sinovels Chapter 311 Creases
Chapter 311 Creases
The tea in the conference room was refilled again.
Chen Zhiyuan poured the used tea leaves into the spittoon and then grabbed a pinch of fresh leaves and put them into the cup. Boiling water was poured in, and the tender buds of Longjing tea swirled and sank to the bottom of the glass.
"Okay." Chen Zhiyuan placed the teacup beside him, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table. "Next, let's talk about the land price."
"Mr. Endo," Chen Zhiyuan turned a page in his notebook, "I must say that your proposed price of $18,000 per acre is far too low compared to the value proposition of Pudong New Area."
He leaned forward again and placed his hands on the table, folded over each other.
"Our offer is $45,000 per acre."
He didn't give Endo a chance to refute, immediately adding, "Although plot B-07 is currently a wasteland, it is located within the core planning area of a national-level development zone, occupying a strategic position at the choke point of the Yangtze River's main channel and the future deep-water port. Its value cannot be judged solely by its current state, but rather by its potential for appreciation over the next five to ten years."
Chen Zhiyuan picked up his teacup, blew on the tea leaves floating on the surface, and added a casual remark.
"Speaking of which, last month, a heavy industry company from West Germany also came to inspect the Minhang Development Zone. They were very sincere and offered $38,000 per acre. Unfortunately, Minhang simply couldn't free up such a large contiguous piece of land, so they had to give up in the end."
The translator relayed this passage.
Endo's expression remained unchanged; he simply adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Regarding the West German companies' visit to Minhang, our group's Frankfurt office doesn't seem to have detected any relevant information," Endo said calmly. "Was this a recent event? Perhaps it was an oversight on our part."
The other side is using smoke bombs.
the reason is simple.
The Saionji Group's Frankfurt office is not just an ordinary overseas office responsible for trade liaison. It houses four intelligence specialists from SIS, whose daily work includes monitoring the overseas travel activities of all industrial companies in the German-speaking region with an annual turnover exceeding five billion marks.
The logic behind this monitoring system is not complicated—German companies' overseas investment investigations must be registered and approved by the Federal Ministry for Economic Affairs and Energy. Although the approval documents are not made public, the Foreign Trade Promotion Agency (BFAI), under the Ministry of Economic Affairs and Energy, regularly reports "Summaries of German Companies' Overseas Investment Intentions for the Current Quarter" to major German chambers of commerce. The Frankfurt office of Saionji Trading Co. happens to be a formal member of the Japan-Germany Chamber of Commerce and Industry in Düsseldorf—and the Japan-Germany Chamber of Commerce and Industry has an information sharing agreement with BFAI.
In other words, if any German heavy industry company formally initiates the administrative process for investment investigation in China, from applying for an outbound business visa to contacting the local embassy's economic and commercial section to arrange reception, at least three nodes in the entire information chain will be intercepted by the people in the Frankfurt office.
In the past ninety days, the weekly reports sent from Frankfurt to Tokyo have not included any news about German companies related to "Shenhai" or "Minhang".
Not a single one.
Therefore, there is only one conclusion: Chen Zhiyuan is bluffing.
However, he did not accuse Chen Zhiyuan of lying, but simply said "we haven't heard of it," thus changing the subject.
Chen Zhiyuan held the teacup, the rim pressed against his lips. He took a sip, swallowed, and placed the cup back on the table.
no answer.
Endo didn't press the matter further.
A huge price gap stood in the middle of the negotiating table, and the air seemed to freeze.
Just then, Endo pulled another document from the folder beside him. It was an A4 sheet of paper printed with numerous charts and data.
"Director Chen," Endo pushed the paper towards us, "this is a preliminary analysis report of the soil samples from plot B-07, compiled overnight by our engineering team."
Chen Zhiyuan took it and looked down at it.
"Moisture content 62.7%, liquid limit 47.3, plasticity index 22.1." Endo explained the numbers above, "Typical Quaternary alluvial highly compressible silty clay. This geological condition is defined in engineering as a 'weak soil layer'."
He raised his head and looked calmly at Chen Zhi and Director Wang of the Planning Department behind him.
"According to our preliminary calculations, to build a factory on this land that can support a 40-ton heavy stamping equipment, PHC pipe piles need to be driven to a depth of at least 18 meters to reach the silty clay bearing layer with sufficient bearing capacity."
Endo tapped a few times on the calculator, then turned the screen towards the center.
"The initial estimate for the pile foundation work alone will exceed 20 million US dollars. This figure is even higher than our valuation of the land itself."
"Director Chen," Endo put away the calculator, "the price we offered wasn't arbitrary. It's the most sincere quote we've given, after we've already fully absorbed this astronomical infrastructure cost internally. The true development cost of this land is far higher than any figure marked on your map."
The conference room was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Just as Chen Zhiyuan was about to speak, using "future value-added" and "policy dividends" to offset the other party's "sunk costs," a crisp sound suddenly came from the window.
"Smack."
It was the sound of a hard-covered book being slammed shut.
Everyone's gaze involuntarily turned to that corner.
Satsuki closed the travel brochure and stood up from the sofa. Without even glancing at the negotiating table, she walked straight to Endo, bent down, and whispered a few words in his ear.
Her voice was barely audible, muffled in her throat. The translator sitting opposite her craned his neck, but couldn't hear a single syllable.
Chen Zhiyuan noticed that during Satsuki's speech, Endo's perpetually unchanging poker face showed a very subtle twitch—the corner of his mouth tightened for a fleeting moment before immediately returning to normal.
After finishing speaking, Satsuki straightened up, picked up the small lambskin handbag from the coffee table, and turned to walk towards the door of the conference room.
Endo immediately stood up and bowed deeply to the bewildered Chinese personnel.
"Director Chen, esteemed leaders, I am very sorry." His tone carried just the right amount of apology and embarrassment. "Miss said... she is a little tired, the air here makes her feel stuffy, and she wants to go back to the hotel to rest."
He glanced at Satsuki's retreating figure, who had already reached the doorway.
"Could we suspend today's talks and resume them tomorrow?"
No one spoke in the meeting room.
Deputy Director Liu put down his teacup and looked at Chen Zhiyuan. Director Wang's hand reached for the pack of Hongtashan cigarettes in his jacket pocket again, touched it, and then withdrew it. Director Sun from the tax bureau flipped through his notebook, pen hovering above the paper, unsure what to write down.
Chen Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair.
His gaze shifted from Endo's face to the empty corridor leading to the conference room entrance.
Qianjin is tired. She wants to go back to the hotel.
Is it because I'm really tired, or...?
Three possibilities raced through Chen Zhiyuan's mind.
The first type: pure willfulness. The little girl had been sitting there all morning, utterly bored, and said to Endo, "I'm leaving, will you come with me?" Endo had no choice but to stop her.
The second tactic: applying pressure. The Japanese side judged that they could not reach an agreement on the land price today, so they used the "young lady leaving" tactic to create a sense of urgency—implying that if the conditions were not satisfactory, the entire inspection team could pack up and return to Tokyo at any time.
The third possibility is that what she whispered in Endo's ear was a new instruction. Endo needs time to process it and needs to go back and readjust the plan.
Three possibilities, corresponding to three completely different coping strategies.
He only has five seconds to make a judgment.
Chen Zhiyuan stood up.
"Of course." His smile was just right—warm but not obsequious, regretful but not anxious. "The young lady's health is the most important thing. Let's stop here for today and both of us can go back and digest this. Shall we continue at the same time tomorrow morning?"
Endo nodded. "Thank you for your understanding, Director Chen."
He put the documents back into his briefcase and stood up with the legal and finance representatives. The three bowed to each of the Chinese representatives before leaving down the corridor.
The sound of leather shoes faded into the distance.
The meeting room door closed.
Deputy Director Liu was the first to speak. "Old Chen, what's going on? Did the talks break down?"
Chen Zhiyuan did not 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 China Merchants Group building. The black Toyota Crown was already running, its exhaust fumes condensing into a white mist in the cold autumn air. Fujita opened the back door, and Satsuki bent down and got in. The door closed.
The Crown drove out of the parking lot, turned left onto the road, and disappeared at the end of the sycamore tree shade.
Chen Zhiyuan lowered the curtains.
"It didn't collapse." He turned around and looked at the sealed plastic bag containing grayish-black sludge on the table. "If he really wanted to leave, Endo wouldn't have said 'continue tomorrow'."
He walked back to the table, picked up the soil sample data sheet that Endo had left on the table, folded it twice, and stuffed 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 twice on the table. "Then she left. Endo's expression changed."
Finally, Director Wang couldn't resist any longer. He pulled out the pack of Hongtashan cigarettes from his pocket, took one out, and put it in his mouth. This time, no one stopped him. The lighter clicked, and smoke rose.
"What do you think she said?" Director Wang exhaled his first puff of smoke, his voice muffled.
Chen Zhiyuan leaned back in his chair and placed his hands on his abdomen.
"Two possibilities." He held up two fingers. "First, she thought we were asking for too much, so she told Endo to pack up and leave, putting psychological pressure on us. That'll keep us up all night, and she'll lower the price tomorrow."
He withdrew one finger.
"Second," she said, tapping the air with her remaining index finger, "she gave Endo a new number. A number that Endo himself didn't have the authority to approve on the spot. So he needs to go back and confirm it."
Deputy Director Liu frowned. "What number? Lower than 18,000?"
"No," Chen Zhiyuan shook his head, "It's higher than 18,000."
All three people looked at him at the same time.
"If she wanted to lower the price, there was no need to stop her. Endo is using the base cost as leverage, and the momentum is very good. If she grinds for a couple more rounds, she might be able to push us down to below 35,000." Chen Zhiyuan picked up a tea leaf floating on the surface of the teacup on the table and flicked it into the spittoon. "The fact that she stopped at this time means that she doesn't want Endo to continue cutting the price down."
He picked up his teacup and took a sip of the now-cold Longjing tea.
"She wants to raise the stakes."
Director Wang nearly dropped his cigarette. "An increase? The Japanese are raising prices on their own initiative?"
"It's not a price increase. It's adding conditions." Chen Zhiyuan put his teacup back on the table. "18,000 is too low; she knows we can't sign it. 45,000 is too high; she can't accept that either. The final price will definitely be somewhere in between. But she doesn't want to fill that gap with pure numbers."
Chen Zhiyuan stood up and walked to the blueprint of plot B-07 that was still spread out on the table. He placed his finger on the northern shoreline of the plot.
"She wanted to trade something else for it."
Deputy Director Liu and Director Wang exchanged a glance.
"What is it?"
Chen Zhiyuan stared at the 1,600-meter shoreline on the blueprint and remained 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 a.m.
"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 sticky note: "Compile a list of all land available for lease within a three-kilometer radius of plot B-07. List the area, nature, ownership, and current status clearly."
Director Wang, a cigarette dangling from his lips, squinted. "You think she wants the surrounding land?"
"I'm not sure." Chen Zhiyuan tore off a note and handed it to the clerk behind him. "But if she asks for it, we need to have something to talk about."
He put the pen back in the pen holder and patted off non-existent dust from his palm.
"Meeting adjourned. Everyone should arrive at 8:30 tomorrow morning."
The sound of chairs being pushed around echoed throughout the room. The group packed up their documents and filed out.
Chen Zhiyuan was the last to leave the conference room. He stood at the door and glanced back at the sofa by the window—the spot where Satsuki had sat, with a shallow indentation still visible on the faux leather cushion.
The open travel brochure stopped at the page featuring the Nine-Turn Bridge in Yu Garden.
Chen Zhiyuan walked over and glanced down at the contents of the open catalog.
The page opposite the Nine-Turn Bridge features an aerial view of the planned Lujiazui area in Pudong. The location of the future circular pedestrian bridge and central green space is marked with red dotted lines.
On this page of the album, someone had pinched a very shallow crease into the edge with their fingernail.
Chen Zhiyuan stared at the crease for three seconds.
Then he closed the sketchbook, leaving it and the white porcelain plate in their original place.
He turned off the lights, walked out of the conference room, and closed the door behind him.
His footsteps echoed on the terrazzo floor in the corridor. When he reached the top of the stairs, he paused and took out a pack of Hongtashan cigarettes from his pocket.
This time, no one stopped him.
The lighter's flame flickered twice in the dimly lit stairwell. Chen Zhiyuan took a deep breath, and smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils.
He leaned against the stair railing, looking at the flickering incandescent light bulb above his head.
That little girl.
Fifteen or sixteen years old. Holding a dessert, flipping through a picture book, complaining about the noise here and the smell there, not even wanting to step on the muddy ground.
But the words she whispered in Endo's ear caused the managing director, who oversaw assets worth tens of billions of yen, to change his expression on the spot.
Chen Zhiyuan flicked the cigarette ash into the metal trash can in the corner of the stairwell.
A yacht. A 5,000-ton yacht.
He recalled the moment yesterday on the earthen embankment when the girl pointed at the cargo ships on the river and asked, "Can those big ships sail this far?" and the light that flashed in her eyes.
That light didn't quite match the image of a wealthy young lady who had no interest in business.
No, just now too. She clearly had no reason to deliberately walk up to Endo and whisper.
What was she guiding me to discover?
Chen Zhiyuan stubbed out his cigarette on the iron pipe of the handrail, leaving a black scorch mark on the metal surface.
He threw the cigarette butt into the trash can, straightened the front of his suit jacket, and walked down the stairs to the first floor.
No matter what.
tomorrow.
We'll find out tomorrow.