I, Hiroshi Nohara, the star of Japanese cinema

Chapter 251 The ratings frenzy of "A Bite of China"! A heartwarming moment with sukiyaki!
At 10 p.m. on October 30, when the last shot of the third episode of "A Bite of Japan," titled "Kyoto Wagashi: Time in Frosting," came to a brief frenzy in all of Japan's ratings monitoring centers.

Data shows that this episode achieved an average viewership of 37.9% across Japan, with the Kanto region surpassing 42%, setting a record never before seen in the history of Japanese documentaries.

The following morning, newsstands in Shinjuku, Tokyo, and advertising screens in Osaka subway stations all dedicated their front pages to this documentary.

The Asahi Shimbun used bold black font to print "37.9%! A Bite of China defines a national cultural symbol," accompanied by a close-up photo of wagashi (Japanese sweets) master Sumie Yamada making sakura mochi (cherry blossom rice cakes) in an old Kyoto street.

The Yomiuri Shimbun focused on the "Wagashi effect," mentioning that the number of tourism inquiries received by the Kyoto Prefectural Government surged fivefold, and that long queues formed three days later at the Sumie Yamada "Sumiedo."

Even the Nikkei, which has always focused on economic news, dedicated a column on its front page to analyzing the "recovery of traditional craft supply chains" driven by "A Bite of China"—from red bean growers in Kyoto to packaging paper manufacturers, orders in related industries increased by 38% month-on-month.

"This is not a simple documentary, but a cultural awakening."

In his column for the Mainichi Shimbun, veteran film critic Akira Saeki wrote, "When the elderly Sumie Yamada said, 'Wagashi (Japanese sweets) are only sweet when the cherry blossoms are in bloom, just as life is only warm when it is lived slowly,' every viewer in front of the screen understood the philosophy of life contained within. Hiroshi Nohara used icing sugar to knead dough, and kneaded back into the hearts of the Japanese people the 'slow life' sentiment that was being diluted by the bubble economy."

All the newspapers once again erupted in a frenzy of reporting on "A Bite of Neon"!

……

At this moment, Hiroshi Nohara was standing in the open kitchen of his apartment, intently preparing the ingredients for sukiyaki.

Morning light streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the kitchen counter beside him.

He held a sharp sashimi knife in his hand, slicing a piece of A5 Wagyu beef into thin, even slices.

The beef has a fine, frost-like texture, and you can barely hear a sound when the knife cuts through it—this is Wagyu beef that was specially flown in from Hakodate, Hokkaido yesterday. Its fat content is just 25%, and it will release the freshest oil when grilled.

On the white porcelain plate next to it were Kyoto radishes cut into chunks, peeled quail eggs, and Kansai-style konjac soaked in water, each ingredient neatly arranged.

"Hiroshi-kun, the way you cut beef looks just like Yamada-san from 'A Bite of China'!" Misae's voice came from the living room, tinged with excitement.

Hiroshi Nohara glanced back and saw Misae sitting cross-legged on the carpet, a sketchbook spread out on her knees, colored pencils in her hand, drawing in front of the television screen.

The TV was replaying a clip from the third episode of "A Bite of China": Sumie Yamada was sifting powdered sugar with a bamboo sieve, and the sunlight fell on her gray hair, like a layer of fine snow.

Misae's eyes were still red, and her nose twitched slightly: "Look, Yamada-san makes sakura mochi every year during cherry blossom season in order to wait for his daughter to come back. Even though his daughter is an office lady in Tokyo and hasn't been home for three years... When his daughter suddenly appeared in the shop and hugged him, saying 'Mom's sakura mochi is the sweetest,' I burst into tears."

Hiroshi Nohara smiled, put down his knife, picked up a slice of Wagyu beef, and brought it close to his nose to smell it—the faint aroma of milk mixed with the fragrance of meat was very tempting.

"It's a true story, so it's bound to touch people's hearts. Yamada-san has been running his confectionery shop for thirty years, not waiting for his daughter to come back and inherit the craft, but waiting for her to remember the 'taste of home'."

"Yes!"

Misae suddenly looked up, her pen tip still covered in pink colored pencil shavings. "Just like my mom always says, when I was little I loved eating her dorayaki. Even now that I run a manga club, she still bakes them in advance and waits for me every time I come home."

As she spoke, she held up her sketchbook for Hiroshi Nohara to see, “Look at the Kumamon I drew! It’s holding a sakura mochi, and next to it it says ‘Follow the taste of Kyoto,’ isn’t it cute?”

The Kumamon on the drawing paper is round and chubby, wearing a red apron, holding a pink sakura mochi in its hand, and with some sugar powder on its cheeks.

Next to it, in crooked handwriting, was a line of small print: "Sumikado's sakura mochi is sweeter than cakes in Tokyo!"

Hiroshi Nohara walked over, bent down and ruffled Misae's hair, his fingertips touching her soft hair ends: "It's drawn very well, especially the Kumamon's eyes, like it's craving sakura mochi."

"of course!"

Misae puffed out her chest proudly, clutching her sketchbook to her chest. "I plan to print these little Kumamon clips on merchandise for the manga club, like notebooks and stickers. I also want to collaborate with Sato-san's soba noodle shop and Yamada-san's wagashi shop—customers will receive a Kumamon card with every meal they buy. This way, we can ride the wave of 'A Bite of China' and promote them at the same time, killing two birds with one stone!"

Hiroshi Nohara couldn't help but laugh: "You've got some ideas. But it's okay, you have the copyright to Kumamon, and I have the copyright to A Bite of China, so it's easy for us to cooperate."

Misae's eyes lit up instantly: "Really? Then I'll contact Yamada-san tomorrow! By the way, when we went to Gunma to film soba noodles last time, Sato-san said he wanted to make cute packaging for soba noodles. I can have Kumamon holding soba noodles as the design!"

"Take your time, let's finish today's sukiyaki first." Hiroshi Nohara turned and went back to the kitchen, placing the sliced ​​Wagyu beef into a plate lined with absorbent paper. "The beef should be seared while it's fresh, and the radish should be cooked until it's sweet, otherwise the sukiyaki broth won't be flavorful."

Misae, clutching her sketchbook, approached the kitchen doorway and watched Hiroshi Nohara pour sukiyaki sauce into the pot. Suddenly recalling a scene from episode three, she couldn't help but speak up: "Hiroshi-kun, do you remember the scene where Yamada-san made yokan? When she was cooking red beans, she would stir and taste them at the same time, saying, 'Red beans should be cooked until they have a grainy texture when you bite into them; if they're too mushy, they'll lose their soul.' My grandma did the same when she cooked red bean soup, always saying, 'Ingredients have their own temperament; you have to go with the flow.'"

Hiroshi Nohara paused, and the scene from the filming flashed through his mind.

That morning at five o'clock, they followed Sumie Yamada to pick red beans in a red bean field on the outskirts of Kyoto.

The old man, wearing wooden clogs, bent down and picked red beans slowly, gently blowing away the dew from each bean he picked.

"These red beans were planted last autumn and took a whole year to ripen," she said to the camera at the time. "Young people these days always say they 'can't wait,' but when it comes to delicious food, there's no reason not to wait."

Later, in the kitchen of "Chengwado", Sumie Yamada demonstrated the process of making yokan (sweet bean jelly).

She poured the cooked red beans into a stone mortar and pestle and mashed them into a paste, pausing for a few seconds after each stroke to allow the aroma of the red beans to slowly diffuse.

“When I married into this family, my mother-in-law taught me to pound red beans three times and then stop, saying that this would make the mutton jelly chewy.” She smiled and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Now that my mother-in-law is gone, I still do it the way she does, as if she is still watching over me.”

The most touching part is the ending scene of the film.

Sumie Yamada's daughter, Mio Yamada, suddenly returned to the store from Tokyo, carrying a suitcase.

"Mom, I quit my job." She hugged her mother, her voice choked with sobs. "Yesterday, I realized I hadn't had your sakura mochi in so long. I want to learn how to make wagashi (Japanese sweets) from you so we can run this shop together."

During the filming, Shigeru Saito used a backlit lens, and the sunlight shining through the wooden lattice windows of the shop cast long shadows of the mother and daughter.

Sumie Yamada's tears fell onto her daughter's shoulder, but she smiled and said, "Silly child, we can't make sakura mochi until next spring. For the next few months, learn to cook red beans with me."

“I saw that everyone was crying.” Misae rubbed her eyes. “Yamada-san leaves a sakura mochi in the shop every day, saying ‘I’m waiting for Mio to come back and eat it,’ but he never tells anyone else. This kind of longing hidden in one’s heart is more touching than any spoken longing.”

Hiroshi Nohara put the cooked radish chunks into the sukiyaki, and tiny bubbles instantly appeared on the broth: "That's why genuine emotions are the most powerful. We didn't add any script; we just followed Yamada-san for three days and captured these moments. Sometimes, documentaries don't need to be deliberately sentimental; just point the camera at life, and life will give you the best story."

Hiroshi Nohara's words also brought a smile to Misae's face.

"smell good!"

Soon, Misae's attention was drawn to the aroma emanating from the pot. She moved closer to the stove, watching the Wagyu beef slowly turn light brown, the fat seeping out and coating the radish. She couldn't help but swallow hard. "Hiroshi-kun, try some! I can't wait!"

Hiroshi Nohara smiled, picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of Wagyu beef, dipped it in raw egg yolk, and held it to Misae's lips: "Be careful, it's hot."

Misae opened her mouth and bit into the beef, her eyes instantly narrowing: "Delicious! Even better than the sukiyaki at high-end restaurants in Tokyo! Hiroshi-kun, did you secretly study cooking?"

"I only learned a little bit from the chefs in the film." Hiroshi Nohara also picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth. The tenderness of the Wagyu beef mixed with the sweetness of the sauce slowly melted on his tongue. "When filming 'A Bite of China,' I learned how to process tuna from Mr. Nomizu, and how to knead buckwheat dough from Mr. Sato. This time, I learned how to cook red beans from Mr. Yamada. I can say that I learned quite a lot."

Misae picked up a spoon, scooped a spoonful of broth into the rice, and sighed contentedly: "Everyone in Japan is talking about 'A Bite of China' right now. Yesterday I went to the manga club, and even the lady at the convenience store downstairs was saying, 'I'm going to Kyoto this weekend to eat wagashi.' Hiroshi-kun, don't you feel a sense of accomplishment?"

"The sense of accomplishment is okay, but more of a feeling of security comes from it."

Hiroshi Nohara put down his chopsticks and looked out the window at the Tokyo street scene—the Tokyo Tower in the distance was lit up in the twilight, and the streets were bustling with traffic, but with less of the restlessness of the bubble economy era. "When I made this film, I just wanted to record some crafts and lifestyles that were about to be forgotten. Now that I see people are willing to slow down and appreciate these ordinary beauties, I feel that it was worth it."

He paused, then added, "The Ministry of Education has confirmed that starting next month, 'A Bite of China' will be broadcast in primary and secondary schools nationwide as a 'local cultural teaching material.' Marui Soy Sauce also wants to collaborate with us to launch a 'A Bite of China Limited Edition' soy sauce, and the packaging will feature the Kumamon illustration you drew."

"Really?" Misae's eyes lit up. "Then my Kumamon is going to become the national mascot! By the way, Hiroshi-kun, what are you going to film for episode four? I want to go with him!"

"The fourth episode is going to be filmed at Saitama's old bakery. The owners are a husband and wife who have been making red bean bread for forty years." Hiroshi Nohara picked up a tissue and wiped the sauce from Misae's mouth. "I'll take you there and let you learn to make bread from the owner's wife. Maybe it can give you some inspiration for your manga."

Misae nodded vigorously, her mouth still full of rice, and said indistinctly, "Okay, okay! I'm going to draw the story of the bakery into Kumamon's manga so that more people can know about it!"

Halfway through their sukiyaki meal, Misae suddenly remembered something, put down her chopsticks, ran to the living room, grabbed the remote, and changed the channel: "Hiroshi-kun, look! This is 'Shunsuke's Tokyo Adventure' on Tokyo TV, it's also a food variety show, and it's a competitor to your 'A Bite of China'!"

On the TV screen, Shunsuke Kamiki, dressed in a white casual suit, stands in front of a popular burger joint in Ginza, Tokyo, flashing his signature smile at the camera: "Viewers, today I'm taking you to check out Tokyo's hottest 'Golden Burger,' which is said to be limited to 100 per day. It tastes like a cloud!"

The camera cuts to a close-up of the hamburger, with glitter sprinkled on the golden bun and a thick layer of cheese sauce drizzled on the patty, making it look incredibly tempting.

But when Shunsuke Kamiki picked up the hamburger, he deliberately avoided the edge of the bread with his fingers, and he was even more careful when he took a bite, as if he was afraid that the sauce would get on the corner of his mouth—clearly, he was posing for the photo.

"Wow, this burger looks delicious," Misae said instinctively. But before she could finish speaking, she saw Kamiki Shunsuke take a couple of bites, secretly spit the burger into the tissue box next to him, and still maintain a smile on his face: "Hmm, the texture is really light, and the cheese flavor is very rich. I recommend everyone to try it!"

Misae frowned instantly and pouted, "How fake! He didn't even swallow it, did he? And his tone of voice was weird, like he was reciting lines, it didn't feel natural at all."

Hiroshi Nohara walked into the living room, leaned back on the sofa, and looked at the screen.

Shunsuke Kamiki was interacting with the shop owner, holding a microphone, but he kept a distance of half a meter and didn't even take the fries offered by the shop owner—clearly because he didn't want the food to stain his suit.

"This shop has a unique decor, perfect for taking photos," he said to the camera, but his eyes kept glancing at the teleprompter next to him. "When you come, be sure to wear light-colored clothes so that the photos will turn out better."

"What?! This isn't a food show, it's a photo tutorial!" Misae angrily grabbed a cushion and slammed it onto the sofa. "He didn't even taste the food properly, all he knows is 'perfect for photos,' it's so far inferior to your 'A Bite of China'! Hiroshi-kun, look at Yamada-san when he was making wagashi, he didn't care that his hands were covered in flour, but he doesn't even dare to touch fries, he's such a show-off!"

Hiroshi Nohara smiled and reached out to pull Misae to sit down next to him: "Don't be angry. He's following the idol route, where the focus is on 'good looks' rather than 'authenticity'."

"Shouldn't the focus of food variety shows be on the food and the people behind it?"

Misae leaned on Hiroshi Nohara's shoulder, her tone full of confusion, "He didn't even ask the shop owner's name, all he knew was to say 'the decoration is nice,' who would like a variety show like that? Last time I looked at the ratings report, his show only had 1.8%, which is more than twenty times worse than your 'A Bite of China'!"

On TV, Shunsuke Kamiki continued posing for photos, sometimes making a heart shape with his hands over a hamburger, sometimes taking pictures with a Coke can, without mentioning a single detail about how the hamburger was made, or even asking about the owner's business story.

Misae, growing impatient, reached out to change the channel: "I'm not watching anymore! It's making me angrier! I'd rather watch your 'A Bite of China' rerun. Yamada-san looks a hundred times better making yokan than him!"

Hiroshi Nohara held Misae's hand and gently shook his head: "Don't change it. It's good to see what our opponents are doing."

He paused, looking down at the girl in his arms—Misae's hair was spread out on his arm, and her eyes still held a hint of dissatisfaction with Kamiki Shunsuke, like a puffed-up kitten.

He suddenly reached out and turned off the TV. The living room instantly fell silent, with only the streetlights outside casting soft shadows on the floor through the curtains.

"It's getting late. We have to go to Kyoto tomorrow to discuss peripheral cooperation with Mr. Yamada. Get some rest."

Misae paused for a moment, looked up at Hiroshi Nohara, and found that his eyes were gentler than usual.

"Hiroshi-kun..." She had barely opened her mouth when Hiroshi Nohara gently hugged her.

"It's been so long since I've spent time with you like this." Hiroshi Nohara rested his chin on the top of Misae's head, his voice deep and gentle. "I've been busy filming 'A Bite of China' lately, so I haven't had much time to spend with you."

Misae leaned against him, able to smell the faint scent of cooking on him—the aroma of the sauce from the sukiyaki she had cooked during the day, mixed with the scent of soap on his body, which was especially comforting.

“I’m not blaming you.” She reached out and hugged Hiroshi Nohara’s waist, whispering, “I’m also very happy to see you produce such great works. And I’ve learned a lot by following you in making films, such as how to observe life and how to draw comics with warmth.”

Hiroshi Nohara tightened his arms, holding Misae even closer: "I'll have more time to spend with you in the future. After 'A Bite of China' is finished filming, we'll go to Hokkaido to see the snow and to Hakodate to eat seafood, just the two of us."

"Really?" Misae looked up, her eyes sparkling. "Then we have to go to Shiroi Koibito Park in Sapporo. I want to draw lots of Kumamon in the snow!"

"Okay, whatever you say." Hiroshi Nohara lowered his head and gently kissed Misae's forehead. "Go to sleep now, otherwise you won't be able to get up tomorrow, and Yamada-san will be getting impatient."

Misae smiled and nodded, letting Hiroshi Nohara lead her into the bedroom.

As night deepened, the lights in the apartment gradually went out, leaving only the faint aroma of sukiyaki lingering on the kitchen counter in the living room—a simple yet warm moment that belonged to the two of them.

……

On a cool October morning in Tokyo, the sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast long, thin streaks of light on the bedroom floor.

When Hiroshi Nohara opened his eyes, Misae was still fast asleep beside him, her lips slightly upturned, as if she were having a sweet dream.

He shifted his waist slightly, the fatigue from last night not yet completely gone, but the sound of the girl's breathing beside him made him feel exceptionally at ease—a sense of security he had never experienced since transmigrating to this world.

He carefully moved Misae's hand away from his waist, his movements as light as if he were afraid of disturbing a butterfly.

I walked to the window and drew back the curtains. There were already a few pedestrians on the street below. Office workers in suits hurried by, clutching briefcases and newly bought newspapers. Occasionally, a bicycle bell would ring out crisply, carrying the lively atmosphere of Tokyo in 1991.

In the bathroom, Hiroshi Nohara turned on the hot water tap, and the warm water flowed across his face, completely waking him up.

The man in the mirror was wearing a simple white vest, his brows and eyes displaying a composure beyond his years, only the occasional flash of his gaze revealing his secret from the future.

He tidied his hair in front of the mirror, and a faint smile involuntarily appeared on his lips as he recalled Misae's blushing face last night.

When I came out of the washroom, the milk box by the door had been filled by the deliveryman—two glass bottles of Meiji milk, with tiny water droplets still clinging to the bottles.

Hiroshi Nohara picked up the milk and went into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, which was neatly filled with the ingredients he had bought from the supermarket yesterday: eggs from Kyoto, butter from Hokkaido, and freshly baked sliced ​​toast, all of which looked very fresh.

Hiroshi Nohara tied on an apron, placed the frying pan on the gas stove, and slowly heated it over low heat.

He took a block of butter from the refrigerator, cut it into small pieces, and put it in the pot. The moment the butter melted, a rich milky aroma immediately filled the air—this was a trick he learned from Yamada Sumie, a Kyoto wagashi chef featured on "A Bite of China." Melting butter at a low temperature can preserve the aroma to the greatest extent.

Next, he cracked two eggs into a ceramic bowl, added a small spoonful of white sugar, and stirred clockwise with chopsticks.

The egg mixture needs to be stirred until fine bubbles appear; this will ensure that the omelet is soft and tender when fried.

He stirred the mixture while keeping an eye on the butter in the pan. When the butter had completely melted and started to bubble, he poured in half of the egg mixture.

As the egg mixture slowly solidified in the pan, Hiroshi Nohara gently pushed the edges with a wooden spatula. Once the bottom was set, he slowly rolled it up from one side into a cylindrical shape and pushed it to the side of the pan before pouring in the remaining egg mixture.

When rolling it a second time, you need to apply more pressure than the first time so that the layers of the omelet will be distinct.

His movements were practiced and his eyes were focused, as if he were handling a precious work of art—like adjusting the angle of each shot when filming "Seven Samurai," or sketching the expression of each character when drawing "Doraemon."

The toaster next to me popped open with a "ding," revealing two slices of toast that were toasted to a golden brown and crispy.

Hiroshi Nohara cut the tamagoyaki into three pieces and arranged them on a white porcelain plate, placing a slice of toast next to it, and then drizzling a spoonful of homemade strawberry jam—made by Misae last week using strawberries from Ibaraki Prefecture, with just the right balance of sweet and sour. Finally, he poured milk into a glass, microwaved it for thirty seconds, until it was just the right temperature to drink without burning his tongue.

"It smells so good..." Misae's sleepy voice came from the bedroom, followed by the clatter of slippers on the floor.

She rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen, her hair still a little messy. When she saw the breakfast on the counter, her eyes lit up instantly. "Hiroshi-kun, did you make this? It looks even better than the Western-style breakfast at the Ginza restaurant!"

Hiroshi Nohara turned off the gas stove and looked back at her: "It's freshly made, eat it while it's hot."

Misae walked up to him, suddenly tiptoed, and lightly pecked him on the cheek. Then, blushing, she lowered her head and whispered, "Hiroshi-kun... you were so strong last night..."

Hiroshi Nohara paused for a moment, then smiled and ruffled her hair: "What, you only realize it now?"

"You're so annoying!" Misae playfully pushed him, her cheeks as red as ripe apples. "I just... I just think..." Before she could finish speaking, Hiroshi Nohara stuffed a piece of toast into her mouth. "Eat it quickly, or it won't taste good when it gets cold."

The two sat at the dining table, the morning light streaming through the window onto their plates, giving the thick omelets a warm golden hue.

Misae took a bite of the thick omelet and her eyes immediately narrowed: "Wow! It's so soft and tender! Hiroshi-kun, how come you can do everything? You're even better at cooking than my mom!"

“I learned it from Yamada-san.” Hiroshi Nohara took a sip of milk and said in a flat tone, “When filming ‘A Bite of China,’ I saw her paying attention to the heat when making wagashi (Japanese sweets), and I thought I could apply that technique to cooking.”

Misae suddenly remembered something, put down her chopsticks and looked at him: "By the way, Hiroshi-kun, you said last night that you would take me to Hokkaido to see the snow after 'A Bite of China' is finished filming, is that true?"

“Of course it’s true.” Hiroshi Nohara nodded, his eyes serious. “But there’s something else I need to do before I go.”

Misae blinked: "What is it?"

"I'm going to take you to meet my parents, and also to your house to meet your aunt and uncle." Hiroshi Nohara put down his glass, looked into her eyes, and said, "We should get engaged."

"Engaged...engaged?" Misae's eyes widened instantly, and the fork in her hand clattered onto the plate. "Really...really? Hiroshi-kun, you're not kidding, are you?"

"Of course not." Hiroshi Nohara picked up a tissue and wiped the strawberry jam from the corner of her mouth. "Since I'm with you, I've never thought about breaking up. The engagement ceremony should be quite elaborate. What kind of venue do you like? A Western restaurant in Tokyo, or a shrine in your hometown? It's up to you."

Misae's tears suddenly fell, not from sadness, but from excitement.

She sniffed and reached out to grab Hiroshi Nohara's hand: "I...I'm fine with anything! But my mom definitely wants it to be in Kumamoto. She says the shrine in our hometown is very efficacious and can bless the newlyweds to have a long and happy marriage..."

“Then let’s go to Kumamoto.” Hiroshi Nohara squeezed her hand, feeling her warmth through his fingertips. “We’ll ask Director Sakata and the others to be witnesses, along with your friends from the manga club. It’ll be a lively and fun occasion.”

Misae nodded vigorously, but her tears fell even harder: "Hiroshi-kun... thank you... I never thought I could marry the person I love..."

Looking at her tear-streaked face, Hiroshi Nohara felt a surge of warmth in his heart.

He thought of Misae from "Crayon Shin-chan," who always complained about Hiroshi's smelly feet but never abandoned him, and of the mischievous Shin-chan and the adorable Himawari—in this life, he would rewrite their destiny and give them a stable and happy home.

He thought to himself: If only the first child were Shin-chan, and if only the second were Himawari. He wanted to see with his own eyes the little boy who always talked about "Action Kamen" and the little girl who liked to act cute, growing up by his side.

After breakfast, Hiroshi Nohara cleaned up the dishes, while Misae went to the bedroom to change her clothes.

She chose a light pink dress, layered it with a beige knitted cardigan, and tied her hair in a ponytail, looking both cute and capable.

"Hiroshi-kun, is this outfit okay for me? Today the manga club is going to discuss the design of Kumamon merchandise, and I want to look more presentable."

"It's very good." Hiroshi Nohara picked up his car keys. "Let's go, I'll take you to the manga club."

The two went downstairs, and Hiroshi Nohara's Toyota Crown was parked on the side of the road, its black body gleaming with a calm luster in the morning light.

Driving on the road, Tokyo's morning rush hour hadn't fully begun yet, and there weren't many cars on the road.

Misae sat in the passenger seat, sketching Kumamon in her sketchbook, chatting with Hiroshi Nohara as she drew: "Hiroshi-kun, yesterday someone from Marui Soy Sauce called me and said they want to print Kumamon on their soy sauce bottles and also want me to design a limited-edition packaging. What do you think?"

“Sure.” Hiroshi Nohara looked at the road ahead and said in a relaxed tone, “But make sure to draw Kumamon’s expression cute, kids will like it. Also, don’t forget to add the words ‘Satoya Soba Special’ to help Sato-san promote the business.”

“I know!” Misae nodded with a smile. “I also want to collaborate with Yamada-san to print wagashi (Japanese sweets) designs on notebooks and insert a wagashi recipe into each notebook, so that when people buy the notebooks, they can also learn how to make wagashi.”

“The idea is good.” Hiroshi Nohara turned a corner. “But we need to discuss the copyright issue with Yamada-san. We can’t let her suffer losses. She’s getting old, and it’s not easy for her to earn money.”

Misae put down her sketchbook and looked at Hiroshi Nohara's profile: "Hiroshi-kun, you always think of others, no wonder everyone likes you. Last time, Matsui-san told me that you helped him revise his 'Old Street Visit' proposal and stayed up all night."

Hiroshi Nohara smiled but didn't say anything. He just felt that the people in this world were all sincere. Kosuke Sato's steadfastness, Sumie Yamada's perseverance, and Sho Mizukami's gentleness were all worthy of his sincere appreciation.

Soon they arrived at the office building where "Future Comics Club" was located.

Misae unbuckled her seatbelt and kissed Hiroshi Nohara on the cheek: "Hiroshi-kun, see you tonight! I'll finish the peripheral design plans and wait for you to come back and see them!"

"Okay." Hiroshi Nohara watched her run into the office building until her figure disappeared at the elevator entrance before starting the car and driving towards the Kanto TV station.

The Kanto TV station, which should have been quieter than usual on Saturday, was unusually lively due to preparations for the fourth episode of "A Bite of China." As soon as Hiroshi Nohara's Toyota Crown parked in the parking lot, a staff member recognized him.

"Hiroshi-san! Good morning!" Kobayashi Hiroshi from the technical department ran over, carrying a camera, his face full of excitement. "What brings you here today? Are you here to check the filming equipment for episode four?"

"Come check on everyone's progress." Hiroshi Nohara got out of the car and greeted him. "Is all the equipment set up? We're going to Saitama next week to film the old bakery, so we can't afford any problems."

"Don't worry, Hiroshi-san!" Kobayashi Hiroshi patted his chest. "Saito-san led us through the setup until midnight yesterday. We tested every camera and even fully charged the spare batteries!"

The two walked into the building together, encountering many employees along the way. Whether it was a director in the production department or a clerk in the administration department, they all took the initiative to greet Hiroshi Nohara.

"Hiroshi-san, you've arrived!" Takashi Yamada, the deputy director of the production department, walked over with a document and respectfully handed it to him. "This is the information on Saitama Old Bakery. Please take a look and see if there's anything that needs to be added."

"Thank you, Yamada-san." Hiroshi Nohara took the document and flipped through a couple of pages. "It's very detailed. When we go to film next week, could you please coordinate with the Takahashi couple from the bakery to confirm the filming schedule?"

“No problem! I’ll call them this afternoon!” Yamada Takashi nodded, his eyes full of admiration.

When I got to the elevator, I ran into Kei Tanaka from the variety show production class.

Holding a new project proposal for "Super Transformation," he walked over with a smile: "Hiroshi-kun, you've finally arrived! I have an idea for 'Hometown Food Transformation' that I'd like to discuss with you and see if we can add it to the next episode."

“Okay, let’s find time to talk in detail after I finish preparing for the fourth episode.” Hiroshi Nohara nodded and made an appointment with him.

In the elevator, Kobayashi Hiroshi looked at Nohara Hiroshi and said with emotion, "Hiroshi-san, your prestige at the station is now higher than that of Director Sakata. When Kanto TV and Tokyo TV merged, everyone was worried that you were an 'outsider,' but now everyone knows that you are genuinely working for the station."

Hiroshi Nohara smiled and said, "It's not because of my high prestige, but because of everyone's hard work. The success of 'A Bite of China' is not my achievement alone. It is thanks to Saito-san's lens, Matsui-san's filming, and everyone's efforts that this film has warmth."

He knew in his heart that this respect was not earned through his position, but through his works—"Yamishibai" broke the silence of urban legends, "Seven Samurai" reshaped the samurai film genre, and "A Bite of China" revitalized traditional crafts.

Each of his works is a medal he has won to prove his talent.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a bustling scene in the production department's office.

Yuichi Matsui was discussing the script for "Old Street Exploration" with Sakurako Honda when he saw Hiroshi Nohara enter. He immediately stood up and said, "Hiroshi-kun! You've come at the right time! Sakurako-chan's script is revised. Could you take a look and see if there are any adjustments needed?"

Honda Sakurako walked over with the script, looking a little nervous: "Hiroshi-san, I added the story of the old street artisans as you suggested last time. Do you think it's okay?"

Hiroshi Nohara took the script and began to read it carefully. The office was quiet, with only the sound of papers turning.

Everyone looked at him with expectation and trust in their eyes—this was the respect that Hiroshi Nohara had earned through his strength, and it was also his most precious treasure in this world.

……

Hiroshi Nohara sat at the head of the conference table, holding the revised "Old Street Visit" script by Sakurako Honda in his hand, his fingertips lightly tracing the edge of the paper.

The meeting room was quiet. Yuichi Matsui, Takashi Yamada, Hiroshi Kobayashi, and Sakurako Honda sat opposite each other, their eyes filled with anticipation and a hint of nervousness—after all, this was their first independently prepared documentary project since the success of "A Bite of China".

“Sakura-chan’s script is much more detailed than last time.” Hiroshi Nohara spoke first, his tone calm. “You have organized the historical background of the old street and the basic information of the craftsmen very clearly. You even marked the lighting angles that need to be paid attention to when shooting. It’s obvious that you put a lot of effort into it.”

When Honda Sakurako heard the praise, she blushed immediately and whispered, "I learned it all from Hiroshi-san. When you were filming 'A Bite of China,' you even recorded the thickness of the morning fog. I thought I couldn't be careless either."

Matsui Yuichi couldn't help but add: "This girl worked overtime until midnight every day last week to revise the script. She even spent three days in the old street chatting with the artisans. She even knew exactly when Grandma Zhang's sugar painting stall opened."

Hiroshi Nohara nodded, flipped to the shooting plan section of the script, and frowned slightly: "However, there are a few places that can be adjusted. For example, your plan to use the structure of 'panoramic view of the old street + interviews with artisans' is safe, but it lacks a 'hook' that can make the audience remember it."

He pointed to a passage in the script: "You wrote 'Filming Grandma Zhang making sugar paintings, from boiling the sugar to drawing the dragon shape, using long takes throughout,' which is fine in terms of idea, but it lacks an 'emotional focus.' When watching documentaries, viewers not only want to know 'how it' is done,' but also 'why it's done this way'—Grandma Zhang has been making sugar paintings for thirty years, is there any story hidden in it? For example, is she waiting for a specific person to buy her sugar paintings? Or does this craft have any special meaning for her?"

Honda Sakurako paused for a moment, then looked down at the script: "I...I didn't ask about these things. I thought that as long as the process of making the craft was clearly shown, the audience would like it."

"Process is the skeleton, while emotion is the flesh and blood."

Hiroshi Nohara placed the script on the table and leaned forward slightly. "Just like Yamada-san in 'A Bite of China,' when we filmed her making wagashi, we not only filmed her kneading the dough and sifting the sugar, but also filmed her saving a piece of sakura mochi for her daughter every day, and filmed her eyes reddening when she thought of her mother-in-law. These details are what make the audience feel that 'Yamada-san is like the elderly people around them,' and that's what moves them."

Matsui Yuichi stroked his chin, his tone puzzled: "But the artisans in the old street are all very introverted. Last time I asked Granny Zhang about her story, she only said, 'Making sugar paintings is just a way to make a living,' and didn't want to talk more. What can we do?"

Hiroshi Nohara smiled, took a notebook out of his briefcase, opened it, and pushed it in front of everyone—it had simple storyboards drawn on it, along with a few lines of small annotations.

“These are some ideas I came up with last night, take a look.” He pointed to the first storyboard. “We can avoid direct interviews and instead use ‘observational filming.’ For example, when filming Grandma Zhang making sugar, the camera first focuses on her hands—they have many calluses, and her knuckles are a bit deformed. Then it slowly zooms out to show an old photo next to her, in which a little girl is holding a sugar painting. Without her saying anything, the audience will naturally be curious about ‘who is this little girl?’ Then in post-production, we can use a voiceover to gently mention, ‘Grandma Zhang’s granddaughter studies in Osaka and only comes back for the Lunar New Year.’ That’s how the story is told.”

Everyone crowded around to look at the notebook, their eyes instantly lighting up. Kobayashi Hiroshi pointed to another panel: "Hiroshi-san, what's the meaning behind this 'Old Street Sounds' idea?"

“The sounds of the old street are very distinctive,” Hiroshi Nohara explained. “The sound of sweeping in the early morning, the sound of Granny Zhang’s sugar spoon hitting the stone slab, the sound of Master Li’s shoe-repairing hammer—these sounds can make the audience feel ‘there.’ We can use a three-minute ‘sound montage’ at the beginning of the film, with no visuals, only these sounds, and a voiceover saying, ‘The sounds of this street have been going on for fifty years,’ to draw the audience’s emotions in first.”

Takashi Yamada couldn't help but exclaim, "This idea is brilliant! When we make documentaries, we always focus on making the visuals beautiful, but we forget that sound can also tell a story. If we had thought of this earlier when we were making 'Fisherman's Song of Kanto,' the ratings would definitely have been several points higher!"

Hiroshi Nohara turned to the next page, which read, "The Collision of Craftsmanship and the Times": "We can also add some contrasting shots. For example, filming Master Li repairing shoes, he is still using old tools from decades ago, but next to him are sneakers sent by young people—this contrast of 'old craftsmanship repairing new objects' can lead to the question of 'whether traditional craftsmanship should change'. Another example is filming Grandpa Wang's bamboo weaving shop, where no one buys the bamboo baskets he weaves, but his granddaughter turns the bamboo baskets into flower pots and sells them online, and they become popular—this story can show the audience that traditional craftsmanship is not only meant to be put in museums, but can also have new vitality."

Honda Sakurako was writing furiously with her pen, the tip almost unable to keep up with her train of thought: "Hiroshi-san, your ideas are amazing! How come I never thought of making a documentary like this before?"

"Actually, these are all observations from life."

Hiroshi Nohara closed his notebook, his tone still calm. "Last time I went to Kyoto to film wagashi (Japanese sweets), I saw Mr. Yamada's daughter taking pictures of wagashi with her phone and handing out flyers. I thought to myself, tradition and modernity are never opposites. When we make documentaries, we need to find this kind of 'connection point' so that the audience feels that 'old crafts are not far from them.' Only in this way can we truly move them."

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds, then erupted into a heated discussion.

Matsui Yuichi slammed his fist on the table and said excitedly, "Hiroshi-kun, your ideas have completely elevated the script to a whole new level! I was worried before that no one would watch 'Old Street Exploration,' but now I guarantee that as long as we film it this way, it will definitely be a hit!"

“Yes!” Xiao Linhao nodded. “That ‘sound montage’—I can still picture it with my eyes closed: an old street in the early morning, before the sun has risen, with only the sounds of sweeping and sugar spoons. It’s so evocative!”

Takashi Yamada looked at Hiroshi Nohara with admiration in his eyes: "Hiroshi-kun, you not only understand the content, but also the psychology of the audience. In the past, when we made documentaries, we always thought about 'telling the story we wanted to tell,' but forgot about 'what the audience wanted to see.' Your suggestions have really taught us a lesson."

Honda Sakurako stood up and bowed deeply to Nohara Hiroshi: "Hiroshi-san, thank you! I always felt that I couldn't make a good documentary, but now with your advice, I'm confident that I can make 'Old Street Exploration' as good as 'A Bite of China'!"

Hiroshi Nohara quickly helped her up: "You're welcome. This is the result of everyone's discussion. Sakurako-chan, you have keen observation skills; Matsui-san, you understand the history of the old street; Yamada-san, you are good at coordination; and Kobayashi Hiroshi is technically skilled. As long as we combine these strengths, we will definitely be able to create a great work."

He paused, then added, “Next week we’re going to Saitama to film an old bakery, and you can come along to learn from it. The Takahashi couple have been making bread for forty years, and their story is very representative—Mr. Takahashi used to be a company employee, but he quit his job to open a bakery for his sick wife. He gets up at three in the morning every day to knead dough so that his wife can eat fresh bread. We can use ‘companionship in the aroma of bread’ as the main theme, filming their interactions while kneading dough, and filming his wife sitting in the shop eating bread. These details can be very touching.”

Yuichi Matsui immediately said, "We'll definitely go! It's our good fortune to be able to learn how to make documentaries from Hiroshi-kun!"

Hiroshi Nohara smiled and picked up the script on the table: "Alright, Sakurako-chan, based on today's discussion, revise the script again. We'll meet again next Monday. Yamada-san, you're in charge of contacting the artisans in the old town, explaining the filming concept to them, and putting their minds at ease. Kobayashi Hiroshi, prepare the recording equipment; we'll go to the old town to collect sound next week. Matsui-san, you..."

He arranged his work methodically, speaking calmly and clearly.

Everyone in the meeting room listened attentively, their eyes no longer showing the tension of before, but only trust and anticipation—they knew that by following Hiroshi Nohara, they could not only create great works, but also learn real documentary filmmaking techniques.

The discussion ended close to noon.

As everyone packed their things and prepared to leave, Hiroshi Nohara suddenly called out to Sakurako Honda: "Sakurako-chan, there's one more thing to keep in mind."

Honda Sakurako stopped in her tracks: "Hiroshi-san, please speak."

"When photographing old streets, try to use natural light as much as possible."

Hiroshi Nohara said, "The houses in the old streets are relatively low, and the light and shadow that shines through the wooden windows is very special, warmer than artificial lighting. Also, when filming artisans at work, don't make them smile at the camera, just let them do their work naturally—genuine expressions are more powerful than deliberate smiles."

He recalled scenes from "A Bite of China" on Earth in his previous life, where the focused expressions of farmers and craftsmen were more touching than any performance.

“I understand!” Honda Sakurako nodded seriously. “I will tell Kobayashi Hiroshi to pay more attention to the lighting and not disturb the craftsmen while they are working.”

As Hiroshi Nohara watched her departing figure, a sense of relief suddenly welled up within him.

He knew that these young people were like newly sprouted seeds; with the right guidance, they could grow into towering trees.

What he wants to do is to slowly pass on his past life experiences to them, so that the documentaries of this world can be more warm and more real.

As I walked out of the conference room, I ran into Shigeru Saito from the technical department in the hallway. He was holding a camera and said with a smile, "Hiroshi-kun, I heard a lot of noise in the conference room just now. Is there any new progress on the 'Old Street Exploration' project?"

"Yes, we've adjusted a few approaches, so it should be much better than before." Hiroshi Nohara nodded. "Next week we're going to Saitama to film the old bakery, so I'll need you to keep an eye on the technical aspects."

"Do not worry."

Shigeru Saito pushed up his glasses, his tone full of admiration, "Working with you always makes me learn something new. Last time when we were filming the morning mist scene for 'A Bite of China,' you said, 'The mist should be filmed with a sense of breath.' I'm still thinking about it now—and I finally understand that a good shot isn't about how beautiful it is, but whether it can convey emotion."

Hiroshi Nohara smiled but didn't say anything more.

This reverence for professionalism and dedication to detail are the keys to creating great works.

And he will carry this dedication with him, continuing to create more heartwarming stories in this world.

(End of this chapter)