Chapter 141 The Occasion

At six-thirty on Saturday night, Masayoshi Kishimoto and Rie Sakai appeared half an hour early in one of the most commonly used luxury private rooms in the Hi-Lo Fine Dining Pavilion. He sat lazily on the floor on top of a tatami mat, leaning back and resting his right elbow on a kneeling mat.

“Is it really a good idea for us to wait like this and not go outside to greet Professor Suzuki and his wife?” Rie Sakai asked in a flood of mutterings.

“When they arrive, the boss’s wife will bring the two in herself. You’re still young for this one, and you’ve grown up on too conventional a path, and you haven’t yet fully freed your mind from the constraints imposed on you by traditional propriety.

Professor Suzuki knows it all in his heart, and I know in my heart that we all came here not to eat, but all to talk about a deal.” Masayoshi Kishimoto did not cover up and said it nakedly.

Sakai Rie understood inside her heart, but still had difficulty accepting it on top of her emotions, “No matter what, we are the juniors and they are the elders.”

Masayoshi Kishimoto couldn’t help but yawn, “Everything depends on the occasion. If we go to the door to greet them, won’t we be asking for something?

In that case, Prof. Suzuki will see through your heart’s urgency, that is, that you are determined to have that trainee Western flutist from the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra.

Then, he’ll take the initiative, and I’ll be passive. When he makes an offer, it is extremely likely that he will add another markup on top of the original base expectation.”

Sakai Rie sat on her knees beside him, her eyes scrutinizing the fact that this man, who had been eating at the same table as herself and living under the same roof for almost two years, could have such a meticulous mind.

Masayoshi Kishimoto noticed that she was looking at her own strange gaze and said: ”You do not worry, patiently wait is. They won’t get lost and not be able to find this place.”

“I always feel that this is not good.” In her heart, Sakai Rie always crossed the line of wanting to obtain everything purely through her own strength.

Masayoshi Kishimoto just smiled heartily. He knew that the first time Sakai Rie did something that went against traditional morality, she would inevitably feel a sense of guilt or even guilt inside her heart.

These were all normal human reactions. Either that, or she was born with a natural talent for evil. If you do it a few times, you will get used to it. To be precise, it is to recognize the cruel reality of society.

Art? What is art? Is there a real standard? No. Just like the Chinese saying, the leader said you can, you can, not also can. If the leader says you can’t, you can’t.

“What are you laughing at?” Sakai Rie asked sensitively.

“I laugh that you are a rat carrying a gun in the nest. Inside the home, you dared to raise all sorts of barriers with me. How come you can’t hold back and wimp out once you’re here with your professor?” Justice Kishimoto playfully said.

“Not the same.” Sakai Rie was deeply influenced by that hierarchical system in Japan, and unconsciously lowered her stance when facing high-ranking people. She stiffened her mouth in front of him in a deadpan manner.

“If you say it’s different, it’s different!” Masayoshi Kishimoto didn’t want to fight with her endlessly outside in this one public place.

His soul was that of a Chinese. His own education from childhood was not this Japanese set of mandatory obedience of subordinates to superiors.

Revolution, everyone is equal …… or even, the king and the marquis, rather have the seed? It is only the content of the Chinese textbooks that are filled with the content of education.

The traditional logical thinking of the Chinese is that either you stand, the old man kneeling, or you kneeling, the old man standing.

In China’s modern history, there was a time when the middle way was regarded as two-sided. Either the east wind overpowers the west wind, or the west wind overpowers the east wind.

He himself could not say which was good or which was bad. He was able to accept the top-down innovation, not necessarily bad, after all, is the least social cost of the desirable approach.

The disadvantage is obvious, is not thorough enough, retained a lot of remnants. A revolution, that was a mountain of corpses. Is it really any better? Wouldn’t it be, wouldn’t it just be a change of soup and a new set of ruling class to rule?

People who can’t even hold a gun steady, who are afraid in their hearts at the sight of hooligans, and who still clamor for revolution, are simply being funny. If you don’t have the courage to commit suicide, don’t even think of revolution. What’s wrong with having a peaceful meal?

The door was suddenly pulled open, and Mr. and Mrs. Suzuki appeared in front of Masayoshi Kishimoto and Rie Sakai. The two were attending in traditional Japanese kimonos.

They were dressed in such a way that they appeared both formal and tasteful; after all, for older Japanese, the appearance of their own people’s clothing on any occasion would not be seen as rude.

Sakai Rie stood up expansively and took the initiative to walk forward to greet them. At the same time, Masayoshi Kishimoto lazily stood up. He stood still with just a small smile on his face.

After a brief exchange of courtesies and pleasantries, the four were seated one after another. Masayoshi Kishimoto and Rie Sakai sat on one side, while the Suzuki couple sat on the other side across from each other. The two men were facing each other. The two women were also facing each other.

The owner’s wife saw that all the guests had arrived before ordering the people in the restaurant to start serving the food. Masayoshi Kishimoto picked up the small bottle of wine in front of him and took the initiative to extend it towards Professor Suzuki to pour the wine. Professor Suzuki naturally picked up his empty wine glass and accepted this toast from the other party.

“This one of me loves to make friends with respected old artists like Professor Suzuki.” Masayoshi Kishimoto poured himself a glass of wine while intentionally not addressing the other party as an “intellectual” from the fact that people who studied art were more comfortable with the title of “artist”.

He added the word “old”, both to appreciate the other party’s age and to emphasize the other party’s time attainment in the field of art.

“President Kishimoto, you are too kind. The title of old artist is shameful, I am just a servant who serves the goddess of art.” Prof. Suzuki smiled and drank the wine in his cup and said.

Masayoshi Kishimoto had long been accustomed to performing on various occasions, and even if he said any disgusting words of boasting and patting himself on the back, he would not feel sick to his stomach.

In his mind, there is no such thing as a director shouting “too much”. The better he acted, the more it showed that he had a high emotional intelligence.

“Professor Suzuki, one more cup.” Masayoshi Kishimoto once again handed out the small bottle of wine he was holding.

Professor Suzuki once again took a full glass, but did not drink it. He also picked up the small wine glass in front of him at this time and was going to pour a glass of wine for Masayoshi Kishimoto himself.

After drinking his own glass first, Masayoshi Kishimoto handed over his empty glass to take the other man’s pour as well. He was in no hurry at all to get down to business, just waiting for Professor Suzuki to speak first.

Besides, he had prepared himself before coming here. Since the other party was able to inquire about himself, he also had the means and channels to inquire about the other party.