Shu's fingers paused on the side of the glass.
He looked up, meeting Kiana's curious gaze.
Her clear blue eyes sparkled with a childlike innocence.
He thought for a moment, searching his mind for the right words.
"Have you ever eaten an unripe persimmon?"
Maybe that wasn't the best analogy.
Kiana was taken aback by his question.
"...No."
"Then imagine this," Shu said, nodding and pointing to his mouth. "That feeling... it's like when you take a bite and your tongue feels all puckery, and your whole mouth feels dry and tight."
Kiana's mouth fell open. She genuinely tried to imagine it, even moving her tongue around in her mouth as if to confirm she still remembered what "puckery" felt like.
"And then?"
"Then that feeling spreads, from the tip of your tongue to the back, down your throat, and then..." He paused, as if searching for the word. "Then it gets a little sour, like the sour taste you get in your mouth after you've run until you're completely out of breath."
Kiana swallowed subconsciously, her voice trembling slightly. "A-and... and then?"
"And then the bubbles rise from under your tongue, like..." He looked up at the ceiling. "Like when you've exhaled all the air from your lungs and you're sinking to the bottom of a swimming pool, looking up at the surface."
"The light filters down through the surface, all shattered and fragmented, dazzling your eyes. It's like looking through a kaleidoscope, a little sting, then another sting, then another..."
He was even adding another layer of description to his own description.
And Kiana was actually listening intently.
She looked down at her own placid glass of orange juice and ran through Shu's description in her mind—first puckery, tongue tightening, then sourness creeping up from the back of her tongue, then bubbles rising from below, a little sting, another sting, another sting.
Her expression went from focused to confused, from confused to conflicted, and from conflicted to outright disgust.
"Blegh... that sounds disgusting." Kiana stuck out her tongue, her face scrunched up in a grimace.
How could Dad like something like that?
Is there something wrong with his tongue?
Kiana felt she had discovered the truth.
Her dad's tongue must be broken! Why else would his cooking be so terrible?
Shu watched her indignant expression, a corner of his mouth twitching.
"Hmm... and there's a fruit aroma."
"What kind of fruit aroma?" Kiana asked in alarm, pressing for details.
"How to put it... it's a strange kind of fruitiness. It feels like that unique scent you only get from a fruit platter, that sense of all different kinds of fruit mixed together..."
Kiana's eyes immediately locked onto the fruit platter on the table, the one that was all for show.
But Shu immediately added a clarification. "But it's still a little different... because it's not a feeling you taste, it's more like something you smell."
Kiana promptly closed her eyes and took a deep breath in the direction of the fruit platter.
Then she heard Shu's ghostly voice add a third sentence.
"It's the kind of thing where... you just happen to catch the scent, and then you think of that fruit, and then your mouth starts watering and you just imagine the flavor for yourself..."
"How is that even possible?!" Kiana's head shot up, and she glared at Shu, annoyed.
But in the next moment, Kiana closed her eyes again and tried to imagine it seriously.
Imagine walking past a fruit stand, the wind blowing the scent over... then you turn your head, but you've already passed it. The smell is still there, but you can't grasp it...
It should be that kind of feeling...
Hmm...
Her brow furrowed slightly, then relaxed.
Finally, she opened her eyes in resignation and looked at Shu.
"Shu..."
"Hmm?"
"This thing you're describing... is it actually drinkable?" This was the highest form of food-related rejection a Kaslana could possibly issue!
"Definitely," Shu nodded firmly.
"Then taste it again," Kiana said, pointing to the unfinished glass of sparkling wine. "Take another sip, taste it carefully. Are you sure you're not misremembering?"
Shu didn't argue.
He sighed helplessly, picked up the glass, and took another sip.
This time he drank it slowly, like a professional wine taster.
The liquid lingered in his mouth for a moment—the tip of his tongue, the back, the roof of his mouth, his throat.
Bubbles rose from under his tongue, the fruity aroma swirled in his sinuses. After the astringency faded came the sourness, and after the sourness faded came a faint, sweet aftertaste.
He put the glass down and thought seriously for a few seconds. "I'm not misremembering."
He really wasn't. His deconstruction of the various flavors was quite accurate. He had just exaggerated a little in his description...
Just a little.
Kiana's eyebrow shot up. "Really?"
"Definitely."
The two of them locked eyes.
Shu's expression was serious. Kiana's expression was also serious.
Then, as if afraid Kiana still didn't believe him, Shu picked up the glass and drained the rest of it in one go.
"Okay, fine. It's actually really good."
Kiana: "..."
Shu: "..."
"Pfft—" Kiana couldn't hold it back anymore. "You tricked me again!"
Shu put down the glass and started laughing along with her.
"Did I?" he asked, still laughing.
"Hmph, and you still won't admit it?"
Kiana slammed her orange juice onto the coffee table and stood up.
Her movement was so forceful that it made the sofa bounce.
She snatched both microphones from the table, spun around, and shoved one in Shu's face. "Alright! The drink is finished! Time to sing!"
Shu's expression froze.
"Your punishment is to sing ten songs for me!"
Shu didn't dare take it.
"I'm sorry," his apology was swift and utterly sincere. "Can I just be the audience?"
"NO! YOU! CAN'T!" Kiana bit out her words, her refusal even more decisive than Shu's apology.
"Actually, I'm completely tone-deaf, I don't know the first thing about music, and my singing is just a grating, discordant noise..."
"Don't understand, and don't care! No means no!"
Kiana pushed the microphone another inch closer. "I brought you here because I wanted to hear you sing. You can't chicken out now!"
But I'm the one who paid, and I chose the place... oh, right, you decided on the package.
Shu stared at the microphone that was about to poke him in the face.
That thing was hanging in front of him, an invitation he couldn't refuse, projecting a long shadow across his face...
He glanced at Kiana's expression as she stealthily gathered her strength. He had no doubt that if he refused again, something terrible would happen.
He could only take the microphone.
Kiana smiled in satisfaction, then turned to face the song selection screen. She leaned over, her fingers swiping across the screen. "I'll pick the songs! What do you like to sing?"
"I don't know how to sing anything."
"There must be at least one song you know, right? Do you know the national anthem?"
"Of course I know that one... Are you serious?"
Kiana looked back at him.
The expression on her face told Shu that—for a split second—she had been completely serious.
Thank goodness she started laughing.
"Just kidding! Let me see—"
She turned back to the screen. The song list scrolled past under her fingertips, and her expression grew more and more serious, as if she were carrying out a very important mission.
Shu sat on the sofa, clutching the microphone, nervously watching Kiana.
He felt like she wasn't picking a song; she was picking out his instrument of torture.
"Kiana..."
"Hang on, I'm almost done—"
"Just pick anything," Shu said, attempting to choose the method of his own execution.
"No! The first song is important!" Kiana rejected his request.
"Why?" Shu wanted to understand why he had to die.
Kiana's finger hovered over the screen, not pressing down.
She turned her head and looked at Shu.
"Because this is your first time singing at a KTV."
Shu said nothing.
Kiana's azure blue eyes were especially bright under the purple lights.
"So, I want to find a song that you're best at, so you can sing it perfectly!"