Chapter 52
The night of Atobe's fifteenth birthday party arrived as scheduled.
The Atobe Mansion was ablaze with lights, like a giant pearl nestled on the shores of Tokyo Bay.
The fountain reflects colorful light under the carefully designed lights, and the melodious symphony flows out from the open carved gate, interweaving with the guests in the courtyard who are well-dressed and chatting in low voices to form a flowing luxurious picture.
I took a deep breath and stepped into this sea of brilliant light.
She was wearing a dress that Atobe had sent her in advance, a champagne-colored gown from Ges Hobeika. It had a Greek-style front and two matching-colored straps hung on her left shoulder.
The soft silk fits the body like a second skin, and the embellished jewels and diamonds are like moonlight falling into a long river, shining brightly and outlining a slender waistline.
Her skirt flowed like water, creating ripples on the polished marble floor with each step. Her long hair was pulled back, revealing her slender neck, adorned only by a small, teardrop-shaped diamond earring. Cool and simple, yet possessing a presence that could not be ignored.
As soon as he entered the banquet hall, countless eyes were focused on him.
There was amazement, curiosity, and undisguised jealousy and scrutiny from the girls. I tried to maintain a calm appearance, searching the crowd for that familiar figure.
Soon, he came into view.
Atobe Keigo walked through the crowd and came straight towards me.
A fitted black velvet suit, perfectly tailored to highlight the boy's upright figure. His short, carefully styled silver-gray hair accentuated his features, making them appear even more three-dimensional and profound.
Those eyes sparkled brightly under the dazzling crystal chandelier, like a hawk locking onto its prey, and they fell on me with undisguised admiration and exclusive pride.
He walked up to me, bowed slightly, and extended his hand to me. His posture was as elegant as a medieval prince. His voice was low and clear, penetrating the background music: "Ms. Wushan, you are shining tonight."
Her palm pressed against his warm, dry hand, and he gripped it gently, but with a firm grip.
At that moment, all the noise and scrutiny around him seemed to blur, leaving only the focused light in his eyes and the warmth from his palms.
"Happy birthday, Atobe." I said softly.
The smile on his face widened, and he took my hand and led me to the center of the banquet hall.
There, under the dazzling crystal chandeliers, the dance floor was as smooth as a mirror.
The conductor nodded slightly, and the melodious, soothing waltz prelude flowed like moonlight. Atobe placed one hand gently on my waist, holding my hand with the other. His eyes never left mine.
"Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice, with a hint of tension and anticipation in his voice that only I could detect.
I nodded slightly.
As the first beat of the music fell, he took me and slid gracefully onto the dance floor.
Spinning, advancing and retreating, skirts fluttering, the champagne-colored figure and the black dress intertwine, separate, and then approach again in the flowing light.
His dance steps were precise and commanding, with a confidence that he was in control of the entire place, yet with each twirl and approach, he exuded a cautious tenderness. The light from the crystal chandelier shattered in his eyes and on the hem of my skirt.
The surrounding gazes grew more intense, and the whispers seemed to pause for a moment. Everyone was looking at the young man and girl in the center of the dance floor. The Emperor of Ice, and the mysterious girl he had personally invited to the first opening dance.
The music is melodious and the skirt draws an elegant arc.
Atobe lowered his head slightly, his warm breath brushing my forehead, and his voice was as low as a whisper: "Thank you for coming."
He paused, tightening his grip on my hand. "And don't be afraid. I'm here."
The song ended, the last spin froze, and he held me firmly.
Applause erupted like a tide. Atobe took my hand and gave a gentle nod to the audience. His face wore the impeccably regal smile of a king, but his eyes, looking at me, were filled with pure joy and contentment, belonging only to this night.
Just then, a middle-aged couple with outstanding temperament, guided by the housekeeper, walked through the crowd and slowly walked towards us.
The man was handsome, his eyebrows bearing a resemblance to Atobe's, and he carried the composure and dignity of someone who had held a high position for a long time. The woman, on the other hand, was well-maintained, with an elegant demeanor and a gentle smile, but her eyes were equally sharp and full of wisdom.
Atobe held my hand and turned to them, with a smile on his face that was more intimate and solemn.
"Father, Mother," he introduced, his voice clear and steady. "This is Kiriyama Hide."
He tilted his head slightly to look at me, with silent comfort and encouragement.
"Kiriyama, this is my father, Tatsumi Atobe, and my mother, Eiko Atobe."
Atobe Eiko's well-maintained face looks even more gentle under the bright lights, and her eyes, which are exactly the same as her son's, are filled with wisdom tempered by time.
She looked at me with a smile, her voice like pearls colliding with each other, with just the right amount of friendliness: "Wushanyin, what a good name. The name suits the person, the mountains in the mist, clear and beautiful yet with a touch of mystery."
His eyes were gentle, but like the most sophisticated instrument, they swept over my eyebrows, demeanor without leaving a trace, and finally fell on my hand and Atobe's handshake.
"Thank you, auntie." I nodded slightly.
"The surname Kiriyama," she said with a smile, a hint of just the right amount of confusion in her tone, "doesn't seem to be heard often in society. It's quite a unique surname."
Atobe immediately took over the conversation with a tone of obvious protection: "Mom, Kiriyama transferred from China." He held my hand tightly.
Atobe Xun has a handsome and elegant face, and his brows reveal the calmness and majesty of having been in a high position for a long time.
His eyes fell on me calmly, and his voice was low and magnetic: "Ms. Kiriyama, are you getting used to life in Japan?"
His question seemed like an ordinary greeting, but then he threw out a more core test, "After completing your studies, do you plan to stay in Japan to develop your career, or return to China?"
"If it's just a short stay," he paused, his eyes as calm as water, "I'll just be a tourist."
The air seemed to freeze for a moment.
The considerations of "stability" and "belonging" hidden beneath those gentle words were as clear as a sharp blade. Atobe's face darkened slightly, and he pursed his thin lips. Just as he was about to speak—
"Aunt Eiko! Keigo!"
A cute voice interrupted with deliberate intimacy.
Misaki Yamamoto came in like a butterfly, arm in arm with her father, Kenichiro Yamamoto. She naturally squeezed next to Eiko Atobe and hugged her arm affectionately, which invisibly separated me from Eiko.
"Misaki," Atobe Eiko was obviously very familiar with Yamamoto Misaki. She smiled and patted the back of her hand, her tone carrying the familiarity of an elder, "You look so beautiful today."
"Aunt Yingzi is more beautiful!" Yamamoto Misaki smiled sweetly, and her eyes swept over me unintentionally, with a hint of hidden pride.
She turned to Atobe Keigo and complained coquettishly, "Keigo, why did you dance the opening dance with someone else? Did you know I wore these new shoes today? Are you worried that I'd get tired?"
She lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, revealing a pair of high heels on her feet that were studded with diamonds. They looked very valuable but definitely uncomfortable.
Kenichiro Yamamoto, a thin middle-aged man with eyes as sharp as an eagle.
He spoke at the right moment, targeting Tatsumi Atobe. His voice was smooth and subtly pressured, as he was used to in the business world. "Yes, Keigo. I was just talking to Brother Tatsumi about that joint project between Yamamoto and Atobe in Kansai. Misaki has been talking about it for a long time and wants to invite Keigo to come and see it for himself."
Kenichiro Yamamoto had a businessman's unique, flawless smile on his thin face.
He turned to Tatsumi Atobe, his tone familiar, as if he were casually discussing an interesting social phenomenon: "Brother Tatsumi, speaking of which, the market has been a mixed bag lately. Some so-called 'emerging forces', with shaky foundations, are eager to rise to the top, targeting those 'high-quality targets' with deep foundations. Their methods... wow, they're endless."
He shook his head slightly, with the emotion of a person who had experienced it, but his eyes swept over me as if inadvertently. The look in his eyes was not one of direct contempt, but a kind of understanding and contempt as if he had seen through some "trick".
"It's a good thing for young people to have ambition," he said, his tone becoming earnest, even a hint of false concern, "for your own good." "But I'm afraid of those with ulterior motives who treat the hard work of generations of others as 'original shares' to cling to at will. This kind of 'investment' is extremely risky and will lead to endless troubles."
He deliberately emphasized the three words "original shares", forming a sharp contrast with "the hard work of several generations", implying a kind of desire for something for nothing.
He picked up the wine glass, took a sip, and his smile deepened, appearing even more "open and honest." "Mrs. Yingzi, don't you agree? For a family like ours, the most important thing when choosing a partner is to know their background and have a good family background."
"Those 'opportunities' with murky origins and floating roots may look alluring, but in reality they're likely just carefully packaged 'backdoor listings.' Once the 'listing' is successful, the original 'shell'... haha, I'm afraid it will be discarded like a worn-out shoe. It's always better to be cautious."
He cleverly grafted the business term "backdoor listing" onto an allusion to "climbers", packaging malicious speculation as business wisdom and advice "for the sake of the family", making it impossible for people to find a precise entry point to refute, and only felt a cold malice wrapped in "reason" rushing towards them, making people feel stuffy in the chest.
Yamamoto Misaki giggled at the right moment, her voice almost sickeningly sweet: "Dad is right! Jingwu is so outstanding, of course his standards should be higher! Aunt Yingzi, don't you agree?"
She shook Eiko Atobe's arm affectionately, but her eyes were like poisoned needles, piercing me accurately.
Atobe Eiko's smile faded slightly. She didn't respond to Yamamoto Kenichiro's words, but simply patted the back of Yamamoto Misaki's hand. Her gaze fell on me thoughtfully again, the inquiry deepening. Atobe Tatsumi remained elegantly silent, but the scrutiny in his eyes remained.
The Yamamoto father and daughter sang the same tune, using high-sounding business metaphors such as "market phenomenon", "investment risk" and "backdoor listing" to package an insidious humiliation of my background and intentions in a watertight manner, making people furious but unable to vent their anger.
He made no secret of the direction in his words. It was obvious that the Yamamoto family failed to find out my "background" and regarded me as an ordinary girl who was trying to get close to the Atobe family.
One is "Ms. Kiriyama" and the other is "Misaki".
One seems gentle but is actually exploring, the other is affectionate, holding hands and talking with a smile.
One asked "Are you a tourist?" and the other talked about "project cooperation."
Add to that Yamamoto Kenichiro’s blatant and contemptuous “rich son-in-law” rhetoric.
Even the most obtuse person could sense the turbulent undercurrents and deliberate intimacy in this atmosphere. The Yamamotos, father and daughter, had quietly placed me in an awkward position, even one where I was being scrutinized and questioned.
I maintained a decent, almost perfect calm on my face.
The ripples of emotion that had been stirred up by the probing of Atobe's parents had subsided after the performance of the Yamamotos. The former was the habitual assessment of those in a higher position, while the latter was a naked humiliation.
The glint of inquiry in Atobe Eiko's eyes and the consideration in Atobe Tatsumi's words were ultimately different from Yamamoto Kenichiro's undisguised malicious speculation. Atobe Keigo wanted to say something, but Atobe Tatsumi held him down. He couldn't hide the anger in his eyes, but he looked at me with concern.
"Sorry to excuse me." I bowed slightly, my voice cool and steady, with impeccable etiquette, like a breeze blowing across the lake, without causing any ripples.
Without looking at anyone, I turned and walked calmly to the relatively quiet beverage area. My back was straight and my steps were not at all messy.
Atobe Keigo's face had completely darkened, suppressing the storm.
He looked at Yamamoto Misaki holding her mother's hand, looked at Yamamoto Kenichiro's pressured face, looked at his parents' faces with impeccable social expressions that made him feel suffocated, and his thin lips were pursed into a cold straight line.
But in such a public place, as the heir of the Atobe family, he couldn't lose his temper.
Oshitari appeared beside me without a sound, a glass of champagne in his hand. He pushed up his glasses, and behind the lenses was a look of calm, knowing insight and a hint of helplessness.
"The business partnership between the Yamamoto and Atobe families," he said, his voice low and smooth with the characteristic Kansai accent, "is deeply intertwined. The core projects in Kansai, in particular, are the lifeblood of the joint investment. There are many aspects for my uncle and aunt to consider."
He glanced meaningfully at Keigo Atobe, who was surrounded by the Yamamoto father and daughter and his parents.
I took the lemonade handed to me by the waiter and my fingertips touched the cold wall of the glass.
"I understand." The voice was soft, yet remarkably clear. The more powerful a chaebol family became, the more they needed this close bond of marriage and shared interests, like vines entwined together, rising and falling together.
This is the law of survival in their world.
The temptation from Atobe's parents just now was not so much directed at me personally, but rather at the "variables" and "instability" that may arise from my background. The Yamamoto family, on the other hand, represents a stable and predictable community of interests.
The lights in the banquet hall flickered and the dance music changed to a more soothing one.
Atobe Keigo was called aside by his parents, who seemed to be whispering something. Yamamoto Misaki, like a victor, snuggled up to her father, a bright smile on her face. Oshitari sighed softly, a subtle worry etched in his eyes behind his glasses.
I stood at the edge of the bright lights, the coolness of the lemonade in my hand spreading through my fingertips.
Looking at the chess game among the elegantly dressed people, and the young man who was temporarily bound by family responsibilities, a sense of alienation and cold-eyed observation quietly arose in my heart.
The affectionate "Misaki" called by Eiko Atobe and the contemptuous "rich son-in-law" called by Kenichiro Yamamoto are like invisible threads, clearly outlining the undercurrents beneath this gorgeous stage.
In the distance, the look that Keigo Atobe cast at him after a brief conversation with his parents was anxious and apologetic, like a sharp arrow trying to penetrate this invisible barrier.
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