A Grouper’s Eye, a Cut Ribbon, and the Three Taps That Ended an Empire
He met Chen Rugui for the first time in a private room of a Chaoshan restaurant in Guangzhou. The air conditioning was set so low that beads of water had formed on the cold jellyfish salad. Xu Jiayin stood to pour the tea, his thumb pressing the teapot lid, the spout aimed at Chen Rugui’s cup—not a drop spilled. Chen Rugui said nothing; he merely turned the cup half a circle so the handle faced himself. That year, Evergrande had just found its footing in Guangzhou. The old-redevelopment land parcels were like frozen meat that hadn’t thawed—whoever seized them survived. Xu Jiayin wore a white shirt that day, the cufflinks silver, no logo. After the meal, he saw Chen Rugui to the car. Before the door closed, he reached out and covered the door frame—a gesture so light it was like shielding a lamp. They didn’t shake hands. Chen Rugui nodded inside the car. The driver later stated in his deposition that there had been an extra brown paper bag on the back seat that afternoon. Xu Jiayin never mentioned it the whole time. The boss didn’t ask either.
