Reborn in Tokyo: From Heiress to Global Tycoon

Chapter 372 Before the Winter Palace

(Two chapters today~)

The morning on Cammane Island was a bit colder than the previous day.

Fresh snow had accumulated on the branches of trees outside the villa, and the windowpanes made a soft rattling sound when the wind blew from the direction of the river fork.

The heating inside was still on full blast, the tea in the living room was steaming, and the thick carpet on the floor made one temporarily forget what kind of winter the city was going through.

Amy stood by the window, holding the floor plan of the Winter Palace exhibition hall in her hands, looking at it again and again.

She had already circled the main exhibition halls and written a few English words next to them in pencil. But her mind was clearly not entirely on the map; her eyes kept glancing towards the entrance, as if the Winter Palace would suddenly disappear from her itinerary if she lost focus even slightly.

"Satsuki-chan," she finally couldn't help but whisper, "Will we really see Rembrandt today?"

Chizuru was adjusting Satsuki's coat collar when she heard this, but she didn't stop what she was doing; she just glanced at her.

"Miss Amy, today is not just a simple visit."

"I know," Amy said, clutching the picture book tightly. Her voice was a little softer, but she couldn't hide her anticipation. "But that's the Winter Palace too."

Satsuki stood in front of the mirror, watching Chizuru straighten her scarf from under the collar of her coat. The dark wool coat made her skin look even whiter.

She was still dressed like a teenage girl being taken to a museum by her father, and there was no indication from her appearance that she was going to attend a municipal meeting.

“Of course you can see Rembrandt,” Satsuki said. “But if Mr. Sobchak and Mr. Chubais talk for too long, you’ll probably only be able to listen to the adults discussing the port and food supplies while peeking at the paintings through the crack in the door.”

Amy's expression immediately fell.

"That's too cruel..."

"So pray they say fewer nice things today," Satsuki said, "giving us more time to actually look at the paintings."

At that moment, Fujita walked in from outside.

He first bowed to Xiu, then looked at Gaoyue.

"Young Miss, the convoy is ready. However, we just received a notification from the Soviet side that the route into the Winter Palace has been adjusted."

Shuichi was sitting on the sofa fastening his gloves when he heard this, and his movements slowed down a little.

Satsuki turned around in front of the mirror.

"What's the reason?"

"The snow near the original side gate was not cleared, making it difficult for vehicles to pass, so we changed to use the passage on one side of the square."

Fujita's tone did not change significantly, but the fact that he came in specifically to report meant that the matter was no longer just a traffic issue.

Amy tightened her grip on the picture book.

Satsuki did not speak immediately.

She knew the city would descend into chaos.

Not only Leningrad, but the entire Soviet Union is now on the verge of collapse.

With supplies scarce, power loosening, old institutions unwilling to withdraw, and new figures eager to seize power, ordinary people are caught in the middle.

Even the slightest hint is enough to make everyone act according to their own fears.

So it's not surprising that the route was changed.

What's truly worth watching is whether Sobchak can keep this altered route safe.

"The car in front should move five minutes ahead," Satsuki said. "The car behind should stay close and not let unrelated vehicles cut in. The main vehicle should not stop where there is no way to back up."

Fujita lowered his head.

"clear."

Xiu looked up at her.

"Going again?"

"Of course." Satsuki picked up the gloves and slowly put them on. "We came to Leningrad to see what it really looks like."

Xiu looked at her for a moment, then didn't ask any more questions.

He trusted his daughter's judgment.

The sky was still gray when the convoy left Camene Island.

After crossing the bridge, the tranquility of the villa area was left behind. As the Volga entered the city, pedestrians, trams, and roadsides soaked with snowmelt gradually appeared outside the car window.

Leningrad still looks beautiful during the day, with pale yellow and light green building facades extending from both sides of the street. The only flaw is that people are hunched over and queuing under the porch.

But today's beauty is colder than yesterday's.

As the convoy passed the second intersection, Fujita glanced at the rearview mirror from the passenger seat.

"Young Miss".

Satsuki did not look away from the window.

"explain."

"That gray van was just seen near the bridgehead. Now it's back to the right."

Satsuki looked in the direction he was referring to.

Frost covered the car windows, obscuring the view of the person inside; only a blurry outline was visible.

It didn't stop very close, nor did it obviously follow the convoy, but its location was too coincidental.

"Anything else?"

"The two intersections ahead were not cleared in advance. There were several people watching the convoy from the roadside, holding rolled-up items. The Soviet guards were there, but they were very lax in their watch."

Fujita paused for a moment.

"I suggest suspending today's talks, or at least changing the route."

Amy subconsciously looked at Satsuki.

Satsuki was still looking out the window. A young man was standing next to a newsstand by the roadside, his eyes following Volga. His expression wasn't fierce; he seemed to be waiting for some signal.

"Stopping now is tantamount to confirming that this path is valid for them," Satsuki said. "Continue."

Fujita glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

What if a collision occurs?

"Handle it according to the procedures for escorting foreign guests. Do not make the first move, do not let them touch the car door, and do not leave a complete picture of them."

Fujita's eyes darkened slightly upon hearing the last sentence.

"clear."

Shuichi sat beside Satsuki, his cane resting across his lap. He didn't speak, but simply turned his gaze forward.

In the distance, the pale green walls and white colonnades of the Winter Palace can already be seen.

Even in the gray-white light, it remained unrealistically beautiful, like a carefully preserved imperial relic.

Amy leaned closer to the car window.

"Ah, so beautiful."

Satsuki looked at her.

This girl worked on technical summaries until 1:30 a.m. last night, and she still has dark circles under her eyes today, but she forgot all about them as soon as she saw the Winter Palace.

"Don't run around when you go inside."

"I won't run around!"

"Last time at the Moscow museum, you squatted in front of the telegraph machine and wouldn't leave."

"That's different..."

But in front of that respectable color, a small group of people had already gathered.

The number of people is not large.

At most seventy or eighty.

In a real upheaval, this number of people wouldn't even be considered much, but their position was very strategic, right where vehicles were most likely to slow down before entering the side gate.

In the front row were several people wearing factory cotton overcoats, holding cardboard signs; next to them were young people wearing black overcoats and old military boots, holding rolled-up banners; further back were some seemingly ordinary passersby, but you could see the corner of a camera peeking out from under their overcoats.

As the convoy approached, voices rose from the crowd.

"Japanese!" "It's them!" "The Japanese are here!!"

The first to shout was not one of the young people, but a middle-aged man.

He was dressed like a worker and had a deep voice.

"Don't decide for us!"

As he took the lead, several workers behind him also shouted.

"There are still people in the factory!"

"We have to survive too!"

More and more workers started shouting.

These words were unrehearsed and even somewhat chaotic.

But it is precisely because of the chaos that it sounds more like a voice truly squeezed out of life.

Immediately afterwards, another voice pressed down.

"Foreign capital, get out!"

"Don't betray Russia!"

"The Winter Palace is not a capitalist's reception room!"

The two voices mingled together, and suddenly a black line appeared to burn through the snow in front of the Winter Palace, as if something had burned it.

The flyers were scattered.

The white paper fluttered in the wind, a few pieces sticking to the bottom edge of the car window. Satsuki could see the words on them through the glass; the ink was thick and the writing was crooked.

"Sobchak is putting a price tag on Leningrad."

Satsuki's gaze lingered on that line of text for a moment.

Yesterday in the living room on Camille Island, Chubais was talking about price and responsibility.

At this point, the price has become a selling point.

This indicates that the information was indeed leaked, and not just from one place.

The workers knew about the enterprise reforms, the nationalist youth knew about the Winter Palace, the shady businessmen knew the convoy route, and the guards were just a beat too slow.

Was the Soviet Union already riddled with holes by this time... unable to even do such basic secrecy work properly?

The voices of the young people grew increasingly shrill. They pushed their way to the front, and some even took a step toward the convoy.

Then--

A black glass bottle flew out from the crowd.

boom.

The bottle smashed against the side window of the main vehicle. Black ink exploded on the outside of the protective glass, trickling down the window like a crushed eye.

Amy shrugged, a short gasp catching in her throat.

Shuichi raised his hand at the exact moment the bottle hit him, shielding Satsuki.

Satsuki kept her hands folded on her knees, her face expressionless.

She glanced at her father's hand, then looked out the window.

A young man took advantage of the chaos to break through the crowd and lunged toward the door of the main vehicle.

In his hand was not a knife, nor a gun, but a roll of cloth.

The wind tore a corner of the cloth, revealing several Russian letters written in red paint.

Fujita's men move very quickly.

Two figures in dark coats blocked his way from the side and front, immediately grabbing his shoulders and wrists and pressing him against the open space in front of the car.

"Stop!" the young man shouted immediately.

"The Japanese are beating Soviet workers! Imperialism!"

The shutter clicks sounded almost simultaneously.