National Tide 1980.

Just after the Spring Festival of 1991, the smoke from firecrackers was still swirling in the alleys and lanes of Beijing, and the air was still filled with the sweet aroma of fried cakes and roasted nuts. But the rhythm of this ancient city had already been disrupted by a surging crowd.

As dawn broke, the exit of Beijing Railway Station was in an uproar.

Carrying bulging floral quilts and shiny red and blue snakeskin bags, men and women speaking in various accents from all over the country crowded out.

Their liberation shoes were still covered in the yellow soil of their hometown, and their trouser legs were still covered in mud from the field ridges.

They hummed a new folk song, "The road is a bank, the factory is a money exchange, we come empty-handed, and we'll go back to build houses," forming an unstoppable wave of migrant workers rushing towards this city full of opportunities.

A temporary "labor market" was quickly set up on the triangular open space near Chongwenmen, which was known as a "no man's land".

People from distant villages, coming to make a living, stood, squatted, or stood up, making the orderly street look somewhat "incongruous".

Furniture drawings spread out, a rusty tricycle parked against the wall, brick knives worn thin and shiny by bricks and sand, pairs of nailed shoe soles propped up by the roadside, and rollers standing on the ground... all vividly demonstrate their respective livelihoods.

"Brother, do you need furniture made? We're well-known carpenters in our hometown, with authentic skills!"

"Sister-in-law, do you need a nanny? We can take care of the elderly and look after the children, we can do everything!"

The chaotic yet somewhat devout shouts rose and fell, and the various dialects mixed with the lingering disco melodies from the old folks in the park became the most vibrant morning music in Beijing in early spring.

On the road leading to the east of the city, a cart loaded with honeycomb briquettes creaked and groaned. The tricycle driver, a young man from Henan in his early twenties, had beads of sweat on his forehead that stained the bluestone pavement, leaving a small dark mark.

In the alleyway beside the main road, farmers from the suburbs were selling eggs with baskets in their hands. The fresh eggs were wrapped in straw roots, attracting the middle-aged women to gather around and bargain.

Even in the gatehouse of the government compound, there were a few unfamiliar faces—young men from Hebei, replacing the old man with failing eyesight, speaking fluent Baoding dialect and meticulously registering each visitor.

Skyscrapers in Beijing are rising even faster.

The shouts and chants at the construction site were more lively than the clattering dance music in the ballroom.

The vegetable stalls at the farmers' market were even more overflowing, with fresh fruits and vegetables carrying the fragrance of the earth, looking so fresh and tempting. Even the breakfast stalls in the alleyways had added southern-style wontons and pure meat-filled steamed buns, making the taste buds of this ancient northern city come alive.

The biggest change this year compared to last year is the explosive growth in the number of migrant workers entering the city.

In the past, inland villages, where "young men and women left to work elsewhere, leaving only children and officials behind," are now pouring a steady stream of labor into this "low-lying" city.

As spring arrives, newspapers and television are filled with similar news reports—Zhengzhou Railway Station is overwhelmed, Nanjing Bus Station is overflowing with passengers, and migrant workers are surging like a flood at passenger terminals along the Yangtze River. Statistics show that the daily average number of people traveling to and from these 23 major cities in the People's Republic of China, each with a population exceeding one million, reaches tens of millions, including 183 million in Shanghai, 1.3 million in Beijing, and 1.1 million in Guangzhou…

"Migrant migrants," a term that once carried a derogatory connotation, is now both a symbol and a metaphor.

In the past, it was almost synonymous with ignorant and filthy beggars, most of whom were driven to desperation by poverty and hunger, wandering into the city but unable to find a way to make a living, and could only rely on begging to survive.

But things are different now. The perseverance and determination on those simple faces are gradually changing the traditional mindset of city dwellers. This year, "To get rich, you have to hire" has become a joyful theme for both urban and rural populations.

The upheavals of the 1990s are slowly unfolding, with a profound reorganization of the social structure as the prelude.

Yet, amidst this vibrant influx of migrants, two Japanese "Beijing drifters" who had arrived in the capital years earlier felt no joy in the tide of the times. Instead, they were overwhelmed by an unprecedented sense of frustration and filled with deep anxiety about the future.

Anxiety and fear, like two invisible hands, gripped their hearts tightly, making them truly smell the approaching apocalypse.

They are Yuichi Sugimoto and Kenta Sato, the joint representatives of Japan and China in the past who bullied their masters in the Beijing amusement park project and are now suffering the consequences.

February 20, 1991, the sixth day of the Lunar New Year.

In the office of the Japanese general manager of the Beijing amusement park, the heater hummed, but the hot air it blew out could not dispel the chill in the slightest.

Yuichi Sugimoto slumped in a large leather chair, his tie ripped and twisted, his usually meticulously combed hair now a mess like a chicken coop.

On the coffee table in front of him was a small mountain of gifts—Yamazaki whisky, Seven Stars cigarettes, top-grade Gyokuro tea, a Sony mini VCR, a Panasonic VCR, even a Citizen watch, and five or six thick red envelopes stuffed with 100,000 yen each.

These were all "stepping stones" they had painstakingly prepared before the Spring Festival, but now they've been left untouched, without even a ripple.

The district government leaders either avoided meeting them or politely dismissed them through the door, not even offering a definite answer, let alone accepting gifts.

Kenta Sato stood by the window, his fingers tapping impatiently on the glass, his knuckles turning white from the force. His gaze was fixed on the tourists pouring into the park below, men, women, and children speaking with a Beijing accent, holding their children's hands and laughing heartily beside the carousel and roller coaster.

But that carefree laughter sounded more grating than needles to Sato's ears. He was now filled with regret. If only he hadn't misjudged the situation and insisted on pressuring the district government and demanding exorbitant prices?
How could such a lucrative business be on the verge of changing hands?

He whirled around, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a screeching sound, his voice trembling uncontrollably, as he looked at Sugimoto in the leather chair.

"Sugimoto-kun, that...that person the ward government put forward to replace us, is he still refusing to see us?"

Yuichi Sugimoto closed his eyes and squeezed out a muffled "hmm" from his throat.

In order to see Ning Weimin, he used almost every connection he had during the Spring Festival.

They even asked a friend at the Japanese embassy to get in touch with Ning Weimin's wife, Matsumoto Keiko.

I only ask to pay a visit, even if it's just to sound out their opinion in person.

But the other party's reply was concise and cold: "I only spend the Spring Festival with relatives and friends and have no time to meet with guests from outside."

How could Yuichi Sugimoto not understand such subtext?

This is clearly the other party's stance; they are determined to get involved in the amusement park's affairs.

Thinking of this, and recalling the officials' avoidance of him, a chill ran down Sugimoto's spine and up his neck, making him shiver involuntarily.

He finally realized that their attempt to use the Spring Festival to give gifts and host banquets to ease tensions was nothing but wishful thinking.

The district government had long been determined to settle scores with them. Those polite excuses and aloof avoidance were silent declarations that they no longer needed the Japanese side.

Ning Weimin's refusal was like the last straw, crushing the last shred of hope in his heart.

That man, that man with a legendary business record, is the district government's strongest trump card.

Their previous threats, dishonesty, and exorbitant demands all became a huge joke in the face of absolute power.

"Why...why is this happening...is there really no chance at all?" Kenta Sato muttered to himself, his face as pale as paper, his forehead covered in fine beads of cold sweat that slid down his cheeks without him even noticing.

He recalled how he had confidently asserted that the Chinese side was bluffing.

I remember boasting that no one in all of Asia could replace Japanese companies.

Looking back now, those words were incredibly ironic.

What terrified him even more was that once the news reached the head office, Sugimoto would have someone above him to look after him, but he had no connections and might be fired directly, or even become a "discarded pawn" of the group, unable to hold his head high in the industry from then on.

Panic engulfed him like a tidal wave, making it hard for him to even breathe.

He was like two ants roasting on a fire, frantically running around in circles, unable to find a way out.

The district government's surprise inspection was not yet over, and Ning Weimin's menacing gaze was right in front of them, while they had already run out of cards to play.

The office heater was still humming, and Yuichi Sugimoto was just as miserable.

He felt as if his blood was about to freeze.

Because he knew that they had lost this game from the very beginning.

The district government doesn't want concessions or negotiations; it wants a thorough reckoning.

And they were the discarded pawns who were about to be swept out of the capital.

Yuichi Sugimoto raised his hand and wiped his face; the coldness of his fingertips brought him back to his senses slightly.

He slumped back in his chair, resigned to facing reality.

"The only solution now is to ask the Kumagai Gumi to step in and cause trouble. They are the fifth largest trading company in the Japanese construction industry, and their influence in China is much greater than ours. They should have a good relationship with the Beijing municipal government. As long as they are willing to get involved, the district government will give them some face, and at least they won't let that Chinese man get away with it."

He paused here, a hint of resentment flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by helplessness.

"There's no other way; we have to hand over this lucrative opportunity. I just hope that the Kumagai Group will remember this favor and offer us a better price, so we can have a more satisfactory explanation to the head office..."

That's what he said, but he also knew that there was no such thing as tender feelings in the business world.
The Kumagai Group isn't stupid; how could they not pursue maximum profit?

Thinking of this, he suddenly became furious, jumped up from his chair, grabbed the gift list on the coffee table, and slammed it to the ground.

The papers were scattered all over the floor, much like their current fragmented situation.

As for Sato, the culprit who caused this huge disaster, he had no intention of tolerating him any longer.

Sugimoto pointed at Sato's nose, his anger almost spitting out of his eyes.

"Sato, you bastard, it's all your fault! Let me tell you, this isn't going to end so easily! You've ruined my life, and when we get back to Tokyo, I'll make you pay! You should know that my uncle is one of the directors of the head office, right? I can tell you right now that even if we keep this a secret and the head office doesn't pursue it, I'll find a way to send you to a remote place. You can prepare to spend ten years in some poor, backwater like Cambodia!"

Upon hearing these words, Kenta Sato trembled all over, and his legs went weak.

He staggered to Sugimoto, gripping the coffee table tightly with both hands, leaning forward slightly, his head almost touching the tabletop, pleading repeatedly with a sob in his voice.

“Sugimoto-kun, I know it’s all my fault that things have turned out this way, and I deserve your revenge. But what good would it do you if I really went to Cambodia? How about I give you some financial compensation? Don’t you always like playing golf? I have a high-end set of Honma brand clubs that I bought for nearly 400,000 yen before coming to China. It’s practically brand new, and I only tested it once at home. I’ll give it to you! Please forgive me!”

Yuichi Sugimoto's expression softened slightly, and a hint of emotion flashed in his eyes.

Although he was reluctant to admit it, he was indeed somewhat tempted.

Honma is a high-end Japanese golf club brand, an item that only men of status can own.

Using this kind of club on the course will earn you respect even from the caddies; it's a sign of prestige.

That wasn't all. Before Sugimoto could even speak, Sato pressed his advantage, his tone carrying a hint of cunning sophistry.

"Furthermore, even if things have come to this point, it might not be a bad thing. If we can really reach an agreement with the Kumagai group, it might actually be the best option for us."

"What do you mean by that?" Sugimoto frowned, his tone filled with dissatisfaction and wariness.

"Sugimoto-kun, that's easy to understand."

Sato quickly explained, lowering his voice, "The reason for this is that the head office is asking our overseas branches for financial support, which proves that the head office is in serious trouble. I recently spoke with my family and learned that Tokyo is experiencing a wave of unemployment due to too many company closures, and my brother is one of them. Can you be sure that our head office can survive? It's just a medium-sized company; it's hard to say. If it really goes bankrupt, we'll have nothing left."

He paused, observing Sugimoto's expression, and continued, "But if we do the Kumagai-gumi a favor now, do you think they'll offer us a job later? The Kumagai-gumi is a large trading company; they'll definitely weather this financial crisis. If we establish a relationship with them, it'll be like having insurance for the future. Isn't that a good thing? We might even be able to jump ship directly to the Kumagai-gumi—after all, they invested in Kowloon Amusement Park in the capital, and they certainly don't want Ning Weimin's aquarium to compete with them! We help them get the amusement park and prevent their competitors from profiting. How you look at it, that's a great achievement!"

"You...you actually want to completely defect to the Kumagai Group and betray the company?" Sugimoto was startled by Sato's audacious idea, and suddenly raised his voice, his eyes full of shock.

"No, I'm not a traitor." Sato quickly waved his hand, his tone urgent and earnest. "I just want to find another way out for us. Nobody can predict the future, so why not make some arrangements that are beneficial to ourselves in advance? I know that Sugimoto-kun is probably against it because of your uncle, but have you ever thought that although your uncle is your support, he will always suppress you? With your talent, if you went to a big trading company like the Kumagai-gumi, you might become a high-ranking executive in just a few years, definitely no less capable than your uncle..."

Sato's words were like a pebble thrown into Sugimoto Yuichi's already chaotic mind, stirring up ripples.

He was stunned. His previous anger gradually subsided, replaced by deep hesitation.

Yes, the future of the head office is uncertain. While his uncle's presence does provide him with support, it also creates the same kind of suppression. He has always longed to be able to act freely without having to depend on others.

If we can take this opportunity to switch to the Kumagai group, it might not be a bad way out.

He remained silent, his fingers unconsciously stroking the armrest of the leather chair, his eyes flickering uncertainly.

Accepting Sato's proposal would be betraying the head office and letting down my uncle who had nurtured me.

But if we don't do this, we will face considerable risks and remain trapped in this hopeless situation.

Sugimoto opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

He looked up and gazed through the window toward Longtan Lake Park, which was not far away.

There, Ning Weimin's aquarium project is under construction in full swing. (End of Chapter)