Evening fell, and with the dimming skies, the city lights began to twinkle.
In December's Sapporo, its prosperity appeared on the surface not inferior to Tokyo, with streets bathed in brilliant neon at night, filled with hustle and bustle, and every so often, one could catch snippets of various foreign accents, including but not limited to Chinese, Korean, European, and American.
In a private room on the second floor of a street-side izakaya in the Central District, Aoyama Xiu Xin and Nakamura Shinichi sat across the table from one another, with the windows wide open, offering them an unobstructed view of the busy crowds passing by.
"Sapporo is quite lively too," Aoyama Xiu Xin remarked as he withdrew his gaze and drained the sake cup before him in one gulp.
