Shanghai Story

by Alexa Kang

  “Maybe.” Tang shrugged. “Anyway, one more piece of advice. Don’t let Sītu know you hold any resentment against him. You did him a favor now that he delivered to the Green Gang what they wanted. If he’s convinced that you’re in his fold, you can be sure some kind of reward will be coming your way.”

  Reward? He didn’t want any reward. He didn’t want to get further entangled in this web of favor exchanges. He wanted the collateral damage along the way to stop. How many more Ah-Jins had to be sacrificed? And if the KMT depended on warlords and gangs now, could they really detach themselves from the black society when they finally secured power?

  If they couldn’t, then where would he find himself when the KMT finally got everything their way?

  A knock on the door put a stop to their talk. Sītu opened the door and walked in. Clark and Tang immediately stood up.

  Sītu gestured for them to sit down and took the other empty seat across from Tang. “I received a call earlier. Madam Chiang Kai-shek will be returning to Shanghai for a visit next week. She wants to arrange a meeting with us.”

  “Us? Me too?” Clark asked. Why would the Generalissimo’s wife want to meet him? Rank wise, he was nobody.

  “Yes, you too. She wants you to brief her on what you’ve been doing with the Americans. She also has a special assignment for you.”

  Special assignment? Why would she appoint him, a new local official she’d never even met? Did Sītu have a hand in this? Was this his way of rewarding him for the drug bust fiasco? Any way he looked at it, it seemed like too big of a prize.

  Would he even want such a prize? What strings came attached to an offer so coveted?

  Whatever he wanted to do, turning down a meeting with the Generalissimo’s wife was out of the question. That much he understood. No one would dare to refuse an order directly from the first lady of China.

  But a special assignment could mean he was stuck. He would have to remain in this position, until when?

  Tang seemed to be reading his mind. Warning Clark with his eyes, he said, “What a high honor. From here on, your future will surely rise in smooth steps to the clear clouds. You really must thank Secretary Sītu for looking out for you.”

  “No need to say that,” Sītu said, a denial that in fact took credit. “In the end, the most important thing is to not disappoint Madam Chiang.”

  Was that advice or a warning? Clark wondered.

  Best to stay quiet.

  “There will also be a banquet to honor General Zhang Zhi-zhong. He commands the Fifth Army. Other NRA army generals and officers will be coming to show their support. We’re all required to attend.”

  Clark feigned an appreciative smile. It was all the enthusiasm he could find to show. If today they wanted him to mingle with warlords, what would they want him to do tomorrow? Down the road, would he have to collude with criminal elements like the Green Gang too?

  Across from him, Tang gave him a subtle but firm shake of his head. Whatever reservations he felt, Clark took the signal and buried them away. The message was clear. The party’s agenda had to come first.

  17

  Madam Chiang Kai-shek

  At the Riverview Suite on one of the top floors of the Cathay Hotel, Clark sat in deference and pretended to listen while Secretary Sītu talked up the Shanghai Foreign Affairs Bureau’s latest achievements. In truth, he hadn’t heard a word Sītu had said. It was all he could do to not stare wide-eyed at Soong Mei-Ling, the Generalissimo’s wife. Madam Chiang Kai-shek.

  In all his life, he had never met a woman who commanded such attention. In fact, he could think of no man who carried such a dominating presence. The moment she appeared, he felt as though he should bow at her feet. And judging from the awestruck school-boy look on Tang’s face, he must’ve felt the same way. Even Sītu, who usually strutted around the office like a proud rooster, seemed to have diminished in stature by several inches.

  Soong Mei-Ling’s eyes fell on Sītu, then Tang, and finally settled on Clark. Clark dared not return her gaze directly. Instead, he half smiled and lowered his head. He was sure in that one minute, she had gauged everything she needed to know about him. Her mind was sharp. Nothing could get past her.

  At thirty-nine, she was in her prime, in life and in politics. She played her role as the country’s first lady with expert ease, and her game had only just begun.

  Her personal assistant brought a fresh pot of coffee on a silver tray and served them each one by one. Sītu, not a fan of the beverage, held up his hand and shook his head. “The Germans are our best allies currently,” he continued his report. “The differences between our German-trained troops and our other divisions are astounding. What’s hindering our progress is our own people. If the military commanders would accept the reorganization plan the Germans recommended, we’d be much farther ahead.”

  Seated at the center of the plush red velvet couch, Soong Mei-Ling casually stirred her spoon in her cup. Perhaps Sītu was hoping she would offer to bring the commanders in line. She, however, gave no hint whether she would take any action one way or another.

  Struggling to fill the silence, Sītu added, “Thanks to the Germans, too, the railway construction is coming along. The Hangzhou–Guiyang line is proceeding ahead of schedule. It’ll be a key line for military transport once it is built.”

  Clark cupped his hands around his coffee. Germans. The ones who made life intolerable for Eden and those like her. The ones who forced her to flee in fear for her own safety. These same people were the only ones to come to China’s aid at this critical time. The modernization and industrialization of China depended singly on Germany.

  How did any of this differ from the KMT relying on warlords, gangs, and thugs to achieve their goals? It didn’t. The major powers in the world had left them no choice. Those countries talked a good talk about justice and democracy, but talk was cheap. When it came to actual relief, they lacked the will to make the smallest sacrifice.

  What more could he do? Every day, he did his part, appeasing the Americans, listening to their complaints from missing out on minor trade opportunities to catering to their requests for priority rights over others, including the Chinese, in the acquisition of the next piece of land. In the end, did any of his efforts help? Was there any point to his work here?

  “I’ve arranged with a number of factories to earmark an ongoing supply of tungsten, steel, and antimony for Germany,” Sītu said. “The new railways should expedite delivery when their construction is completed.”

  “Good.” Soong Mei-Ling blew into her cup of coffee. “Don’t forget General von Falkenhausen’s birthday is coming up in October. I want you to help me choose a grand gift to show our appreciation.” She took a sip of her drink. Von Falkenhausen was Generalissimo Chiang’s military advisor leading the Chinese military reform. “Of course, the last thing Hitler wants is for the Communists to run amok here, so we still have that card to play. Who I worry about are the Russians. Have you found out anything more what they’re doing to back Mao Ze Dong?”

  “I have people working on it. I suspect their commitment to Mao is wavering.”

  “Oh? How so?” She smiled, as if she didn’t know already.

  “Stalin doesn’t trust Mao to fend off the Japanese. That’s the impression I got from Andrei Sokolov.” Sokolov was Sītu’s primary contact in Shanghai with the Soviet state. “With the Japanese in Manchuria, they’re as well as sitting on fire.”

  “Then we have to convince them they are sitting on fire. Talk to Sokolov. Make him understand their security from further Japanese invasion in the north depends on our ability to hold the fort. Tell him our troops need more shipments of armaments.”

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “Hold on.” She gestured him to stop. “How’s your diabetes?”

  Sītu looked up. The corners of his lips curled up. “Manageable. Thank you for asking.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help when you have to ply the Russians wi
th vodka to get anything from them. You have to watch your health.” She looked over at Tang Wei. “From now on, I want you to accompany the Secretary to all official and non-official meetings with Sokolov. Drink with him. Woo him until you gain his complete trust.”

  Her unexpected order caught them all by surprise. Tang glanced at Sītu, whose mouth had fallen agape.

  Cautiously, Tang uncrossed his legs and sat up. “Madam, I don’t know if I’m the best candidate. My specialty is propaganda, not international relations.”

  “That means you have a way with words.” Soong Mei-Ling looked at the three of them. “I hope you’ll all understand. It’s no longer enough to only maintain an open channel for talks. We need closer ties. We need foreign agents who would fight for what we need on our behalf. Ones who’d advance our interests beyond their own countries’ interests, if that could be done. Diplomacy can rise and fall on personal relationships. I’m entirely confident in Secretary Sītu’s negotiation skills. What we’re missing is someone who can build a closer, personal bond over a bottle of liquor, and Sokolov loves to drink.”

  Tang sneaked a sheepish peek at Sītu. “Yes, Madam.”

  Next to him, Sītu’s face darkened. Clark almost felt bad for him. Tang, though, should be flattered. The first lady had personally entrusted him with an order. Instead, his eyes darted from one side to another.

  “What is it?” Soong Mei-Ling asked him. “If you have something to say, don’t swallow your words.”

  “Right.” Tang gritted his teeth. “I, eh, I think we ought to take the threat of Japan more seriously. It seems they’re becoming more and more daring recently, pushing the boundaries and getting away with staking their presence where they don’t belong. I’m worried a Japanese invasion is imminent. We need to take action. Or else, it might be too late.”

  Soong ran her finger around her cup. She looked neither dismissive nor stressed.

  “I apologize if I misspoke,” Tang blurted even though the first lady had not reproached him or disagreed with him. “I know Generalissimo Chiang believes we need to focus on fighting the Communists first.”

  “Yes, he’s preoccupied with putting down Mao and his people,” Soong said. “I will, however, take your concerns into consideration,” she affirmed with a lift of her chin.

  Too late. Her formidable exterior softened just enough for Clark to catch the glimpse of worry behind her smile. He glanced over at Tang. Doubt. His friend had seen it too.

  But just as quickly, her indomitable spirit returned. “Regardless of what my husband thinks, I am keeping my watch over anyone who could be a threat. I won’t let Japan run over our country so easily. If Japan tries to make any move, let’s see them try to get past me.”

  What gall.

  And yet, who in this room, or anywhere else, could tell her otherwise?

  Hers weren’t empty words either. Unlike all too many men in power drunk in the myth of their own greatness, or men who boasted with blind eyes and closed ears beneath the shield of false truths, Soong Mei-Ling showed not a hint of delusion. Her face looked like that of a lioness, fearless and alert, waiting to pounce.

  “The way I see it, your concerns are premature,” she said to Tang. “Focus on Russia and the Communists. Let me and my husband worry about the rest.”

  Tang could do nothing but submit to her request. “Yes, Madam.”

  “And now, I want to have a word alone with Yuan Guo-Hui.” She put down her cup. Clark’s heart jumped at the mention of his name.

  “Certainly.” Sītu got up and Tang followed.

  “I’ll see you both at the banquet for General Zhang tonight,” Soong Mei-Ling said. Her personal assistant came to open the door. On his way out, Sītu gave Clark an encouraging smile. Clearly, the secretary had prior knowledge of the First Lady’s plan for him.

  After they left, the personal assistant came over and poured them another cup of coffee. Soong moved over on the couch closer to Clark. Her expression loosened as she put the lumps of sugar into her drink. “I hear you studied abroad,” she said to him in English. Impeccable American English with a Southern drawl she’d picked up in Georgia. “In Connecticut, is that right?”

  Her switch of language threw Clark off. Did this mean he should reply in English too? He better follow her lead. “Yes. Six years,” he answered in English.

  “Your father runs a very successful business.”

  “We do all right.” He tried to stay humble.

  “More than all right. In Shanghai, the Yuan family can be counted as ming men wang zu. What the Westerners would call ‘blue-blood.’” She tilted her head. “Like mine.”

  “Oh, no,” Clark quickly denied. “We wouldn’t dare compare ourselves to the Soong family.”

  Soong Mei-Ling smiled again, further putting him at ease. “Your father isn’t interested in politics though, am I right? Chinese people always prefer running businesses and making money. I’m curious, what made you decide to work for us?”

  Clark stared at his coffee on the table. The First Lady was taking a personal interest in him? Hard to believe. “Honestly, I wanted to do what I could to improve the lives of our people. It was one of my hopes when I came back to China. I want to raise our education standards and modernize our country. I want to see it transform into something similar to America.” He stopped. Hearing his own words, he had to laugh at himself. “I’m sorry. I must sound so naive. I suppose I thought I wanted to do my part.”

  “I feel that way too,” Soong said. “It’s hard not to envision something more when you’ve lived in America. I remember when I first came back to China after I graduated from Wellesley. The streets! The sanitation was appalling. So much misery everywhere. Sometimes when I looked at the dirty ragged suffering humanity in our slums, I felt a sense of utter futility for a great and new China.”

  Clark lifted up his head. How could this be? The First Lady was confiding in him.

  “You and I have a lot in common.” Soong tapped his hand.

  Did she really mean that? But what reason or need would she have to flatter him?

  “Something’s troubling you though. You’re holding back. Tell me. Why is that?”

  “I . . .” Clark hesitated. It was no use. Nothing could get past her all-seeing eyes. He might as well be upfront with her. “It’s hard to hold on to hope when we’re rotting from the inside.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He weighed in his mind how much he should tell her. Would he offend her if he told her what he really thought about the KMT and its weaknesses? Perhaps. He doubted she would lose sleep over it if he did, so why mince words? He might never have another chance to have her full attention again, and he had nothing to lose. He didn’t join the KMT for power, and he didn’t take his job for a career in politics. He could leave all this behind. Today. If she didn’t like what he had to say, so be it.

  “Allow me to be frank.” He took a deep breath. “Every way I look, the Party’s biggest supporters are people who are out for themselves. Our soldiers are ruffians. Our military commanders are thugs. We give them firearms and they use them to turn on the people they’re supposed to protect, all for their own profit. Even in Shanghai, our government and police rely on criminal gangs to keep control. The more we depend on them, the more corrupt we become. Beyond that, we’re relying on German fascists to build and modernize our country. I can’t help but think we’re digging ourselves into a deeper and deeper hole. When our entire base is filled with oppressors and miscreants, who will remain to do good for the people?”

  Soong Mei-Ling sat watching him. He didn’t know where he found the nerve to say everything he just did. He braced himself for a reprimand or a talk down. No matter. If she dismissed him on the spot, his conscience would be clear.

  But she did none of those things. “You remind me so much of myself when I was younger. It’s hard, isn’t it, to come home and have to face how far behind we are as a society and as a people after seeing how things are done in America.
But we can’t compare ourselves that way. We’ve been here for much, much longer. The rottenness of our ways, the corruption, cannot be erased overnight. But I believe, the time has finally arrived for us to be able to do something to bring change. Our imperial system is finally over, after how many thousands of years? We’re on the verge of implementing democracy in this country for the very first time. It’s a golden opportunity for us and our people to move forward, and the Generalissimo and I are going to be the ones to bring it about. It doesn’t matter if along the way, we make use of people with questionable mores. They’re nothing but tools. The end will justify the means.” She leaned toward him and looked him in the eye. “Will you trust me?”

  She spoke with such force, Clark could do nothing but nod.

  Satisfied, she drew back. “I do share your worries about corruption. I don’t like it any more than you do that we have to rely on fascists and criminals. That’s why the Generalissimo and I need people like you. Now more than ever. You must continue your work to convince the Americans to back us. There are very few of us who can maneuver our way around the Americans without cultural barriers. God only knows, I’ve worked every opportunity I could to build relationships with them. From Congressmen to the President. Isn’t that what you want too? For America to be our number one ally in providing us aid and support?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then. If you give up, and everyone else like you gives up, what choice would we have but to continue to rely on the Germans and the gangs?”

  Clark lowered his gaze to the floor. She made a good point.

  “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with feeling down once in a while. The important thing is not to let anything stop you. We’re at a crossroad. We can shape the future. I’m not worried at all if sometimes we have to walk through swamps and take a few wayward turns. You know why? Because we write our own destiny. We become what we do. What we do in the end is bringing to our people democracy and better lives. Everything else that conflict with that will fall by the wayside.”