Today’s Rolling Club meeting was a regular quarterly gathering rather than a special event. These gatherings were held at the turn of the season, so this one was called the Autumn Meeting.
Yilin belonged to the Shanghai Rolling Club, but the system allowed members to attend meetings in other countries. Still, she never went unless her father asked her to represent him.
Kyoto’s regular meetings were typically held in the hall of a luxury hotel located by the Kamo River. Yilin changed into a black evening dress before arriving at the venue.
Looking around, she saw that it was a small standing reception. The wine selection was extensive, but the food was limited to light snacks. Most of the attendees were elderly, so they probably weren’t interested in having a hearty meal here anyway.
I should’ve eaten beforehand.
Yilin glanced at the food laid out on the long table. There were small sandwiches, crackers topped with dry-cured ham and cheese, Caprese salad, roast beef, small cake slices, strawberries, and Shine Muscat grapes. But eating a little bit now would only make her feel hungrier, and dinner was not the reason she’d come here.
Sipping some white wine to distract her empty stomach, she scanned the room and found her target, an elderly man clad in a haori jacket and hakama pants.
“Good evening,” she said, approaching him with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The kindly old man smiled back. “Why, if it isn’t Miss Yilin Jing.”
This was Munechika Takamiya, a wealthy connoisseur. He’d been the first to discover Ensho’s talent, as well as that of Ensho’s father, Taisei Ashiya. Yilin recalled her father’s instructions: Get close to Takamiya and obtain information on his collection.
“Are you in Kyoto for a trip?” Takamiya asked.
Yilin shook her head. “I’m actually starting grad school in Kyoto in October.”
Takamiya smiled in amusement. “For what purpose?”
Yilin froze for a second. She’d expected him to ask what her field of study was. Had he realized that she was talking to him at her father’s request?
No, it can’t be. He must be asking why I decided to study abroad in Kyoto.
“Working with Kiyotaka Yagashira and the others got me interested in Japan and especially Kyoto. I want to learn more about the city.”
“I see.” Takamiya narrowed his eyes.
Feeling as if he’d seen right through her, Yilin took a sip of wine to cover up her embarrassment.
“And here I thought you’d come for Ensho.”
“Huh?” Yilin’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Why would I be here for Ensho?”
As Takamiya said, Yilin was attracted to Ensho. That was another reason she’d started working at Kura. It wasn’t just to gain knowledge about antiques but also to learn more about Ensho’s object of affection, Aoi. But Ensho wasn’t her purpose for coming here. Her real purpose was something else.
“Your father is quite partial to him too,” said Takamiya. “Could it be that you came here to keep an eye on him so that no one takes him away?”
So that’s what he means.
Yilin took a deep breath to regain her composure, then smiled. “Not at all. He doesn’t belong to anyone anyway, right?”
“Of course. But artists cannot develop their talent in isolation. Just as Mozart had his father and Brahms had his teacher, Cossel, artists need someone to support and guide them. Your father and I are likely cut from the same cloth—we share a common desire.”
“A...common desire?”
“We want to discover brilliant creators and support them.”
Indeed, Yilin’s father was actively involved in finding and nurturing talent. The exhibition at Shanghai Museum had been part of that initiative. That said, Yilin didn’t think it was solely out of his love for art. She believed he was also putting on a performance for the world to see.
“Why do you have that desire?” she asked.
“Because we crave what we don’t have.”
She blinked at his instant reply.
“I wanted to become a creator and produce wonderful art myself, but I didn’t have the talent. It’s something that can’t be bought with money.”
Coming from a man as rich as Takamiya, those words were truly convincing. They resonated with Yilin’s heart.
“People seek what they can never possess in others, be it their wives, lovers, or business partners. For example, a man who’s insecure about his looks will want a beautiful woman by his side, while someone with an academic inferiority complex will look for the best and brightest. The physically weak seek the strong. Perhaps we instinctively want to fill the void within us.”
“I see.”
Yilin had witnessed it countless times—men with less than stellar appearances hell-bent on amassing wealth, marrying gorgeous women, and keeping several young mistresses. It could very well have been motivated by their insecurities.
On the contrary, what did a man blessed with both looks and talent, like Kiyotaka, seek in a partner? Yilin pictured him, beautiful and full of confidence, followed by Aoi’s cheerful smile. Was he attracted to her because of her comforting presence?
“So,” Takamiya continued, snapping Yilin out of her thoughts, “our efforts to discover and cultivate artists can also be seen as a search for the creators we wish we could be. When we encounter such a person, we want to support their talent, because by doing so, we might become part of their creations. Arrogant, I know.”
Yilin tilted her head. “You already seem to be supporting Ensho, though.” He even supported Ensho’s father. He must be special to Ensho.
“No, no.” Takamiya shook his head. “If you’re referring to the painting I bought, that’s no different from a mere fan excitedly buying a new release—it’s me supporting him whether he likes it or not. But what I want is to be his only partner. I’m sure your father feels the same way.” He gave a resigned sigh. “It doesn’t seem like Ensho will choose either of us, though. I invited him to tonight’s gathering, but he declined, saying, ‘Thanks, but I ain’t interested in events for rich people.’”
It sounded like something Ensho would say, given his distaste for the upper class.
“But you have a chance,” Takamiya said.
“Huh?” Eyes wide, Yilin pressed a hand to her chest.
Takamiya chuckled. “I assumed your father sent you here to win over Ensho.”
“That’s not true,” Yilin answered with an awkward smile.
Thinking about it, perhaps that was why her father hadn’t objected when she’d told him that she wanted to study in Japan. But in the end, he’d asked her to get close to Takamiya, not Ensho.
Yilin looked at the old man’s face again. He was smiling, but she could tell that he was wary of her. It was inevitable, seeing as he considered her a rival.
“Well then, until next time.” Takamiya bowed.
Yilin wanted to talk to him more—and become friends, if possible—but it seemed the feeling wasn’t mutual. I guess that’s it for today. As she bowed back, she noticed a small puppy netsuke attached to Takamiya’s sash. A stamp case hung below it.
“Ah, it’s a netsuke,” she blurted out without thinking.
“Oh?” Takamiya turned around. “You know about netsuke?”
“Yes.” Yilin nodded awkwardly. Upon closer inspection, the accessory was carved from wood, and its form and eyes were adorable. It’s all or nothing. “Is the artist Masanao Suzuki, by any chance?”
Takamiya’s eyes widened in shock. “Goodness, I can’t believe a foreigner like you is able to identify the creator. Yes, this is second-generation Masanao Suzuki. I collect them as a hobby.”
“I love Masanao Suzuki’s work too. It’s so charming. Netsuke is art you appreciate in the palm of your hand, right?”
Takamiya, oblivious to the fact that she was simply parroting what she’d heard earlier in the day, looked delighted. Other elderly men in kimono began to gather around them.
“I’ve also got a nice netsuke,” one of them said.
“Mine’s cute too,” said another.
All of them were sporting netsuke on their sashes. The materials varied—some were ivory, others were porcelain—but the designs were all stylish.
“Wow, how lovely!” Yilin exclaimed.
Seeing them proudly show off their netsuke as if it were a competition, she now understood why Kiyotaka had been willing to offer three million yen for the wooden mouse. These men would undoubtedly buy it for an even higher price.
“I’ve only recently taken an interest in netsuke, so there’s still a lot I don’t know,” Yilin admitted. “I want to see as many different kinds as I can.”
Takamiya’s face lit up. “How about I hold a netsuke showcase at my place, then? Would you like to come?”
“Oh! Yes, I’d love to!” Yilin bowed deeply.