Shenzhen, International Trade Building.
In 1987, the air in Shenzhen carried a steaming, bustling energy.
Gu Wangshu followed Zhang Ziyu out of the car and looked up at the building before her.
The International Trade Building, fifty-three stories tall, was said to have been built at the astonishing pace of “one floor every three days.” It was now the tallest building in all of China.
Zhang Ziyu linked arms with her and laughed, “What are you staring at? Let’s go. The revolving restaurant is on the forty-ninth floor. I’ve already made a reservation.”
Gu Wangshu withdrew her gaze and followed her into the lobby.
The elevator was a Mitsubishi, fast enough to make her ears pop slightly. As the numbers flickered, they soon arrived at the forty-ninth floor.
For its time, the revolving restaurant’s decor was quite impressive.
Rosewood-colored round tables were draped with pristine white tablecloths, each adorned with a small vase holding a single pink carnation.
The floor rotated very slowly, almost imperceptibly unless one paid close attention.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entirety of Shenzhen spread out below.
Zhang Ziyu was clearly a regular here. The hostess smiled and approached as soon as she saw her. “Miss Zhang, your usual table is reserved for you.”
Once they were seated, Zhang Ziyu took the menu but barely glanced at it, rattling off her order with practiced ease.
“Shrimp dumplings, chicken feet in black bean sauce, durian puff pastries, egg tarts, and a serving of rice noodle rolls, plus a pot of chrysanthemum tea.”
She closed the menu, thought for a moment, and added, “And one more order of water chestnut cake. I brought a friend today—she should try your signature dish.”
The server acknowledged and left.
Gu Wangshu didn’t pay much attention to what she had ordered, her gaze fixed on the window.
The floor rotated slowly, reportedly completing a full circle every ninety minutes.
In the distance, the Shenzhen River lay like a narrow gray ribbon, quiet and still.
Beyond the river were the hills of Hong Kong’s New Territories.
Gu Wangshu silently oriented herself in her mind.
She had come from Hong Kong, crossing the Luohu Port, and the sights along the way had left her both unfamiliar and deeply moved.
Construction sites were everywhere, dotted with towering cranes. Trucks hauling sand formed long lines, their dust clouds blotting out the sky.
Along the roads stood newly built factories and old houses being demolished. Here and there, a few brand-new residential buildings rose in isolation amid the construction zones.
This was Shenzhen.
In her previous life, she had never visited this place.
In 1977, Shenzhen was still called Bao’an County—an obscure, remote town on the edge of Guangdong.
Now, just a decade later, it had transformed entirely.
After placing the order, Zhang Ziyu followed Gu Wangshu’s gaze out the window and gestured with her chin.
“Look over there, across the Shenzhen River—that’s the New Territories. From here, it looks so close, almost as if you could reach out and touch it.”
Gu Wangshu said softly, “So this is Shenzhen.”
She withdrew her gaze and observed the other diners in the restaurant.
The place was quite busy, with many patrons dressed in suits and ties.
Several tables were clearly conducting business—documents spread out, voices lowered but speaking rapidly, occasionally punctuated by the clicking of calculators.
Around them, Cantonese and Mandarin intermingled, though Cantonese clearly dominated, much of it unmistakably tinged with a Hong Kong accent.
Gu Wangshu picked up her teacup and asked casually, “Are there many Hong Kong businessmen coming to Shenzhen for business?”
“Plenty of them.”
“Mostly they’re engaged in ‘three supplies and one compensation’—you saw it yourself on the way here, construction sites bustling with activity everywhere.”
“Several Hong Kong-funded electronics factories produce watches, radios, and cassette tapes. Once processed, the goods are shipped back to Hong Kong through the Luohu Port.”
“Then there are those making clothing, plastic flowers, toys… To put it bluntly, labor costs in Hong Kong have risen, so they move production lines here, saving a significant amount on wages.”
She paused, took a sip of tea, and continued, “Of course, companies like your Xinda Group, coming to Shenzhen for real estate development, are quite rare.”
Gu Wangshu raised an eyebrow slightly. “How so?”
“Real estate is different from manufacturing. For factories, you negotiate terms, rent a plot of land, put up a tin shed, and you’re ready to go.”
“But real estate involves land permits. Every step requires dealing with the government. Without government connections, getting land here? Don’t even think about it.”
“Government connections?” Gu Wangshu repeated tentatively.
Zhang Ziyu glanced at her, a meaningful smile in her eyes. “Exactly. Isn’t your family related by marriage to the Zhong family in Beijing?”
Gu Wangshu’s fingers tightened unconsciously.
Zhang Ziyu didn’t notice her reaction and continued on her own, “Times have changed. In the past, many Hong Kong families were reluctant to get too close to Beijing, afraid of picking the wrong side.”
“But look now. With the signing of the Joint Declaration in ’84, the 1997 handover is a done deal. Those who see clearly are scrambling to establish ties with Beijing.”
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “Take the Bai family, for example. You know them, right? The Bai daughter married the son of a mainland ministry official. Now that’s foresight—they’re truly planning ahead.”
Gu Wangshu was silent for a moment before speaking. “But… didn’t my cousin divorce him a long time ago?”
She referred to her as “cousin.”
Zhang Ziyu waved her hand. “The specifics I don’t know, but I heard from my dad that even though your cousin is no longer around, the connection doesn’t seem completely severed. After all…”
Gu Wangshu didn’t respond.
Zhang Ziyu suddenly looked past Gu Wangshu’s shoulder toward the restaurant entrance. “Ah, there’s the person I’m interviewing tomorrow.”
Gu Wangshu turned to follow her gaze.
A man in a light gray suit was walking from the direction of the elevator. He appeared to be in his thirties, with a tall, straight posture and a composed stride.
Two people accompanied him—one carrying a briefcase, the other holding a stack of documents, likely secretaries or assistants.
The man in the gray suit scanned the restaurant, his gaze not lingering on anyone, and walked directly to a table a few rows ahead to take a seat.
Zhang Ziyu whispered, “That’s him, Bai Qingyuan, the eldest son of the Bai family. The Bai family I just mentioned—that’s them.”
“He’s here in Shenzhen to inspect investment projects, from what I’ve heard. I’ve scheduled an interview with him tomorrow. I’ll go say hello now, get familiar.”
Gu Wangshu nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here for you.”
Zhang Ziyu stood up, straightened her collar, and walked over.
Gu Wangshu turned her gaze back to the window.
The scenery had shifted once more.
The revolving restaurant had imperceptibly turned to a new angle, revealing vast stretches of low-rise old houses and corrugated iron rooftops, all glowing dimly under the lingering sunset.
Gu Wangshu couldn’t quite tell which direction this was.
Lost in thought, she suddenly heard someone speaking nearby.
“Miss?”
Gu Wangshu didn’t react.
“Miss?” The voice drew closer, tinged with a cautious, tentative tone.
Only then did Gu Wangshu realize she was being addressed. She turned her head and met a young, smiling face.
It was a man around twenty years old.
Quite tall—likely over 180 centimeters—with pleasant, regular features. Yet his face still carried traces of youthful innocence, especially his eyes, bright and full of laughter.
“Miss, may I bother you for a moment?”
His Mandarin was standard.
Not the Cantonese-inflected Mandarin typical of Guangdong locals.
Gu Wangshu’s heart stirred slightly.
She looked at the young face before her and asked, “You’re calling me?”
“Yes, yes, I noticed you earlier.”
He scratched the back of his head somewhat sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning faintly red. “Um… I’m sitting at the table next to yours. Could we get to know each other?”
Gu Wangshu didn’t answer immediately, instead studying him carefully for a few seconds.
For some reason, she sensed a hint of familiarity in his face.
And in his tone of voice.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Suppressing the turmoil within, she asked calmly, “Are you… from Beijing?”
The man’s eyes lit up instantly, and he nodded repeatedly.
“Yes, yes! Is it that obvious?”
He grinned, revealing a row of neat white teeth. “I’m from Beijing. My name is Zhong Jinghe. May I ask your name, miss?”
Gu Wangshu’s expression remained unchanged, but her fingers, resting on her knees, slowly tightened.
Zhong Jinghe.
The son of Zhong Jihui, the second son of the Zhong family.
The nephew of her ex-husband, Zhong Jiming.
Memories spilled out like an overturned drawer, fragmented images flooding her mind.
During holidays, when the various branches of the Zhong family gathered for meals, Zhong Jinghe had been a round-faced, round-eyed child, full of energy, running wild across the courtyard.
One New Year, the little rascal had set off firecrackers that scared the family cat onto the roof. His grandfather chased him down and spanked him three times, his wails echoing through the entire alley.
So many years had passed. The young man before her, blushing and nervously striking up a conversation, was now a grown man.
Gu Wangshu slowly relaxed her clenched fingers, lifted her gaze, and looked at the young man again.
“Why do you want to get to know me?” she asked.
Zhong Jinghe scratched his head again, his face growing even redder, the flush spreading from his ears down to his neck.
“I… I just wanted to be friends with you.”
He spoke with increasing unease, his voice growing softer.
Gu Wangshu watched his deepening blush and suddenly felt an urge to laugh.
When she left Beijing, he had been a little brat chasing cats and getting spanked by his grandfather.
Now, he had learned to approach girls in restaurants.