Tokyo: My Best Actor Gear List

Chapter 80 Nanako Matsushima

Chapter 82 Nanako Matsushima

The drinking party in the living room continued, and the atmosphere was much more lively than at the beginning.

Several bottles of Kubota liquor were empty, and Juzo Itami's face was flushed from drinking. He was arguing with producer Shimada about the lighting for a certain shot, while the ashtray was piled high with cigarette butts.

"That light has to be sharp! If it's too soft, the satirical impact is gone!"

Juzo Itami slammed his hand on the table, the sound so loud it made the liquid in his glass tremble.

Just then, the sliding door leading to the entrance slid open silently.

Nobuko Miyamoto walked in carrying a plate of sliced ​​melon, followed by another figure.

It was a very tall young girl, carefully holding a bucket of ice and soda water in her hands.

The girl didn't speak, and even her footsteps were very quiet.

She followed Nobuko Miyamoto quietly to the dining table, knelt down, and deftly and gently used tongs to distribute ice cubes into the empty glasses of the dignitaries. Then, holding a soda bottle in both hands, she refilled the water for the novelist who was drinking whiskey.

Throughout the entire process, he kept his head down and eyes downcast, like a well-trained, invisible waiter.

It wasn't until that youthful and unfamiliar fragrance wafted into his nose that Shimada, who was smoking, turned his head and glanced at the girl who was changing his bone plate with some surprise.

He looked at Miyamoto Nobuko with some curiosity: "Nobuko-san, is this... a relative of yours? I don't think I've seen him before."

"They're not relatives, they're junior colleagues at the firm."

Nobuko Miyamoto smiled and put down the fruit plate, her tone revealing a hint of intimacy, "The office just sent over some new tea. I thought this girl was quite sensible, so I kept her here to help out, so I wouldn't be able to take care of you all by myself."

Having said that, how could the shrewd people present not understand?

That's the rule in this industry.

Without deliberately introducing or aggressively promoting, they simply let people linger right under your nose.

If you find her agreeable, ask her a question; that would be her good fortune. If you don't ask, then remain silent and no one will feel awkward.

"What's your name?" Itami Juzo glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a second on her slightly immature but strikingly handsome face.

Upon hearing the elder's question, the girl stopped what she was doing, took a half step back, and bowed respectfully: "I am Nanako Matsushima."

His voice was a little strained, clearly overwhelmed by the powerful aura of the people in the room.

"Matsushima — Nanako".

Juzo Itami muttered the name to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at her through the swirling smoke.

He turned and clinked glasses with Shimada next to him, casually tossing out a seemingly unrelated comment: "This frame is a bit too big; if the camera zooms in, it might easily go out of frame."

99

These words sounded vague, but everyone present could understand them.

It's being said that she's too tall and has a large frame, so when she acts alongside mainstream male actors, she tends to fill the screen and doesn't match them well.

Nanako Matsushima stood there, momentarily confused as to whether it was a compliment or an insult, and could only awkwardly maintain a smile.

"Alright, don't bring your occupational habits to the dinner table."

Nobuko Miyamoto chuckled and playfully scolded, naturally breaking the awkward silence. She turned to the side and gently patted Nanako's hand: "Nanako, it seems like the soup is still simmering in the back kitchen. I can't leave here, could you go check if it's ready? And while you're at it, could you tidy up those empty plates that were taken down?"

"yes!"

Nanako Matsushima felt as if she had been granted a pardon. She glanced gratefully at Nobuko Miyamoto, quickly picked up a stack of dirty plates from the table, and hurriedly retreated with her head down.

Once inside the kitchen, where she was shielded from the suffocating gazes from the living room, Nanako finally breathed a sigh of relief.

But then, an even more unbearable feeling surged up.

Fragrant.

So delicious.

The kitchen was filled with the enticing aroma of oils and sauces. For a model who was constantly in a state of semi-starvation to maintain her figure, this was a torture chamber more agonizing than hell.

She looked at the remaining half of a thick-cut ham steak on the cutting board, and the still steaming stir-fried pork liver in the pot, and her throat involuntarily bobbed.

She's been eating vegetable salads for a week now.

While she was pouring drinks for the big boss outside, her stomach started protesting violently, emitting a mournful cry that only she could hear.

"Eat what you want; you won't get full just by looking."

A gentle voice suddenly came from behind.

Nanako was so startled that she nearly knocked over the soy sauce bottle next to her.

She turned around abruptly and saw the man who often appeared on TV, Shin Ichikihara, the actor who played the male lead in the recently popular TV series Tokyo Love Story, leaning against the kitchen counter.

His sleeves were still rolled up, and he was holding a rag, wiping the grease off the table.

Compared to the bigwigs outside who were talking big, this popular celebrity who was working hard seemed more like the owner of this place.

"Kita---Kitahara-senpai!"

Nanako lowered her head in a panic, her face flushed red, like a primary school student caught doing something wrong. "I didn't—I just—"

"No need to explain, I could hear my stomach growling."

99

Kitahara Shin smiled but didn't expose her embarrassment.

He naturally picked up a clean little bowl, filled it halfway with rice, and then deftly placed two thick omelets and the remaining small piece of ham on top.

"Would you like something to eat?"

He handed the bowl to Nanako.

Nanako was stunned.

She looked at the bowl of rice.

The rice was translucent, the thick omelet exuded a sweet aroma, and the cut of ham steak was still oozing with meat juices.

"No, no need, I'm not very hungry."

She was still making a last-ditch effort.

But the rumbling in her stomach quickly exposed her lie.

Kitahara Shin found it amusing, and then glanced at the girl a few more times.

He looks kind of familiar...

Who was it again?

Although Kitahara Shin is quite familiar with Japanese female celebrities, he doesn't know them all.

He picked up his apron, wiped his hands, and said, "The rice Mrs. Nobuko used is Niigata Koshihikari rice. I've tasted it, and it's delicious. It would be a shame not to try it."

The fragrance seemed to come alive as it entered my nose.

Nanako swallowed hard, finally unable to resist her instincts.

"Then—I'll just have one bite."

She carefully took the bowl, hid in the corner of the kitchen counter with her back to the door, and quickly picked up a thick omelet and put it in her mouth.

Soft, sweet, and warm.

After that bite, my brain, which had been low in blood sugar due to dieting, instantly cleared up, followed by an urge to cry.

She couldn't resist and shoveled another big mouthful of rice into her mouth.

Kitahara Shin didn't stare at her; instead, he turned and went to the sink to wash the cups he had just taken out of the bathroom.

A few minutes later, the bowl was empty.

Nanako let out a satisfied sigh, feeling as if she had finally come back to life.

She turned around and looked at Kitahara Shin's back as he washed the dishes.

He was broad-shouldered and upright, and although he was wearing an ordinary white shirt, he had a reassuring aura.

This person was different from the arrogant big stars she had met at other drinking parties who didn't even look at newcomers, and also different from the impression she had left on her from TV dramas.

I feel that I am more aloof and reserved.

"Finished eating?"

"Yes! Thank you for the treat!"

Nanako quickly went over to him, wanting to take over the work, "I'll wash the rest, you go and rest."

"Alright, then it's up to you." Kitahara Shin didn't stand on ceremony and gave up his seat.

He took off his apron, hung it aside, and turned to walk out of the kitchen.

As Nanako washed the dishes, she couldn't help but recall her conversation with him.

After washing the dishes, she helped cut some fruit to serve them.

Through the half-open sliding door.

You can see Kitahara Shin sitting next to that group of big shots.

Producer Shimada smiled and poured him a glass of wine, while Itami Juzo put his arm around his shoulder and they drank and talked.

Among those bigwigs who control resources in the entertainment industry, he is like a piece of a puzzle that was already there, so natural that people envy him.

"Isn't that amazing?"

Nobuko Miyamoto came in at some point, carrying a plate of sliced ​​fruit, ready to be served.

"Um."

Nanako nodded vigorously, a hint of longing in her eyes. "I feel that Kitahara-senpai is much stronger than I imagined. Those important figures seem to listen to him a lot."

"That's because he has something in his stomach."

Nobuko Miyamoto leaned against the door frame, looking at the scene in the living room, her tone tinged with admiration, "In this industry, good-looking people are as numerous as grains of sand on the beach, but young people like him, who can act, see the situation clearly, and cook to capture the appetites of these old guys, are too few."

She turned to look at the girl and said pointedly, "Nanako, haven't you always wanted to transition from modeling to acting?"

Yes, yes.

"Then you should associate more with smart people. If you can make them remember you, even if it's just a few casual words of advice, it might be more useful than your agent running around like crazy."

Nanako Matsushima nodded, seemingly understanding.

She dried her hands and looked again at the man sitting in the center of the crowd.

A hearty laugh came from the living room.

Kitahara Shin raised his glass and clinked it against Shimada's.

They were still drinking, seemingly intending to drink until the end of time.

>