Rebirth in Japan: The Heiress Who Conquered the World

6:00 PM.

Peace Hotel, eighth-floor suite.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the twilight over the Huangpu River shifted from grayish-blue to deep purple.

The silhouette of Pudong on the opposite bank had already dissolved into night, leaving only scattered specks of light, like crumbs carelessly sprinkled across black velvet.

Satsuki sat at the desk. Three documents were spread out on the desktop, each with a sticky note clipped to the top right corner by a red paperclip.

Endo stood opposite the desk. The accompanying legal counsel sat on the sofa, a blank shorthand notebook open on his knees, pen tip hovering above the paper.

”First.” Satsuki’s index finger tapped the first document.

”The equipment at the Yokohama Port bonded warehouse—the complete sets of stamping, injection molding, and precision machine tools from five factories. They must all be shipped to Shanghai before October 15th. The shipping schedule cannot be delayed.”

Endo noted it down. The tip of his pen drew a line under ”October 15th.”

”Second.” Her finger moved to the second document.

”Transfer a twelve-person engineering advance team from S.A. Construction. Four geological engineers, three surveyors, and five site managers.

They are to move into Plot B-07 next Monday and begin comprehensive geological drilling. The spacing between boreholes must not exceed thirty meters, and the depth must reach minus twenty-five meters. I want a complete stratigraphic profile.”

The legal counsel’s pen moved rapidly across the shorthand notebook.

”Third.”

Satsuki pushed the third document to the center of the desk. It was a handwritten organizational chart—several boxes connected by arrows, with ”BVI” at the very top, ”HK” in the middle, and ”PRC” at the bottom.

”Contact Itakura. Register ’S.A. Industrial (Shanghai) Limited’ through a shell company in Hong Kong.

For the legal representative, use a Chinese person holding a foreign passport. Have Itakura find one in Hong Kong—someone clean, with no political background. For the company secretary, use a local licensed firm in Hong Kong.”

Her index finger tapped the ”HK” box on the chart.

”Saionji’s name must not appear on any level.”

Endo closed his notebook.

”Understood.”

He did not ask any further questions.

Satsuki gathered the three documents, stacked them together, and handed them to the legal counsel.

The counsel took them, slipped them into the encrypted compartment of his briefcase, zipped it, and turned the combination lock.

”Dismissed.” Satsuki leaned back against her chair. ”We leave for the airport at 7:00 AM tomorrow.”

Everyone rose, bowed slightly, and exited the room.

The moment the door closed behind them, Satsuki slumped back against the chair.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch.

But she only slumped for three seconds.

She stretched. She raised both arms above her head, interlaced her fingers, turned her wrists, and her knuckles made a series of faint cracks. Then her arms fell and rested on the armrests.

Endo stood on the other side of the conference table. He was still holding the water-based pen he had used to annotate the contract terms. The cap was off, the tip pointing up.

He watched Satsuki stretch, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his mouth.

The Eldest Miss’s performance today—he glanced at the Seiko on his wrist—had lasted two hours and fourteen minutes. Nearly an hour shorter than in Tokyo.

An improvement.

Satsuki propped her elbows on the desk, ran her fingers through her hair, and pressed her fingertips lightly against her scalp.

Come to think of it, she was almost an adult, right? Lines like ”It smells,” ”It’s too noisy,” or ”I want to see yachts instead of big ships”—saying them was getting more and more natural. Did this count as regression?

Hmm... at least her acting hadn’t regressed.

When she pulled her hands out of her hair, her fingertips knocked the pearl hairpin on her right side askew. She removed the hairpin and set it on the desk. Her long black hair, now unrestrained, fell over her shoulders.

Endo capped the pen.

”The tea has gone cold,” he said.

Satsuki looked down at the white porcelain teacup in front of her. The Silver Needle tea inside had been steeped for the fourth time. The color was pale, and a thin film had formed on the surface as it cooled.

”Hmm.”

She picked up the cup and took a sip of the cold tea.

It was bitter.

But it didn’t matter. The instant coffee she’d drunk working overtime until 3:00 AM on Wall Street in her past life was ten times worse than this. That stuff made your entire esophagus protest.

She set the teacup back on the desk and tapped her fingertip lightly on the rim.

”Endo, do you think Director Chen will be able to sleep tonight when he goes home?”

Endo slipped the pen into his breast pocket and straightened it.

”Given Director Chen’s personality, I’m afraid he’ll be sitting in his office until the early hours of the morning.”

”As I thought.” Satsuki tilted her head, her tone hard to define as either sympathy or triumph.

”That line about the hinterland of four hundred million people—was it a bit too lethal?”

Endo replied with extremely understated phrasing: ”The effect... was very sufficient.”

”Sufficient,” coming from Endo, was basically synonymous with ”the other party’s expression changed three times.”

Satsuki’s lips curled up.

She stood, took the empty teacup, and walked to the meeting room window.

Outside was the Huangpu River.

At dusk, the whistle of a barge drifted over from the distance. One long, one short. The trailing sound hung in the damp air for a long time before dissipating.

On the opposite bank was Pudong. Large stretches of darkness were being swallowed by twilight.

Satsuki placed the empty teacup on the windowsill. The glass reflected her own blurry silhouette, as well as the long, thin band of white light from the fluorescent tubes in the meeting room behind her.

There was a slight issue with the ballast. Every few seconds it emitted a faint click, like someone flicking a plastic shell with a fingernail.

Honestly... even the fluorescent tubes were domestically made.

But in three years, it would be different.

Endo walked to the coffee table. The stainless steel electric kettle was switched on again, and the heating element at the bottom lit up with an orange-red ring. He pulled a sealed bag from the side compartment of his briefcase—Shizuoka Sencha tea bags brought from Tokyo.

The water boiled. Steam poured from the spout. Endo dropped the tea bag into the cup. The pale green tea seeped out, carrying the clear, grassy bitterness characteristic of Shizuoka.

He brought the cup back and set it on the windowsill.

Satsuki reached out and cupped it.

The heat seeped through the porcelain into her palms. She lowered her head and blew at the rising steam. The mist on the surface of the tea dispersed, then gathered again.

She took a small sip.

The astringency of the Shizuoka Sencha dissolved at the root of her tongue. Very bitter. But it was a bitterness that felt like home.

Hmm, much better than that cup of Silver Needle from earlier. Silver Needle was good tea, but serving it on the fourth steep was indeed a bit rude. Still, given the conditions here, one couldn’t ask for much.

She held the cup and leaned against the edge of the window frame.

”Endo.”

”Yes.”

”Before signing the formal contract tomorrow, recalculate the budget for the pile foundation project. Director Chen is no fool. He must have his own estimate. If the numbers are too far off, he won’t be happy.”

”Understood.”

Satsuki took a second sip of tea.

”Also, have the legal team polish the wording of that ’right of first negotiation’ again.” Her eyes remained fixed on the pitch-black Pudong outside the window.

”Those twelve characters are the most valuable part of the entire contract. The wording needs to be vague enough that their legal team can’t find fault with it, yet clear enough that three years from now, at the auction table, no one will be able to bypass us.”

”Yes,” Endo said. ”I’ll revise it as soon as I get back to the hotel tonight.”

Satsuki nodded.

On the river outside, the barge’s lights had faded into the distance, leaving only a faint trail of light that wobbled on the water for a few moments before being swallowed by the twilight.

Endo stood three steps behind her. He had already gathered all the contract documents in order and placed them into his briefcase. The brass clasp made a crisp snap as it closed.

”Eldest Miss,” Endo’s voice came from behind her. ”The car is already waiting downstairs. On the way back to the hotel, would you like to stop by the City God Temple?”

Satsuki turned around.

Endo’s face still held that steady, composed expression. But in the eyes behind his glasses, she read something extremely subtle that didn’t belong to the role of ”Executive Director.”

It was like someone who had walked a long way by your side, only willing to offer that ”reward” option after confirming you were in good spirits today.

This old fox.

Satsuki finished the last sip of tea and placed the empty cup on the windowsill.

”Crab roe xiaolongbao,” she said.

Endo waited.

”Director Chen said that Nanxiang Steamed Bun Restaurant at the City God Temple has crab roe xiaolongbao. You bite a small hole and suck the soup out first.” She used her finger to mime a ”biting” motion in the air. ”It sounds delicious.”

She turned and walked toward the door. Her steps were light. Her brown ballet flats made no sound on the carpet, only her skirt hem swaying gently with her stride.

She paused for a moment as she passed Endo.

”But Endo.”

”Yes.”

”If that crab roe xiaolongbao isn’t as delicious as Director Chen says—” Satsuki looked up at him, her brows slightly furrowed, her tone dead serious. ”I’ll change tomorrow’s land price from 32,000 to 28,000. Let him feel a little pain.”

Endo paused for half a second.

He looked at Satsuki.

Her brows were furrowed, but the corners of her mouth were curled up. Like a cat pretending to be innocent after stealing some cream.

Back in New York, she had the same expression when she threatened to make RTC wait an extra forty-eight hours because she hadn’t finished her steak.

And she really had made them wait forty-eight hours.

Endo switched his briefcase to his left hand and opened the meeting room door with his right.

”I will convey this to Director Chen exactly as stated. However, if it really is changed, I think it will be more than just a ’little pain’ for Director Chen.”

He smiled too.

The sound of their footsteps gradually faded in the empty corridor.