As a weirdo, I like being a Kamen Rider.

In the dead of autumn, the hustle and bustle of Shinjuku streets had long been swept away by the cold wind.

Scattered streetlights cast dim yellow spots of light on the asphalt road, and the wind swirled withered yellow sycamore leaves around the street corner, the rustling sound so faint as a sigh that no one could hear.

Two hours had passed since Lin Chen rescued the G3 uniformed man. He had planned to return to the park where he had stayed earlier and find a sheltered bench to spend the night, but when he got to the park entrance, he found that it was already crowded with homeless people like him.

He didn't go forward, but turned and disappeared back into the night.

His superhuman physique made him unafraid of the cold night, but the waves of stomach cramps constantly reminded him that even with immense strength, he still needed food to survive. The burning sensation of an empty stomach, mixed with a sense of aimless disorientation, weighed heavily on his chest, making him feel suffocated.

Just then, a warm yellow light entered his field of vision.

The name "Sato Noodle Shop" on the street corner reminded him of the Sato couple who had been kind to him in the Faiz parallel world. He wondered how they were doing now.

The wooden signboard was bathed in a warm glow from the lights, and a thin layer of condensation covered the glass door. The rising steam inside was clearly visible through the door, and the rich aroma of pork bone broth could be faintly smelled.

Lin Chen stood there, his thoughts drifting.

Just as he clenched his pockets and was about to turn and leave, the noodle shop door was suddenly pulled open.

A warm breeze carrying the aroma of tonkotsu broth wafted in. Old Master Sato Genji, holding a dishcloth, stood at the door and waved to him. His face showed no trace of inquiry or pity, only the natural familiarity of greeting a regular customer: "Young man, standing outside in the wind? Come in, the noodles in the pot are freshly cooked, still hot."

Lin Chen stood there, stunned, unsure how to react. It was in the same way Mr. Sato had invited him before he started working at the convenience store.

In the end, the hunger in his stomach and the irrepressible longing in his heart made him take a step forward, say awkwardly "Excuse me" in a low voice, and follow the old man into the shop.

The shop was warm, the wooden tables and chairs were spotless, and the heater in the corner was burning brightly, instantly dispelling the chill from his body. The old man asked him to sit down by the window, then turned and went into the kitchen. In less than three minutes, a steaming bowl of tonkotsu ramen was placed in front of him.

The milky white broth was simmered to a rich, creamy consistency, topped with double-thick slices of char siu, a perfect balance of lean and fatty meat, stewed until tender. A halved soft-boiled egg lay beside it, its amber yolk coated in sauce, topped with vibrant green scallions and seaweed flakes. The scalding steam hit my face, momentarily blurring my vision.

Lin Chen didn't say anything, picked up his chopsticks, and started eating heartily.

The chewy noodles, coated in broth, slid into my mouth, and the warmth flowed down my throat into my empty stomach, dispelling all the chill of the night.

He ate quickly, but without wolfing it down. He didn't put down the bowl until he had finished the last drop of soup.

He looked up at Grandpa Sato, who was wiping the table. His lips moved, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to begin. He didn't have a single penny on him, not even a piece of paper to prove his identity. He subconsciously touched the Orga phone in his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the cold metal casing. He hesitated for a moment, but still didn't take it out.

The old man noticed his embarrassment, wiped his hands, came over and took the bowl away, speaking casually as if he were talking about the weather: "It's just a bowl of noodles, it's not worth much, don't worry about it."

After wiping the last table, he pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Lin Chen, looking him up and down. "I see you're able-bodied and reliable. My shop needs a helper. If you have nowhere else to go, stay. Food and lodging provided, plus a monthly allowance. You won't be shortchanged."

As he spoke, he pointed to the flour bags piled up in the corner: "If you really feel bad about it, just move those flour bags to the kitchen now and it'll be on your bill for tonight's meal."

Lin Chen paused for a moment, then nodded, stood up, walked over, picked up a 50-pound bag of flour with one hand, and steadily carried it into the kitchen. He did this several times, quickly and efficiently.

The old man smiled with satisfaction as he watched his quick movements, then tossed him a rag: "Alright, you've got the work done. You can start helping out tomorrow. Your place is upstairs; you'll need to tidy up the storage room first, don't mind."

Looking into the old man's gentle yet resolute eyes, Lin Chen felt a lump in his throat. He remained silent for a long time before nodding and whispering, "Thank you."

And so, Lin Chen settled down at Sato Noodle Shop.

The noodle shop has been open for thirty years. Sato Genji has spent his entire life working with ramen. He has a gentle temperament and authentic skills, and almost all the local residents are regulars here. Lin Chen gets up at five o'clock every morning to help the old man knead dough, prepare ingredients, wipe tables, and keep the shop in good order. During the lunch and evening rush hours, he helps take orders, serve noodles, and clean up the dishes.

He didn't talk much, but he was exceptionally quick and efficient. He learned things fast, and in just two or three days, he had mastered all the tasks in the shop.

As the days went by, Lin Chen gradually got to know all the regular customers coming and going in the noodle shop, but he still dared not let his guard down. The strange people in this world were disguised too perfectly, and he never knew when they would jump out and attack humans.

At two in the morning, Yuko Nakamura, having finished her night shift, would always push open the door and come in, ordering a bowl of hot ramen with less salt. She always smelled of disinfectant, and her eyes couldn't hide her exhaustion, but she would always smile and tell Lin Chen about the trivial things that happened at the hospital—which child who had pneumonia recovered and was discharged today, and who gave her a piece of candy as they left; which elderly man living alone had his children finally come back from abroad to visit him, and the old man held the children's hands and cried for a long time.

Occasionally, she would bring Lin Chen a piece of fruit candy, place it in his hand, and say with a smile, "You always have such a long face, have something sweet to cheer you up." At first, Lin Chen would refuse, but later he started accepting it.

Just after the midday rush, deliveryman Kenta Tanaka would always rush in, yelling for a bowl of regular ramen. He would wolf it down, wiping his sweat as he complained to Lin Chen about how difficult the deliveries were and how demanding the customers were. After complaining, he would grin and say that he had helped an elderly lady with mobility issues carry 20 kilograms of rice up to the seventh floor, and she insisted on giving him two freshly picked oranges, which were very sweet.

Lin Chen would always quietly hand him a cup of iced barley tea, and as he chattered on and on, a slight smile would unconsciously appear on his lips.

Every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, Matsumoto Keiko would push her stroller with her three-year-old daughter to eat children's tomato noodles. The little girl would always timidly hide behind her mother, staring at Lin Chen with her round eyes. Lin Chen would always help them carry the heavy stroller inside beforehand, and occasionally he would take a piece of candy that the old man had prepared from the counter and hand it to the little girl.

Huizi would tell him about the hardships of raising children and the exhaustion of working two jobs, but when she talked about the first time her daughter called her "Mom" in a fuzzy voice, her eyes shone like stars.

Every morning at seven o'clock, retired middle school Chinese teacher Masao Watanabe would arrive on time, order a bowl of clear soup noodles, and eat slowly by the window with the day's newspaper in hand. He would teach Lin Chen to recognize the Japanese kanji in the newspaper and correct his non-standard pronunciation: "Young man, you learn things very quickly, but you have too many worries in your eyes. When you're alive, don't always carry everything on your own shoulders."

Every Friday night, Ichiro Suzuki, the owner of the old bookstore on the corner, would come over, order a cup of sake and a plate of edamame, and sit until late into the night. He would bring Lin Chen some old books and novels, chat with him about his past, about his experiences traveling the world when he was young, and at the end he would always pat Lin Chen on the shoulder and say, "A person should always have something to look forward to, not always live in the past. Look ahead, the road ahead is still long."

Lin Chen felt as if he had returned to the days before he awakened.

There is no fighting, no scheming, and no law of the jungle where the strong prey on the weak.

Life may be ordinary, but it can still bring warmth.

The warmth was amplified by the morning breeze.

That day, just as the noodle shop opened, Grandma Takahashi Chiyo from next door came running over chasing a kite. The kite string broke, and the colorful kite got caught on the old locust tree in front of the noodle shop. Grandma stood on tiptoe for a long time but couldn't reach it, and she was so anxious that she kept stamping her feet.

Lin Chen didn't say anything. He put down the rag in his hand, walked to the tree, and nimbly climbed up the trunk in a few steps, retrieving the kite that was tangled in the branches intact.

Grandma took the kite, her face beaming with smiles that smoothed out all her wrinkles. She turned and pulled two freshly steamed, still-hot red bean buns from her cloth bag, insisting they go into Lin Chen's hands, saying repeatedly, "Good boy, thank you so much! Eat them while they're hot, they're freshly steamed and sweet."

Lin Chen held the still-hot red bean bun and silently accepted it.

As the midday rush subsided and the shop quieted down, Sato Yuki, the granddaughter of Grandpa Sato and a third-grade elementary school student, timidly emerged from behind the counter. The little girl usually hid behind her grandfather, secretly watching Lin Chen and rarely spoke. This time, however, she clutched a neatly folded drawing, walked up to Lin Chen, and handed it to him. Her face was flushed, and her voice was barely audible: "Brother, this... is for you."

Lin Chen took the painting and unfolded it to look at it.

The drawing shows him in his work uniform, standing at the entrance of a noodle shop, surrounded by a circle of smiling faces—grandpa, the nurse who frequents the shop, the deliveryman, Aunt Keiko and her little sister, and Grandma Takahashi. The drawing is childlike, yet exceptionally meticulous, with each smiling face drawn clearly.

Lin Chen stared at the painting, momentarily stunned.

He folded the painting neatly and put it in his left pocket, along with the coin.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Grandpa Sato was wiping the pot when he called out to Lin Chen, "Chen-kun, could you please go to the flour factory at the dock and bring back the flour we need for next week? I've already placed the order."

"Okay," Lin Chen replied, picked up his coat, and went out.

He walked towards the dock, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the plane tree leaves and falling on his shoulders.

As soon as he entered the dock warehouse area, the surrounding tranquility was completely shattered by the piercing gunshots and screams.