My parents were in the import-export business—not fabulously wealthy, but comfortably well-off.
In 2002, I was seventeen. My parents enrolled me in a Japanese language class, saying they wanted me to study in Japan. Fortunately, my third uncle was already working there and had agreed to take me in—provided I passed the language requirements.
I absolutely hated Japan. But my parents insisted it wasn't as bad as I imagined, citing examples like Lu Xun and Liang Qichao, who both studied in Japan. "Japanese education is excellent," they said.
Though deeply reluctant, I eventually gave in—for my parents' sake—and started learning Japanese.
Once I joined the language class, I buried myself in studies. As time went on, however, I noticed that nearly everyone around me came from wealthy families.
By the way, I only have nine fingers now. Most people probably wouldn't understand why.
I passed the Japanese proficiency exam entirely on my own merit. My parents, visibly relieved, promptly handed me off to Third Uncle. After a long-distance call across the Pacific, I learned he lived in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo—a special administrative district densely populated, with Kanagawa Prefecture just to the south. My clearest memory of Kanagawa was from middle school, watching Slam Dunk. Later, I found out that Shohoku High School—the one in the anime—was purely fictional.
It took my parents considerable effort to get me to Japan. They planned for me to finish high school first, then apply to university. If I failed the entrance exams, there were also vocational colleges as backup options. They repeatedly reminded me not to trouble Third Uncle too much once I arrived. At the airport, holding my ticket, I waved back at my parents as I passed through security. Seeing my mother in tears, I silently vowed to make something of myself and return home successful.
On the plane, I kept glancing at Third Uncle's photo, terrified I wouldn't recognize him at the airport. He looked handsome in the picture—but something about his face made me uneasy, though I couldn't pinpoint what.
My father has two brothers. Being the youngest in the family, I never knew much about our relatives. My dad is the second son; my eldest uncle holds a minor government post in our hometown.
Dad told me Third Uncle was forty-one this year. He'd graduated from a Japanese university but later fell out with Grandpa over Auntie—his Japanese wife—and chose to stay in Japan, eventually becoming a naturalized citizen. Although they later reconciled, by then Third Uncle had already built a life and career in Japan, making it impossible to return. Grandpa gradually came to accept it—after all, it's hard for older generations to embrace a daughter-in-law from Japan.
The cabin announcement signaled our imminent landing. I hurriedly tightened my belt—yes, my belt—and watched as the plane gently touched down. Following the crowd cautiously through arrivals, I scanned left and right but saw no sign of anyone resembling Third Uncle. Just as anxiety set in, a girl beside me suddenly shouted in Chinese, "Brother Muzhou!"
Startled, I turned to see a girl slightly younger than me. Her face seemed oddly familiar, yet I couldn't place her. "Who are you?" I asked.
"Anjō Norika—or Zhang Jixiang in Chinese."
"Jixiang? You're Jixiang! Third Uncle's daughter!" It finally clicked. Two years ago, during one of his rare visits home, Third Uncle had introduced us. Since he only returned every two or three years, I'd met Jixiang just once or twice. And her Chinese… honestly, you'd never guess it was Chinese.
Before I could react further, Jixiang threw her arms around me. "I've missed you so much, Brother Muzhou! Haha~"
As she hugged me, two men swiftly emerged from the crowd behind us. Standing rigidly straight, they bowed slightly and spoke in rapid Japanese: "Miss Anjō, the car is ready… Mr. Zhang… please get in…"
I'll be honest—I'd only studied Japanese for a year. I couldn't understand most of what they said, except for a few words I'd practiced often, like "car" and "Mr. Zhang."
Jixiang simply replied, "OK," then grabbed my hand. "I'll take you home."
Inside the car, I noticed another girl about Jixiang's age—Asada Mai, stunningly beautiful. She was Jixiang's close friend and classmate.
We chatted casually about China, and I realized Jixiang was no longer the little girl I remembered—but a young woman now. Of course, I'm not some pervert lusting after my own cousin… but the girl beside me? We had zero relation. And precisely because we were unrelated, my mind started wandering into… well, let's just say I began fantasizing. After all, sitting so close to a gorgeous Japanese girl—she could help me practice spoken Japanese later, right?
The problem was, I barely spoke any Japanese. Don't blame me—it's just like how most people study English from middle school through college yet can't hold a conversation. How could you expect more from me?
So right there in the car, I silently resolved: I would master Japanese—not just for myself, but to uphold the dignity of my nation.
The car rolled slowly into a spacious courtyard. I'd assumed Third Uncle wasn't particularly rich, but this estate was enormous. Dad had always been vague about Third Uncle's profession, only calling it "the entertainment industry." Given Japan's famed gaming scene, I'd naturally assumed he worked in video games.
Third Uncle's house resembled traditional Japanese architecture. Aside from the main building, the garden featured dry landscape design—rocks and raked white gravel mimicking water waves, a hallmark of classical Japanese gardens (unlike Chinese ones, which usually include actual ponds). The gravel expanse alone covered over a hundred square meters, framed by pine and cypress trees—though I know nothing about botany.
The house itself was authentically Japanese: wooden, earth-floored, and massive. To my surprise, two men stood guard outside. Was Third Uncle really so wealthy he needed bodyguards?
Jixiang led me inside. The interior blended rustic elegance with modern touches.
In the living room, Auntie knelt gracefully, preparing tea—a beautiful, poised woman in her thirties.
"Third Aunt," I said, bowing slightly as I entered.
"Muzhou-kun, you've arrived. Please sit. Let me brew you some tea—you must be exhausted from your journey." Her Chinese was halting but understandable.
"No trouble at all, Third Aunt. I can do it myself."
She insisted anyway. Personally, I quite enjoy tea. This one tasted far more fragrant and refined than anything back home—yet there were no visible tea leaves. I didn't know its name and felt too shy to ask, but it went down smoothly. Curious, I ventured, "Is Third Uncle not home?"
"He's very busy—usually returns late at night. He meant to pick you up himself, but something urgent came up. Please forgive our poor hospitality, Muzhou-kun." She bowed deeply.
I quickly returned the bow, thinking: Japanese women truly live up to their reputation.
After chatting awhile, a sliding door whispered open. A deep, weary male voice announced, "I'm home," as a man leaned against the doorframe, slipping off his shoes.
"You're back. Muzhou-kun arrived not long ago. He's been waiting for you," Auntie said.
"Oh? He's here already?" Third Uncle replied—in Japanese.
Aside from looking slightly older, he was exactly as I remembered from two years ago.
I rose immediately. "Third Uncle, you're back."
He waved me down. "Ah, no need to stand. Sit, sit." Settling onto the tatami mat to my upper right, he asked about my well-being and informed me he'd already arranged my enrollment at Keitoku High School—a school with a Chinese-speaking class, where I'd be in the same class as Jixiang to ease my transition. He urged me to study diligently and behave prudently.