National Tide 1980.

Tokyo was shrouded in severe cold weather after the New Year in 1991.

Even the economic situation is the same.

At this time, Japan's economy not only showed no signs of recovery, but actually got worse.

Even the gleaming new cars in the Toyota showroom windows were shrouded in an inescapable gloom.

The Crown sedan, which was priced at three million yen three months ago, has seen its price halved to 1.5 million yen due to severe sales slump at the end of the year and the new year, yet still no one is interested.

The corners of the "Limited-Time Promotion" posters pasted on the windows of the Toyota dealership were wrinkled by the cold wind.

This could even be seen as a harbinger of a complete collapse in the Japanese auto industry.

In just a few months, Japan's annual sales plummeted from a peak of 7.77 million vehicles to less than 5 million, and the entire industry chain was like a frozen river, instantly coming to a standstill.

As a result, the lives of more than five million people working in this industry have also sunk to rock bottom.

In fact, even before the "Spring Fight" season arrived this year, the strike demonstrations in front of Toyota's headquarters had been going on for two and a half months, with union members already entering the protest stage that had attracted widespread attention.

This time is different from the past. They are definitely not joking, and they are not colluding with the employer to put on a show in order to achieve a pre-agreed salary increase target.

Rather, it was out of genuine concern for their jobs that they had to stand shivering in the cold wind, holding up signs that read "Refuse Layoffs," outlining the most desperate undertone of this winter.

Coincidentally, at the same time, Seicho Matsumoto's new work, "The Squid Game," was officially published and released for sale.

Upon its release, this novel quickly transcended the boundaries of literature because of its sharp exposure of the increasingly serious social contradictions and widening gap between the rich and the poor in Japanese society. Its sales not only broke the sales records of any of Matsumoto Seichō's previous works, but also surpassed the ceiling of any social mystery novel in Japan to date.

The publishing house's printing plant was brightly lit, and the machines roared day and night.

The novel was originally planned to have an initial print run of one million copies, which was already quite a lot. However, due to Matsumoto Seichō's fame and the added boost from the social environment of that special period, it became incredibly popular.

Three emergency reprints were made, but demand still exceeded supply; it was a phenomenal sales performance.

Inside the tram, the cover of the novel "The Squid Game" was partially visible through the briefcase of the man in the suit.

On the corner of a coffee shop table, an office worker had an open copy of "The Squid Game" lying on her side.

Even at the bar of an izakaya, middle-aged men burdened with the pressure of supporting their families and paying off loans were holding beer and using clips from "The Squid Game" as snacks.

It's even more obvious in bookstores.

Huiwentang Bookstore and Tokuma Bookstore shared the sales rights, and the staff had to replenish the stock every two hours, but they still couldn't keep up with the speed of the grabbing – often, as soon as the stock was put on the shelves, it was snatched up by hands.

Long lines formed at the book signing event held by Tokuma Bookstore. As soon as Seicho Matsumoto, who has rarely appeared in public recently, sat down, the books handed to him piled up into a small mountain.

In television book programs, hosts and critics no longer argue heatedly about the merits of "orthodox" versus "social realism."

They were discussing how Seicho Matsumoto could have predicted the day when the Japanese economy would collapse several years in advance.
Moreover, he successfully avoided losses on the stock.

This is simply divine prediction.

Their final conclusion was that Seicho Matsumoto was not only a master of social mystery novels, but also a little-known top investor.

Compared to him, the Ministry of Finance is full of incompetent officials. If Seicho Matsumoto were to become the minister, perhaps Japan's economy would truly be spared from disaster...

how to say?

This craze, like an endless storm, swept across the entire Japanese archipelago.

The rustling of paper, the poignant story of the weak preying on each other, kept readers across Japan up all night, captivated by this cruel and soul-stirring game of money.

Unfortunately, after the bursting of this bubble economy feast, the gap between the rich and the poor has widened. Japan's middle class is like a leaf swept away by a storm. This year, more people have fallen to the bottom than have climbed up. "The Squid Game" hits this most sensitive social nerve, and almost every reader can find their own reflection in it.

For example, the male protagonist in the novel who was unemployed for a long time after the car factory went bankrupt resonated with people who had experienced Toyota's layoffs—there were indeed Toyota workers who cried to the media, saying that after being laid off, they could only make a living by doing odd jobs and couldn't even afford their children's tuition.

When some readers saw the chapter about the elite graduate from the University of Tokyo who embezzled public funds and failed in his investments, they couldn't help but tear up, saying that it described their own experience of trying to turn their fortunes around through stocks but falling into an abyss.

What makes readers most heartbroken is the scene in the novel where the older brother, who risked his life to save his younger brother, ultimately turns against him and shoots his brother off a cliff with his own hands.

Commentators say this is a metaphor for the current predicament of Japan's major conglomerates—either squeeze into international capital groups, follow their core and become a part of them, or become flesh and blood to be devoured.

Furthermore, even the triangular dining table setting in the book has been traced back to its origins.

Some say it was inspired by Judy Chicago’s feminist work, The Dinner Party.

The equality pursued in the novel "The Banquet" becomes the most unattainable fantasy in "The Squid Game".

These are nothing compared to the news that truly ignited the book's popularity: rumors began circulating that Fog Studio had acquired the film and television adaptation rights and had already begun casting.

As a result, countless readers wrote letters and sent over their ideal candidates for the roles, and now the pile of letters at Fog Studios could fill three warehouses.

Based on this alone, we can conclude in advance that as long as this work is produced, we will definitely not have to worry about the ratings.

In conclusion, this work not only made many Japanese people see more clearly the nature of this society where "wealth determines everything" and "people eat people," but also made Seicho Matsumoto, who was over eighty years old and had not released a new work for a long time, a legendary figure once again.

Some have called this work "a new pinnacle of social mystery fiction" and consider Seicho Matsumoto to be the number one mystery novelist in Japan, making him the undisputed winner of this year's Mystery Writers of Japan Award.

For a time, it seemed that everyone else in the Japanese literary world paled in comparison, and only the name of Seicho Matsumoto shone brightly.

However, just as the craze for "Squid Game" was intensifying, another piece of news that shook the Japanese literary world even more unexpectedly appeared in major Japanese newspapers and literary publications.

Yomiuri Shimbun – “A literary giant has fallen; Yasushi Inoue rests in peace!”
Asahi Shimbun – “The spirit of Dunhuang endures, a master returns to the mountains – Yasushi Inoue passed away at the age of 83!”
Mainichi Shimbun – “The soul of pen connecting China and Japan has passed away; Yasushi Inoue dies of acute pneumonia”...

These obituary-like reports not only immediately shifted the attention of the entire Japanese literary world, but also abruptly pulled countless writers and readers from the initial surprise of reading "The Squid Game," plunging them, as if leaping, into another inescapable state of grief and sorrow.

Yes, in that same year, Japanese literary giant Yasushi Inoue passed away suddenly on January 29th due to acute pneumonia at the age of 1.

The old man who wrote so much about the wind and sand of Dunhuang and the heroic spirit of the wind, forest, fire and mountain, ultimately could not survive this cold early spring.

…………

On February 3, 1991, strong winds began to blow from dawn.

The howling wind occasionally swirls up snowflakes that crash against the copper eaves of the Jingxin Temple Hall.

The sky was terribly overcast, and even at nine o'clock sharp, there wasn't a ray of sunshine.

However, the area in front of the clubhouse was already packed with cars.

Black cars lined up along the street corner, their logos ranging from Toyota Century to Mercedes, all gleaming coldly in the fog.

Every time the suit jacket hem slipped out when the car door opened or closed, it would brush against the thin ice on the road surface, stirring up tiny ice shards that would fall heavily into the cracks in the stones.

The reason why so many celebrities arrived in their cars, dressed in black mourning clothes, on this day was because this was the place where Inoue Yasushi's body lay in state.

At this very moment, a public memorial service is being held here, bringing together prominent figures from all walks of life in Tokyo to mourn the passing of the renowned Japanese historical novelist, Yasushi Inoue. Afterwards, the literary giant's remains will be transported from here to his hometown in Shizuoka for burial.

Needless to say, as the person in charge of the Jingxin Temple Club, Abbot Tianyue would be present at such an occasion.

He stood in the outer hall of the guild hall, wrapped in a crisp, dark blue monk's robe, guiding those who came to pay their respects.

However, he didn't look well. His forehead under his monk's hat was oily, and the wrinkles around his eyes showed signs of sleeplessness from the previous night.

You really can't look too closely, otherwise you'll see how tired he looks.

Of course, this is normal.

To ensure the smooth running of this funeral that has garnered nationwide attention, Abbot Tengetsu has meticulously reviewed every detail from yesterday to today, and he has barely rested for nearly thirty hours.

For him, being able to handle the funeral of such a celebrity was an honor and a qualification, but it was also a great risk. He knew that he could win but he simply could not afford to lose.

So even now, he is still on tenterhooks and has to stay at the clubhouse to keep a close eye on the real-time situation of the funeral.

He was fully prepared, and wherever a problem arose, he would go there immediately to resolve it.

Sure enough, things couldn't stay peaceful forever; problems soon arose.

A young novice monk trotted over and informed him, "Great Master, some reporters from newspapers have arrived. Reporters from the Yomiuri Shimbun and Asahi Shimbun wish to enter the funeral hall to participate in the entire memorial service. What do you think we should do?"

"Please ask them to wait in the side room's resting area. I will come after I have set up the incense and candles. I will explain the family's wishes to them in person."

Monk Tianyue suppressed his irritation and gave the young novice these instructions.

As soon as he finished speaking, he turned around and slipped through the side door of the main hall of the mourning hall, wanting to take another look at the situation in the main hall.

Only if there are no problems can he extricate himself from dealing with those troublesome media reporters.

The memorial hall was set up in the main hall of the club, and the host today was Ryotaro Shiba, a close friend of Inoue Yasushi and also a writer.

He is 67 years old this year, with his signature white hair, and wearing a black kimono with dark patterns.

His voice was lower than the wind blowing from the eaves, and every utterance was embedded in the sound of the wind, so slow that it made one's heart tighten.

On the central Sumeru pedestal, Inoue Yasushi's portrait is framed in walnut wood.

The frame was wrapped with a plain white silk ribbon, and the old man in the black and white photograph had a gentle gaze.

The most eye-catching features are the pair of plain gauze lanterns on either side of the portrait and the ebony coffin in front of the Sumeru pedestal.

The plain gauze lantern is about three feet tall. The gauze is as fine as a cicada's wing but it is firm and does not collapse. Pine, bamboo and plum, the "Three Friends of Winter," are embroidered on it with silver thread. The stitches are so dense that you can see the layers of pine needles.

When the candlelight shone through, the silver threads glowed with a soft, moonlit light, making even the shadows cast on the pillars appear warm and gentle.

That ebony coffin was even more impressive.

The coffin body was polished to a mirror-like smoothness, and the wood grain was highlighted by a special process to create flowing, dark cloud patterns.

The lotus pattern carved on the coffin head is three-dimensional and full, with the petals curving so naturally that they seem to have just been picked from the pond, and even the lotus heart pattern is clearly discernible.

The silver ornaments inlaid at the corners gleamed with a warm yet solitary light under the candlelight.

Incense burned in the bronze censer in front of the coffin, the smoke rising straight up to the ceiling of the hall and dissipating, mingling with the cool fragrance of daffodils on the offering table, lingering and enveloping the entire main hall.

Those who came to pay their respects walked in according to their rank, with the front row mostly consisting of elderly people from the education and cultural sectors.

Everyone's suits were buttoned up tightly, their ties were a dark blue, and their knuckles were white from holding the funeral pouches in their hands. When they were handed to the receptionist, their fingertips were still cool from the wind.

"The craftsmanship of this coffin is truly rare. Look at these carvings; they are even more exquisite than those of old carpenters in Kyoto. It's really quite remarkable."

"That's right. No wonder they chose this place to hold the funeral. Using such a coffin for the burial is truly dignified, befitting Mr. Inoue's status. Could it be a style from Ryukyu?"

Two elderly men in black kimonos stood beside the coffin, their voices hushed, but they drifted into Tianyue's ears along with the smoke from the incense sticks.

The senior monk felt a sense of relief and his steps became lighter.

Hearing such praise from the guests was undoubtedly a shot in the arm for him, signifying a significant increase in the likelihood of the funeral's success.

To be honest, he actually got these things by accident.

Because all these things were provided to him by people who extorted and coerced him.

He was originally someone who was completely passively accepting things.

He could not forget the humiliating experience of being threatened half a month ago.

A rough man named Nakamura Go came to the door with a stack of photos.

The photos were all of him having affairs with the wives of his followers, which made him dare not have the slightest thought of resistance.

"Master Tianyue, I'll give you another five million yen and a teacup worth one million yen. That's it. If you agree, sign the contract. If you don't, I'll release these photos to the public."

That's what Nakamura Go said back then. Tianyue was so angry that he trembled all over and was so scared that he was scared out of his wits. In the end, he could only reluctantly agree.

For a long time afterward, he was resistant to the funeral supplies provided by Nakamura Go.

Therefore, he simply had people throw the things Nakamura sent into the warehouse and sell them to customers whenever they wanted, without even looking at them closely.

It wasn't until he received Inoue Yasushi's family and discussed the funeral arrangements with the literary association that he truly appreciated the unique charm of these things.

It's worth noting that the Japanese can be quite obsessive about details in certain peculiar ways, even when they're not good.

Take Inoue Yasushi's family as an example. They had high expectations for the cost of Inoue Yasushi's funeral arrangements, hoping that the funeral items would reflect the status of the literary giant, and were willing to spend more money on this.

However, the funeral homes they visited were not satisfactory, because most funeral homes had similar supplies, and the monotonous style was a common problem in the Japanese funeral industry.

In particular, they wanted to carve some special iconic patterns on the coffin lid as symbols to reflect Inoue Yasushi's special status, which was an extremely difficult task.

In the end, only the funeral products in the Jingxin Temple warehouse impressed them, giving them a sense of special style and sophistication.

Only Joshinji Temple, which had received assurances from Nakamura Go, dared to undertake the project of modifying the coffin lid, and ultimately completed it so well.

This is what enabled Jingxin Temple Club to outperform its competitors and win the opportunity to host the funeral.

So to be honest, from the moment he heard the guests praising the coffin, Monk Ten-gaku was no longer so disgusted with Nakamura Go.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was a special destiny arranged for him by Buddha. (End of Chapter)