In 1987, there was a palpable heat in the air of Shenzhen.
Gu Wangshu followed Zhang Ziyu out of the car and looked up at the building in front of them.
The International Trade Center stood fifty-three stories tall. It was said to have been built at the astonishing speed of “one floor every three days,” making it the tallest building in all of China at the time.
Gu Wangshu had long been accustomed to the skyscrapers lining both sides of Victoria Harbour, but standing at the foot of this building stirred something entirely different inside her.
Zhang Ziyu linked her arm through Gu Wangshu’s and laughed.
“What are you standing there staring at? Come on. The revolving restaurant is on the forty-ninth floor. I already made a reservation.”
Gu Wangshu pulled her gaze away and followed her into the lobby.
The elevator was made by Mitsubishi and moved quickly. Her ears popped slightly as the numbers climbed, and before she knew it, they had reached the forty-ninth floor.
For this era, the revolving restaurant was remarkably grand.
Round rosewood tables were covered with pristine white tablecloths. A small vase sat on each table, holding a single pink carnation.
The floor rotated at an extremely slow pace. Unless you deliberately paid attention to it, you could hardly feel it moving at all.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the entire city of Shenzhen stretched out before them.
Zhang Ziyu was clearly a regular here. The moment the hostess saw her, she smiled and came over to greet them.
“Miss Zhang, we’ve saved your usual table.”
The two of them sat down. Zhang Ziyu took the menu, but barely glanced at it before rattling off her order with practiced ease.
“Shrimp dumplings, steamed chicken feet with black bean sauce, durian pastries, egg tarts, and a plate of rice noodle rolls. And a pot of chrysanthemum tea.”
She closed the menu, thought for a moment, then added, “And a serving of water chestnut cake. I brought a friend today. She has to try your signature dish.”
The server acknowledged the order and left.
Gu Wangshu barely paid attention to what Zhang Ziyu had ordered. Her eyes remained fixed on the view outside.
The floor was turning so slowly that she could scarcely feel it, supposedly completing one full rotation every ninety minutes.
In the distance, the Shenzhen River stretched like a narrow strip of gray silk, lying quietly in the landscape.
On the opposite bank were the hills of Hong Kong’s New Territories—green and low, like a row of silent beasts crouching along the horizon.
Gu Wangshu silently tried to orient herself.
She had come from Hong Kong through the Lo Wu border crossing, and everything she had seen along the way had left her both unfamiliar and deeply shaken.
Construction sites were everywhere. Tower cranes rose into the sky, sand trucks lined the roads in endless queues, and clouds of dust seemed to blot out the sun.
There were newly built factory buildings along the roadside, old houses being demolished, and, every now and then, brand-new residential towers standing isolated amid vast construction sites.
This was Shenzhen.
In her previous life, she had never been here. In 1977, Shenzhen was still called Bao’an County, an obscure little place on the outskirts of Guangdong.
And now, in barely ten years, it had transformed into a vast, bustling, ambitious construction site.
After ordering, Zhang Ziyu followed Gu Wangshu’s gaze out the window and nodded toward the view with her chin.
“Look over there. Beyond the Shenzhen River is the New Territories. From here, it looks so close, almost as if you could reach out and touch it.”
“So this is Shenzhen,” Gu Wangshu said softly.
She wasn’t talking about the view before her.
Her words carried a much deeper and more complicated emotion.
Gu Wangshu withdrew her gaze and looked around at the other diners.
There were plenty of people eating here, many of them in suits and ties, briefcases beside them.
Several tables were obviously occupied by people discussing business. Documents were spread across the tables, and although they kept their voices low, they spoke rapidly. Every now and then, the clicking of calculator keys could be heard.
Cantonese and Mandarin mingled throughout the restaurant, though Cantonese was clearly more prevalent. Quite a few of the voices unmistakably carried Hong Kong accents.
Gu Wangshu lifted her teacup and casually asked, “Are there many Hong Kong businessmen coming to Shenzhen to do business?”
“Loads.”
“Most of them are doing what they call ‘Three Supplies and One Compensation.’ You saw it yourself on the way here. Construction is going on everywhere.”
“There are several Hong Kong-funded electronics factories producing electronic watches, radios, cassette tapes, and so on. Once the goods are processed, they’re transported back to Hong Kong through the Lo Wu border crossing.”
“There are also clothing manufacturers, plastic flower factories, toy factories… Basically, labor has become too expensive in Hong Kong, so they’re moving their production lines over here. It cuts their labor costs by a huge amount.”
She paused to take a sip of tea before continuing.
“Of course, not many companies like your Xinda Group are coming to Shenzhen to develop real estate.”
Gu Wangshu raised an eyebrow.
“How so?”
“Real estate is different from manufacturing. If you’re opening a factory, you negotiate the terms, rent a piece of land, put up a corrugated-metal shed, and you can start production.”
“But real estate involves land approvals. You have to deal with the government at every stage. Without government connections, getting land here? Forget about it.”
“Government connections?”
Gu Wangshu repeated the phrase tentatively.
Zhang Ziyu glanced at her, a meaningful smile flickering in her eyes.
“Of course. 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 talking.
“Things are different now. In the past, quite a few Hong Kong families weren’t particularly willing to get too close to Beijing. They were afraid of choosing the wrong side.”
“But look at things now. Once the Joint Declaration was signed in 1984, Hong Kong’s return in ’97 became a certainty. Anyone who could see where things were headed was rushing to establish connections with Beijing.”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice.
“Take the Bai family, for example. You know about them, right? Their daughter married the son of someone from a central government ministry on the mainland. Now that’s what I call thinking ahead. They’re genuinely laying the groundwork in advance.”
Gu Wangshu was silent for a moment before speaking.
“But… didn’t my cousin divorce someone from that family a long time ago?”
She had deliberately said “my cousin.”
Zhang Ziyu waved her hand.
“I don’t know the details. But I heard my father say that even though your cousin is gone, it seems that connection hasn’t been completely severed. After all…”
Gu Wangshu didn’t respond.
Suddenly, Zhang Ziyu’s gaze passed over Gu Wangshu’s shoulder and landed on the entrance to the restaurant.
“Oh, I see the person I’m interviewing tomorrow.”
Gu Wangshu turned and followed her gaze.
A man in a light-gray suit was walking over from the direction of the elevators. He looked to be in his thirties, tall and straight-backed, with an unhurried stride.
Two men accompanied him. One carried a briefcase, while the other held a stack of documents. They looked like secretaries or assistants.
The man in the gray suit swept his eyes across the restaurant without lingering on anyone. He walked straight to a table several places ahead and sat down.
Zhang Ziyu lowered her voice.
“That’s him. Bai Qingyuan, the eldest son of the Bai family. The Bai family I was just telling you about—that’s his family.”
“He came to Shenzhen this time to inspect some investment projects, apparently. I arranged an exclusive interview with him tomorrow, so I’m going over now to say hello and make sure he remembers my face.”
Gu Wangshu nodded.
“Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”
Zhang Ziyu stood, straightened her collar, and walked toward Bai Qingyuan.
Gu Wangshu turned her attention back to the window.
The view had changed again.
Without her noticing, the revolving restaurant had turned another angle. Vast stretches of low, old buildings and corrugated-metal roofs reflected the dim glow of the setting sun.
Gu Wangshu couldn’t immediately tell which direction she was looking toward.
She was lost in thought when she suddenly heard someone speaking beside her.
“Miss?”
Gu Wangshu didn’t react.
“Miss?”
The voice came a little closer, cautious and tentative.
Only then did Gu Wangshu realize that he was speaking to her. She turned around and found herself looking into the smiling face of a young man.
He looked to be about twenty.
He was quite tall, easily over six feet, and reasonably handsome, with regular features. Yet there was still a trace of youthful innocence in his face that hadn’t completely faded. Most striking were his eyes—bright and full of laughter.
“Miss, may I bother you for a moment?”
His Mandarin was perfectly standard.
There wasn’t the faint Cantonese inflection that often accompanied Mandarin spoken by people from Guangdong.
Something stirred faintly in Gu Wangshu’s heart.
Looking at the young man before her, she asked, “Are you from Beijing?”
His eyes lit up immediately, and he nodded repeatedly.
“Yes, yes! Is it really that obvious from the way I speak?”
He grinned, revealing a row of neat white teeth.
“I’m from Beijing. My name is Zhong Jinghe. May I ask your name?”
Gu Wangshu’s expression didn’t change, but the fingers resting on her knee slowly tightened.
Zhong Jinghe.
The son of Zhong Jihui, the Zhong family’s second son.
Her former husband Zhong Jiming’s nephew.
Her memories came rushing back like the contents of a drawer that had suddenly been knocked over, fragments and scattered images tumbling out all at once.
Every New Year and holiday, the various branches of the Zhong family would gather for dinner. Back then, Zhong Jinghe had had a round face and big round eyes. He had been incredibly energetic, racing around the entire courtyard.
One New Year, the little rascal had set off firecrackers and frightened the old man’s cat so badly that it scrambled onto the roof. His grandfather had chased him around with a cane and smacked him three times on the backside. His howls had been loud enough for the entire alley to hear.
So many years had passed.
The young man standing before her now, scratching the back of his head, his face flushed as he nervously tried to strike up a conversation with her, had grown into a young man.
Gu Wangshu slowly relaxed her clenched fingers and looked at him again.
“Why do you want to get to know me?” she asked.
Zhong Jinghe scratched the back of his head again. His face grew even redder, the flush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck.
“I… I just wanted to make friends with you.”
The more he spoke, the more embarrassed he became, and his voice grew quieter and quieter.
Looking at his increasingly red face, Gu Wangshu suddenly found it difficult not to smile.
When she had left Beijing all those years ago, he had still been a little brat who chased cats around and got smacked on the backside by his grandfather’s cane.
And now, somehow, he had learned how to approach girls in restaurants.