You’ve been very patient here with me; doubtless this is one of the stranger stories you’ve ever heard. The universe is full of weird and wonderful stories, though—I’ve caught wind of a fair few of them, traded over steaming servings of noodles.

When my friend died, I took up the reins of this noodle shop. It’s only been in my control for a handful of years, nowhere near as long as Hao Shue kept it, much less the original owner—but I’ve kept it afloat this far.

I’d like to think I’ve led a full life, if not a perfect one. I do have my share of regrets. My children…well, obviously they’re not here right now. They haven’t been by in a great while, actually. I want you to know, though, that I have, like the old man and Hao Shue, come to see you as my son, and as such, there’s one last gift that I’d like to give to you. It’s in the refrigerator behind that old tricolor soda stand, way in the back, buried in the crisper.

I want you to share in our journey. I want you to share in the best soup in the universe.