mijobooks Chapter 369 Carmene Island
Chapter 369 Carmene Island
(Two chapters today~)
Early December 1900.
The "Red Arrow" arrived at Leningrad Moscow Railway Station at 5:40 a.m.
The platform lights weren't fully on yet, and cold air seeped in through the seams between the carriages; it was noticeably more humid than the wind in Moscow.
This place is close to the sea.
Even though the sea wasn't in sight, that scent was already mingled in the wind, blowing from the direction of the Neva River, passing through the station's tall arched ceiling, and landing on the shoulders of everyone who had just arrived.
The convoy waiting on the platform was two fewer vehicles than the one in Moscow. Two Volga trucks and one bread truck.
The drivers all wore dark coats and stood very straight when they saw the foreign guests come out, but they didn't have the rehearsed smile that Kozlov had.
The receptionist at the Leningrad Friendship Association branch was a young woman wearing a gray beret with a small badge pinned to her collar.
She greeted Xiu Yi in Russian, then quickly switched to slightly broken English, saying that the convoy was ready and the accommodations on Cammane Island had been cleaned.
It was still dark when the convoy drove out of the train station.
The first impression of this city is completely different from that of Moscow.
After leaving the station, the convoy proceeded along Nevsky Prospekt.
The streets were not yet fully bustling in the early morning, but the trams were already moving slowly on the tracks, with people wearing dark coats crowding the windows.
The buildings along the roadside still retain the scale of the imperial era, with pale yellow, light green, and gray-white facades forming a continuous line, and window frames and eaves decorated with more intricate details than those in Moscow. However, icicles are already hanging on those decorations, the walls have peeled away to reveal the dark underlying layer, the iron railings are rusty, and snow that has not been cleared away is still piled up under several porches.
It is more European and more refined.
But this refinement didn't convey a sense of wealth; instead, the decay gave off a strange weariness. It was like someone who used to be very particular, who, even with frayed sleeves, would still keep their collar perfectly straight.
Satsuki watched for a long time through the car window.
Shuichi sat down next to her, holding a simplified map of Leningrad that had been temporarily sent by the authorities. After looking at it for a while, he folded the map and placed it on his lap.
"It's not quite the same as Moscow," he said.
"Um."
Satsuki responded softly.
"Moscow is like the center," Shuichi said, gazing out the window. "This place is more like a window."
These words were spoken softly, yet they caused Satsuki to turn her head slightly.
She knew her father wasn't necessarily making a political judgment; it might just be a businessman's intuition about the city's character, but that intuition wasn't wrong.
Moscow was still striving to prove itself as the brain of the empire, while Leningrad had long since become accustomed to another identity—looking outward, looking towards the sea, looking towards Europe.
The convoy did not enter the city center.
After passing the end of Nevsky Prospekt, the Volga turned north and drove along a snow-covered tree-lined avenue into the river fork.
Looking out the car window, Satsuki could see the Neva River branching into several tributaries, cutting the land into several irregular islands.
The accompanying liaison officer turned around from the passenger seat and explained in Japanese:
"We are now heading to Kamine Island, which means 'stone island' in Russian."
He pointed to the bridge ahead.
"In the 18th century, this was where St. Petersburg nobles built their summer villas. After the revolution, all the buildings were nationalized and are currently managed by the Leningrad City Soviet, specifically for receiving important foreign guests."
The letter from Moscow regarding the arrangements described it as the "Leningrad State Guest House." But in reality, it was a detached villa—or, in old-fashioned terms, a "territory."
After crossing the bridge, the road suddenly became quiet.
On both sides were tall old trees, their branches bare of leaves and covered with white snow. Behind the trees, one could vaguely see walls and iron gates, with buildings appearing only at long intervals—each one independent and different in style, some wooden dachas, others stone huts, complete with 19th-century porches and carved capitals.
These mansions, once belonging to counts, generals, and bankers during the Tsarist era, now bear only a number on their doorplates.
The convoy stopped in front of a two-and-a-half-story stone villa. It had a neoclassical facade, with four Ionic columns supporting the portico. There were minor cracks in the columns, but overall it was well-preserved.
The garden was covered in snow, and several plaster sculptures stood in the snow, their shoulders and tops white, like people being slowly buried by something.
After the liaison officer got out of the car, he walked over to Xiu Yi and explained in a low voice.
"This villa originally belonged to the Dolgorukov family in the 19th century. After 1918, it was nationalized and is currently used for foreign affairs reception in Leningrad, usually only for foreign guests of ministerial rank or above."
He paused, as if to confirm whether his wording was appropriate.
"The Friendship Association believes that, given His Excellency Saionji's status, being placed here is the most appropriate arrangement."
After fixing the car, he stood on the porch steps and exhaled a puff of white breath. He looked around.
"This place is much more comfortable than the hotel in Moscow."
Satsuki looked up at the second-floor window. The curtains were still drawn, and light shone through the gaps, indicating that the heating was already on.
"At least there are no floor supervisors," she said.
Xiu smiled. "Indeed. Every time I hand over the keys before leaving, I always feel like I'm living in a dormitory."
The door opened from the inside. A middle-aged female housekeeper in a dark uniform stood behind the door, bowing slightly. She didn't speak Japanese, but only said "Please come in" in Russian.
The heating inside was excellent. Much better than the Academy of Sciences, and even better than the foreign guesthouse in Moscow.
The floor was made of old wood, and it made a slight sound when you stepped on it.
The furniture frames are in the style of Tsarist Russia, with high-backed chairs, carved low cabinets, and sturdy writing desks. However, the fabric was replaced later; the color is darker, and the weave is very regular, clearly indicating it was produced in a Soviet factory in the 1970s.
Amy dragged her silver-gray suitcase across the threshold.
"Wow." She stood in the foyer, looking up at the plaster moldings on the ceiling. "It's like living in a museum."
"Let me help you." Chizuru reached out from behind her and lifted the suitcase.
"Hey—I'll do it myself—"
Chizuru had already moved the box to the top of the stairs.
Unlike the hotel, this villa was nominally for the use of Saionji and his group during this period, so Fujita was able to disperse all the security personnel he brought with him throughout the villa, bringing the entire villa under his control.
Although there were still some people around outside, at least inside the villa it was a relatively private space.
……
By 3 p.m., the villa had finally quieted down.
Shuichi was drinking tea in the living room when Amy said she was going on an "adventure" and started running around the house.
Satsuki sat by the window, flipping through a city brochure sent by Leningrad.
The booklet wasn't printed very well, but the content was well-chosen: the Winter Palace, the Mariinsky Theatre, universities, academies, ports, shipbuilding, food processing, and cultural heritage.
Each word still maintained the decorum of official Soviet documents, but Satsuki could already see behind those repeatedly emphasized nouns another word that wasn't written down.
money.
At 3:15, the phone rang in the entryway.
Fujita answered the phone, said only a few words, and then went into the living room.
"A call from the Leningrad Friendship Association branch," he said. "They said Comrade Sobchak, having heard that His Excellency Saionji has settled in, wishes to come and extend his greetings on behalf of the city of Leningrad. He will arrive in fifteen minutes."
Xiu looked up at Satsuki.
Satsuki closed the brochure in her hand.
He knew the phone number here, when they would arrive, and even the exact time between settling in and before they officially rested.
It seems they are really short of money.
"Let's invite them over," Satsuki said.
Fujita responded and left.
Xiu put down his teacup, and the slight relaxation he had shown after his journey slowly faded from his face.
"Faster than from Moscow."
"Because he's in a more urgent situation than those in Moscow."
Fifteen minutes later, the sound of a car could be heard at the entrance of the manor.
A black Volga. It was a bit older than the ones I'd seen in Moscow, but very clean.
The car door opened, and two people got out.
The first person to get off the bus was a man in his fifties, tall and straight, wearing a dark gray cashmere coat and a dark red scarf.
His movements lacked the rigidity of a military officer, and he didn't act like a Moscow official who made every step a part of the system.
He's more like a university professor, or a lawyer accustomed to persuading others in court.
Anatoly Alexandrovich Sobchak.
He is not yet a mayor in the modern sense, but in Leningrad, no one can discuss the city's future without mentioning him.
Beside him was a much younger man, around thirty-five years old, tall and thin, wearing glasses, with neatly combed light brown hair, and a slightly oversized dark suit jacket, as if he had hastily found a formal outfit in the cold and in a hurry.
After getting out of the car, he didn't look around. His gaze fell directly on the entrance of the villa, then he quickly looked away and stood half a step behind Sobchak.
Satsuki recognized him at a glance.
Anatoly Borisovich Chubais.
At this time, he was far from having the power to change the fate of Russian assets that he would later possess, but the danger for some people did not come from their current positions, but from the fact that they had already thought ahead about things that others dared not even think about.
The meeting was arranged in the living room.
Shuichi was already standing in the living room, with Satsuki half a step behind him.
Amy was sent back to her room ahead of time by Satsuki – “Help me organize the exhibition hall floor plan in that Hermitage catalog.”
Fujita led the guests in.
As the man entered the living room, his gaze swept over the layout of the entire room before settling on Xiu Yi's face. He smiled, stepped forward, and extended his hand.
"Your Excellency Saionji. I am Anatoly Alexandrovich Sobchak, Chairman of the Leningrad City Soviet."
His Russian was clear and composed. After the liaison officer finished translating, Shuichi smiled and shook his hand.
"Chairman Sobchak, I've heard so much about you."
The handshake between the two was brief. After releasing his hand, he turned to Satsuki, his tone deliberately gentler than when he spoke to Shuichi.
"This must be Miss Saionji."
Satsuki gave a slight bow. "Hello, Mr. Sobchak."
Sobchak nodded, then stepped aside and led the young man behind him forward half a step.
"This is Anatoly Borisovich Chubais, the director of the city's economic reform committee."
Chubais stepped forward and shook hands with Xiu.
"Please sit down, please sit down." Xiu Yi gestured towards the sofa, and the butler had already served some dark-colored Soviet black tea.
The four of them sat down. Chizuru stood by the door, her hands clasped together. Fujita retreated to the hallway.