Shanghai Story: A WWII Drama Trilogy Book One

by Alexa Kang

  By now, General Zhang was no longer sitting next to Soong Mei-Ling. Instead, he’d been replaced by a man with wide lips, high cheekbones, and a crew cut. Soong Mei-Ling herself no longer wore her charming smile which delighted everyone all night. Deep in conversation with the man, she looked stern and serious.

  “Who’s that sitting next to Soong Mei-Ling?” Clark asked.

  Tang glanced over at the First Lady. A mischievous smile came to his face. “That’s Du Yu-Sheng.”

  “Du . . . you mean, the grandmaster of the Green Gang?”

  “Yes. That one. Big Ear Du.”

  Clark widened his eyes at the head table. He hadn’t expected to see Du in the flesh.

  “Don’t look so impressed. Big Ear Du may go around Shanghai intimidating everyone. In the end, he’s just a local pest. Look over there.” Tang pointed to a corner at the back of the room at a man drinking tea alone. Clark didn’t know why. At first glance, the man looked unremarkable. Nothing stood out in his appearance other than his receding hairline. And yet, something felt off. Something brutal, even fanatic, shrouded him. He sipped his tea, silently observing each of the rest of the attendees.

  “Who is he?” Clark whispered.

  “Dai Li.” Tang lowered his voice. “He doesn’t surface very much. I was surprised to see him here. Or maybe not. After all, this is a good occasion to check out a mount of Party members all at once.”

  “Check out the Party members?”

  “Yes. Dai Li runs the Juntong, the National Military Commission’s Bureau of Investigation and Statistics. In other words, the government’s military intelligence and espionage arm.”

  “Really?”

  “He keeps a tab of everyone. The Juntong is our secret police. Their agents aren’t thieves and hoodlums either. His men and women, they don’t smoke. They don’t drink. They stay celibate. They’re committed to only one thing, China. And they answer only to Dai Li.” Tang downed his shot of baijiu. “I’m truly amazed at the man. How does he create such a loyal following? His agents would die if necessary to carrying out his orders. They wouldn’t seek credit or acknowledgment either.”

  Chilling indeed. Clark downed his own shot of baijiu.

  “I’d stay far, far away from him,” Tang said. “Look, Sītu’s chatting up General Zhang. Let’s go over and get ourselves introduced to the General.”

  Clark almost agreed, except he spotted one of the men named on the list Soong Mei-Ling gave him today. Gao Zhen, the director of the private Shanghai Commercial and Savings Bank.

  “You go ahead. I need to say hello to someone else. Don’t get drunk.”

  “Get drunk here? With this bunch of cow ghosts and snake gods? Not possible.” Tang laughed and got up. “I’ll wait till the Paramount next weekend.”

  Next weekend. The reminder gave Clark a small jolt of energy. Thanks to Mei Mei. She’d arranged for them all to go for a night of music and dancing at the popular dance hall, just as she said she would the night Eden and her family came for dinner.

  Eden.

  She wouldn’t know how much he wanted to see her again.

  Couldn't think about her now. He had to catch Gao Zhen before the banquet ended. If he had to do this, he might as well get on with it. If he could get through this first one, the rest should become easier.

  Gathering himself, he pushed his chair back. An uneasy feeling of being watched overcame him, and he looked up. In the corner at the back of the room, Dai Li was staring at him. The man’s cold gaze shot across the room like death.

  Clark gazed back. Let the man stare. His conscience was clear. He had nothing to hide. He nodded lightly out of courtesy, then got up and walked over to Gao.

  “Director Gao,” Clark said, interrupting the unsuspecting banker’s conversation with another guest as he sat down in the empty seat next to Gao. “You’re here too.”

  “Yuan Guo-Hui?” Gao looked genuinely pleased to see him. “What a coincidence. How’s your father?”

  “He’s well. Thank you for asking.”

  “When will you both have time? We should go out to dinner. My treat.”

  “You’re thoughtful to offer. Actually, may I have a word with you?” Clark eyed the guest with whom Gao was chatting. The guest took the hint and excused himself to another table. Clark seized the opportunity. “I heard your bank’s business is going well.”

  “Passable,” Gao said. His proud face indicated he was doing much better.

  “You know I work for the KMT now. At the Foreign Affairs Bureau.”

  “I heard. Young man, stepping out into the world for a look-see to gain some experience is a good thing.”

  “You’re right. In many areas, I still need elders like you to give me pointers. More important is to have your support.”

  Gao nodded, spreading out his arms on the table and his legs underneath as someone of seniority would. “Whatever kind of support you need, go ahead and ask.”

  “Since you asked, I’ll be straightforward. I’m rallying the influencers in Shanghai to give their financial support to the Party. It’s a good cause, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

  Gao’s cordial expression began to change. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

  “A good investment opportunity, actually. The Central Bank will be issuing a round of government bonds. Now’s your chance to grab your share.”

  “Of course. Of course,” Gao conceded. “I’ll do my bit to help.”

  “Twenty percent.”

  “What?”

  “Twenty percent of your bank’s total worth of assets.”

  Gao laughed in disbelief. His laughter disappeared when he saw Clark’s firm face. “Even if I wanted to, our board of directors would never agree to it.”

  “If you ask, they wouldn’t dare to defy your wish.”

  “I . . .”

  “Our company always spoke well of you. Your bank is the first one we recommend to our clients when they need credit.”

  “True, true. But . . .”

  “The Generalissimo and Madam Chiang will be grateful.”

  Gao wrinkled his face. He stared at Clark, then at Soong Mei-Ling.

  “Madam Chiang holds you in high regard. She spoke to me about you earlier today. She said you are one of the pillars of Shanghai’s financial market. The army’s gearing up to form a new air force. A strong, modernized one. She asked me if you might lend your support. Our families have been friends for years. I assured her you would not hesitate if I ask. Now, if I have to go back and tell her you refused, what would she do? If you don’t support her with full heart and strength, she’ll lose face.”

  “But twenty percent.”

  “Madam Chiang won’t forget. There will be rewards down the road.”

  Gao rounded his shoulders and looked down. Clark felt for him. He hated doing this. He could still remember Gao and his wife and kids coming to his home when they made their rounds of friendly visits in Chinese New Years past. Gao had always gifted him and his sisters more red envelop money than all their other friends and relatives except for their parents.

  Never had he imagined that one day, when he grew up, he would be in the position to exert power and pressure over this man.

  What gave him this power?

  “I’ll have to discuss it with our board.” Gao ran his hand across his forehead.

  “I understand,” Clark said. Still no firm commitment. Gao left him no choice. “Such a decision necessarily requires proper procedures. Imagine what would happen if word got out a bank is mishandling its funds. Its reputation would be ruined.” He gazed over at Tang Wei, the propaganda specialist who was happily engaging in a conversation with Sītu and several others.

  Gao’s lips tightened. He closed his fists, but Clark could see the trembles of his hands.

  Having gotten his message across, Clark refilled Gao’s wine. “I’ll wait for your good news. When should we get together and have dinner with my father?”

  Gao didn’t answer. By now, his f
ace was dark as a burnt stove. Seeing him like this, Clark’s own stern exterior fell. “I’ll always look out for you.”

  With that, he got up. It wasn’t an empty promise. He would look out for Gao, plus every unfortunate soul on that list.

  As soon as he said this, a new thought dawned on him. Sure, Soong Mei-Ling had forced his hand, but in doing so, she’d given him power, and power could be turned both ways. When he finished the dirty work she’d asked and the influx of cash came in, he would no longer be a mere foreign affairs agent. She’d owe him. The Party would owe him. Just like they owed the military commanders and gang bosses. And as long as he continued to steer money to their causes, his power would only grow.

  He only needed to keep himself in check and use power for good.

  Did Soong realize this? In charging him to collect cash, she’d also given him a key to gain power?

  If she did, she probably had no choice anyhow.

  “See you,” he said to Gao and took his leave. Gao returned a forced smile.

  The room began to empty. The crowd of guests thinned. His energy spent, Clark headed toward the exit. As he walked toward his car, he replayed his conversation with Gao in his head. When he first approached Gao tonight, the idea of coercing money from longtime family friends made him sick. But look at it another way. If it weren’t him, sooner or later, the Party would find somebody else to do the deed. The political tide had swept in. For better or worse, the storm was catching everyone in sight. He, at least, could stand guard and look out for the ones under his charge. He could be the conduit through which their other interests could be protected after the hefty price they had to pay.

  His conscience eased, he quickened his steps. What he wanted more than anything now was a good night’s sleep.

  19

  A Night at Paramount

  The doorbell rang at exactly seven o’clock on Friday night. In her room, Eden could hear her mother greeting Clark and his youngest sister, Wen-Li. Her breath quickened at the sound of their voices. Did she look all right in this emerald silk qipao? Or would they think she looked silly, being a white woman in a Chinese dress?

  Was it too revealing? The soft silk fabric, tailored to fit exactly against the body, made even a slim Chinese girl look like a vixen. On her, it put every outline of her curves on public display.

  Either way, too late to change now. Best to stop worrying and enjoy herself. She’d been looking forward to this evening for weeks. A night at a dance hall in Shanghai. And not just any dance hall. Clark and his sisters were taking her to the famous Paramount Ballroom. The place where Charlie Chaplin and his fiancée Paulette Goddard had visited as recently as March.

  “Eden!” her mother called out. “Your friends are here.”

  “Coming!” She checked herself one more time in the mirror. The crystal earrings dangling from her ears looked surprisingly well with what she was wearing.

  She grabbed her evening purse, slipped into her silver high heel T-strap shoes, and went out into the living room. “Hello.”

  Everyone in the room turned their attention toward her. Clark, especially, stared at her, stunned.

  “Eden, you look gorgeous.” Wen-Li came over and linked her arm through Eden’s.

  Slightly short of breath, Eden pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Thank you. You look beautiful too,” she said, returning the compliment. And Wen-Li did look beautiful. In her own white qipao adorned with fine lace and her hair done up, Wen-Li looked more like a lady than a school girl as Eden remembered the last time she’d met her.

  Clark was still speechless. Coyly, Eden looked away from him. There was no doubt, he thought she looked good tonight.

  He didn’t look bad himself. She almost wished she could tell him that.

  And was she glad Isaac had already gone to his boss’s birthday party.

  Mrs. Levine crossed her arms and smiled at her daughter. “I like how that looks on you. You should get a few more of them made.” She checked her watch. “You all better get going. I have to leave for the Jewish Women Benevolent Society’s dinner tonight.”

  Finally coming out of his trance, Clark asked, “Where’s Dr. Levine?”

  “He took Joshua to a puppet show,” Mrs. Levine said. “Peter Pan.”

  Arm in arm with Eden, Wen-Li began walking toward the door. “We’ll be off then. Goodbye, Mrs. Levine. Please give our regards to Dr. Levine and Joshua.”

  “I will.” Mrs. Levine closed the door behind them.

  Clark turned his gaze back to Eden. She returned an encouraging smile and his face eased.

  They exited the building and two limousines pulled up to the entrance. As the chauffeurs opened the doors, Wen-Li ran toward the car where one passenger sat waiting. Eden had never met him before.

  “Tang Wei, switch seat with me,” Wen-Li said to the passenger through the car’s open window. “I want to sit with Eden.”

  The passenger made a face. “Aren’t you worried your boyfriend would be upset if you don’t sit with him?”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Wen-Li said, raising her chest and jutting out her chin. The passenger got out of the car and playfully knuckled her on the head.

  “That’s my friend Tang Wei,” Clark said to Eden. He introduced them as they approached. Tang Wei tipped his hat and joined Estella and Wen-Li’s boyfriend, Zi-Hong, in the other car. Estella looked out the window and waved.

  Giggling, Wen-Li led Eden into the backseat while Clark followed and climbed in from the other side. The car drove along and Wen-Li could barely hide her excitement. “I’m so happy you are coming with us. I don’t have any foreign friends. I keep telling my brother and sister I want to practice my English, but they never speak English with me.”

  Clark bent forward and sneaked a glance over at Eden, signaling Eden to excuse his sister’s babbling. Eden nonetheless gave her an indulgent smile. How could she not appreciate Wen-Li’s innocent friendliness and warmth? Besides, if Wen-Li wasn’t sitting between her and Clark, she might feel even more nervous.

  “We’ll be seeing a fantastic singer tonight,” Wen-Li said. “Have you heard of Zhou Xuan? You probably haven’t. She’s a movie actress and China’s number one singer. Her nickname is the Golden Voice. She’s really beautiful too. Do you know the American soda Coca-Cola?”

  “Yes,” Eden replied.

  “When Coca-Cola first started selling in China, nobody would buy it.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It tastes horrible.” Wen-Li stuck out her tongue in disgust. “Like Chinese herbal elixir.”

  “Does it?” Eden hadn’t tried Chinese herbal elixir yet, although her father had occasionally talked about it. The subject of Chinese medicine had piqued his interest since he came to Shanghai, as so many of his Chinese patients relied on it.

  “Anyway, Coca-Cola was smart. They hired Zhou Xuan to sing a jingle for their ad. The radio stations played the jingle over and over. Now everybody knows how to sing it and they all know what Coca-Cola is. You can see posters of her in Coca-Cola ads everywhere. That was how Coca-Cola finally became popular. Even old people would drink it because they like her.”

  “Really? What an interesting story. I can’t wait to see her performance then.”

  “I had to drag Zi-Hong to come along tonight though.”

  “Why? Does he not like her singing?”

  “He thinks dance clubs are frivolous. He doesn’t like that I admire movie stars.”

  Eden thought back to the night she had dinner at the Yuans’. She remembered now, that brash young man. That evening, she even spoke in defense of the Yuans when he tactlessly criticized the wealthy, all the while partaking in the Yuans’ gracious hospitality.

  “Who cares what he likes?” Clark asked, his irritation clear on his face. “He thinks too highly of his own opinions. He’s nothing but a college student. He’s never been out to the real world. He doesn’t know anything. You should have your own mind. Don’t let him tell you what to think.”
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br />   “I don’t,” Wen-Li said. “Not always. I told him if he doesn’t come along tonight, I’ll dance with every other boy who asks me to dance. As soon as he heard that, he got worried and decided to come.” She covered her mouth and snickered.

  Clark sighed and shook his head. Eden suppressed her own smile. An older brother who cared deeply for his little sister. She liked that.

  The car came to a stop at the intersection of Yu Yuen Road and Jessfield Road. The Paramount Ballroom stood at the corner. Its art deco granite facade of vertical strip windows, reminiscent of America’s Radio City Music Hall, stood out as a triumph of Shanghai’s new modernity among the surrounding Chinese and British Victorian-style buildings on the streets.

  At the entrance, the chauffeur opened the car door. Lifting her dress, Eden stepped out into the glittering red and yellow neon lights shining from the building’s circular glass tower. The spire implanted at its very top epitomized the city’s ambition to reach for the unlimited sky.

  All around them, men in stylish suits and ladies decked out in jewels and diamonds strolled the red carpet leading to the dance hall’s lobby. Clark offered her his arm. Elated, Eden allowed him to lead her inside. “I feel like I’m walking into Hollywood.”

  “You could rule Hollywood if you do,” he whispered into her ear. His low voice arrested her heart. Everything around her felt magical.

  By now, Estella, Tang Wei, and Liu Zi-Hong had joined them from the other limousine. Estella pulled out a lace fan and fanned herself as she walked. Her long satin scarf wrapped around her arms swayed elegantly down her sides. Eden watched her in awe. In time, she hoped that she, too, would acquire a similar air of cosmopolitan sophistication.

  They followed the staircase up to the second floor, past a circular lounge to a mammoth ballroom filled with people carousing under the scent of perfume and smoke. Waiters in black-and-white tuxedo uniforms zigzagged between tables, dodging taxi-dancers and wandering guests while offering up endless flows of champagne. On stage, the jazz band spared no efforts as they stoked the crowd with raucous beat.