Another round of tea was served in the meeting room.
Chen Zhiyuan dumped the used tea leaves into the spittoon and reached for a fresh pinch, dropping it into his cup.
Boiling water poured in, and the tender Longjing buds swirled in the glass before sinking to the bottom.
"Good." Chen Zhiyuan slid the teacup within reach, leaned forward, and propped his elbows on the table. "Next, let's discuss the land price."
"Mr. Endo." He flipped a page in his notebook. "Regarding the eighteen thousand dollars per mu your side proposed, to be frank, the gap between that figure and the value positioning of the Pudong New Area is far too large."
He leaned forward again, clasping his hands on the table.
"Our offer is forty-five thousand dollars per mu."
Without giving Endo a chance to object, he pressed on.
"Although Plot B-07 is currently a wasteland, it lies within the core planning area of a national-level development zone. It sits at the throat of the Yangtze River's main navigation channel and the future deep-water port.
Its value cannot be judged solely by present conditions. We must consider its appreciation potential over the next five to ten years."
Chen Zhiyuan picked up his teacup and blew on the leaves floating on the surface, his tone turning conversational.
"Speaking of which, last month a West German heavy industry enterprise also inspected the Minhang Development Zone.
They were very sincere and offered thirty-eight thousand dollars per mu. Unfortunately, Minhang couldn't provide a large enough contiguous piece of land, so the matter fell through. It was a real pity for everyone involved."
The translator relayed the passage.
Endo's expression did not change. He merely pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose.
"Regarding that West German enterprise's inspection of Minhang, our group's Frankfurt Office does not seem to have monitored any related information," Endo said in his usual flat tone.
"Did this happen recently? Perhaps it was an oversight on our intelligence department's part."
The other side was throwing up a smokescreen.
The reason was simple.
The Saionji Group's Frankfurt Office was not a typical overseas office responsible only for trade liaison.
It housed four SIS intelligence specialists whose daily task was to monitor the overseas inspection activities of every industrial enterprise in the German-speaking region with an annual turnover exceeding five billion marks.
The logic behind this monitoring system was not complicated. Overseas investment inspections by German companies had to undergo filing and approval by the Federal Ministry of Economics.
Although the approval documents were not public, the Federal Office for Foreign Trade Information, an agency under the Ministry of Economics, would periodically submit a Summary of German Enterprises' Overseas Investment Intentions for This Quarter to major German chambers of commerce.
The Saionji Trading Company's Frankfurt Office happened to be a formal member of the Japanese-German Chamber of Commerce and Industry in Düsseldorf, and that chamber maintained an information exchange agreement with the BfAI.
In other words, if any German heavy industry enterprise had officially initiated the administrative process for an investment inspection in China,
from applying for a business visa to contacting the local embassy's commercial section to arrange a reception, at least three points in the entire information chain would have been intercepted by the Frankfurt Office.
Yet in the weekly reports sent from Frankfurt to Tokyo over the past ninety days, not a single mention of German corporate activity related to "Shenhai" or "Minhang" had appeared.
Not one.
Therefore, there was only one conclusion: Chen Zhiyuan was bluffing.
But Endo didn't accuse him of lying. He merely stated dismissively that "we haven't heard of it," brushing the topic aside.
Chen Zhiyuan lifted his teacup, pressed the rim to his lips, took a sip, swallowed, and set the cup back on the table.
He did not answer.
Endo did not press him further.
A massive price chasm stretched across the center of the negotiation table, and the air seemed to solidify.
Just then, Endo pulled another document from the folder beside him. It was an A4 sheet printed with rows of charts and data.
"Director Chen." Endo pushed the paper across. "This is a preliminary soil sample analysis report for Plot B-07, compiled overnight by our engineering team."
Chen Zhiyuan took it and looked down.
"Water content 62.7 percent, liquid limit 47.3, plasticity index 22.1." Endo interpreted the numbers.
"Typical Quaternary alluvial high-compressibility silty clay. In engineering terms, this geological condition is defined as a 'soft soil layer.'"
He looked up, his gaze calm as he watched Chen Zhiyuan and Division Chief Wang of the Planning Department behind him.
"According to our preliminary calculations, to build a factory capable of supporting forty-ton heavy stamping equipment on this land, PHC pipe piles would need to be driven at least eighteen meters deep to reach a silty clay bearing layer with sufficient capacity."
Endo tapped a few keys on a calculator and then turned the screen toward the Chinese side.
"For the foundation work alone, the preliminary estimated cost will exceed twenty million dollars. That figure is even higher than our valuation of the land itself."
"Director Chen." Endo retracted the calculator. "The price we proposed did not come out of thin air.
It is the most sincere offer we can make, given that we have already internalized this astronomical infrastructure cost. The true development cost of this land is far higher than any figure marked on your maps."
The meeting room was so quiet that one could hear the ticking of the second hand on the wall clock.
Chen Zhiyuan was about to speak, intending to use future appreciation and policy dividends to offset the other party's sunk costs, when a crisp sound suddenly came from the window.
Snap.
It was the sound of a hardcover book being slammed shut.
Everyone's eyes turned involuntarily toward that corner.
Satsuki closed the travel brochure and stood up from the sofa. Without so much as a glance at the negotiation table, she walked straight to Endo, leaned down, and whispered a few words in his ear.
Her voice was extremely soft, kept low in her throat. The translator sitting opposite strained his neck but couldn't catch a single syllable.
Chen Zhiyuan noticed that while Satsuki was speaking, Endo's eternal poker face showed a minute flicker. The corners of his mouth tightened for a split second before immediately returning to normal.
After Satsuki finished, she straightened up, picked up her lambskin handbag from the coffee table, turned, and walked toward the meeting room door.
Endo immediately stood and gave a deep bow to the bewildered Chinese officials.
"Director Chen, leaders, I am very sorry." His tone carried a carefully measured touch of apology and difficulty.
"The Eldest Miss says she is a bit tired. The air here feels stifling to her, and she wishes to return to the hotel to rest."
He glanced at Satsuki's retreating figure as she reached the door.
"Could we suspend today's meeting and continue tomorrow?"
No one in the meeting room spoke.
Deputy Director Liu put down his teacup and looked at Chen Zhiyuan. Division Chief Wang's hand reached for the pack of Hongtashan in his jacket pocket, touched it, and then withdrew.
Division Chief Sun from the Tax Bureau flipped through the notebook in front of him, his pen hovering over the paper, unsure of what to record.
Chen Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair.
His gaze moved from Endo's face to the now-empty corridor beyond the meeting room door.
The heiress was tired. She wanted to go back to the hotel.
Was she truly tired, or—
Three possibilities flashed through Chen Zhiyuan's mind.
First: Pure capriciousness. The young girl had sat through a boring morning and told Endo, "I'm leaving. Are you coming or not?" Endo had no choice but to call a halt.
Second: Pressure. The Japanese side had judged that they wouldn't reach an agreement on the land price today and was using the "Eldest Miss's departure" to create a sense of urgency, hinting that if the conditions were unsatisfactory, the entire inspection team could pack up and return to Tokyo at any time.
Third: The words she whispered to Endo were a new instruction. Endo needed time to digest it and had to go back to readjust their plan.
Three possibilities, corresponding to three completely different response strategies.
And he had only five seconds to make a judgment.
Chen Zhiyuan stood up.
"Of course." His smile was measured, warm but not fawning, regretful but not anxious.
"The Eldest Miss's health is most important. Let's end today's talks here so both sides can process things. Shall we continue at the same time tomorrow morning?"
Endo nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, Director Chen."
He gathered the documents on the table and returned them to his briefcase, then stood with the legal and financial staff. The three of them bowed slightly to the Chinese officials in turn before departing down the corridor.
The sound of leather shoes faded.
The meeting room door closed.
Deputy Director Liu was the first to speak. "Old Chen, what's the situation? Did the talks collapse?"
Chen Zhiyuan didn't answer. He walked to the window, pulled back a corner of the curtain, and looked down.
The third-floor window faced the parking lot in front of the Investment Promotion Bureau building.
The black Toyota Crown had already started its engine, its exhaust forming a cloud of white mist in the cold autumn air. Fujita Tsuyoshi opened the rear door, and Satsuki bent down to get in. The door closed.
The Crown drove out of the parking lot, turned left onto the road, and disappeared at the end of the plane tree-lined street.
Chen Zhiyuan let the curtain fall.
"It didn't collapse." He turned around and looked at the sealed bag containing the grayish-black silt on the table. "If they were really going to leave, Endo wouldn't have said 'continue tomorrow.'"
He walked back to the table, picked up the soil data sheet Endo had left, folded it twice, and tucked it into his inner jacket pocket.
"She whispered something in his ear." Chen Zhiyuan pulled out a chair and sat down, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table. "She left right after saying it. Endo's expression changed."
Division Chief Wang finally couldn't help himself. He pulled that pack of Hongtashan from his pocket and put a cigarette in his mouth. This time, no one stopped him. The lighter clicked, and smoke rose.
"What do you think she said?" Division Chief Wang exhaled the first puff of smoke, his voice muffled.
Chen Zhiyuan leaned against the back of his chair, hands clasped over his stomach.
"Two possibilities." He held up two fingers. "First, she thought our counteroffer was too high and told Endo to pack up and leave to put psychological pressure on us. To make us lose sleep tonight so we'll voluntarily lower the price tomorrow."
He retracted one finger.
"Second." The remaining index finger pointed into the air. "She gave Endo a new figure. A figure Endo didn't have the authority to decide on the spot. So he needs to go back and confirm."
Deputy Director Liu frowned. "What figure? Lower than eighteen thousand?"
"No." Chen Zhiyuan shook his head. "Higher than eighteen thousand."
The three men looked at him simultaneously.
"If she wanted to drive the price down, there was no need to call a halt. Endo was using the foundation costs as leverage, and his momentum was good.
After another two rounds, he might have been able to push us below thirty-five thousand." Chen Zhiyuan fished a fragment of tea from his cup and flicked it into the spittoon.
"Her calling a stop now means she doesn't want Endo to continue cutting the price."
He picked up his teacup and took a sip of the now-cold Longjing.
"She wants to raise the stakes."
The cigarette nearly fell from Division Chief Wang's mouth. "Raise the stakes? The Japanese are voluntarily raising the price?"
"It's not a price hike. It's adding conditions." Chen Zhiyuan set the teacup back on the table.
"Eighteen thousand is too low. She knows we can't possibly sign. Forty-five thousand is too high. She can't possibly accept it either.
The final transaction price will definitely be somewhere in the middle. But she doesn't want to fill that gap with pure numbers alone."
Chen Zhiyuan stood and walked to the blueprint of Plot B-07 still spread on the table. His finger pressed on the northern shoreline of the plot.
"She wants to trade for something else."
Deputy Director Liu and Division Chief Wang exchanged a look.
"What thing?"
Chen Zhiyuan stared at the 1,600-meter shoreline marked on the blueprint, silent for a few seconds.
"I don't know." He withdrew his hand. "But we'll know tomorrow."
He glanced at the clock on the wall. 11:47 AM.
"This afternoon, everyone go back and prepare something." Chen Zhiyuan pulled a ballpoint pen from the pen holder and quickly wrote a few lines on a notepad.
"Compile a list of all land available for lease within a three-kilometer radius of Plot B-07. List the area, designated use, ownership, and current status clearly."
Division Chief Wang, cigarette in mouth, squinted. "You think she wants the surrounding land?"
"I'm not sure." Chen Zhiyuan tore off the note and handed it to the clerk behind him. "But if she asks for it, we need to have something to negotiate with."
He put the ballpoint pen back in the holder and brushed non-existent dust from his palms.
"Meeting adjourned. Tomorrow morning at 8:30, everyone be here early."
The sounds of chairs being pushed back rose one after another. Everyone gathered their documents and filed out.
Chen Zhiyuan was the last to leave the meeting room. He stood at the door and looked back at the sofa by the window. Where Satsuki had sat, a shallow indentation remained on the imitation leather cushion.
The open travel brochure was stopped on the page showing the Nine-Turn Bridge at Yu Garden.
Chen Zhiyuan walked over and looked down at the open pages.
Facing the Nine-Turn Bridge was an aerial planning rendering of Lujiazui in Pudong. The locations of the future circular pedestrian bridge and the central green space were marked with red dashed lines.
On this page of the brochure, someone had pinched a very faint crease into the edge with a fingernail.
Chen Zhiyuan stared at that crease for three seconds.
Then he closed the brochure and left it in its original place beside the white porcelain saucer.
He turned off the lights, walked out of the meeting room, and pulled the door shut.
In the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoed on the terrazzo floor. When he reached the stairwell, he paused and pulled the pack of Hongtashan from his pocket.
No one was stopping him this time.
The flame of the lighter danced twice in the dim stairwell. Chen Zhiyuan took a deep drag, and smoke slowly leaked from his nostrils.
He leaned against the stair railing, looking at the flickering incandescent bulb overhead.
That young girl.
Fifteen or sixteen years old. Carrying desserts, flipping through brochures, complaining about the noise here and the smell there, unwilling to even step on the muddy ground.
But the words she whispered in Endo's ear had caused an Executive Director in charge of tens of billions of yen in assets to change his expression on the spot.
Chen Zhiyuan flicked his ash into the tin trash can in the corner of the stairs.
Yachts. A five-thousand-ton yacht.
He remembered yesterday on the embankment, when the girl pointed at the cargo ships on the river and asked, "Can those big ships sail here?" The way her eyes had lit up for a moment.
That light didn't quite fit a pampered heiress with zero interest in business.
No, just now as well. She clearly had no need to deliberately walk over to Endo and whisper.
Was she guiding me to discover something?
Chen Zhiyuan stubbed out his cigarette on the iron pipe of the railing, leaving a black scorch mark on the metal surface.
He threw the cigarette butt into the trash can, straightened the front of his suit, and walked down the stairs toward the first floor.
Regardless.
Tomorrow.
Everything would be revealed tomorrow.