wavenovel Chapter 314 The Other Side of the Mirror
Chapter 314 The Other Side of the Mirror
The silence lasted for about five seconds.
The sweet fragrance of osmanthus blossoms wafted in through the half-open wooden window, almost cloying. The second hand of the grandfather clock in the corner moved one tick after another.
Chen Zhiyuan spoke first.
"Young Miss, please forgive my intrusion—"
He changed his Japanese phrasing from the polite form of "desu" to the shorter, more casual form.
"Mr. Endo is your knife, not your brain."
After those words were spoken, the air density in the private room changed again.
Satsuki neither denied nor admitted it.
She pushed the half-eaten caramel pudding plate in front of her to the edge of the table, gently flicked the edge of the plate with her finger, and the plate spun a quarter of a circle before stopping.
"Director Chen spent four years in Tokyo." Her voice was not loud, and the end of her sentence was very clear. "The windows of the business office face south, and across the moat of the Imperial Palace, you can see the row of office buildings in Marunouchi."
She looked up.
"Having stayed for four years, you must have seen quite a bit of the decision-making structure of Japanese zaibatsu."
Chen Zhiyuan paused for a moment while holding the teacup.
She knew about his time stationed in Japan—which wasn't surprising. In the current international climate, to still have a hundred million dollars in cash... she'd believe it if you told her even the Japanese Prime Minister was controlled by the Saionji family.
The opponent revealed a corner of their trump card.
Chen Zhiyuan gently placed the teacup back on the table.
"Those photos that young lady took on the B-07 embankment—" He didn't dwell on the topic of being stationed in Japan, jumping directly to the next section, "were they for Mr. Endo, or for herself?"
Satsuki opened her handbag, pulled out several Polaroid photos from a hidden compartment, and arranged them in two rows on the coffee table.
The movements were neither too fast nor too slow.
The left column shows: abandoned brick kilns; irrigation canal water level; and a cross-section of the tidal flat soil layer.
The right column: a panoramic view of the reed marshes. A 10,000-ton ship on the waterway. The silvery-gray mudflats.
"The one I showed Endo is the one on the right." She tapped the picture of the reed marshes with her index finger. "The scenery is beautiful, and the shoreline is wide. It's suitable for inclusion in the inspection report for the board of directors."
Move your finger to the left column.
"This is what I'm showing to myself."
Irrigation canal water level. The highest water level is less than 40 centimeters from the edge of the canal.
Soil cross-section. Below 20 centimeters of humus soil is grayish-blue silty clay, with visually excessive moisture content.
Chen Zhiyuan stared at the photo of the irrigation canal for two seconds.
A wealthy young lady visiting the country takes a picture of the water level markings on an irrigation canal.
"18,000 is too low. 45,000 is too high."
Satsuki put the photos back into her handbag and zipped up the hidden compartment.
Neither of these numbers matters.
She picked up the silver spoon and tapped the handle lightly on the table.
"The important question is—Director Chen, what do you think the wasteland around B-07 will be worth in five years?"
Chen Zhiyuan's lips moved slightly. He didn't make a sound.
Satsuki spoke for him.
"If we repair the roads, build the docks, install electricity, and lay water pipes, the reed marshes adjacent to the park will increase in value by at least five times per acre in five years."
She looked at him.
"Director Chen settled this matter in his office last night."
Chen Zhiyuan's fingers tucked back on his knee.
Could there be spies infiltrating? I need to let my comrades over there know.
"Miss Chen is shrewd." Chen Zhiyuan leaned forward two centimeters, resting his elbows on the edge of the table. "But the land that has increased fivefold is ours. You built the roads, you constructed the docks, you spent the money—and in the end, all the land that appreciated in value is in our hands."
He spread his hands.
"Aren't you the ones who suffer the loss?"
Gaoyue picked up her teacup and took a sip of Baihao Yinzhen tea.
"If I only fielded B-07—"
She put the teacup down.
"That's definitely a loss."
Then she stopped talking.
A silver spoon rested on the edge of the plate, caramel crumbs clinging to its surface, reflecting the warm yellow light. The three golden osmanthus trees in the courtyard swayed gently in the night breeze, a few delicate petals falling onto the windowsill.
Chen Zhiyuan waited three seconds. Four seconds. Five seconds.
His fingers tapped unconsciously twice on the edge of the table.
"Does the young lady mean—B-07 isn't the end?"
Satsuki did not give a direct answer.
She turned her head and looked out the window at the small courtyard illuminated by the wall lamp.
"Director Chen, I was flipping through that picture book in the conference room this afternoon. There was one page I left untouched for a long time."
She looked away.
"You saw it."
It's not a question.
Chen Zhiyuan straightened his spine an inch more from the back of the chair.
Lujiazui.
He uttered those three words.
Satsuki's expression remained unchanged.
She pulled out the last Polaroid photo from a hidden compartment in her handbag—a panoramic view of the reed marshes.
White side facing up.
When the photographic paper was turned over, the light illuminated a line of extremely small writing on the back. It was written with a ballpoint pen; the strokes were fine, but the numbers were clear.
She pushed the photographic paper to the center of the table.
Chen Zhiyuan lowered his head.
A number. A question mark.
His hand holding the teacup hovered in mid-air.
He didn't move for three seconds.
The water in the teacup rippled almost imperceptibly due to the slightest tremor of the wrist.
He put the teacup back on the table.
"Miss," he lowered his voice by half a tone, his Adam's apple bobbing, "this number—is it the total price for B-07 plus Lujiazui?"
"This is not a price quote."
Satsuki touched the number with the tip of her silver spoon. The metal tip of the spoon made a very soft "tap" as it touched the surface of the photographic paper.
"That's the total investment amount."
She took the silver spoon back and placed it on the edge of the plate.
"The 520-acre industrial park of B-07, plus a modern financial and trade building of no less than 400 meters tall in the core area of Lujiazui."
She spoke slowly. Each word was pronounced clearly.
"The overall investment framework committed by the Saionji Group."
It paused for a moment.
"All in US dollar cash."
Chen Zhiyuan's first reaction was not excitement.
His upper body unconsciously leaned an inch against the back of the chair. Only when his spine pressed against the wooden frame of the chair back did he realize that he was moving backward.
A 400-meter super high-rise building.
"Young Miss, to be frank," he said, pulling his hands from the table and placing them in front of his abdomen with his fingers interlaced—a defensive gesture he himself might not have realized. "The Lujiazui Development Company was only established this month. The skyline concept is still a blank slate; even how to divide the specific plots and how to attract investment haven't been decided yet."
He looked at the seemingly harmless face opposite him. The light shone from the side, casting a soft shadow below her cheekbone.
Why did you set your sights on that position?
This is the most pointed question tonight. It's practically asking—to what depth has your intelligence network penetrated?
Satsuki did not avoid it.
"Because we did the exact same thing in Tokyo."
"Odaiba, the waterfront sub-center of Tokyo, is also a wasteland reclaimed from the sea. There are no roads, no bridges, nothing at all."
"Right now, Saionji and the Tokyo Metropolitan Government are pouring trillions of yen into that area. The piers for the Rainbow Bridge have already been driven into Tokyo Bay, and the plans for the first batch of office buildings in the core area are all on our desks. We are building a new city from scratch right on Tokyo's doorstep."
She drew a line on the table with her index finger.
Starting from the right edge of the table, extend to the left, past the teapot, past the dish of osmanthus sugar rice cake, and all the way to the far left of the table.
"Pudong and Odaiba start from almost the same point." Her finger stopped at the far left of the table. "There's only one difference."
Lift your fingers.
"The heartland of Odaiba is Japan, a country with a population of 120 million."
She withdrew her hand and placed it on her knee.
"The heartland of Pudong is home to 400 million people across the entire Yangtze River basin."
Chen Zhiyuan tightened his grip on his interlaced fingers.
The crux of the matter is not the numbers.
Anyone can look up the numbers—the population of 400 million is publicly available data in the National Statistical Yearbook.
The key lies in the phrase "Yangtze River Basin".
In public terms, the development of Pudong is "a major initiative for the economic development of Shanghai".
However, in the internal feasibility study report submitted to the State Council, the core argument was: "Relying on Shenhai, serving the Yangtze River Basin, and facing the Pacific Ocean."
This report explicitly positions Pudong as a strategic fulcrum radiating across the entire Yangtze River economic hinterland, rather than merely a development zone within Shanghai. However, this intention has never appeared in any public documents or press releases. The report was circulated to no more than fifty people.
He stared at Satsuki for more than ten seconds.
Her expression remained calm and serene, like a still autumn pond.
Chen Zhiyuan flipped the Polaroid camera over. The front showed a reed bed. The withered yellow reeds were pressed into golden waves by the wind, and at the end was the gray-blue Yangtze River.
He flipped it back over. Numbers. Question marks.
"If you're interested in Lujiazui," he began, "why not talk to the city government directly?"
He twirled the photograph between his fingers.
"Why go through such a long detour via B-07?"
"Because Lujiazui isn't worth that price today."
Satsuki's reply was almost instantaneous.
"But it will be worth it in three years."
She tapped the table lightly with two fingers.
"I need the identity of a 'builder who has already taken root in Pudong.' Only with this label will I be able to secure a seat at the poker table in Lujiazui in the future."
She looked at the photograph in Chen Zhiyuan's hand.
"B-07 is the admission ticket."
Chen Zhiyuan twirled the photographic paper between his fingers halfway. The image of the reed marshes on the paper flashed alternately with the numbers on the back.
He did not answer immediately.
In the garden outside the private room, a night breeze rustled through the canopy of the osmanthus trees, the sound of the leaves turning the pages of a book.
"Oh, right."
Satsuki picked up her teacup, her tone suddenly relaxing, as if she were casually mentioning something unrelated at the dinner table.
"Director Chen, have you heard of Mori Building? It's a real estate developer in Tokyo."
Chen Zhiyuan's eyelid twitched slightly.
"Their president, Mori, has been researching the feasibility of super high-rise buildings in major Asian cities for the past two years." Satsuki stirred the tea in her cup with the handle of her spoon. "I heard that Shinkai is also on his list."
She took a sip. Then she put the cup down.
"However, he's slow. Based on his usual pace, it will take at least two or three years before he officially sends someone to contact you."
After she finished speaking, her brow furrowed slightly, as if she had suddenly realized that her mouth had acted before her brain.
"...That's not important. Never mind what I said."
Chen Zhiyuan loosened and then pulled back one by one the five fingers that were holding the teacup.
Never mind what I said.
Three years. A two- or three-year time window.
He stuffed the Polaroid photo into the inside pocket of his shirt.
"Young Miss," he said, looking at Satsuki, "this matter has exceeded my personal authority."
Satsuki nodded, her expression calm.
"I know. So tonight is just a private dinner between you and me." She neatly returned the silver spoons, plates, and napkins to their places on the table, her movements almost ritualistic. "There are no meeting minutes, and no translator is present."
She zipped up her handbag.
"But after Director Chen goes back, he can use his own methods to send a signal to those who need to know."
She looked up.
"The Saienji Group's interest in Pudong extends beyond 520 acres."
Chen Zhiyuan stood up from his chair and pushed it back under the table.
"One last question." He stood by the table, looking down at Satsuki, who was still seated in her chair. "If—and I mean if—the city is interested in what you've said, what would you like to do next?"
Gao Yue stood up from the sofa. She was nearly twenty centimeters shorter than Chen Zhiyuan, and the angle at which she looked up at him was exactly the same as it had been a couple of days ago at the construction site and on the earthen embankment.
But Chen Zhiyuan knew that the person standing in front of him was not the same rich young lady who had complained about the smell and noise and insisted on taking pictures and eating cake a few days ago.
"Sign the contract for B-07 first," Satsuki said softly. "Land price—32,000 yen per acre. I'll get Endo's approval tomorrow."
Thirty-two thousand.
This is 78% higher than the Japanese asking price of 18,000, and 36% lower than the Chinese bottom line of 50,000.
This number falls right in the middle of the line between the two sides, with an error of no more than two thousand dollars.
"In exchange," Satsuki slung her handbag over her right shoulder, "I need something to be included in the contract's appendix."
Chen Zhiyuan waited.
"Priority negotiation rights for future commercial real estate development projects in Pudong New Area."
Satsuki slowed down her speech. She enunciated each word clearly.
"The specific location of the land and the start date don't need to be specified in the contract. Just this one sentence is enough."
Chen Zhiyuan went over the sentence in his mind twice.
Priority consultation right. It's just "consultation".
Paper cost: zero.
But on the day the land in Lujiazui was actually put up for auction, those twelve words were like a nail nailed to the table.
"I will take those words back with me," Chen Zhiyuan said.
He turned to the side and reached out to open the wooden door to the private room for Satsuki. The hinges made a rough, creaking sound as the old house's brass hinges, worn and dilapidated, emitted a low, hoarse groan.
The night breeze blew in from the end of the passageway, carrying the lingering fragrance of osmanthus and the dry scent of crushed sycamore leaves.
Satsuki crossed the threshold.
She paused for a moment when one foot stepped onto the blue brick floor of the passageway.
Turn around.
The light spilled out of the private room, illuminating half of her face. The other half remained hidden in the shadows of the passageway.
She smiled again.
His laughter was... very pure.
Chen Zhiyuan suddenly realized that this was her true nature.
"Director Chen."
she says.
"You are the first person I've met in China who I can speak to seriously."
Then she turned around, her brown ballet shoes making a soft rustling sound on the blue bricks. Fujita followed silently from the shadows in the corner, and the two of them walked one after the other through the short passageway.
The black lacquered wooden door closed behind him.
In the alley, the taillights of a Toyota Crown flashed briefly. The engine roared low through the shade of the plane trees. The headlights flickered twice at the corner at the end of the alley and then disappeared.
Chen Zhiyuan stood in the courtyard.
The golden osmanthus blossoms overhead were still falling. A petal swirled down from a branch and landed on the shoulder of his jacket. He glanced down at it but didn't brush it away.
He pulled the pack of Hongtashan cigarettes out of his pocket.
The lighter flame flickered.
The smoke rose, diluted by the sweet aroma of osmanthus.
He leaned against the brick wall at the entrance of the passageway, a cigarette between his left and his right hand touching the inside pocket of his shirt.
The hard edge of the photographic paper was digging into my chest.
A person worth speaking to seriously.
This sentence translates to: Was the previous two days all a performance?
Two whole days. Complaining about the smell, the noise, asking about the big ship, taking photos, flipping through picture books, serving cake, leaving halfway through—all their actions were driven by one hand.
It took him a day and a half to even grasp the outline of that hand.
Chen Zhiyuan inhaled the cigarette through the filter and stubbed it out on the brick wall.
The charred marks remained on the red bricks, like a tiny period.