6:19 AM. Hongqiao Airport, VIP tarmac.
The sky had not fully brightened. The eastern horizon was stained a thin, orange-pink hue, as if someone had smeared a single brushstroke across a gray canvas with a damp cloth.
At the end of the runway, the windsock stood straight in the southeasterly wind, pointing inland.
Bureau Chief Chen arrived forty minutes ahead of schedule.
He wore a navy wool coat over a gray turtleneck sweater, his hair combed without a strand out of place. Three cadres from the Investment Promotion Bureau followed him, and behind them was a small van.
When the van's rear doors opened, five mahogany gift boxes were revealed in the cargo area.
Each was bound with a dark red ribbon, the seals stamped in gold with "Shanghai City Foreign Investment Promotion Bureau."
Bureau Chief Chen walked to the back of the van and bent down to check each seal and ribbon. The knot on the third box was off by half a centimeter. He untied it and retied it himself.
Deputy Director Liu watched from the side. His lips moved as if he wanted to speak, but he held back.
At 11:00 PM the previous night, he had received a call from Bureau Chief Chen listing items to prepare for the next day's farewell.
At 11:40 PM, a second call came: change the silk shawl to off-white. At 12:03 AM, a third: the Longjing tea's packaging was too dated and needed to be replaced.
He couldn't help feeling that Bureau Chief Chen had become unusually attentive to this Japanese delegation. Were there new directives from above?
Deputy Director Liu shook his head and decided not to overthink it.
Besides heading the Investment Promotion Bureau, Bureau Chief Chen also served as Deputy Secretary-General of the municipal government.
His contacts were far above Liu's pay grade. All Liu needed to do was follow orders.
He unloaded the five gift boxes and arranged them by size on a folding table at the edge of the tarmac.
Bureau Chief Chen stood before the table and surveyed them.
A silk shawl. Longjing tea. A set of cloisonné pen holders from a time-honored Shanghai brand. A scale alloy model of a Phoenix bicycle—he had added that himself after Ikeda mentioned that Satsuki liked to take photos as keepsakes and seemed interested in items with a sense of history.
To the right of the four boxes sat a smaller one. It wasn't tied with a ribbon, only wrapped in indigo cotton cloth. It looked like something pulled casually from a cabinet.
… 6:41 AM.
A black Crown passed through the VIP gate and rolled onto the tarmac. Endo stepped out from the back seat.
He wore a gray three-piece suit and gold-rimmed glasses. In his left hand was a briefcase; in his right, a black insulated bag. The bag's zipper wasn't fully closed, and the edge of a bamboo steamer was visible inside.
Bureau Chief Chen stepped forward. "Mr. Endo, good morning."
"Director Chen, good morning. Thank you for coming in person."
They shook hands. Endo's gaze drifted past Bureau Chief Chen's shoulder and swept over the five gift boxes on the folding table. His eyebrows lifted by a fraction.
Noticing Endo's glance, Bureau Chief Chen walked to the table and introduced each gift in turn.
"This is a handmade silk shawl from the Shanghai Silk Research Institute—22-momme heavy satin, this year's new pattern." He cracked open the second box. "West Lake Longjing, pre-Qingming harvest, kept in cold storage. This one is a cloisonné pen holder—"
Endo nodded. His gaze lingered on each box for no more than two seconds.
"This is a model of the Phoenix bicycle." Bureau Chief Chen picked up the slightly smaller box and lifted the lid. A palm-sized alloy bicycle lay on yellow velvet, even the bell on the handlebars rendered in fine detail.
"I heard Satsuki likes to take photos as keepsakes. If she places this on her desk, consider it a small token of Shanghai's sincerity."
Endo's eyes stayed on the miniature bicycle for an extra second. "Satsuki will like it," he said.
Bureau Chief Chen closed the lid and set the model back on the table. Then he turned and took the last small box from the young cadre behind him.
It was wrapped in indigo cotton. The packaging was plain, with no markings or labels.
"This one," Bureau Chief Chen's tone shifted from his official "Director of the Investment Promotion Bureau" register to something more careful, more solemn,
"I prepared personally. It is not official business, and it is not on the list."
Endo's gaze settled on the cotton-wrapped package. He did not ask what it was.
… 7:00 AM.
A second black Crown entered the tarmac. Fujita stepped out first. Dark suit, white gloves, the long black umbrella in his right hand.
He spent three seconds scanning the blind spots around the tarmac before opening the rear door.
Satsuki stepped out. She wore a cream-white cashmere cardigan and a dark gray pleated skirt. Her hair wasn't pinned back with pearl clips as it had been the previous two days.
Instead, it was loosely tied at the back with a beige ribbon, a few strands falling by her ears. On her feet were round-toed leather shoes with a silver buckle across the vamp.
She looked sleepy, her eyelids drooping. She habitually took a deep breath of morning air, then was immediately choked by the airport's poor air quality. "Cough, cough!"
The people around her tensed instantly. The Chinese delegation, in particular, feared the young miss might cause trouble before boarding.
But the Saionji family's security personnel had already closed around her, and the delegation could only watch.
Endo reached Satsuki's side and looked at her with concern, about to help her catch her breath. But she raised her head, tears still clinging to the corners of her eyes.
"Endo, did you bring the crab roe xiaolongbao?"
Endo's outstretched hand froze in midair. He bowed slightly. "Two baskets have been packed and are already on the plane. A separate portion of ginger strips and vinegar dipping sauce is in the insulated bag."
"…Good." Satsuki straightened and patted her chest. "Mm. I'll take them back for Father to try."
She turned and saw Bureau Chief Chen. He collected himself, stepped forward, and gave a slight bow.
Then he spoke in Japanese—standard Tokyo dialect, clear and precise, even more formal than when he had first revealed his fluency: "Ms. Saionji, I wish you a safe journey home. Please forgive any lack of hospitality over these past few days."
Satsuki's eyebrows rose. Japanese. In public. In front of Deputy Director Liu and two other cadres. He no longer intended to hide that card. Or rather, he was signaling to Endo: the level of dialogue between him and their young miss no longer required a translator.
Satsuki didn't dwell on the signal. She slipped on an innocent smile. "Director Chen, you're too kind. Shanghai was wonderful. I'll come again next time."
Bureau Chief Chen smiled. If he hadn't seen her true face, he doubted he would have recognized this as a performance. He pushed the thought aside, stepped half a pace to the side, and gave Deputy Director Liu a slight nod.
Deputy Director Liu understood. He walked to the folding table, arranged the five mahogany boxes in the order Bureau Chief Chen had specified the night before, then lifted the first with both hands and presented it to him.
Bureau Chief Chen took it and turned to Satsuki. "Since you've come all the way to Shanghai, we can't let you return empty-handed." He held the box at a height that required her neither to look up nor bend down. "A few small things, as a token of our appreciation."
Satsuki blinked, her face bright with anticipation. "May I open it?"
"Of course."
Bureau Chief Chen stepped aside, hands behind his back, giving her space. The silk shawl was opened first. Satsuki lifted the off-white heavy satin from the box and shook it in the morning light. The silk caught a gentle luster, like half-melted cream.
"So smooth." She draped the shawl over her left arm and ran her fingers across the fabric twice. There was no further comment. For her, it seemed the shawl's merit began and ended with its texture.
Bureau Chief Chen maintained a proper smile, but his brow twitched. Twenty-two-momme heavy satin. Handwoven by senior artisans at the Shanghai Silk Research Institute.
On the export list, that silk was priced at $120 per meter. And all it earned was "so smooth." He filed that away.
Endo stood three steps back, saying nothing. His gaze lingered for half a second on Satsuki's fingers—her index finger and thumb had pinched the intersection of the warp and weft. Was she counting the thread count?
Satsuki folded the shawl and returned it to the box. "Thank you, Director Chen. It's very beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it." In his mind, he scored the feedback—one and a half points out of five, at best.
The second box held the Longjing tea. Satsuki leaned in to sniff it, then frowned. She struggled for a moment to find something to say. "Mm, smells nice."
Bureau Chief Chen caught the frown. So she doesn't like green tea. He recalled something Ikeda had mentioned on the phone: "The young miss usually drinks black tea." For her, green tea was probably like his own first cup of matcha in Japan. A polite "smells nice" was already her being courteous. One point.
The third was the cloisonné pen holder. This time, Satsuki offered no evaluation at all. She simply thanked him politely. Bureau Chief Chen's expression didn't change, but his right hand clenched behind his back. Zero points.
Cloisonné. Copper-bodied cloisonné enamel. A court technique dating back to the Qianlong era. He had specifically selected a dragon-and-phoenix auspicious pattern from the Arts and Crafts Factory—something worthy of a state banquet. She hadn't even opened it to look.
Bureau Chief Chen sighed inwardly. It wasn't that he regretted the gifts. He suddenly realized his approach had been wrong from the start.
He had chosen gifts based on "the best things Shanghai can offer." Silk, Longjing, cloisonné—each was a flagship export product, in short supply overseas. But the woman in front of him didn't lack for fine things. What did she lack?
When the lid of the bicycle model came off, she finally tilted her head. The palm-sized Phoenix bicycle lay quietly on the yellow velvet.
Black frame, silver spokes, and a tiny bell on the handlebars crafted with precision; the lever could even be flicked with a fingernail.
Satsuki picked up the model. She held it to her eyes and turned it twice. "So small."
Bureau Chief Chen's expression stiffened. His right hand closed completely behind his back. Would it have been better to give her a real bicycle? When he had examined this model last night, he'd wanted to keep it for himself. The feedback was two words: "So small."
Fortunately, Satsuki didn't throw a tantrum. If she had smashed it on the spot, Bureau Chief Chen might have wept. "I'll put it on my desk."
She glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth curled into a sly smile. Even with his years of composure, Bureau Chief Chen nearly lost his cool. He realized another possibility. Was this little witch deliberately teasing him to watch his reaction?
"Thank you, Director Chen~"
Bureau Chief Chen took a slow breath. Four gifts. Silk, one and a half points. Longjing, one point. Cloisonné, zero. The bicycle model—he glanced at Satsuki's smile. He gave up scoring. This system simply didn't apply to her.
He took the small box wrapped in indigo cotton from behind him and offered it to Satsuki with both hands. "This one I prepared personally," he said, his tone half a degree lighter than before. "It is not an official gift from the Investment Promotion Bureau."
Satsuki accepted it. The cotton was coarse, dyed the indigo blue of an old dye house, the edges unhemmed—clearly cut by hand. She unwrapped it.
Inside was a tin canister. Matte finish, about four inches tall, the lid fitted perfectly. Embossed on the front was a line of English: Keemun. Keemun Black Tea.
Satsuki's fingers rested on the canister. Bureau Chief Chen continued in Japanese: "I heard from Mr. Ikeda that you usually drink black tea.
This is first-harvest premium grade Qimen from Anhui, this spring. The yield was very small. It has an authentic Keemun aroma, with an orchid-like base after brewing. Compared to Ceylon or Darjeeling… well, it is one of China's finest. Please try it."
A morning breeze crossed the tarmac. Satsuki's fingers remained on the canister for two seconds.
Her index finger pressed against the embossed "Keemun" lettering without moving. She looked up. Her smile had changed. Bureau Chief Chen was certain he hadn't imagined it. The curve of her mouth was smaller, but her eyes were brighter.
His shoulders relaxed. The movement was so slight he might not have noticed it himself. "Thank you, Director Chen." Satsuki's voice was still sweet. "I'll definitely brew it when I get back to Tokyo."
She placed the tin back into the small box with the indigo cloth and handed it to Fujita behind her. Fujita took it. He noted how the young miss handed this box over—separately, not stacked with the other four. He placed it in the top compartment of his carry-on.
Bureau Chief Chen noticed too. Separate. Top compartment. In his mind, he scored the final item. Five points. Perfect.
… All the gifts had been presented. Satsuki bowed to Bureau Chief Chen. In that moment, she truly resembled a noble daughter—her farewell bow precise in angle and duration, flawlessly executed.
"Then, Director Chen, I'll leave the remaining matters for Endo to coordinate with you. If anything requires my signature, Endo will arrange it."
"Certainly," Bureau Chief Chen said. "I wish you a safe journey home." The Chinese delegation bowed in unison.
… Satsuki and her party boarded the plane, and the cabin door closed. The Chinese delegation withdrew to the safety zone and watched the aircraft prepare for takeoff.
The engines' low hum climbed steadily, as if something massive were slowly waking. The midnight-blue Gulfstream G4 began to taxi, its wheels rolling over the runway, the sound muffled by the engines.
It reached the end of the runway, turned, and aligned for takeoff. Then it accelerated. The fuselage moved faster and faster, the nose lifted, and the main wheels left the ground. The entire plane cut into the gray-blue sky at a clean angle.
Bureau Chief Chen's gaze followed the shrinking dark blue silhouette until it dissolved into the base of the clouds. Beside him, Deputy Director Liu muttered,
"The color of that plane is eerie. Looking at it this early, it's like a black gemstone."
Bureau Chief Chen didn't answer. The eeriest thing isn't the plane… He put his hands into the pockets of his trench coat and stood for a few seconds.
Then he turned and walked toward the official car in the distance. His leather shoes clicked clearly against the tarmac with each step. After seven or eight paces, he spoke. His voice wasn't loud, as if talking to himself. "Seventeen years old."
Deputy Director Liu didn't hear clearly. "What?"
Bureau Chief Chen shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go. There's a pile of reports waiting back at the office."