Although it was night time, Hiro and S.P.'s faces glowed from the reflection of the neon lights along Nanking Road – a healthy, posttennis glow, ready for a big Chinese meal. We were approaching Sun Ya, a well-known Cantonese restaurant for dinner. Despite having told me to be cautious about socializing with non-Japanese people, it was Hiro who took the initiative for the get together. Perhaps, he came to know S.P. better, and wanted to please me, knowing how fond I was of Mona.

‘The restaurant has four floors, and the higher you go, the more elaborate the menu becomes,’ S.P. said, as we entered the lift. I expected him to press the button for the third or fourth floor, but his strong brown finger was firmly on 1. He must have seen my expression.

‘You wouldn't want to eat in the banquet rooms, Eiko. They are for large groups, like wedding parties,’ he laughed, making me blush. ‘The first floor is only slightly fancier than the ground floor, where people casually walk in from the street. But you won't be disappointed with the food.’

The vast dining room was packed with Chinese families eating and talking all at once, creating an overwhelming din. We were led to a large round table, which was already half occupied by two elderly Chinese couples, the women dressed in plain cheongsam and the men in grey gowns. They stared at us as we approached – we did stand out, S.P. and Hiro looking rather dashing in their sports blazers, and Mona and I colourful in our cotton frocks. I noticed one of the men raise his eyebrows as we were taking our seats, and suddenly felt self-conscious. Perhaps they didn't want any Japanese at the same table.

I don't know if Mona noticed, but she beamed a warm smile and said something, which made the man with the raised eyebrows break into a soft chuckle. I understood nothing, but couldn't but admire how she spoke to them light heartedly, and respectfully at the same time.