“Tonight was a huge success,” Yilin said, feeling satisfied as she sat down on her bed.
In the end, she hadn’t eaten a proper dinner, so she was starving. She took out the steamed meat buns she’d bought at the convenience store and dug in.
Yilin was currently staying in a three-bedroom apartment along the Kamo River. It was a luxury condo, and its interior resembled a hotel suite.
“If he knew I was living in a place like this, he’d probably say, ‘You really are a rich girl,’” she lamented, imagining his scowl. “But it’s cheaper than renting a new place, isn’t it?”
Her father had already purchased this condo years ago as an investment, so staying here was actually the economical choice.
After finishing her meat buns, she sighed and lay down on the bed. “I’m stuffed.”
Surely this doesn’t fit the image of a rich girl.
She recalled Aoi’s words from earlier: “The price surprises even you, huh?”
Though people were always pointing out the privilege Yilin held as the daughter of a wealthy man, her perception of the value of money was actually no different from the average civilian’s thanks to her childhood nanny’s down-to-earth perspective. Yilin hadn’t been able to live with her parents due to family circumstances. On her birthday, someone would arrange for a cake and dress to be delivered to her, but her family had never celebrated it with her. All of her relatives had shunned her as well. Her nanny, taking pity on her, had showered her with love instead.
Yilin glanced at her phone and saw a new message.
“How are you adjusting to life in Japan?”
It was from her nanny. She smiled and replied, “I’m doing well. Thank you, Juhua.”
Juhua, meaning “chrysanthemum,” was her nanny’s name. The flower symbolized nobility in Japan, but in China, it represented a wish for a long life.
“My name is a prayer for longevity. When I was young, I didn’t quite grasp what that meant, but after passing sixty, I understood. I hope to live as long as possible so I can live with my daughter and grandchildren one day,” her nanny had explained with a wistful look on her face.
For complicated reasons, her nanny rarely got to see her daughter. Because of that, she probably empathized with Yilin’s situation. Worried that Yilin might someday be driven out of the Jing family, Juhua had taught her charge how to live as an average person just in case.
Yilin had resigned herself to her circumstances and was always trying to make amends with her family, though. If she was still driven out despite that, then nothing she’d done would have prevented it. Her relationship with her siblings had improved slightly, but deep down, they were probably still wishing she didn’t exist. Her brother’s interactions with her were awkward, and she remained estranged from her two sisters, who’d married and left home.
“I hope I can be of use to my father...”
✦ ✦ ✦
Yilin didn’t have work the next day, but she was thinking of visiting Kura in the evening to see Matsunosuke Ichikata when he came to pick up his netsuke.
“There’s somewhere I’d like to go before that, though...”
She exited Omiya Station and headed west before turning south at a small road called Bojo Street. After a total of about ten minutes of walking from the station, she came across Mibu-dera Temple on her right, followed by her destination on the left.
The wooden sign in front of the building read “Kyoto Seishu Netsuke Art Museum.” It was the museum she’d heard about yesterday. It didn’t look like one, though—not with its imposing gate reminiscent of a samurai’s abode.
There was an explanatory panel on one side of the gate titled “Former Kanzaki Clan Residence.” The building had been constructed in the late Edo period and was the only surviving samurai residence in Kyoto.
“How amazing... I can’t believe there’s a museum inside.”
Yilin paid the entrance fee, placed her shoes on the rack, and stepped onto the red carpet. There were a wide variety of netsuke on display, ranging from animals and plants to dragons and Heian-period princesses. She marveled at the wonderfully intricate carvings, but at the same time, she couldn’t quite relate to Takamiya and the other men’s obsession with them.
“Mom, can we go to the next room?” a young woman said to a kimono-clad woman who looked to be in her fifties.
“Mm, not yet.” The mother was engrossed in the netsuke.
“You really like these, huh?” the daughter asked in an exasperated tone.
The mother looked up from the display case. “When you start wearing kimono, you’ll understand. It’s so exciting to imagine having these netsuke attached to my sash.”
Their conversation was enlightening. Yilin, too, sometimes browsed shops and fantasized about which accessories would match the dress she was wearing. Perhaps netsuke enthusiasts felt similarly.
If I wore a kimono, what kind of netsuke would I want to wear? she wondered, gazing at the displays with newfound appreciation.