Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

Late September 1990, Shenhai City, China.

Hongqiao Airport, VIP tarmac.

The autumn wind swept across the empty concrete runway, tugging at the hem of Investment Promotion Bureau Director Chen Zhiyuan’s dark gray suit.

He stood at the edge of the red carpet with his hands folded, his eyes fixed on a small black dot emerging at the edge of the grayish-white sky.

Behind him, several cadres from the Investment Promotion Bureau and personnel from the Foreign Affairs Office stood at attention, their expressions solemn.

The night before, the city had received a high-level reception notice issued directly by the embassy.

A top-tier Japanese industrial zaibatsu with a long-established background was arriving in Shenhai for an inspection.

In Director Chen’s briefcase lay a draft more than a dozen pages thick. He had already committed to memory every preferential policy he could offer within the joint-venture framework, from tax breaks in Puxi’s mature development zones to various administrative conveniences for foreign investors.

He had even rehearsed, several times, how to deal with the kind of pot-bellied, stone-faced, old-school Japanese industrialist who fixated on every compliance requirement.

The fax from Director Ikeda had stated that ”Mr. Endo, Managing Director of Saionji Group, is leading a delegation for inspection.” Based on that alone, Chen Zhiyuan had prepared a full set of standard rhetoric for heavy-industry investment promotion.

He had mentally run through which development zone’s incentives to mention by the third round of toasts at the banquet.

The Saionji Family is an old aristocratic house, he thought. They wouldn’t show up to negotiate in kimonos, would they?

The roar of engines rolled in from the end of the runway.

An all-black Gulfstream GIV sliced through the low clouds, its belly skimming the runway markings.

The aircraft bore no airline livery. The only identification was a tiny silver crest at the base of the vertical stabilizer.

Chen Zhiyuan narrowed his eyes.

A private jet.

He straightened his back reflexively. This was the first time he had encountered a Japanese company arriving by private jet.

The Gulfstream GIV taxied to the VIP stand. The cabin door opened, and the folding stairs descended slowly.

The first to appear was an exceptionally tall young man. He wore a dark suit and white gloves, and held a closed black long-handled umbrella in his left hand. His gaze swept the tarmac once before he stepped aside to clear the way.

Immediately after, a slender figure in a navy blue wool coat appeared in the doorway.

Chen Zhiyuan’s expression froze for a moment.

It was a girl.

She looked fifteen or sixteen, her long black hair pinned behind her ear with a pearl clip.

In her left hand she carried a small beige lambskin handbag. Ignoring the formal reception and the red carpet below, she didn’t spare Director Chen a glance.

Instead, she raised a camera in her right hand and aimed it straight at the Soviet-style control tower of the terminal building.

With a click, a white sheet of film slid from the bottom of the camera. The girl shook the photo idly, watching the image gradually develop with evident interest.

Endo descended the stairs behind her. He wore a gray three-piece suit and carried a dark brown leather briefcase.

The gold-rimmed glasses on his nose glinted under the overcast sky.

Director Ikeda hurried forward from the entourage, first bowing to Endo, then turning to guide the group toward the VIP passage.

Chen Zhiyuan stepped forward two paces and extended his right hand.

”Mr. Endo, welcome to Shenhai. You’ve had a long journey,” he said. The interpreter rendered his words into Japanese simultaneously.

Endo stopped, bowed slightly, and presented his business card with both hands.

”Director Chen, it is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Endo, Managing Director of the Saionji Group. Thank you for your thoughtful arrangements.”

They shook hands. The grip was moderate, and the contact lasted precisely two seconds.

From the corner of his eye, Chen Zhiyuan couldn’t help but glance at the girl behind Endo. She was now crouching beside a flower bed, using her Instax to photograph a cluster of neatly trimmed holly.

”Mr. Endo, the motorcade is waiting,” Chen Zhiyuan said, releasing his hand and making an inviting gesture.

”Please proceed to the VIP lounge to rest for a moment. Refreshments have been prepared.”

Endo gave a slight nod and, accompanied by the interpreter, walked along the red carpet toward the VIP passage.

A security guard leaned down and whispered something to the girl. Only then did she stand up reluctantly, carefully slip the freshly developed photo into her handbag, and walk forward beside a man named Fujita.

Chen Zhiyuan did not follow immediately. He remained in place, watching the group’s retreating backs. His gaze lingered on the slender figure for an extra second.

Director Ikeda had fallen to the very back of the group. Once a dozen meters had opened between Endo’s party and Chen Zhiyuan, he quietly doubled back and leaned close to Chen’s ear.

”Director Chen,” Ikeda lowered his voice. ”The young lady just now is the eldest daughter of the Saionji Family.”

Chen Zhiyuan’s brow twitched slightly.

”For this inspection, Managing Director Endo is fully responsible for the business side. As for the Eldest Miss...” Ikeda chose his words carefully,

”she is nominally here to relax. However, the final signing authority within the group rests with her.”

”Signing authority?”

”Yes,” Ikeda’s voice dropped even lower.

”It’s a Saionji Family rule. Any foreign investment above a certain threshold must be signed personally by the head of the family or a direct blood relative.

Managing Director Endo can negotiate terms and set the framework, but the final stroke of the pen only counts if the Eldest Miss signs it.”

”The Eldest Miss came along on this trip under the pretext of inspection, but in truth, she found Japan too stifling and wanted to get away.”

Ikeda glanced at the girl’s back, his voice even quieter.

”For specific business metrics, you’ll need to interface primarily with Managing Director Endo. But as for the overall direction... you understand.”

Director Chen nodded, his expression unreadable.

He watched the girl, now twenty meters ahead and tilting her head to study the pillars of the terminal building.

In his mind, he tore up his prepared reception script and began to rearrange it.

One eldest daughter who made the final call. One steward who handled the work.

Understood.

Chen Zhiyuan patted Director Ikeda on the shoulder and hurried to catch up with the group.

”Mr. Endo,” Chen Zhiyuan called out as he caught up, putting on a warm smile once more.

”The motorcade is ready. We are hosting a welcome dinner for everyone at the Peace Hotel this evening. May I ask if the Eldest Miss has any dietary restrictions?”

Endo turned and glanced at Satsuki, who was being guided toward the motorcade by Fujita Tsuyoshi.

”The Eldest Miss does not eat spicy food and prefers French-style desserts,” Endo replied in a businesslike tone.

”Additionally, she is extremely sensitive to the smell of smoke. Please arrange for a non-smoking private room.”

”No problem at all,” Chen Zhiyuan nodded repeatedly, already recalculating what to replace the originally planned Moutai with.

...

Peace Hotel, Eighth-Floor Private Room

The night view of the Huangpu River stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The Pudong skyline on the opposite bank was pitch black, with only a few scattered red navigation lights flickering on the river’s surface.

Eight cold dishes were arranged on the round table. The sweet and sour aroma of Squirrel-shaped Mandarin Fish mingled with the steam of Crab Meat Soup Dumplings, permeating the warm yellow light.

Chen Zhiyuan sat to the right of the seat of honor, with the interpreter beside him.

Endo sat directly across from the seat of honor, his back straight. Only half an inch of Shaoxing yellow wine had been poured into the glass before him.

Satsuki sat to Endo’s left. She had barely touched the plate in front of her. A small silver spoon traced meaningless circles in a bowl of almond tofu.

”...So this Bund has been the financial heart of the Far East from the late Qing Dynasty through the Republican era,” Chen Zhiyuan said, setting down his chopsticks and gesturing toward the row of European-style buildings glowing with warm light outside the window.

”HSBC, Standard Chartered, Jardine Matheson — back then, they were all clustered along this street. If Mr. Endo is interested, I can arrange for someone to take you to visit the clock tower of the Customs House tomorrow.”

The interpreter rendered the passage into fluent Japanese.

Endo nodded slightly and politely raised his glass for a sip.

”Director Chen knows the history of Shenhai like the back of his hand. Truly admirable,” Endo said, setting his glass down and dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

”Speaking of which, our advance team just returned from Bangkok last month. The official in charge of the Eastern Seaboard Industrial Zone in Chonburi Province, Thailand, specifically arranged English proficiency tests for production-line workers.

Three hundred recent vocational school graduates achieved an average TOEIC speaking score of 480.”

Endo’s fingers rotated the base of his wine glass lightly.

”For an export-oriented manufacturing enterprise like ours, the ability of production-line supervisors to directly read English versions of equipment manuals means we can reduce the number of technical instructors dispatched from Japan by nearly forty percent. That alone saves 120 million yen in personnel costs annually.”

The interpreter translated the passage into Chinese. Chen Zhiyuan’s hand holding the teacup didn’t move, but the muscles at the corners of his eyes tightened for an instant.

Endo didn’t give him a chance to respond and continued at the same measured pace.

”The situation in Penang, Malaysia, is even more interesting. The Free Trade Zone there offers export-oriented enterprises a ten-year income tax exemption — not five, but a full ten years.

Total exemption for the first five years, and a fifty percent reduction for the next five. Furthermore, land lease terms can be renewed for up to ninety-nine years, which is nearly equivalent to permanent ownership.”

Endo raised his eyes to meet Chen Zhiyuan’s, a gentle smile at the corners of his mouth.

”Of course, in terms of climate, it certainly doesn’t compare to Shenhai’s distinct four seasons. When the Eldest Miss visited Bangkok last time, she couldn’t stop talking about the mango sticky rice for days after returning.”

Chen Zhiyuan slowly set his teacup back on the table.

Southeast Asia.

This was a reminder that they had other options.

”Haha, Southeast Asia is indeed not bad,” he said, placing a piece of Crab Meat Lion’s Head onto the plate in front of Endo with calm, unhurried movements.

”But Mr. Endo, when it comes to the quality and learning ability of workers, our industrial workers in Shenhai are well known.

This city was a major industrial center for the entire country even before liberation — textiles, machinery, shipbuilding. The foundation is very solid.”

Chen Zhiyuan put down his chopsticks and held up one finger.

”Regarding English proficiency, let me add one more point. Thai workers’ English is indeed good, but what about Japanese? Your equipment operating procedures and quality control documents are originally in Japanese, correct?” He looked at Endo, slowing his speech slightly.

”Shenhai University of International Studies produces more than three hundred Japanese majors every year. The Japanese-funded enterprises in our development zones never lack on-site management personnel who can communicate directly in Japanese. Has Mr. Endo factored in this hidden cost of translation and communication?”

The interpreter rendered this into Japanese. After listening, Endo nodded noncommittally.

”Director Chen makes a valid point. Japanese-language talent is indeed an advantage of Shenhai,” Endo said, picking up the Crab Meat Lion’s Head. He took a small bite, chewed, swallowed, and then continued.

”However, to be frank, the tax scheme offered by the Penang Free Trade Zone, calculated over a ten-year tax holiday, equates to an additional 0.17 dollars of net profit recovered for every dollar of fixed assets invested in the first ten years. In our financial model, that figure carries the highest single-variable weight.”

He set down his chopsticks and folded his hands on the edge of the table.

”Of course, taxation is only one dimension. We are also comprehensively evaluating logistics efficiency, supply chain depth, and...”

Endo paused, his gaze resting calmly on Chen Zhiyuan’s face, ”...the long-term policy stability of the local government.”

As he listened to the interpreter’s rendition, Chen Zhiyuan mentally tagged this Japanese steward as watertight. He didn’t expect to extract a single word of true intent from him tonight.

He was about to probe further along the lines of policy when a low blast from a barge’s horn pierced the soundproof glass and entered the private room.

”Wooo—”

Satsuki, who had been sitting in the seat of honor with no interest in the conversation, stopped stirring her almond tofu with the silver spoon.

She frowned slightly and took out a pure white handkerchief to cover the tip of her nose.

”Endo.”

Satsuki’s voice wasn’t loud, but the irritation in it was clear.

”The suite windows don’t close tightly. The boats on the river keep blowing their horns. It’s giving me a headache.”

Endo immediately set down his chopsticks and bowed slightly.

”It was my oversight. I will contact the front desk to change to a higher-floor interior room immediately after we return.”

”Also,” Satsuki pinched a mint leaf from the table, brought it to her nose, sniffed, and then set it down with a frown.

”The air here has a... how should I put it, a fishy smell of river water. It’s completely different from Tokyo.”

Endo nodded. ”After the inspection tomorrow, I will arrange a car to take you to the outskirts to find a place with better air so you can relax.”

Satsuki gave a soft ”Mm,” picked up the silver spoon again, and resumed stirring the bowl of almond tofu until it was nearly a paste.

Chen Zhiyuan understood Japanese, so he caught every word.

Pampered. Willful. No interest in business.

He had seen this type of zaibatsu eldest daughter before — the family’s treasure, brought along to see the world and sign a few documents in passing.

The one truly making decisions was undoubtedly the steward in rimless glasses sitting across from him.

However...

Chen Zhiyuan raised his teacup, a thoughtful curve hidden at the corner of his mouth.

Endo was like a stubborn stone. He hadn’t revealed a single real intention all evening. By contrast, the Eldest Miss’s likes and dislikes were written all over her face. She hated noise, crowds, and dirt.

If he couldn’t break through Endo head-on, he should change his approach.

If he could make the Eldest Miss ”like” a certain place, once she started acting on a whim, no matter how unyielding Endo was, he would have to follow her lead.

Sometimes, an eldest daughter’s whim was more effective than any clause on a negotiation table.