I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

"Slash the broadswords down on the heads of the Japanese devils—!"

Li Jing'an gripped the microphone, veins bulging on his neck, his voice almost hoarse from screaming. He stood on a small stage in the center of the private room, singing without accompaniment, just pure dry howling. When he sang the word "kill," he even clenched his fist hard.

Below the stage, President Furukawa sat upright in the center of the sofa, clapping his hands above his head with great enthusiasm, his face displaying an expression of utter rapture, as if he thought, "This music should only exist in heaven." Several executives next to him followed suit, some even closing their eyes and swaying their heads, as if they were listening to a top-notch concert.

But Nozawa, standing in the crowd, couldn't manage a smile. His facial muscles were tense, his lips twitched a few times, and he tried to force a smile, but it wouldn't come out. He understood Chinese—every word felt like a needle piercing his ears. Yet he clenched his teeth tightly, only able to mechanically clap his hands to the rhythm, his palms turning red, but his expression was more painful than crying.

Things are getting more and more outrageous.

Li Jing'an had clearly drunk quite a bit tonight; his eyes were glazed over, and his steps were unsteady. He shoved aside the attendant who tried to help him, staggered over to Gu He, grabbed Gu He's arm, and pulled him onto the stage: "Come on, Gu He, come up here! Let's sing together!"

Gu He was taken aback for a moment, then forced a smile and obediently let himself be pulled onto the stage. Li Jing'an grabbed Gu He's neck, his breath reeking of alcohol, and continued to shout the 29th Route Army anthem into his ear. Gu He squinted for a moment from the shouting, but quickly regained his expression of enjoyment, even raising his hands and rhythmically clapping along.

Looking at his president's forced smug expression, Nozawa felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He didn't know what expression to make, so he could only stare at the wine glass on the coffee table. But the executives next to him were adding fuel to the fire—a chubby director gave a thumbs-up to the stage, shouting in Japanese, "Minister, amazing!" Another clapped loudly, the applause sounding like firecrackers.

Nozawa almost lost his composure.

"Team Leader Nozawa..." A gentle voice sounded in my ear.

Nozawa turned his head and saw that his subordinate, Kawabata Yoko, had moved to his side at some point. The private room was dimly lit, casting colorful dappled light on her face, her eyes sparkling. She lowered her voice, her expression filled with curiosity and excitement: "The president and all the senior executives are here today, personally accompanying this Minister Li... Has something big progress happened?"

Nozawa took a deep breath, suppressing his emotions. He glanced at Li Jing'an and the president on the stage before lowering his voice to answer, "When Minister Li agreed to visit our company, we were already 70% certain. Today, the president and others personally invited us to dinner, and Minister Li didn't refuse—the remaining 30% is basically secured."

"Really? That's wonderful!" Kawabata Yoko's eyes lit up, and she unconsciously clasped her hands together. "That...that's all thanks to Team Leader Nozawa, right? If you hadn't managed to find out Minister Li's schedule and arranged for that singer through the Sumitomo Group to make the connection, none of this would have happened..."

As she spoke, she turned her head slightly, her eyes filled with admiration and respect, staring intently at Nozawa.

Nozawa felt a little uncomfortable under that gaze, his ears burning slightly. He picked up his glass, took a sip, and tried to hide his unease: "It's nothing... just lucky."

He spoke modestly, but inwardly he couldn't help feeling a little smug. Who wouldn't want to be looked at like that by a beautiful woman? Especially since no woman had ever looked at him like that before. He came from a farming family and had only managed to get into Tokyo University through tireless study day and night. In all those years, he had spent his time either studying or in the library; he hadn't even had time to think about romance.

"With your amazing abilities and talent, Team Leader Nozawa must have a lot of girls who like you, right?" Kawabata Yoko's voice trailed off, the last few words almost swallowed by the noise in the private room. She herself was taken aback, as if she hadn't expected to say such a thing—perhaps because of the dim and ambiguous atmosphere in the room, or perhaps because the two glasses of wine in her hand gave her the courage.

Nozawa turned his head and met Yumi's eyes. Those eyes held adoration, admiration, and something else indescribable, burning hot against his face. He instinctively wanted to look away, but then he thought—he was the team leader, and had made such a great contribution, why should he hide?

He put on airs and forced a relaxed smile: "Yoko, don't joke around. Who would like a bookworm like me?"

"I..." Yoko Kawabata blurted out a single word, then stopped abruptly as if burned, correcting herself, "I meant... many girls in our company have a crush on you, but they feel they're not good enough for you, so they haven't dared to confess..."

She paused, lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of her wine glass, her voice almost inaudible: "So... what kind of girlfriend are you looking for?"

Nozawa looked at her lowered eyelashes and slightly flushed cheeks, and his heart suddenly softened. Kawabata Yoko was indeed beautiful. Since she joined the company, she had been helping him organize documents and coordinate schedules, showing meticulousness and thoughtfulness. Matching social status was not a problem—given his ambition, he would definitely climb the ladder in the future, and his wife should be a gentle, virtuous woman who loved him wholeheartedly, a full-time housewife at home.

"I think... girls like Yoko are great."

The moment those words were spoken, both of them froze.

Nozawa's gaze met Yoko's suddenly raised eyes, which held surprise, joy, and a hint of disbelief. The next second, as if burned, they both looked away simultaneously, staring at something else. The noisy music and voices in the private room seemed to be instantly sucked away, leaving only the thumping of their chests, each thump louder than the last, like someone beating a drum in their hearts.

With a "bang," Li Jing'an, with his arm around President Guhe's shoulder, swayed back to the sofa area, his steps uneven. He plopped down, sinking into the cushions, grabbed a whiskey glass from the table, downed it in one gulp, let out a long breath, leaned back against the sofa, and half-closed his eyes.

The surrounding Japanese immediately swarmed around him, making Japanese-style jokes all at once. "Yoshi!" "Amazing!" "Minister, you're truly generous!" A chorus of exclamations rose and fell. Some eagerly poured him more wine, others gave him a thumbs-up and smiled obsequiously. Li Jing'an, slightly tipsy, accepted the compliments without question. He thought to himself: These Japanese may not be much, but their taste is certainly not bad.

He put down his wine glass, sank deeper into the sofa, and stretched. This trip to Japan was definitely worthwhile—he played golf, watched horse races, rode a yacht, and even attended the Hainan Rendez-Vous. It was all worth it. Having enjoyed all of this, it was time to make a decision.

The fact that he came to this gathering today speaks volumes about his attitude—Guhe is eager to open up the Dongda market and is willing to give up profits in exchange for his favor, so Li Jing'an cannot refuse his sincerity.

Sigh, capitalism has so many tricks up its sleeve. It's really effective on people with weak wills. Luckily, it was Li Jing'an who was leading the team. If it were someone else... tsk tsk.