuine warmth.”

Rina Sato handed over a tissue, smiling as she said, "Don't just keep crying! There's a second episode coming up, about a soba noodle shop in Gunma. It might be even heartwarming!"

Misae took the tissue, wiped away her tears, and looked back at the screen.

The studio was softly lit, illuminating everyone's focused faces. Piano music played from the television, mingling with the occasional sound of passing cars outside, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. It was their first time watching a documentary together, yet it felt like watching a grand movie, filling them with emotion and anticipation.

……

In a high-end restaurant in Ginza, Tokyo, Akira Saeki and several other veteran film critics sat around a table in a private room, with exquisite kaiseki cuisine laid out on the table, while the television was specially tuned to Kanto TV.

Saeki Akira held a sake cup, but his eyes never left the screen. His fingers tapped lightly on the table, clearly taking notes.

"I originally thought that documentaries would only film some boring processes, but I didn't expect Hiroshi Nohara to be able to capture such delicate shots."

Film critic Kiyoshi Sato, sitting next to me, put down his chopsticks, his tone full of surprise, "Look at the look in Masahiro Nomizu's eyes when he pulls in the net, there is exhaustion, perseverance, and awe for the sea—this sense of depth is richer than that of some TV drama protagonists!"

Saeki Akira nodded and took a sip of sake: "That's what makes Hiroshi Nohara so amazing. He never films 'events,' he only films 'people.' In 'Seven Samurai,' he captured the cowardice of the farmers and the pride of the samurai with remarkable depth. This time, he's filming fishermen with the same exquisite detail. Did you notice that when Nomizu-san was untying the boat ropes, his fingers moved with practiced ease, yet with a slight slowness? That's the mark left by years of hard work. Most directors wouldn't even notice such a detail."

Another film critic, Keisuke Yamada, pushed up his glasses and pointed at the screen: "And the background music! This piano piece is so well-matched with the sound of the waves; it doesn't overshadow the music but enhances the atmosphere. I saw a sample clip from the city TV station before, and Shunsuke Kamiki's variety shows all use upbeat pop music, which doesn't go with food at all and just makes it seem superficial."

"Speaking of the municipal radio station,"

Sato Kiyoshi suddenly laughed. "This afternoon, Kamiki Shunsuke said at the press conference that he would make Nohara Hiroshi taste the bitterness of defeat. Now it seems that he will have to taste it himself. Nohara Hiroshi's films rely on their touching content, while Kamiki Shunsuke relies on fan support—this is not even a competition of the same level."

Saeki Akira put down his glass, picked up his notebook, and quickly wrote: "I want to focus on two points in the film review: first, the subtlety of the cinematic language, and second, the warmth of humanistic care. Nomizu Masayasu said, 'We eat whatever the sea gives us,' which is not only a fisherman's philosophy of survival, but also a reflection on the 'greed' of modern society—this kind of depth is something that idol variety shows can never achieve."

Keisuke Yamada added, "I also want to mention Shigeru Saito's lighting! The backlighting in the auction area was handled so well, without any overexposure, and it highlighted the figures' outlines, maximizing the tension. The NHK footage of the tuna auction before was hazy and lacked any atmosphere; it's far inferior to this."

As they were talking, the TV screen cut to a close-up of Masayoshi Nomizu slicing sashimi, the texture of the fish meat glowing a fresh pink under the light.

Saeki Akira couldn't help but exclaim, "This shot is so tempting! I definitely have to go to Chiba tomorrow to try Nomizu-san's sashimi—it's even more enticing than this kaiseki meal in front of me!"

Sato Kiyoshi smiled and nodded: "I'll go too! We can arrange to go together and interview Nomizu-san while we're at it, and ask him about the fun things that happened while filming. Hiroshi Nohara was able to make such a good documentary, which must be related to his deep understanding of his subjects—that's the attitude you should have when making content, not sitting in the office making up stories, but going into the lives of ordinary people and listening to their stories."

The kaiseki meal in the private room gradually cooled down, but the film critics didn't seem to care at all.

Their eyes were all fixed on the television screen, their pens flying across their notebooks, occasionally exchanging a few whispered words, their tone full of approval and appreciation for "A Bite of China."

They originally came to evaluate the film with the mindset of "judging by its professionalism," but they were unexpectedly deeply moved by the warmth in the film. This unexpected shock satisfied them more than any exquisite dish.

……

In an office building in Shinjuku, Tokyo, 28-year-old office worker Ichiro Yamada had just returned home from working overtime. He was still carrying his briefcase and, without even changing his clothes, sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV.

His wife, Hanako Suzuki, brought over a bowl of freshly cooked miso soup, placed it on the coffee table, and said with a smile, "Why are you in such a hurry today? You usually take a shower as soon as you get home from working overtime."

“Today is different,” Yamada Ichiro said, staring at the TV with a hint of excitement in his voice. “Hiroshi Nohara’s new documentary has started airing! I was moved by the stories he told when I watched ‘Midnight Diner’ last time, so this one is sure to be good too.”

Hanako Suzuki sat next to her, drank a bowl of miso soup, and looked at the screen.

When she saw the footage of Masayoshi Nomizu going out to sea at dawn, she suddenly said, "This reminds me of my grandfather. He used to be a fisherman in Chiba. He would go out to sea before dawn every day and come back wet and cold, but he would still smile and bring me fresh seafood."

Ichiro Yamada held his wife's hand and said gently, "My father also told me that when he was a child, he would go to the seafood market with his grandfather and loved watching the tuna auctions. He thought they were very exciting. Now, watching the auction scenes in the film, it's exactly what he described—Hiroshi Nohara really knows how to film these kinds of vintage scenes that remind people of their childhood."

On TV, when Masayoshi Nomizu gently pressed the tuna to check its freshness, Hanako Suzuki couldn't help but exclaim, "Look how serious Nomizu-san is! Nowadays, many businesses only think about making money and don't care about the freshness of the ingredients at all. Last time we went to a sushi restaurant in Shinjuku, the sashimi didn't taste fresh, but it was still very expensive."

"That's why Hiroshi Nohara's films are meaningful,"

Ichiro Yamada nodded. "He showed us how much effort goes into a good sashimi. Fishermen have to go out to sea at dawn, auctioneers have to set prices accurately, and chefs have to prepare it with care—all of these people take food seriously, and we should cherish it too."

When Masayasu Nomizu stands on the pier at the end of the film and says, "We eat whatever the sea gives us," Hanako Suzuki's eyes welled up with tears: "That's exactly what my grandfather said. He always said that the sea is generous, but you can't be greedy, or you'll be punished. Many people have forgotten this principle now, overfishing and destroying the marine environment—Isn't Hiroshi Nohara trying to remind everyone with this film?"

Yamada Ichiro nodded, picked up the remote, and turned the volume up a bit: "Let's go to Chiba next weekend, check out Nomizu-san's fish shop, and try some fresh sashimi. Hiroshi Nohara's films are not only entertaining, but they also remind us of many forgotten truths. That's what good works should be like."

Hanako Suzuki smiled and nodded, leaning on her husband's shoulder. The living room was warmly lit, and the sounds of waves and piano music from the television mingled with the aroma of miso soup, creating a particularly cozy atmosphere.

They rarely watch documentaries together, but thanks to "A Bite of China," they not only enjoyed a wonderful time but also reminisced about their childhood stories. This resonance made them feel more satisfied than any entertainment program.

……

In an old apartment building in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo, 72-year-old Sumie Tanaka sits on the sofa, holding a magnifying glass and intently watching the television screen.

Her grandson, Kenta Sato, sat beside her, playing a game console, but occasionally glancing up at the television, clearly also captivated by the screen.

“Isn’t this the old-fashioned style of the Kanto TV station?” Grandma Tanaka suddenly said, her tone full of surprise. “Look at the texture of this morning mist, it’s exactly the same as the ‘Kanto Fishermen’s Song’ filmed by Kanto TV station before! I thought that after Kanto TV station was acquired, it could no longer produce films with this kind of flavor.”

Kenta Sato put down his game console and leaned closer: "Grandma, how did you know? Did you read 'The Fishermen's Song of Kanto' before?"

"Of course I've seen it!"

Grandma Tanaka nodded with a smile, her eyes full of memories. "That was a film from thirty years ago, about fishermen in Chiba. Your grandfather and I used to watch it on TV every week. Watching 'A Bite of China' now feels like going back to that time—TV shows from the Kanto region always manage to capture the lives of ordinary people so realistically and warmly."

On TV, when Masayoshi Nomizu's hands appeared as he untied the boat ropes, Grandma Tanaka pointed at the screen and said, "Look at these hands, they're exactly like your grandfather's! He used to be a fisherman too, his hands were covered in calluses, his knuckles were big, but he was incredibly nimble, and he could untie boat ropes faster than a young man. Now that he's gone, seeing Mr. Nomizu's hands is like seeing him."

Kenta Sato's eyes softened. He put down his game console and looked at the screen intently: "Grandma, Nomizu-san is amazing. He went out to sea at dawn and was able to accurately judge the freshness of the tuna."

"Of course,"

Grandma Tanaka nodded. “Fishermen all have their own skills. Your grandfather used to be able to tell where the fish were by the color of the sea, and he always came back with a full catch. Nowadays, young people don’t want to be fishermen anymore, they think it’s too hard. Hiroshi Nohara made this film to let more people know about the hardships and perseverance of fishermen, right?”

When the scene of the tuna auction appeared on TV, Grandma Tanaka's eyes lit up: "The auctioneer's voice is exactly the same as the old auctioneer at the seafood market! I used to go to the market with your grandfather and loved listening to the auctioneer shout out the prices. I thought it was so energetic. Now, watching the scene in the show is like going back to the days when I went to the market. Kanto TV shows always manage to capture these kinds of scenes that give people a sense of belonging."

Seeing his grandmother's excited expression, Kenta Sato smiled and said, "Grandma, let's watch 'A Bite of China' every week from now on. I'll watch it with you."

Grandma Tanaka nodded, a happy smile spreading across her face. The old grandfather clock in the living room ticked away, and the sounds of waves and bidding from the television mingled with the laughter of the grandmother and granddaughter, creating a particularly warm atmosphere.

For Grandma Tanaka, "A Bite of China" is not only a documentary, but also a memory of the past and a long-lost sense of belonging for long-time viewers of Kanto TV—a feeling that she cherishes more than any new variety show.

……

In the production department meeting room of Osaka Yomiuri TV, department head Kiyoshi Matsumoto and several directors sat around a television. Viewing monitoring equipment was placed on the table, and the screen simultaneously displayed footage from Kanto TV and the city's TV station.

Matsumoto Kiyoshi held his teacup, but his eyes were fixed on the Kanto TV screen, and his fingers were quickly taking notes in his notebook.

"Hiroshi Nohara's cinematic language is so subtle,"

Matsumoto Kiyoshi put down his teacup, his tone full of admiration, "Look at the action of Nomizu Masayoshi when he pulls in the net. The camera slowly cuts from a wide shot to a close-up, showing both the vastness of the sea and highlighting the details of the characters. This kind of control of rhythm is much better than that of our station's young directors."

Director Keisuke Yamada nodded and pointed to the screen: "And the background music! The combination of this piano piece and the sound of the waves is perfect. It doesn't overshadow the music, but it enhances the atmosphere. When we filmed 'Osaka Food Tour' last time, we used traditional shamisen. Although it had local characteristics, it lacked a modern feel. It's far inferior to this."

"What's even more commendable is the humanistic concern,"

Another director, Takashi Sato, added, "Masayasu Nomizu said, 'We eat whatever the sea gives us.' This statement not only reflects the fishermen's philosophy of survival but also implies a deep understanding of environmental protection—a depth that we rarely consider when making food programs."

Matsumoto Kiyoshi nodded and picked up the viewership monitoring report: "The Kanto TV station's real-time viewership has now exceeded 5%, while the city station is only at 2.3%, and the gap is widening. Hiroshi Nohara's shows are winning, and it's no accident—he understands what the audience wants and knows how to touch people's hearts with details. Our station should learn from him when making food programs in the future. We can't just film the production process; we need to film more of the people behind the scenes and more real stories."

Keisuke Yamada added, "I think we can contact TV Tokyo to see if we can acquire the broadcasting rights for 'A Bite of China.' Audiences in Osaka also like this kind of heartwarming content, which might boost our station's ratings. In addition, we can also learn from the 'A Bite of China' model and make a series called 'Osaka Food Stories,' highlighting Osaka's unique cuisine and the stories of ordinary people."

Matsumoto Kiyoshi nodded firmly: "That's settled! Tomorrow I'll contact Asumi, the managing director of TV Tokyo, and try to secure the broadcasting rights. At the same time, I'll have the planning department start working on a proposal for 'Osaka Food Stories,' referencing the filming techniques of 'A Bite of China,' focusing on the artisans behind okonomiyaki and takoyaki. I'm sure it will be popular."

The directors in the conference room all nodded in agreement, their eyes full of anticipation.

For them, "A Bite of China" is not only an excellent documentary, but also a professional learning opportunity—it showed them a new direction for food programs and filled them with confidence for future creations.

……

In the conference room of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government, Governor Ryuichi Koike, Minister Tadashi Hattori, and several officials from the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology and the Ministry of Public Relations sat around a dining table with exquisite dishes on it, but the television was switched to Kanto TV.

Ryuichi Koike put down his chopsticks, his eyes full of admiration, and said to everyone, "Hiroshi Nohara's documentary is very meaningful. It not only showcases Japan's food culture, but also conveys the right values."

Hattori Tadashi nodded, his tone full of agreement: "You're right. Nomizu Masayoshi said, 'We eat whatever the sea gives us,' which reflects the Japanese people's reverence for nature and their adherence to traditional culture—this is exactly the kind of philosophy we want to convey to the public. The Ministry of Education can recommend this film to schools as material for local cultural education, so that children can understand the hardships of fishermen and cherish food."

An official from the Ministry of Education immediately nodded: "We will issue a notice tomorrow, instructing primary and secondary schools to organize students to watch 'A Bite of China' and conduct related discussion activities. In addition, we can collaborate with TV Tokyo to produce an educational version of 'A Bite of China,' incorporating more content on ocean conservation and the inheritance of traditional culture to make the film's educational significance more prominent."

An official from the publicity department added, "We can leverage the popularity of 'A Bite of China' to launch a 'Promotion of Local Food Culture' campaign, uniting Chiba, Gunma, and Saitama prefectures to introduce 'A Bite of China Tour' tourism routes. This will not only boost the local economy but also allow more people to learn about Japan's food culture. Hiroshi Nohara's Kumamon mascot has already boosted tourism in Kumamoto Prefecture, and we believe 'A Bite of China' will have the same effect."

Ryuichi Koike smiled and nodded: "Hiroshi Nohara is a very talented young man. He not only understands content creation, but also knows how to use content to drive social value. His previous work, 'Super Transformation,' promoted communication between neighbors, and 'Midnight Diner' reminded more people of the taste of home. Now, 'A Bite of China' can promote the development of local culture and tourism. We should support such talents more."

Tadashi Hattori nodded firmly: "We will continue to cooperate with TV Tokyo and provide support for the subsequent filming of 'A Bite of China.' At the same time, we will recommend 'A Bite of China' to participate in international documentary festivals so that more people from different countries can understand Japan's food culture and humanistic spirit. Hiroshi Nohara's work is not only a source of pride for Japan, but can also serve as a bridge for cultural exchange."

The atmosphere in the meeting room was exceptionally lively. The officials watched "A Bite of China" on TV while discussing how to leverage the show's influence to advance their work.

For them, "A Bite of China" is not only an excellent documentary, but also an important vehicle for conveying cultural values ​​and promoting social development—values ​​that are more meaningful than any entertainment program.

……

At 7:55 p.m., in the monitoring conference room on the top floor of Tokyo TV, the air was filled with the bitter smell of instant coffee and the lingering scent of tobacco.

A dozen or so people sat in a circle around a long table, on which were spread viewership monitoring reports and promotional brochures for "Shunsuke's Tokyo Wanderings." The television screen was playing the city's own variety show—Shunsuke Kamiki, wearing a sequined jacket, was making a heart shape with his hands in front of the camera in a trendy restaurant. His exaggerated smile, coupled with the loud background music, made the scene particularly noisy.

Kazuo Takahashi sat in the main seat, his fingers rapidly gliding across the reports, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. "Why hasn't the real-time viewership broken 3% yet?" He looked up at the head of the technical department, his tone laced with suppressed anger. "Wasn't it promised that Kamiki-san's fan support would cover everything? How come even the Shinjuku ward's viewership is only 2.8%?"

The head of the technical department wiped the sweat from his brow and whispered, "Vice President Takahashi, according to data monitoring, the real-time viewership on Kanto TV has already reached 5.2%, and many young viewers have switched channels..."

"Change channels?"

Shunsuke Kamiki slammed down his coffee cup, the silver spoon clanging against the bottom. His smile vanished instantly, replaced by disdain. "What do those people know? Hiroshi Nohara's lousy documentary, all about the poor, wretched lives of old fishermen. What's so interesting about it? Once my singing segment airs, the ratings will definitely surpass theirs!"

Sato Takashi sat in the corner, holding a fountain pen in his hand, the nib hovering over the notebook but not falling.

He secretly glanced at the camera on TV showing Shunsuke Kamiki making sushi. To film the scene of "making sushi by hand," Kamiki couldn't even distinguish between sushi vinegar and soy sauce. He had to do more than ten takes before he barely passed. In post-production, the editing had to cover up his lack of skill. Compared to Masayoshi Nomizu's skillful movements in "A Bite of China," he was simply a joke.

Just then, the conference room door was suddenly pushed open, and the secretary rushed in, her voice trembling: "Deputy Director Takahashi, Mayor Tanaka Mikami is here! He's already in the corridor!"

Everyone in the room froze instantly. Kazuo Takahashi suddenly stood up, his chair scraping sharply against the floor.

"Why didn't you give me advance notice?" He straightened his suit collar as he strode towards the door. "Quick! Turn the TV volume down and prepare some tea!"

Everyone scrambled to tidy up the table, and Kamiki Shunsuke quickly touched up his lipstick, putting on his standard smile again.

Before they could even prepare themselves, a slightly overweight man in a dark suit walked in—it was none other than Tokyo Mayor Tanaka Mikami. Behind him were two city government officials, their sharp gazes sweeping across the entire conference room, and the air seemed to freeze instantly.

"Mayor Tanaka, what brings you here so suddenly?" Kazuo Takahashi bowed deeply, his tone full of respect. "If you had told us beforehand, we could have made preparations..."

Tanaka Mikami ignored his pleasantries and went straight to the television. His gaze fell on the image of Kamiki Shunsuke on the screen, and his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"Is this the variety show you made with a budget of 30 million?" His tone was calm, but carried an undeniable authority. "Turn the channel to Kanto TV. I want to watch Hiroshi Nohara's 'A Bite of Japan'."

These words were like a bomb dropped into the conference room, leaving everyone stunned.

Kazuo Takahashi's smile froze, and he subconsciously said, "Mayor Tanaka, this is prime time for our variety shows right now, and... and Hiroshi Nohara's documentary isn't very interesting, it's all just rural stuff..."

"I said, transfer to Kanto TV." Tanaka Mikami repeated, raising his voice slightly, and the coldness in his eyes silenced Takahashi Kazuo instantly.

The official behind him stepped forward and gave the head of the technical department a wink. The latter did not hesitate and immediately reached for the remote control.

Kamiki Shunsuke stood to the side, his face instantly turning ugly.

He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails almost dug into his palms—his carefully prepared singing segment was about to be broadcast, and Mayor Tanaka was actually going to watch Hiroshi Nohara's lousy documentary.

This is an absolute humiliation for him!
"Mayor, you don't need to watch those kinds of films."

Shunsuke Kamiki took a deep breath, forced a smile, and walked over to Mikami Tanaka. His tone was deliberately affectionate. “Hiroshi Nohara’s documentaries are nothing more than scenes of old fishermen drying their nets and old men grinding flour. At most, they have some so-called ‘humanistic concern,’ but they’re not entertaining at all. Our station’s variety shows are different. They have food, interaction, and musical performances. That’s what the audience really likes.”

Jun Yamada immediately chimed in, "Yes, Mayor Tanaka. Nohara-kun's documentary has received decent reviews, but it's 'critically acclaimed but commercially unsuccessful.' The highest rating for a food documentary produced by NHK was only 3.5%, which is nothing compared to our variety shows."

"that is!"

The director of the city's TV planning department chimed in, "Our variety show is funded by the Qilin Group. We spent eight million on promotion alone. With Shenmu-san's large fan base, the ratings will definitely surpass the previous show once the singing segment airs!"

Sato Takashi sat in the corner, a cold smile rising in his heart.

He recalled what his former colleague from Kanto TV said on the phone yesterday: "In the scene of Nomizu Sang pulling in the net in 'A Bite of China,' Shigeru Saito used side lighting and slow motion to capture even the graininess of the seawater. That kind of realistic power is a hundred times stronger than staged variety shows."

But he dared not say these words aloud—Tanaka Mikami and Takahashi Kazuo were both on Kamiki Shunsuke's side, and if he refuted them, he would only bring trouble upon himself.

Tanaka Mikami ignored everyone's explanations and kept his eyes fixed on the television screen.

The head of the technical department had already set up the channel, and the trailer for "A Bite of China" was playing on the screen—Chiba Wharf in the morning mist, Masayoshi Nomizu holding the boat rope, his rough skin glowing bronze in the morning light, the sound of the waves mixed with soft piano music, instantly drowning out the noise of the previous city TV variety show.

"Quiet."

Tanaka Mikami spoke, his voice not loud, but it instantly silenced the noise in the room. He pulled up a chair, leaned forward slightly, and stared intently at the screen. "It's starting."

Kazuo Takahashi and the others looked at each other in bewilderment and could only sit down.

Shunsuke Kamiki sat beside him, his smile stiff as a mask.

At 8 p.m. sharp, the trailer on the TV screen ended, and "A Bite of Neon" officially began airing.

The sound of waves slowly rises, and the camera gradually zooms in from the vast sea, revealing the Chiba pier in the morning mist. Wooden fishing boats are moored on the shore, fishing nets sway gently in the wind, and Masayoshi Nomizu, wearing dark blue fishing pants, is bending over to untie the boat ropes, with calluses on his fingers and sea salt under his fingernails clearly visible.

"This shot..." the head of the technical department muttered unconsciously, his eyes filled with surprise, "The lighting and shadows are handled so well! The layers of the morning mist, and the texture of the characters' skin, are much more delicate than the variety shows on our station..."

Kazuo Takahashi glared at him fiercely, and the head of the technical department immediately shut his mouth, but still couldn't help but sneak a peek at the screen.

When the camera cut to the scene of Masayoshi Nomizu sailing out to sea—the sun rises from the horizon, golden rays spill onto the sea, the fishing boat cuts through the waves, and the fishing nets draw graceful arcs in the air, the whole scene is like a flowing oil painting. No one in the conference room speaks anymore, only the sound of the waves and the narrator's deep voice come from the television.

Kamiki Shunsuke's fingers gripped his pants tightly, and his face gradually turned pale.

He originally thought that "A Bite of China" would be a dry documentary, but the scene in front of him was full of tension—there were no exaggerated filters, no deliberate staged shots, but it was more infectious than his carefully designed shots.

Especially the close-up of Masayoshi Nomizu pulling in the net, the lines of his muscles taut in the sunlight, the awe in his eyes for the sea—these are things he couldn't have acted out.

As Sato Takashi looked at the screen, a sense of relief suddenly welled up inside him—thankfully, he hadn't joined Kazuo Takahashi in criticizing "A Bite of China."

Hiroshi Nohara's camera is incredibly adept at capturing details. The way Masayasu Nomizu presses the tuna to check its freshness, the rhythm of the auctioneer's bidding, and even the banter between regular customers and Nomizu in the fish shop are all filmed realistically and vividly, like watching a fast-paced movie rather than a dry documentary.

When the video showed Masayoshi Nomizu slicing sashimi in slow motion, the meeting room fell completely silent.

The tuna's texture glowed a fresh pink under the light, and the sound of the knife slicing through the flesh was clearly audible. Even Tanaka Mikami leaned forward slightly, his gaze filled with barely perceptible focus.

"This isn't a documentary..." Jun Yamada muttered softly, his voice filled with disbelief. "It's clearly filmed like a movie! Look at the editing rhythm, the build-up, the climax, and the emotional resonance—it's way more interesting than our variety shows..."

Kazuo Takahashi broke out in a cold sweat. He glanced furtively at the profile of Mikami Tanaka. Although the other man's expression was calm, his fingers were tapping lightly on the edge of the table, clearly also engrossed in the film.

A sense of foreboding rose in his heart—this time, they might really have lost.

At 8:50 p.m., the first episode of "A Bite of Neon" ended.

On the television screen, Masayasu Nomizu stands at the pier, facing the setting sun, and says his last line: "We will eat whatever the sea gives us; we cannot be greedy."

As a soft piano melody began to play and the end credits slowly rolled, the conference room remained completely silent; even the sound of breathing became exceptionally clear.

After a few seconds, Tanaka Mikami slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over everyone in the room, the chill in his eyes making everyone afraid to look him in the eye.

"Is this what you mean by 'not worth watching'?"

He picked up the viewership report on the table and slammed it down in front of Kazuo Takahashi. The report's pages scattered in the air and fluttered to the ground. "Kanto TV's real-time viewership has broken 10%! And you? 4.7%! Not even half of theirs!"

Kazuo Takahashi trembled and quickly bowed: "Mayor Tanaka, we underestimated Hiroshi Nohara and didn't expect the audience to like the documentary so much... We will definitely adjust the program next time and make sure to bring the ratings back!"

"next time?"

Tanaka Mikami sneered, his voice filled with anger, "Do you think you'll have another chance? I just received news that Shimazu Yoshihiro has already taken his team to the seafood market in Chiba! He took advantage of the popularity of 'A Bite of China' to give an interview with Nomizu Masayasu and promised to increase support for the fishing industry—and what about you? Besides filming Kamiki-san's fake smile, what else have you done?"

These words struck everyone like a heavy blow.

Kamiki Shunsuke's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red. He wanted to retort, but Tanaka Mikami's icy gaze forced him to swallow his words.

He never expected that Hiroshi Nohara's documentary would not only have high ratings, but also become a boost to Yoshihiro Shimazu's campaign—this made him feel even worse than his own low ratings.

Sato Takashi looked down at the reports on the ground and suddenly realized that the city television station had not only lost in terms of viewership but also in terms of political capital.

Tanaka Mikami had always wanted to boost public support by using the city's TV programs, but now, "A Bite of China" has become a springboard for his rivals. How could he not be angry?
"Mayor Tanaka, we really didn't expect Hiroshi Nohara to use the techniques of making a TV drama to make a documentary."

Jun Yamada stood up abruptly, his voice filled with panic. "Look at the scenes in 'A Bite of China'—the interaction between Nomizu-san and the fishermen, the tension of the tuna auction, and even the last line of dialogue. It's like a TV drama script, full of suspense, ups and downs, and even an emotional climax. This is not a traditional documentary at all!"

"Yes!"

Another director chimed in, "We did some research beforehand, and Japanese audiences have never been very receptive to documentaries. Who knew Hiroshi Nohara could make such a unique film? He combined 'humanity' and 'story' so well that audiences simply couldn't resist it..."

Shunsuke Kamiki gritted his teeth and spoke up, "Mayor Tanaka, Hiroshi Nohara just got lucky and chose the right subject matter. He films rural content that easily resonates with viewers, and once the novelty wears off, the ratings will definitely drop. I have several fan meetings coming up, and as long as we increase the promotion, we'll definitely be able to bring the audience back!"

"luck?"

Tanaka Mikami glanced at him, his tone full of sarcasm, "Can luck allow him to shoot such detailed footage? Can luck allow him to capture the audience's psychology? Look at what you've filmed—Kamiki-san even has to do more than ten takes to cut sashimi, and the editing has to cover it up in post-production. Compared to Nomizu Masayasu's authenticity, he looks like a clown!"

Kamiki Shunsuke's face turned deathly pale instantly. He opened his mouth, but couldn't utter a single word.

He knew that Tanaka Mikami was telling the truth, but his pride prevented him from admitting it—he was an idol promoted by the Kirin Group, how could he lose to a documentary director?

Looking at the chaos before him, Kazuo Takahashi felt utterly powerless.

He previously thought he could win by relying on Shunsuke Kamiki's large fan base, but he forgot that "good content" is the key to retaining viewers.

"A Bite of China" has no celebrities and no exciting music, but it moved the audience with real stories and delicate camera work, something that they can never achieve by relying on staged scenes and traffic.

Tanaka Mikami took a deep breath, trying to calm his anger, and his gaze returned to Takahashi Kazuo: "Now is not the time to make excuses. I'm giving you three days to come up with a solution—either suppress the ratings of 'A Bite of China,' or produce a program that is better than 'A Bite of China.' If you can't do it, you can submit your resignations!"

Kazuo Takahashi was startled and quickly bowed: "Yes! We will definitely come up with a plan as soon as possible and will not let you down, Mayor!"

"Better so."

Tanaka Mikami stood up and straightened his suit jacket. "Shimazu Yoshihiro has already started campaigning by leveraging the popularity of 'A Bite of China.' If you guys mess up, not only will the city radio station be affected, but my election will also be put on the defensive—you can't afford the consequences."

After saying that, he turned and walked out, with the two officials following closely behind.

The meeting room door closed, leaving everyone standing there with solemn expressions. The end credits of "A Bite of China" were still playing on the television screen, and Masayoshi Nomizu's smile looked particularly glaring under the lights.

"How to do?"

The head of the technical department asked in a low voice, his tone full of panic, "How can we possibly produce a better program than 'A Bite of China' in just three days?"

Kazuo Takahashi slumped in his chair, pressing his fingers hard against his temples. He looked at the brochure for "Shunsuke's Tokyo Wanderings" on the table, then glanced at the end credits of "A Bite of China" on TV, and suddenly felt incredibly ironic—they had spent a fortune hiring idols and doing promotions, only to lose to a documentary without any stars or gimmicks. This was not only a disgrace to the city TV station, but also a stain on his career.

Kamiki Shunsuke stood to the side, his eyes filled with malice.

He took out his phone and quickly dialed his agent's number, his voice filled with gritted teeth and hatred: "Contact Watanabe Toru and make him release the 'material' he prepared beforehand! I don't care what methods he uses, we must make Nomizu Masayoshi's fish shop have problems and ruin the reputation of 'A Bite of China'!"

Looking at Kamiki Shunsuke's expression, Sato Takashi couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

He knew that Kamiki Shunsuke would only resort to such underhanded tactics, but he didn't know that truly good content could never be defeated by smear campaigns.

The success of "A Bite of China" lies in its respect for reality and its understanding of human relationships, something that the city's TV station will never be able to learn.

Outside the window, Tokyo's night view was dazzling with lights, but inside the Tokyo TV station's conference room, only oppression and despair filled the room.

They all knew that in this prime-time showdown, they not only lost in terms of ratings, but also in terms of their original intention to create content—and that was the most irreparable failure.

Now, all they want is to hope that they won't actually be kicked out in the end.

Tokyo TV was established not long ago.

If I really get kicked out.

It will affect your whole life!
(End of this chapter)