The flight touched down at Eastern Airport at two in the afternoon. Japan was only one hour ahead — no jet lag to speak of. From the moment Ma En stepped off the plane, the clock was running. The sooner he settled, the sooner he could begin real work. He had no interest in wasting time on logistics.

People always said the air in Japan was cleaner than in China's big cities. Ma En didn't notice much difference, probably because his own city had decent air to begin with. Outside the airport, he found a phone booth and called the contact he'd arranged in advance. He needed housing in the Tokyo City suburbs, and ideally a lead on work. Having someone on the ground made everything easier.

The contact was a real estate agent — a Japanese Party Comrade, though the two of them had never met directly. The connection ran through Domestic Party Members back home: an introduction, a chain of trust, a first meeting. Ma En ducked into the restroom and checked himself over. Dark gray suit, dark red tie, leather shoes wiped clean with a tissue. Nothing out of place. He took the black umbrella in one hand and the suitcase in the other, hailed a taxi, and headed to the meeting point.

They'd agreed on a small park. Tree canopies hung dense and green overhead, throwing dappled shadows across the ground. Afternoon light at half past three filtered through the leaves as if the foliage itself were glowing. The park was quiet — a few people passing through, no one lingering. Ma En followed the directions to a wooden bench beside the lawn. The bench had been there a while: the grain and nail heads had gone the same weathered brown, not paint but age. The smell of damp earth and green things filled his nose. The contact was already seated, newspaper open, briefcase beside him.

Ma En studied the man as he approached. His appearance matched the photograph exactly — a recent shot, clearly. Around 40. Unwrinkled face, healthy color in his skin, though his hairline was thinning at the crown. Clean-shaven. Posture perfectly upright — not effort, habit. Dark suit, white tie, a pocket square showing its corner. Everything about him was deliberate.

At a dozen paces out, the man looked up. His eyes found Ma En immediately, ignoring everyone else in the vicinity. A polite smile. A nod. Warm without being familiar. Ma En quickened his pace. The man picked up his briefcase to clear the seat, and Ma En sat down.

"Ma-san?" The man folded his newspaper into a crisp rectangle, set it on his knee, and addressed Ma En in Japanese.

"Yes. My name is Ma En. I'm in your care." Ma En's Japanese came out a touch stiff. He spoke six languages; Japanese was one of them, but he'd had few chances to use it with real people.

"A pleasure. I'm Kamishima Kousuke. I'm in your care as well." The man sat bolt upright on the park bench, hands on his knees, and bowed from the waist. Ma En recognized the custom. Back home, this degree of formality would read as excessive, but he was in Japan now. He returned the bow as best he could.

"I've been briefed on Ma-san's situation." Kamishima skipped the small talk entirely and went straight to business. "I'd like to know — how long does Ma-san intend to stay in Japan?"

"Permanently, if possible." Ma En appreciated the directness. His answer was equally plain.

"Permanently?" Kamishima smiled. "For most people that would be complicated. But Ma-san is an International Party Member. It's mostly a matter of paperwork."

"What does the paperwork involve?" Ma En asked.

"First, if Ma-san wouldn't mind answering a few questions?"

"Of course."

"Is Ma-san here on Party assignment?" Kamishima's eyes locked onto his, intent and unblinking. Ma En felt a flicker of surprise at the question, then understood.

"No. I've resigned. I'm here for personal reasons." He kept his expression pleasant.

"Ah, yes — I'd heard about the resignation, but didn't know the details. So this isn't official business?" Kamishima held the eye contact. "And there's no... particular objective?" The question carried weight. Ma En caught the implication — Kamishima was probing for something specific. But whatever suspicion lay behind the words had nothing to do with him.

"I've severed all professional ties back home," Ma En said evenly. "But I'm still a Party member."

"Mm." Kamishima nodded, his gaze easing at last. The smile stayed. "Understood. Does Ma-san have any preferences regarding work or housing?"

"I'd like to continue serving the Party, if there's an opportunity." Ma En had already read the man's background.

He didn't mind this conversation, and he didn't mind what Kamishima represented. Ma En was a Party member. He wanted to keep that status, even here — especially here. Between Party Comrades abroad, the bond was as tight as between people from the same hometown. Tighter, in some ways: it was formalized, institutional. Since resigning and leaving the country, most of his domestic Party connections had gone dormant. Japan's political landscape — the Red Party and the Imperial Party trading power back and forth, locked in the subtle antagonism that had defined the postwar era — meant that only Japanese Party Comrades could smooth his path. They could help with work, with housing, with maintaining contact with his family back home from a position of deliberate distance.

The calculus was straightforward. To remain a Party member anywhere in the world, you needed Party-recognized employment and a track record of contribution. Paying dues wasn't enough — you had to earn the right to keep paying them. That meant work connected to the local Party apparatus. Whether his domestic ties would eventually reactivate was a separate question.

Kamishima understood all of this without Ma En having to spell it out.

"I reviewed Ma-san's file after I received word of your arrival." Kamishima said it matter-of-factly — no pretense, no apology. That openness put Ma En at ease instantly; it was exactly how Party business was supposed to work. "Provincial Key University graduate. Skipped grades multiple times during your studies. Didn't sit many professional certification exams, but you're functionally fluent in six languages, well-versed in computer science and folklore culture. Strong record of achievement in your government posting. Personable. Good with colleagues. Clean background." His eyes carried a message the words didn't: The Party has always been watching you.

"You're too kind," Ma En said. But he nodded.

"Ma-san has always shown excellent Party consciousness — that's commendable. Honestly, it's unusual for someone with your profile to resign and leave the country. Security considerations aside, the timing and the reasons invite... attention." Kamishima paused. "But wherever you are, the Party doesn't abandon members like you. That's why I asked those questions." He shifted topics smoothly. "Under International Party Regulations, your domestic membership is currently on the re-review list. Dues are due next month, but I assume you haven't received a notice?"

"No. Completely understandable." Ma En said.

"Has Ma-san given any thought to what kind of work you'd like here?"

"Something related to Japanese folk culture, ideally." Ma En said. "The similarities and differences between Japanese and Chinese culture have always interested me. Folklore especially."

"I know of something that might suit you." Kamishima dropped the preamble. "A friend of mine — a Non-partisan Enthusiast, Katsura Masakazu — is opening a Computer Technology School in Bunkyo District. His goal is to accelerate the domestic computer industry's integration with international standards. I'd like to recommend Ma-san for a position in the School Administrative Department. As Ma-san surely knows, school outreach has always been a core Party priority. What do you think?"

"What's Katsura-sensei's attitude toward the Party?" Ma En didn't commit immediately.

He already knew what Bunkyo District meant — what it signified to place a Party member in a new institution founded by an independent figure. He understood what computer technology represented as a sector, and what it meant that someone could open a technical school in Bunkyo District from scratch: Katsura-sensei was successful, well-connected, and powerful. That he was non-partisan made him a natural subject of Party interest — but the interest had to be handled delicately. Too much pressure would poison the relationship. That was why they needed someone like Ma En: an International Party Member who could maintain a presence without overstepping. From a practical standpoint — salary, benefits, working conditions — there was nothing to hesitate about.

"Katsura-sensei is a Party Sympathizer, though without any strong factional lean. A moderate. An enlightened Progressive Leftist." Kamishima's phrasing was precise.

Ma En nodded. He had the picture now. The Party wanted a foothold, not a confrontation. Katsura-sensei wanted balance — a subtle equilibrium that wouldn't draw the Imperial Party's attention or antagonize anyone. People like him were common. This wasn't a difficult assignment. Routine, really — but routine in the way that mattered. Show up. Occupy the administrative seat. Make the Party's existence felt when it needed to be felt, even in the smallest way.

"I understand. I'd be glad to work with Katsura-sensei," Ma En said, his expression calm and pleasant.

Kamishima nodded. "There should be further news within three days. Please wait at ease, Ma-san."