Before the car door opened, Fujita got out first.
Chizuru walked around to Satsuki's side to confirm the position.
Shuichi got out after him; there was no anger on his face, but his expression was much colder than usual.
Satsuki got out last.
As soon as she stepped out, the cold wind immediately bit at her cheeks.
Ink was still dripping down the car window, the black droplets landing on the snow, looking incredibly stark.
Sobchak walked over quickly and stopped a step away from Shuichi.
"Lord Saionji, I am terribly sorry. Leningrad has failed to provide you with the order you deserve."
After the liaison finished translating, Shuichi did not smile this time.
He glanced at the protesters still kept behind the crowd, then looked at Sobchak.
"Chairman Sobchak, we understand that a city in difficult times will have many different voices."
"But understanding does not equal ignoring. The Saionji family is willing to trust its friends, but we cannot leave our safety to luck."
Shuichi was genuinely angry this time; regardless of whether this incident was under control or not, he did not want to let Satsuki be in a dangerous situation.
Sobchak lowered his head slightly.
"I accept your criticism. I will provide an explanation for what happened today."
Only then did Satsuki look at him.
"Mr. Sobchak," she said in Russian, "the people from just now were not just a single group."
Sobchak looked up.
"There were workers, young people, people taking pictures, and some who just wanted to slow the situation down."
"You are more familiar with this city than we are; you should be able to distinguish them more clearly than I can."
Sobchak looked at her for a moment.
"Thank you for the reminder, Miss Saionji. I will distinguish them."
Satsuki bowed slightly and said nothing more.
Sobchak reached out himself, signaling for them to enter the Winter Palace.
The thick doors blocked the sounds from outside behind them.
The warmth rushed to meet them, and the golden hall unfolded before their eyes.
The towering pillars, bright chandeliers, and impeccably preserved walls and floors felt like another world.
Only after entering did Emi seem to breathe again, casting a quiet glance behind her.
The shouting outside had already become muffled.
But at least for now, since she could not hear it, she would pretend it did not exist.
Sobchak did not take them into the side hall immediately, but instead personally accompanied them along a long corridor further inside.
Chubais followed a bit behind, while several municipal and museum staff automatically dropped back half a step.
The sudden incident from earlier left no room for casual pleasantries, which in turn made the conversation more direct.
They walked slowly along a side corridor.
Several historical paintings hung on the corridor walls; the officers, flags, and crowds in the paintings were arranged in grand compositions, and because many things were framed, they appeared more orderly than when they actually occurred.
But the Winter Palace itself makes it hard to fully believe in order.
It was once the center of imperial power, and it also became a place that crowds imagined must be stormed, occupied, and rewritten.
The people outside were certainly not a revolutionary army.
There were too few of them, and they had no guns in their hands.
What could they rely on? Nothing more than some cardboard, a few banners, and a bottle of ink.
Yet Satsuki could still sense a certain familiar scent.
When life itself begins to lose certainty, crowds will seek a target that can be seen.
Palaces, foreign guests, foreign capital, reformist officials—once these words are placed on the same day, before the same door, they are enough to make many people who were originally unrelated stand together briefly.
Sobchak also glanced at the painting on the wall.
His expression quickly returned to calm, but that momentary silence made this stretch of the path seem longer than it originally was.
"Regarding what just happened, I will not say it was just a few troublemakers," Sobchak slowed his pace. "That would be convenient to say, but dishonest."
"Leningrad currently has shortages, fear, and many people who do not believe that reform will make their lives better."
Sobchak turned slightly, looking at Shuichi.
"We need external cooperation, but if that cooperation only makes the City Hall look respectable, while failing to ensure hospitals have medicine, shops have food, and factories can continue to operate, then the people outside will not believe in us."
As he said this, his gaze swept past the high window on one side of the corridor.
The crowd from before could no longer be seen in the square outside the window, leaving only the trampled snow and the moving shadows of a few guards.
That chaos was blocked outside by the thick walls of the Winter Palace, but Sobchak knew the real problem had not been blocked.
"Several hospitals in the city have already started postponing non-emergency surgeries because sutures, disinfectants, and disposable supplies are all unstable."
"The food supply situation is even more troublesome. It is not that the warehouses are completely empty, but the spoilage is too high, transport is too slow, and by the time it reaches the front of the shops, the lines already stretch to the street corner."
He did not use the numbers from the reports.
In a place like this, numbers instead make it seem like one is shirking responsibility.
So he only spoke of concrete things: medicine, warehouses, lines, transportation.
"The port is the same. Leningrad is clearly near the sea, yet it cannot deliver the things the sea brings into the city in a timely manner."
"On one hand, the equipment is too old and there are not enough cold storage facilities; on the other hand, the coordination between the railways and warehousing is also extremely chaotic."
"We possess many things on paper, but in reality, almost every step gets stuck for a long time."
Hearing this, Shuichi finally stopped responding with just a polite expression.
Sobchak could see that the other party understood, so he lowered his voice a little more.
"The workers outside certainly do not understand these things. They only know that wages are delayed, there is less meat, and they need to pay for their children's daycare."
"They will be afraid, and they will be used by others."
"But if we cannot let them see some concrete improvements, then even if we persuade them to leave today, tomorrow there will be another group of people standing at another door."
Shuichi's expression finally softened a little.
"Chairman Sobchak being able to say this at least shows that we did not come here in vain today."
There was still distance in this sentence, but it was no longer pure dissatisfaction.
They walked past a massive historical painting.
The figures in the painting wore old-era military uniforms, with ships and a port in the background.
Satsuki glanced at it, but her gaze quickly fell back on Sobchak.
"So what your city needs most urgently right now is to let people see improvements first," Shuichi said. "Only by letting them see changes can they be willing to listen to reform, is that right?"
Sobchak nodded.
"Yes. To be frank, Leningrad is in great need of money right now."
"Medical care, food supply, port equipment, urban infrastructure maintenance, and cultural heritage sites like the Winter Palace—every single thing requires money."
"But the central government cannot provide enough funding, and the local government does not have a mature method to cooperate with foreign enterprises."
Chubais took over the conversation at this point.
"Without a formal system, cooperation will just turn into a pile of temporary promises."
"Proposed by the City Soviet today, denied by some department tomorrow; goods enter the port today, but tomorrow there is no one responsible for the settlement."
"Foreign capital cannot accept this state, and we ourselves should not continue to rely on this state."
Shuichi listened to the translation and turned his gaze to Satsuki.
Satsuki did not speak immediately.
She looked at the port painting on the wall; the ships in the painting were docking, and the distant sky was painted a pale gold.
That was an era when the empire reached out toward the ocean; the decency, ambition, and violence of an era were all packed into the same painting.
Today, this city still retains that window, yet it no longer knows what to use to block the wind blowing in from outside.
"For the first stage, do not talk about things that are too heavy," Satsuki finally said.
She did not look at Chubais, but rather at Sobchak.
"If you start by focusing on issues like port ownership, enterprise restructuring, or asset prices, the fears of the people outside will only be more easily exploited."
Sobchak lowered his posture unassumingly, listening very carefully.
Even though he had only met Satsuki twice, he could sense that this young girl was the core of the other party.
As Satsuki walked, everyone followed in her footsteps.
"Cooperation between Saionji and your side can consider three directions. Broadly speaking, it can be divided into medical and food supply, port cold chain and warehousing equipment, and technical exchange between universities and research institutions."
"The first two items can be explained as maintaining city operations, and the third can be explained as cultural and academic cooperation. None of them need to be written down as asset purchases, nor do they need to be described as privatization."
She did not speak too quickly.
The more it is at a time like this, the less she could let the other party feel that Saionji was eager to reach out.
Sobchak needed an external channel, Chubais needed a systemic sample, and what Saionji needed was an entry point that would not be burned away by mass sentiment on the first day.
"Medical and food supply can first be done as small-scale pilots. A few hospitals, a few food warehouses—the scope should not be large, but the results must be visible."
"Which hospital the medicine went to, which warehouse the food left from, how much the spoilage in between was reduced—all of these must be able to be written down."
She looked at Sobchak.
"This way, your side can tell the people outside that cooperation will not take anything away from their hands, but rather first get the city running again."
Sobchak nodded slightly, not interrupting.
Satsuki turned her gaze to Chubais again.
"Regarding the port, in the first stage, we will only look at the cold chain, storage, loading and unloading spoilage, and transportation coordination. Saionji Trading can send people to investigate, but the name of the investigation should be food and medical supply assurance, not port operations."
Chubais's eyes flickered.
Satsuki finally mentioned universities and research institutions last.
"Technical exchange is even simpler. Visits, lectures, equipment assistance, data exchange—nominally, all of this can be placed under cultural cooperation."
"Leningrad has universities and the Academy of Sciences; Saionji has research funds and equipment channels. Both sides should first start from non-sensitive areas; there is no need to make everyone think that someone will leave the Soviet Union tomorrow."
She paused.
"First, let this city accept the matter of cooperation itself; only after that can we talk about deeper things."
Chubais pushed up his glasses.
"But port equipment will involve logistics."
"That is why we are only talking about cold chain and storage equipment," Satsuki said. "Food will not walk into shops by itself, and medicine cannot be preserved by slogans."
"Cold chain and storage do not sound like controlling the port, but they will let us know how the port truly operates."
Shuichi glanced at her, not interrupting.
Sobchak pondered for a moment.
"This is easier to explain to the outside world."
"And it is easier for people to see results," Satsuki said. "If a few hospitals get supplies first, if a portion of the food supply can be stabilized for a few weeks, if a certain warehouse at the port can reduce spoilage, then the people outside will at least know that cooperation is not about driving them out of the factories."
Chubais's gaze rested on her face for a moment.
"Miss Saionji places great importance on the narrative."
"The narrative will determine what people see first," Satsuki replied, "especially in Leningrad right now."
She did not finish this sentence.
But everyone present understood that she was referring to the commotion earlier.
Sobchak finally revealed a hint of a weary smile.
"Then, let us start with the projects that can help us survive."
The group followed behind Satsuki.
The exhibition halls in the Winter Palace were one after another, gold and white interwoven, the deep red walls appearing exceptionally warm under the lights.
Emi gradually regained her spirits; she still could not help but look more when passing by several paintings, but she did not interject, just quietly following behind Satsuki.
Shuichi spoke up at this moment.
"The Saionji family can have our trading and medical personnel prepare a preliminary framework. However, before that, your side needs to provide a list."
"Which hospitals are most urgent, which food supply links are easiest to see results in, and which port equipment can be openly included in urban cooperation. We will not invest resources in projects without a responsible party."
Sobchak nodded.
"The City Soviet will organize the first list within three days."
Chubais added:
"I will have the Economic Reform Committee participate in the format design; each project will clearly state the proposing party, the executing party, the material receiving party, and the settlement method."
Satsuki looked at him.
"One more thing."
Chubais waited for her to continue.
"In the documents for the first stage, do not include any content that makes cutting workers' wages a prerequisite for cooperation."
"We can discuss enterprise efficiency later; right now, if we make the workers feel from the start that foreign capital means laying them off, what happened outside today will happen again."
Chubais did not agree immediately.
He clearly did not like this restriction because, from his perspective, enterprise reform would sooner or later encounter issues with redundant staff and wages.
Sobchak, however, nodded first.
"Agreed. At least for the first stage, the name of the cooperation must be maintaining supply and stabilizing the city."
Chubais glanced at him and ultimately did not refute.
They continued walking forward.
Finally, they stopped in front of a painting depicting the port of St. Petersburg.
In the painting, there were masts, seagoing ships, and the water surface in the distance illuminated by sunlight.
Those ships were sailing in from the sea, as if bringing wealth to this city, and also as if bringing uncontrollable winds to it.
Sobchak stood before the painting, and after a moment, said:
"From its birth, Petersburg was meant to open a window."
Satsuki looked at the sea surface in the painting.
"Once the window is open, the wind will come in."
Sobchak did not deny it.
"That is why we must know which winds allow the city to breathe, and which winds will set the fire ablaze."
Shuichi was also looking at the painting, not speaking anymore.
Chubais stood a bit behind, having already written a few lines in his notebook.
Within three days, the Leningrad side will provide the first list of projects.
The Saionji side will prepare the draft of the cooperation framework.
Both sides will establish a non-public working group; nominally it will be for cultural, humanitarian, and urban cooperation, but in reality, it will handle preliminary investigations into medical, food, port, research, and enterprise restructuring.
This was a cooperation without a contract.
In the Soviet system, any cooperation without documents sufficient to be publicized hardly seems to count as a success.
But Satsuki knew that this was already enough.
The doors of the Winter Palace were not fully opened.
But they had already revealed a crack.