HBWnovel Chapter 22 The Cold Wind of Nagoya
Chapter 22 The Cold Wind of Nagoya
The New Year of 1986 brought no festive atmosphere whatsoever to Nagoya's manufacturing industry.
This is the central industrial region of Japan, the headquarters of Toyota Motor Corporation, and a hub for countless textile and machinery factories. In previous years, Atsuta Shrine would be packed with business owners praying for "prosperous business" at this time, but this year, the shrine's fortune-telling sticks seem to be filled only with "bad" fortune slips.
The snow is falling heavily.
The heavy, wet snow bent the roadside trees, turning the entire industrial area a ghastly white. The sky was as gloomy as a piece of cast iron, ready to strike at any moment.
A black Mercedes-Benz sedan rolled through the muddy snow and slowly drove into the gate of Saionji Textile Co., Ltd.
No security guard came out to salute. The security room was empty except for a radio that was still playing the morning news, which was reporting on a special report about "the sharp rise in the yen leading to a wave of bankruptcies among small and medium-sized enterprises".
The car stopped in front of a red brick office building built during the Taisho era.
The car door opened, and a biting cold wind mixed with snowflakes rushed in.
Shuichi Saionji pulled his coat tighter around himself and stepped out of the car. His leather shoes crunched on the undisturbed snow.
"President, watch out for the slippery floor."
The secretary behind him opened a black umbrella, shielding him from the falling snow.
Xiu looked up at the factory area in front of him, where even breathing created a white mist.
It's too quiet.
This place should have been filled with the rhythmic "clack-clack" of looms, the roar of delivery trucks coming and going, and the white plumes of smoke from steam boilers.
But now, it's as quiet as a giant tomb. Only a few crows in the distance perch on the extinguished chimneys, cawing hoarsely.
"Let's go."
Xiu Yi didn't linger and headed straight for the office building.
The corridor was dimly lit, and the plaster on the walls was peeling off due to dampness, revealing mold underneath. The air was filled with a musty smell of cotton and machine oil, a unique odor that had settled over decades and belonged to the old industrial era.
The door to the factory manager's office was ajar.
A heated argument could be heard coming from inside.
"...Even if the head of the family comes, it won't work! These workers have been with the old master since he was born! They've dedicated their youth to the Saionji family, and now you just want to kick them out? Is this something a human being would do?!"
That was the voice of Onodera, the factory manager.
Shuichi stopped, straightened his collar, and then pushed open the door expressionlessly.
The arguing inside the house stopped abruptly.
The office was filled with smoke, like a gas chamber.
Factory manager Onodera was slamming his fist on the table, roaring at several young managers who were trying to reason with him. He was sixty-five years old, with gray hair, wearing a faded blue overall, the cuffs stained with oil. His face was covered with deep wrinkles, each one filled with anger at this changing era.
When Onodera saw Shuichi enter, he paused for a moment, then instead of bowing respectfully as usual, he snorted heavily and plopped back down in the equally worn-out swivel chair.
"Oh, so the head of the family has finally decided to leave the comforts of Tokyo?"
Onodera said sarcastically, his fingers burning from the cheap cigarette in his hand, but he was completely unaware.
"Come and see how we country rats starve to death!"
Xiu Yi waved his hand, signaling his secretary to open the window.
A cold wind rushed in, dispersing the smell of smoke that filled the room and instantly lowering the temperature to freezing.
"Uncle Onodera".
Xiu Yi spoke, using the nickname he used when they were children.
"I'm not here to argue. I'm here to resolve the issue."
He walked to his desk and placed a thick document on the ash-covered surface.
"This is the new restructuring plan. Starting next month, production on all low-end garment lines will cease. Workshops 1 and 2 will be completely closed. The 'Nishijin-ori' production line in Workshop 3 will be retained. I have already prepared the list of layoffs, which will involve 320 people."
"Snapped!"
Onodera slammed his hand on the document with such force that the teacup on the table jumped.
"Solve the problem? You're killing someone!"
The old man jumped up from his chair, pointed at Shuichi's nose, his finger trembling violently with excitement.
"Three hundred and twenty people! That's three hundred and twenty families! They have elderly parents and young children to support. Being kicked out in this awful weather, are you expecting them to starve?!"
The current exchange rate is 192.
Shuichi's voice was calm and undisturbed, as if he were reciting scriptures.
"Our export orders were zero last month. There are 50,000 unsold shirts piled up in the warehouse. The factory is burning through cash every day. If we don't lay off workers, we won't even be able to pay the electricity bill next month. At that point, not only these 300 people, but the remaining 200 will also go down with us."
"That's your problem!" Onodera roared. "You're the head of the family! You should be the one to find a solution! Back when the old master was alive, even in the year of defeat, no one ever went hungry! How come in your generation, you're going to take it out on your own people?"
He walked around the table, approaching Shuichi, his cloudy eyes bloodshot.
"Shuichi, Shuichi, I watched you grow up. I even washed your pants when you wet them as a child! How did you become so heartless? Have you been corrupted by those vampires in Tokyo?"
Xiuyi looked at the old man in front of him who had lost control of his emotions.
He remembered what Onodera looked like when he was young. Back then, his father was still alive, and Onodera was a key technical worker in the factory, full of vigor and ambition.
But now, times have changed. That so-called "human touch" has become the heaviest shackle on the eve of this bubble of rapidly flowing capital.
If we don't smash it, the Saionji family's ship will sink.
"Times have changed, Uncle Onodera," Shuichi said softly. "Father is gone. Now, I'm the one in charge of this family."
"You're the one who decides?"
Onodera suddenly laughed, a rather mournful laugh.
"Fine, so you're the one who calls the shots."
He turned abruptly and rushed toward the red button in the corner.
That's the factory's emergency assembly siren. It's only sounded in the event of a fire or major accident.
"Ugh—!!!"
The piercing sound of the steam whistle instantly tore through the deathly silence of the factory area, piercing through the wind and snow, and echoing across the empty playground.
"If you're going to lay off employees, then say it in front of everyone!"
Onodera turned around, his face showing a kind of madness that seemed to suggest mutual destruction.
"Let's see if everyone agrees! Let's see if you, the head of the family, can even walk out of this gate today!"
……
Ten minutes later.
The open space in the center of the factory was packed with people.
Hundreds of workers, dressed in oil-stained work clothes and wearing hard hats, huddled in the snow, their faces etched with confusion, fear, and anger stirred by the sound of the ship's horn.
The union representative stood at the front, holding a megaphone, and was loudly questioning something.
Shuichi stood on the iron platform on the second floor, looking down at the crowd below.
The wind and snow stung his face like knives.
"President...should we leave first?" The secretary behind him turned pale with fright. "This mood isn't right, what if..."
"withdraw?"
Shuichi straightened the collar of his coat, which had been ruffled by the wind.
"If I withdraw now, the Saionji family will never be able to control any company again."
He pushed aside the secretary who tried to stop him and walked down the iron stairs step by step.
The sound of leather shoes stepping on the iron plate was swallowed by the wind and snow, but his figure was like a nail, firmly embedded in this chaotic scene.
A commotion broke out in the crowd.
"It's the head of the family..."
"I heard there are going to be layoffs?"
"What will happen to my family's loan if I lose my job...?"
The whispers merged into a low hum.
Onodera stood at the front of the crowd, holding a microphone. Seeing Shuuichi come down, he raised his hand and shouted like a tragic hero:
"Listen up, everyone! This is our patriarch! He's not here to hand out year-end bonuses; he's here to take away your jobs! He says he's going to shut down the factory and throw us out like trash!"
"boom--"
The crowd erupted in chaos.
"Are you kidding me!"
"We've worked for this company our whole lives!"
"We absolutely cannot agree to this! We will not agree to this!"
Some people started pushing and shoving, while others raised wrenches. Anger spread like wildfire, threatening to spiral out of control.
Shuichi walked up to the makeshift platform.
He didn't have a microphone.
He simply stood there quietly, his gaze sweeping over the distorted faces below.
His eyes were not fierce; in fact, they could be described as calm.
Of course, the people below didn't immediately rush forward and beat a nobleman to death with wrenches; gradually, they quieted down on their own.
But that eerie silence was even more unsettling than the earlier commotion.
Shuichi reached out and took the microphone from Onodera, who looked bewildered.
"Sizzle—"
The sound of electricity rang out.
"I am Shuichi Saionji."
His voice carried throughout the factory area through the old loudspeakers, even drowning out the howling wind.
"Just now, Factory Manager Onodera said that I'm here to take away everyone's livelihood."
Shuichi paused for a moment, his gaze falling on Onodera's flushed face.
He's right.
The entire audience erupted in uproar.
No one expected the capitalists to admit it so readily.
"But," Shuichi raised his voice, "if I don't take away the livelihoods of these three hundred people, by this time next year, everyone here, including me, will be starving."
"Because this factory is dead."
He pointed to the silent factory building behind him.
"Those shirts you produced are now piling up in the warehouse, getting moldy. Americans don't want them because they're too expensive. The Japanese don't want them either because the styles are too outdated. We're losing money on every single garment."
"Director Onodera is a good person. He wants to protect everyone, and he wants to maintain that warm, family-like atmosphere. But he forgot that even families need to eat."
Running a business based on emotions is irresponsible to everyone!
Shuichi's voice became stern, like a heavy hammer striking everyone's hearts.
"We're all adults with families to support. Instead of listening to empty talk about 'family sentiment,' let's talk about something more practical."
He took a folded piece of paper out of his coat pocket and unfolded it.
"Here is the new severance package."
The crowd fell silent instantly; everyone held their breath and stared intently at the piece of paper.
"All employees on the layoff list will receive a one-time payment..."
Shuichi took a deep breath and announced the number that made all the financial advisors think they were going crazy.
"Twelve months' salary. As severance pay."
Dead silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the falling snow seemed to pause for a moment.
In this era, although Japan has a tradition of lifetime employment, if a company really goes bankrupt or lays off employees, being able to receive three months' salary is already considered a stroke of good luck.
Twelve months! N+12!
This is not just severance pay, it's a windfall.
"In addition," Shuichi continued, "those who are willing to sign the agreement in advance will receive an extra three months' bonus. That is... fifteen months' salary."
"This money will be paid in cash. After signing the papers and receiving the money, I can go home for the New Year."
"boom--!!!"
This time, the uproar was no longer anger, but shock, disbelief, and even... ecstasy.
For these workers earning meager wages, fifteen months' salary is enough to pay off most of their mortgage or allow them to return to their hometowns and start a small business.
In this cold winter, this money is warmer than any slogan.
The union representatives who had been standing behind Onodera had quietly put down their banners. They looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with greed.
"This...this is impossible!"
Onodera's face turned deathly pale as he stared at Shuichi as if he had seen a ghost.
"Are you crazy! So much money... Where did the company get so much money?! Are you going to squander the family fortune?!"
"No need for you to worry about that."
Xiu turned around and looked at the old man who had been abandoned by the times.
"Mr. Onodera, in light of your actions of inciting a strike and disrupting production, the board of directors has decided to immediately remove you from your position as factory manager."
"Considering your forty years of service, I will double your pension. Now, please leave."
"You...you..."
Onodera pointed at Shuichi, his lips trembling, but he couldn't utter a single word.
He turned his head and looked at the workers below. He tried to find supporters, to find those old subordinates who had just been shouting "We will follow the factory manager to the death."
But nobody was looking at him.
Everyone's eyes were focused on the paper in Xiu Yi's hand, or they were calculating how much money they could get.
So-called "loyalty" is as fragile as a sheet of paper in the face of fifteen months' salary.
Onodera swayed.
He suddenly understood.
His era has come to a complete end.
He was killed by being buried under a mountain of money.
"well……"
Onodera gave a bitter laugh, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He took off his helmet and tossed it casually into the snow.
The hat that had been with him for decades rolled twice on the snow and became covered in mud.
He didn't look at anyone again, his back hunched, he staggered toward the gate. The wind and snow quickly blurred his figure, like a black dot forgotten by the world.
As Shuichi watched that figure recede into the distance, a fleeting pang of reluctance crossed his mind, but it vanished in an instant.
He turned around to face the eager workers below.
"The finance office has prepared cash. Those who want to collect their money, please line up."
"Those who don't want the money can continue to work tomorrow. But let me make this clear: those who stay will have to follow the new rules. Saionji Textile will no longer support idlers."
As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd surged toward the finance office like ants whose nest had been disturbed.
This time, people had no complaints.
All that remained was the desire for money.
Xiu Yi stood on the high platform, looking down at the throng of people below.
He felt his palms were covered in cold sweat.
This is called "cutting off an arm to survive".
Satsuki is right.
If these rotten parts aren't removed, the Saionji family, like a great tree, will truly die.
"President...you're amazing!" The secretary behind him wiped the cold sweat from her forehead, her face full of admiration. "For a moment just now, I thought a fight was about to break out."
"A fight is unlikely."
Xiu took out a handkerchief and wiped his glasses, which were wet from the snow.
There's nothing in this world that money can't solve. If there is, it's because you don't have enough money.
He put his glasses back on, the lenses concealing the deep weariness in his eyes.
"Get ready, I'm meeting with those technicians who returned from studying abroad tomorrow. The factory still needs to be inspected, but we can't keep doing that."
The snow was still falling.
But in this cold air, the suffocating, musty smell seemed to have dissipated somewhat.