PDLP Chapter 129 Buying Half a Day of Leisure
Chapter 129 Buying Half a Day of Leisure
November 3, 1988, Culture Day.
Six o'clock in the morning.
Even without an alarm clock, her long-established biological clock still promptly woke Satsuki from her deep sleep.
Opening my eyes, the finely textured Yoshino cedar ceiling comes into view. Morning light filters through the washi paper of the shoji doors, becoming soft and hazy after diffuse reflection, enveloping this spacious tatami room in a tranquil bluish-gray hue.
Satsuki sat up from the silk bedding that smelled of sunshine.
Almost at the same time, a very faint rustling sound of fabric came from outside the shoji gate.
"Good morning, young lady."
The head maid's voice was very calm and steady.
"Hmm...come in."
Satsuki's voice was slightly hoarse from just waking up.
The paper door was silently pulled open. Four maids dressed in plain-colored kimonos filed in. They made no sound as their feet, clad in tabi socks, slid across the tatami mat, approaching Satsuki like silent shadows.
No one spoke, and there wasn't even any extra eye contact.
One maid knelt by the bed, holding a silver basin filled with warm water at a height that was just right for Satsuki to reach; another maid held a hot towel, the temperature of which was strictly controlled at forty-five degrees; the remaining two quickly and silently tidied the bedding, their movements efficient and gentle, without even stirring a breeze.
In this home, service is not an action, but an air-like presence—you don't feel its deliberateness, but it is everywhere.
Satsuki took the hot towel and applied it to her face; the warm steam relaxed her tense facial muscles a little.
"Where's Fujita?"
"The butler is checking today's morning paper in the side hall."
"Tell him to bring the document numbered 'Red S-3' from the study. Also, notify the convoy to prepare the vehicles; I need to go to Otemachi at nine o'clock..."
Satsuki suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
She took off the towel and looked at her pale fingers.
My fingertips were trembling slightly.
It wasn't the cold, but a kind of... aching feeling seeping from the depths of my bones. From the Uniqlo expansion at the beginning of the year, to the inspection trips to the United States and Hokkaido, to the political maneuvering in the middle of the year, and then to the recently concluded convenience store acquisition battle. This young body has been operating at a high intensity for far too long.
The maid knelt and walked to Satsuki, raising her hands above her head, with the red folder on the tray.
Satsuki hesitated for a moment, then reached out and opened the document.
That was a top-secret report on SA Logistics' operations in Shanghai, China. The map circled an area across the Huangpu River known as "Lujiazui." At that time, it was still a muddy swamp, shantytowns, and vegetable fields. The Saionji family was frantically acquiring land under the guise of "textile transit warehouses" at prices that were practically worthless (this was done with good connections in place; you all know the allure of foreign exchange).
Just sign here, and the additional budget will become a gold mine in the future.
Satsuki picked up the fountain pen.
The pen tip hovered in mid-air, but it just wouldn't fall. My wrist felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead.
"never mind."
The pen slipped from his fingers and fell onto the tatami mat with a dull thud.
The maid didn't even lift her eyelids, quickly and gently picked up the pen and put it back.
Satsuki slumped back into the soft bedding, gazing at the natural wood grain rings on the ceiling.
"Take the documents."
She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.
Tell Fujita that I have no plans for today. I'm not going to Otemachi, and I'm not seeing anyone.
"Today...I'm taking a break."
……
The maids withdrew and closed the heavy door behind them.
The room fell silent again.
Satsuki lay in bed for ten minutes, but found that once the tension eased, her sleepiness vanished.
"boring."
She threw back the covers and stepped barefoot onto the polished cypress floor.
He casually draped a moon-white silk robe over his shoulders, the belt loosely tied at his waist, and pushed open the door to go out.
This old house, built during the Meiji period, shows no signs of decay or decay.
The walls on both sides of the corridor are repainted every six months, and the floor is wiped with sacks of rice husks every morning and evening, reflecting a warm, jade-like amber luster in the morning light. A faint scent of incense permeates the air; centuries of accumulation have imprinted this aroma into the very bones of this family.
Satsuki wandered aimlessly, like a cat patrolling its territory... cough cough, a lion.
She passed by her father's study; the door was ajar, and the room was empty.
She passed by the Western-style hall, large enough to host small balls. Huge crystal chandeliers hung down like a string of silent tears. But the place was too big, so big that it felt desolate.
She passed by the "Grand Room." The sliding doors there were open, revealing rows of gold-leaf-painted screens that shimmered with understated elegance in the shadows. Two young maids were kneeling on the floor, carefully cleaning the dust from the crevices of the tatami mats with tweezers, their movements as devout as if they were polishing a Buddha statue.
She then crossed the veranda connecting the annex and walked through the corridor in the front courtyard.
I don't know how long I walked, but the sensation under my feet kept changing.
From soft wool carpets to warm and hard cypress wood floors, and then to tatami mats.
When Satsuki was getting a little tired, she arrived at the heart of the Saionji main family compound, in the oldest area, the "Okushoin" area.
"when--"
A crisp, ethereal sound abruptly broke the silence of the mansion.
Satsuki stopped in her tracks.
She turned her head and looked at a sliding door on her left. The sound was coming from there.
"when--"
It rang rhythmically once more.
That's the sound of bamboo striking stone.
Satsuki seemed to be drawn by some invisible thread, walked over, and reached out to open the door.
Splash!
The morning sunlight and the cool air rushed in together.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
This is a dry landscape garden, only a dozen square meters in size. It is not as grand as the front yard, but it is breathtakingly exquisite. The white sand has been raked into the shape of waves, and several black stones covered with moss are arranged in a pleasing and orderly manner.
In a corner of the courtyard, under a clump of green bamboo, the bamboo deer-like water-adding device is in operation.
Satsuki walked to the edge of the wooden corridor.
She didn't ask anyone to bring her a cushion; she simply sat down casually on the wooden floor, her legs dangling in the air, swinging gently.
A thin stream of water flows down the bamboo tube.
The bamboo tube was filled to the brim, causing it to lose its balance and tip downwards.
"Whoosh—"
Water flowed out.
The bamboo tube bounced back, its end striking the stone below with a heavy thud.
"when--"
The lingering sound echoed in the morning air.
Once. Twice.
The monotonous repetition possesses a strange, hypnotic power.
Satsuki leaned on the wooden railing, her chin resting on the back of her hand, quietly watching the drop of water tremble as it gathered and fell from the edge of the bamboo tube.
The old butler, Fujita, appeared at the corner of the corridor without anyone noticing. He was carrying a tray, and upon seeing this scene, he moved with utmost care.
He didn't make a sound to disturb her, but silently walked over, placed a pot of brewed Gyokuro tea and a plate of wagashi shaped like red leaves next to Satsuki, and then retreated into the shadows like a shadow.
During the bubble economy's peak, when all of Tokyo was frantically chasing stocks and land prices, and everyone was trying to stretch every minute into two, this kind of unproductive "daydreaming" was itself an ultimate luxury.
True nobility is not measured by how many Hermès bags one owns or how many Ferraris one drives.
Instead, they possess the freedom to be "not chased by time".
Satsuki watched the bamboo tube rise and fall. Her mind slowly went blank; the candlestick charts, the faces of politicians, the business calculations—all turned into white noise.
Until the sun began to set in the west.
A long-forgotten feeling called "boredom" crept into my heart like vines.
"what……"
Satsuki rolled over and lay on her back on the wooden floor, looking at the wind chimes under the eaves. Her small feet swung up and down.
"Resting is harder to endure than working."
She sat up, stretched, and her joints cracked slightly.
Since we've been quiet for long enough, let's get moving.
"Fujita."
There was no loud shouting, but the old man in the tuxedo immediately emerged from the shadows.
"Yes, young lady."
"Get the car ready. Let's go to Ginza."
Satsuki stood up, and half of the languor in her eyes faded.
"I suddenly want to hear the sound of gold coins falling."
……
2:30 PM.
The main gate of the Saionji family residence in Bunkyo Ward.
With a dull hum from the motor, the heavy cast iron gate slowly slid open to both sides.
Three black cars drove out one after another, their tires rustling over the fallen leaves.
Leading the way was a modified Toyota Crown, its windows pitch black, inside which sat four elite officers from the Saionji Security Department. Their gazes weren't on the road, but rather scanning the high points and dark alleys on both sides of the street.
In the middle is Satsuki's car, that black Nissan President.
Bringing up the rear was another car carrying guards, with several personal guards inside.
Since Isamu Dojima took over the security work, this "three-car convoy" has become the standard configuration for Satsuki's travel.
The convoy smoothly entered the main road and glided into the intersection of Ginza 4-chome.
Today is Culture Day, and the streets are bustling with people. The air is filled with the scents of expensive perfumes and car exhaust. Men and women in wide-shouldered suits and with permed hair carry large bags and small bags, their faces beaming with a kind of almost fanatical happiness unique to this era.
But at the entrance of Wako Department Store, this hustle and bustle was blocked by an invisible barrier.
Five minutes before the convoy arrived, the general manager, wearing white gloves, was already waiting by the roadside with two senior sales associates. They stood ramrod straight, their eyes fixed on the direction the convoy had come from, not daring to raise their hands to wipe away the sweat beading on their foreheads.
The convoy came to a stop.
The bodyguards in the front and rear escort vehicles quickly disembarked in unison. With their backs to the middle vehicle, they skillfully took up safe positions on either side of the doors, using their bodies to block the curious gazes of passersby and forming a black human wall.
The passersby who had been chatting and laughing subconsciously held their breath and stepped back, wondering which tycoon had arrived.
Fujita opened the middle car door.
Satsuki came downstairs. She had changed into a dark gray lambskin trench coat, wore sunglasses, and low-heeled ankle boots.
She didn't look at the crowd around her and walked straight to the door.
"Welcome, Ms. Saionji."
The general manager bowed deeply, bending at a ninety-degree angle, his voice so respectful it even trembled slightly. He certainly didn't expect Satsuki to reply, so without saying anything more, he stepped aside and gestured "please," directly guiding her to the private elevator that only a very few VIPs could use.
"bite."
The elevator doors slid open, completely shutting out the noise from downstairs.
Go straight to the top floor.
It was so quiet here, like another world. The heavy wool carpet swallowed all footsteps, and the air was filled with the faint scent of waxed flooring. Genuine oil paintings hung on the walls, and antique furniture from the Louis XV period gleamed with a warm glow under the soft lighting.
Foreign Business Salon (Gaishō Salon).
This is a private space that serves only the top 1% of the elite.
Satsuki walked to the velvet sofa by the window, but instead of sitting down immediately, she took off her sunglasses and casually placed them on the table.
Several waiters immediately sprang into action silently. Some drew the curtains to block the glaring sunlight, while others adjusted the room temperature.
Satsuki sat down and accepted the Darjeeling tea offered by the waiter. The bone china cup was very thin, allowing the amber luster of the tea to shine through.
"Ms. Saionji, this is the jewelry catalog that just arrived from Paris this season, and also..."
"No need to look anymore."
Satsuki put down her teacup, and the porcelain dish made a soft sound.
"Bring me all the vintage watches this season that would suit my father. Also, I want to see some fountain pens."
"Yes, please wait a moment."
In less than five minutes, two carts covered with black velvet were silently pushed over.
An elderly gentleman with gray hair, wearing a monocular forensic lens, carefully picked up a box. His hands were gloved with white cotton, and his movements were as gentle as if he were holding a fragile baby.
"This is a Patek Philippe minute repeater pocket watch produced in the 1920s."
The old man's voice was deep and reverent, filled with awe for the antiquities.
"Enameled dial, Breguet numerals. The movement is in perfect condition; I've already calibrated it."
He gently moved the slider on the side of the watch.
"Clang—clang—clang—"
The crisp, ethereal chimes echoed through the quiet salon, their lingering sound like the tolling of bells deep within a church.
"wrap up."
Satsuki interrupted the other person's introduction after hearing only one word.
"Father's birthday is coming soon. This sound is so clear and crisp, it sounds a bit like... church bells? He'll like it."
The old gentleman paused for a moment, then smiled even more respectfully. He was delighted to have met someone who understood him: "You have excellent taste. The sound of this watch is known as 'the sound of church bells'."
The cart was pushed away, and another one was pushed up.
The shelves were filled with high-end collections from Montblanc, Pelikan, and Parker. The gold nibs gleamed with a cool light under the spotlights.
Satsuki's gaze swept over the gold-inlaid and jade-embellished pen barrels, finally settling on a fountain pen whose design was not the most luxurious.
It was a Montblanc Meisterstück. But unlike the usual black resin, its body was a deep, dark blue, like the midnight sea, and the nib was plated with a cool rhodium gold.
She picked it up and uncapped the pen.
The waiter immediately handed over a test paper.
The pen tip glides smoothly across the paper, the ink flow is controlled and precise.
As Satsuki looked at the deep blue ink stains, an image flashed through her mind of him in the University of Tokyo's computer lab, wearing a white lab coat, with messy hair, and frantically calculating on draft paper with a mechanical pencil holding several thousand yen in his hand.
Hmm... she should like this color, right?
"This color...it's a bit like her."
A rational, calm, and profound blue.
Satsuki twirled the pen in her hand, her fingertips caressing the warm, smooth resin barrel.
"I'll take this one too."
She put the pen back on the tray.
"Also, get a few bottles of the best ink. The kind that dries fastest on paper and won't stain your cuffs."
"Understood, it will be prepared for you."
The general manager bowed slightly, noted down the requirements, and then tentatively asked:
"Is there anything else you need? We just received a batch of pink diamonds; the quality is extremely rare..."
"No."
Satsuki stood up and put on her sunglasses again.
The glasses covered her eyes, revealing only her aloof chin.
"Too flashy. Looks like a nouveau riche."
……
When I came out of Ginza, it was almost dusk.
As dusk settles, the neon signs of Ginza begin to shimmer in the twilight.
The crowds on the street were even larger than in the afternoon. Long lines formed at taxi stands, and everyone waving their hands in an attempt to hail a cab was clutching at least two or three 10,000-yuan bills.
It was a dazzling and mesmerizing kind of extravagance.
Satsuki sat in the back seat, looking out at the illusory world through the dark bulletproof glass.
After a day of rest, that languid weariness receded like the tide.
Instead, a predator's cold glint re-emerged in his eyes.
"Fujita."
"exist."
The old butler sat in the passenger seat and glanced at his young mistress through the rearview mirror.
"Are you feeling better?"
"Um."
Satsuki's fingers tapped lightly on the gift box containing the blue fountain pen on her lap.
"The battery is fully charged."
She pressed the control button on the car window, and the glass rolled down a crack. A cool evening breeze blew in, carrying the smell of city dust.
In the distance, the lights of Kasumigaseki and Otemachi blend together, forming the heart of Japan and the center of power.
Deep within that sea of light, a behemoth called NTT lies fast asleep in its monopolistic bed.
"Notify Shimomura Tsutomu and the Ministry of Justice tomorrow morning."
"The holiday is over."
"That old dinosaur should be feeling the pain now. Next..."
She gazed at the dazzling lights in the distance, a cold smile playing on her lips.
"We're going to bleed it."
Night falls.
The heavy cast-iron gate of the Saionji main residence slowly opened, swallowing up the returning vehicles.
Deep in the courtyard.
"when--"
The bamboo deer-shaped scare charm, filled with water, was struck heavily against the stone once more.
But this sound is no longer the leisurely white noise.
"when--"
The gunshots rang out; who will perish?