“Masao,” Yinghong called out his name in precise Japanese, with a tender edge to her voice. “Go back inside. You’ve had too much to drink.”
The crisp but gentle voice calling out his name seemed to stir memories, for he stared at her woodenly, as tears began to slide down his face.
“It’s all right. Seriously, it’s all right,” she continued in Japanese, made uneasy by tears from a man who, in his fifties, had always maintained the demeanor of a somber Japanese man. She reached into her purse, took out some tissues, and walked up to him.
He reached out, as if to take the tissues, but instead he did something completely unexpected; he pulled her into his arms. As her face came in contact with his flabby chest, foul-smelling from sweat and alcohol, she instinctively tried to fend him off.
“It’s me,” she cried out, “Zhu Yinghong.”
He paused briefly, as if undergoing a confused battle with himself, and then he mumbled:
“Of course it’s you. How could I not know it’s you? You’re Zhu Yinghong and you slept with Lin Xigeng. You let him fuck you. You’re his mistress, the concubine, so why can’t I, why can’t I …”
She continued to struggle, but the hulking drunk was surprisingly strong. A rash of ideas flashed through her head. She could scream for someone to come out and rescue her, but with all the employees around, that would cause irreparable damage. Masao was Lin’s irreplaceable right-hand man; his steady manner and composure served as a counterpoint to Lin’s arrogance and conceit, his willingness to stay behind the scene the sole reason why the two men could work so well together.
With thoughts flashing through her mind, she stopped struggling because she knew she could not fight him off. She did not make a sound, choosing to bide her time, waiting for the right moment for escape. To her surprise, he stopped and, with his arms around her, stammered over and over:
“To be his concubine. Aren’t you all the same, the same?”
When he let down his guard, she ducked out of his arms, and as she took off toward the house, she sensed that he was not giving chase, so she changed direction and headed for the parking lot.
She did not go to the office the next day, and she decided to tell Lin about the incident.
She knew that he was the jealous type, just as she’d known about his conceit and arrogance; he wanted to claim sole ownership of whatever belonged to him. To be sure, he would grow tired of something, but relinquishing had to be the result of his loss of interest, not someone else’s. By revealing Masao’s behavior, she hoped to make him jealous, especially since the violation had come from his preeminent business partner. If nothing else, he had to save face by declaring that Zhu Yinghong belonged to him.
This could be what solidified their relationship.
Of course, she thought about how her action would damage Lin’s relationship with Masao, yet she was convinced that, knowing the indispensible role Masao played in his business empire, Lin might not bring it up with the man, but would need to give some sort of signal to her and to Masao. And that would be marriage.
The possibility of driving a wedge between the two men did not concern her. It was too early to feel the existence of the baby inside her, but clearly it was growing day by day, like a persistent nightmare, and it would not take long for it to become a burden by changing her outward appearance. Carrying the child to term without marriage was out of the question for Yinghong, who must consider the reputation of her immediate family and the Zhu clan.
To her surprise, Lin did not fly into a rage; instead, he listened quietly, carefully ferreting out every little detail to determine whether Masao had gotten his way with her. On her part, Yinghong intentionally minimized Masao’s insult while stressing his affection for her. She repeatedly assured him that Masao hadn’t even touched her lips. Then Lin fell silent.
She stopped going into the office for the time being, and Lin never brought up the incident again; but a few days later rumors began to spread in real estate circles that Masao would soon be leaving Lin’s company.
Yinghong heard nothing from Lin. Was he waiting till everything cleared up to tell her? She shook her head. For a major event like this, Lin’s personality and style would require that he boast about it beforehand; he was someone who would not stop until he made sure the person receiving his favor knew every detail.
Feeling anxious, she found an excuse to go into the office one afternoon, under the pretense that she needed to turn over some documents right away. She had known, before arriving, that Lin was away at a meeting, but that Masao would be around.
She had her own people in the company, but only those personally involved would understand such delicate and subtle interactions. As expected, she “ran into” Masao in the office, whom she greeted in her usual manner. Masao, in contrast, was so startled by the encounter that his face reddened; the big, brawny man, who paraded his role as the head of the family in his usual Japanese way, gave her a flustered nod before slinking back to his office.
Instinct told her that Masao had been so drunk that night on the beach that he probably did not remember exactly what he had done. Personal consideration for face-saving made it impossible for Lin to lay it all out, which could only lead to speculation that Masao would likely think he had done something much worse.
One thing was clear to Yinghong: with the sense of dignity stemming from a Japanese upbringing that instilled a code of masculinity closely tied to the traditional culture of hara-kiri, Masao would never think of fighting back, and his self-esteem would not allow him to defend himself.
Hence, she knew that in the end Lin Xigeng would have the final say and make all the necessary decisions once she eliminated the possibility of counterattack from Masao, which was what worried her most, and the interference and possible variables that could have resulted from his actions.
She should have been happy now that Masao’s sense of shame had prevented him from fighting back, but Yinghong was even more apprehensive; all she could do was wait patiently in her distressed state.
The rumor was confirmed; the explanation offered by consensus was that an error in decision making on Masao’s part had cost Lin several billions in revenue.
People in the realty business were critical of Lin. To be sure, it was a large sum of money, but Lin came out looking unforgiving for abandoning a business partner who had been with him for twenty years over money. It simply was not an action suitable for a major player.
Yinghong heard all these comments, including the news of Masao’s departure, from various sources, but not from Lin. She knew by then that she’d lost him.
It never occurred to her that Lin would make such a decision because of her. It was entirely possible that he had not been completely happy with Masao and had wanted to fire him, but no matter how she looked at it, she was the cause. Lin could have chosen an easier path by promising marriage, yet he opted for a drastic decision. She was caught by surprise and, moreover, she now realized that she would not get what she had hoped to have after all this time.
Finally Yinghong was thinking about leaving.
Lin continued to call and visit her, but he never asked her to return to work. Furthermore, shortly after Masao’s departure, the government initiated a policy to control the overheated real estate market. First, the mortgage interest rate was raised several times, and then reliable sources indicated that more steps, such as limiting construction on empty lots, would be taken, all of which were omens of a declining market to the perceptive real estate business owners.
As soon as housing prices began to drop, the market would be dominated by buyers, highlighting the importance of the flow of capital. The media and experts went into a frenzy predicting inevitable bankruptcy for unsound construction companies with too great an investment in land, because they would face a financial crisis once the banks began to tighten their money flow.