Chapter 20: Japanese Breakfast and the Breeze After Rain

(Part One)

Cola’s figured it out: anything “Japanese-style” is basically code for “not filling.”
The so-called Japanese breakfast is a collection of dainty little dishes on a tray—looks plentiful, but each is barely a bite.
It’s perfect for photos, but as a meal, it’s more like a snack.
For someone raised on hearty breakfasts like scallion pancakes, fried dumplings, or leek pies, it’s wildly insufficient.

Sure, Cola’s a rich kid, but she only learned that in high school.
Growing up in a rundown building, she thought her family was just scraping by…

Liuli clasps her chopsticks, says “Itadakimasu!” and snaps Cola out of her wandering thoughts.
Facing this delicate, barely-filling breakfast, Cola mutters her own version in Chinese—“I’m digging in, damn it.”

The main dish is rice sprinkled with sesame seeds.
Though it’s old rice, it’s cooked to a pristine white, no yellowing, paired with jet-black sesame—almost an art piece.
The soup is a beet-infused radish miso, clear in color but surprisingly savory and rich.
The sides?
One fried tofu puff, five tiny fried fish, a small slice of tamagoyaki, two thumb-sized pieces each of broccoli and fern salad, and a tiny plate of stir-fried greens with a pinch of pepper salt (half the size of Cola’s palm).
The centerpiece is a salt-grilled salmon fillet.
Thankfully, it’s not raw.

After a year in Japan, Cola still can’t stomach raw fish—every attempt ends in nausea and headaches.
Good thing she’s a girl now; her old 1.9-meter self would’ve barely felt a tenth full on this.
Portion aside, each dish is surprisingly tasty.
Maybe the small servings make you savor every bite, tricking you into thinking it’s amazing.
Perhaps Japan’s resource scarcity birthed this refined, minimal eating habit.

Finishing breakfast, Cola’s about 60-70% full—not starving, oddly.
A post-meal yogurt even sparks a strange satisfaction—not the stuffed feeling, but a “psychological fullness.”
Basically, her stomach’s been duped…

“I’m full!”
Liuli clasps her hands, setting down her empty yogurt box.

Liuli’s mom, done eating, smiles at Cola.
“Little Cola, how was it?”

“Uh, great, really tasty…”
Cola swallows her “if only there was more” comment, glancing outside.
“Oh—rain’s stopped.”

“Heading out, Miss Cola?”

“Dunno if it’ll start again.
Grab an umbrella?”

“Can’t you block it like yesterday?”

“Too conspicuous in daylight.”

“True.”

“Here, Little Liuli, the grocery list.”

“So much…”

“Since Little Cola’s here, we need to treat her well.”

“No, no, I’m easygoing, anything’s fine.”
Cola waves her hands.

“Nonsense, guests deserve proper hospitality.”

“Uh… too polite.
I could eat katsuobushi rice for weeks.”

“You like katsuobushi rice too, Miss Cola?”

“It’s just convenient, and ketchup’s appetizing…”

“Like Brother Huan’s taste…”

“Maybe he eats it ‘cause he’s busy and wants something quick.”

“But never getting sick of it is impressive.”

“Hehe, Little Liuli loves chocolate bread, but she’d complain after three or four days.”

“Eh—she’s picky?”

“Mom…!”
Liuli puffs her cheeks shyly.
“Chocolate every day gets old!”

“Go on, get going before it rains again.”

“Got it—”
Liuli draws out her words, smiling at Cola.
“Miss Cola, ready?”

“Yup, shoes on.”

(Part Two)

The air after rain is crisp, scented with fresh grass.
Cola glances at Liuli, who’s carrying a basket and studying the grocery list.
“Liuli, you run errands for your mom a lot?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t get annoyed being sent around?”

“Mm… if I’m gaming, yeah.
I don’t love going out, but with you, Miss Cola, it’s fun!”

“Cough…”
Cola’s face reddens—Liuli’s words feel like a confession.
She shifts topics.
“That list’s detailed, even weights.”

“Yup… if I’m too shy to talk, I show the list to the shopkeeper…”

“They pack it for you?”

“Yup, no talking needed!
Pretty cool, right?”

“In a way…”
Cola’s mouth twitches.

Liuli’s not taking her to a market but to nearby vegetable shops, scattered like convenience stores.
The first is a veggie shop.
Fresh produce lines the entrance—not much, but neatly arranged, a delight to the eye.

“OCD paradise, how do they even align the edamame so perfectly…”
Cola smacks her lips in awe.

A minute of silence follows, and she feels she’s forgotten something.
“Oh… Liuli?
What’d your mom want?”

Liuli stands at the shop’s entrance, staring at the old man sorting vegetables inside, silent.

“Liuli?”
Cola steps back to her side, puzzled.

“Mm…”

“Eh?
No way, you come here often, still shy?
He’s practically a regular, right?”

“N-no… I usually go to supermarkets… shop veggies are just fresher…”

“Then call the owner?”

Liuli lifts her head, trying to raise her voice, but her lips stay sealed, only making vague noises.

Cola sighs, rubbing her forehead.
“You were so natural greeting me!”

“W-with kindred spirits, it’s d-different…!”

“…Need help?”

“Please, Miss Cola!”

“So quick to agree…”
Cola takes the list reluctantly.
“Hm, 500g bok choy, one Moriguchi radish…”

“Hey, you two girls, buying something?”
The old man, sorting veggies, calls over before Cola can step in.

Liuli instinctively hides half behind Cola.
Cola, unfazed by social anxiety—how could she be, surviving Japan alone without knowing Japanese at first?—steps up.
“Uncle, can I pick myself?”

“Sure, come in!
What do you want?”

“Uh, some bok choy first.”

“Right by the door, fresh from this morning… oh!
Little Liuli, haha, long time no see.”

“Mm…”

“He knows you.”

“He’s close with Mom…”
Liuli mumbles, head down.

“Haha, Little Liuli’s still so shy, just like her mom as a kid.”

“Her mom?”

“Yup, I watched her grow up.”
The old man laughs, looking at Cola.
“Never seen you, a friend?”

“Yup, just moved here.”

“Haha, great, Liuli’s got a friend now.”
He nods warmly.

“Mm… I-I have a few friends…”

“Really?
Rare to see you out with any.”

“Just… mm…”

“Anyway, a bag of greens—about a jin?”

“That’s nearly a kilo, miss.”

“Oh, that much?
Can I take some out?”

“No problem!
Haha, we’re one of the few shops weighing by hand—hard to gauge, right?
Anything else?”

“Daikon, carrots, broccoli, cabbage… what’s ‘mountain vegetables’?”

“For Yuri, right?”

“Yup.”

“Mountain veggies change daily—fresh seasonal picks from the hills, each with unique flavors.
Today’s wild bamboo shoots.”

“So just get today’s mountain veggies?”
Cola glances at Liuli.

“Mm… yup…”

“Alright, one portion of mountain veggies… a jin?”

“They’re sold by portion.”

“No wonder no weight’s listed.”

“Here, one portion, take care!”

“It’s kinda heavy…”

“Miss Cola, put it in the basket!”

“Set it down first, holding it’s tiring.”

“O-okay…”

“Want me to pick the rest?”
The old man smiles kindly.

“Uh… everything looks good… you do it, it’s easier.”
Cola nods, reminded of picking through stalls in Qingguo to avoid bad produce.
Here, everything’s fresh.

But…
Cola eyes the “200¥/500g” cabbage, smacking her lips.
“Japanese veggies are damn expensive…”