Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 351 The Kindness of an Old Friend

Satsuki picked up the paulownia wood box and took another look at the wood grain on the lid, which had been polished smooth by the years.

"I'd appreciate it if you could stay in Tokyo for another day, Chizuru," she said. "I have some questions for you tomorrow morning."

Chizuru bowed slightly. "I will follow your instructions, Miss."

"Have you packed enough luggage?"

Chizuru paused for a moment.

"I brought three days' worth of changes of clothes."

Satsuki's gaze lingered on Chizuru's face for half a second longer.

A one-day trip is the standard. A three-day trip means that she was prepared not to return immediately before she set off.

The letters from Madam Kujo can be delivered in just one afternoon. The last Shinkansen train back home departs at 9:40 PM. If Chizuru is only here to deliver mail, she should be returning to Kyoto tonight.

But she brought three days' worth of luggage.

Satsuki didn't press the matter. She nodded, picked up the small copper bell beside her, and gently shook it.

Fujita pushed open the sliding door almost as soon as the ringing stopped.

"Fujita, prepare a guest room in the east wing for Miss Matsumuro. Prepare a set of toiletries according to my standards."

"clear."

"Also—" Satsuki's tone remained unchanged, "compile a list of Kyoto-related newspaper clippings from this month and put it in the study tonight."

"Yes."

Fujita stepped aside to make way.

Chizuru did not move.

She remained kneeling in the same spot, her hands resting on her knees, fingertips together, in the exact same posture as when she entered. But she did not rise to offer her farewell.

Fujita stopped by the sliding door. He glanced at Chizuru, then at Satsuki, without saying a word.

The room was silent for about three seconds.

"Chizuru." Satsuki's voice was flat. "Is there anything else?"

Chizuru leaned forward slightly. This time, the angle was deeper than the bow she had made upon entering—her forehead was almost at the height of her fingertips.

"Chizuru has something to say, and I dare to tell you, Miss."

Satsuki didn't speak; her silence itself was permission.

"The old lady sent Chizuru with this invitation for one purpose." Chizuru didn't raise her head, her voice low but each word clear. "Chizuru herself is the second purpose."

"Qianhe has been indebted to an old friend since childhood."

"My old friend is no longer here. Chizuru's life should have been used to repay that friend."

She paused for a moment.

"Now the daughter of an old friend is traveling such a long way alone. Chizuru begs you, Miss—to allow Chizuru to stay by your side and serve you."

The air in the Japanese-style room remained still. Another maple leaf fell from the maple tree outside the courtyard, its shadow sliding across the shoji screen unnoticed.

Satsuki looked at the back of Chizuru's neck, which was lying on the tatami mat.

Her hair was tied up tightly in a bun, without a single stray hair. The skin on the back of her neck was very white and thin, and you could see a thin blue vein underneath.

"An old friend," Satsuki repeated the two words.

Her tone neither pressed for an answer nor expressed refusal. She simply pronounced the two words on the tip of her tongue.

"Get up."

Chizuru straightened up. Her expression was no different from when she entered—absolutely blank, like a mirror that had been wiped too clean.

But the moment she looked up, her gaze fell on Satsuki's eyes.

What kind of eyes were those...?

It lasted only a moment. Then it drooped back down, landing two inches below Satsuki's neck.

Satsuki saw something in that fleeting look.

She seemed... a little lost?

Although he appeared tough on the outside, the hint of "helplessness" in his eyes was impossible to hide.

Satsuki narrowed her eyes slightly, and the corners of her mouth curled up almost imperceptibly.

Not bad, it has value for training.

"Come to the study at nine o'clock tomorrow morning," she said. "We'll discuss this tomorrow."

Chizuru lowered her head again. This time, the bow was neither too deep nor too shallow, with her hands just a fist's width apart—a farewell bow.

But the bowing was slower than ever before, and he lingered in the posture for an extra half second.

"Yes."

Then she got up.

Her movements were as silent as when she was kneeling. When she straightened up, the moment her knees left the tatami mat, not even a dent was left on the straw mat.

She turned and followed Fujita into the corridor.

Satsuki remained seated, her gaze following the iron-clad, utterly desolate figure.

The hallway has the original wooden flooring of the old house. It was renovated once during the Taisho era, but the bottom crossbeams are still made of materials from the Meiji era—dried for over a hundred years, they inevitably make a slight creaking sound when stepped on.

Fujita walked ahead, each step making a slight sound.

But Chizuru walked behind.

The floor didn't make a sound.

Not a sound.

Satsuki's gaze lingered for three seconds after the figure disappeared around the corner of the corridor.

Endo noticed it too. His gaze met Satsuki's for a brief moment in the air.

The sliding door closed. A breeze from the courtyard drifted through the half-open shoji screen, bringing in a bit of cool air and the lingering scent of osmanthus blossoms—by mid-November, the osmanthus should have already faded, but the silver osmanthus tree in the Saionji family garden was an old tree, and its blooming period was half a month later than the usual varieties.

There were only two people left in the Japanese-style room.

Satsuki looked down at the paulownia wood box in front of her and drew a small circle on the lid with her right index finger.

Endo.

"exist."

"The 'old friend' she mentioned—do you have any clue?"

Endo's answer was cautious. "I haven't encountered the surname Matsumuro before. But if her 'old friend' is connected to the Saionji family, the scope isn't very large." He paused. "Should we investigate?"

"No need." Satsuki's fingers stopped. "Since she said so herself, she'll explain everything tomorrow."

Her tone was flat, but Endo heard something very subtle in her voice that didn't quite sound like Satsuki.

It's hard to describe. If I had to, perhaps it would be—concern.

Satsuki picked up the paulownia wood box, reopened the lid, and glanced at the paper again.

Then I shifted my gaze to the side—on the inside of the paulownia wood box, there was a small piece of old silk folded extremely neatly. The silk was yellowish, indicating that it had been used for many years.

This old silk was not made by Madam Kujo. No matter how old Madam Kujo's things are, they still carry the preciousness of antiques.

This piece of silk is genuinely old, as if someone had carried it close to their body for a long time, couldn't bear to throw it away, and finally found a place to put it.

Satsuki didn't take the silk out. She only looked at it for two seconds, then closed the lid.

Chizuru...Kujo...is she my mother?

Forget it.

"Which of the old families in Kyoto are currently maintaining close ties with the White Water Society?"

Endo opened the notebook beside him.

"Currently, we can confirm two cases," he said. "One is the Kuga family, where the head of the family's wife is a classmate of the wife of the branch manager of Sumitomo Bank's Kyoto branch. The other is the Kazanin family, where a member of a branch family serves as an external affairs director in a company affiliated with the Hakusuikai."

"Not a high rank."

"Not high." Endo paused for a moment. "They're all below the rank of Qinghua, from ministerial families. Within the circles of old-fashioned families, their influence is limited."

Satsuki's fingers stopped.

"Sumitomo Bank wanted the old lady to host the gathering," she said. "The meaning was clear—they couldn't reach the top tier of Kyoto's old-world charm on their own, so they needed to borrow a ladder."

"The old lady did not lend it."

"She won't lend it." Satsuki picked up the paulownia box, opened the lid, and glanced at the piece of paper again. "This old lady is concerned with the rules. The banker is using 'Kansai' as a bargaining chip, using the reputation of Senba and Kitahama to cover up his bad debts—in the old lady's eyes, this is breaking the rules."

Endo did not speak.

"The people of the Hakusui Association probably think that as long as they hold up the word 'Tokyo' as a target, everyone in Kansai will stand on their side."

Satsuki put the paper back and closed the box lid.

"They forgot one thing."

"What?"

“Kyoto is not Osaka.” Satsuki pushed the paulownia wood box in front of Endo. “Osaka merchants are driven by profit. If you show them a threat, they will hesitate. Kyoto’s old families are driven by order—who has the deepest roots, who has the highest seniority, who has the most influence. These things haven’t changed for hundreds of years.”

She stood up.

"Uragami wanted to use 'Kansai' to tie everyone together. But when Kyoto and Osaka sit at the same table, Kyoto always sits at the head of the table."

Endo took the paulownia wood box and glanced at the undecorated old paulownia wood on the lid.

"If we go to Kyoto for tea—"

"It's not 'if'." Satsuki walked to the shoji screen and pushed open the other half of it.

As the evening breeze blew in, the tips of the maple branches in the courtyard tilted slightly, and a few red leaves swirled and fell onto the wooden planks on the side.

"The invitation has arrived, and we've set the date."

She turned around and stood in the backlight.

"This is Kyoto telling Osaka—it's not Kitahama's place to comment on the Saionji family's affairs."

Endo closed his notebook. He wrote three words on the title page.

Beishan, November.

Then put the pen away.

At the end of the corridor outside the study, faint voices could be heard—Fujita was pointing out the location of the guest room. Chizuru's response was inaudible, her voice absorbed by the wooden door and the distance.

The leaves had turned completely red, a dark red, like the base color of aged lacquer.

"There's no rush to reply." Satsuki looked at the maple leaf in her palm for a while, then placed it on the crossbeam of the corridor pillar.

The sound was very soft and carried away by the evening breeze.

"First, take a good look at the Go board in Kyoto."