by Amy Kwei
Walking and eating the hot cakes from the straw, Glorious Dragon cupped his chin with a handkerchief. The crunchy, spicy fried skin of the bean curd tingled in his mouth; the warm, soft texture of the interior soothed it.
“Ah, the earthy joys of street food!” he exclaimed out loud. The vendor nodded and laughed. “Ha, ha, ha!” Dragon walked away thinking of the glistening crystal and silverware of the Western table and mumbled, “My West Ocean friends would be aghast to learn of my activities yesterday!”
BRIGHT CRYSTAL’S HOUSE on Avenue Joffre glittered with festive lights. “My Blue Heaven” played softly on the record player in the living room. It could have been a house in Hollywood but for the aroma of Chinese cooking — soy sauce, ginger and garlic, five-spice and sesame oil — wafting through the cool evening air.
Shanghai had developed and consumed energy like a hungry lion. Dragon wanted to take advantage of the city’s needs and bring in more generators. At a time of looming war and confusion, he hoped to diversify his family fortunes rather than concentrate on the silk trade.
In the late afternoon, Glorious Dragon played tennis with Messrs. Peter Wilson and George Dunning, the new representatives of Babson and Westcott, a British engineering company. He knew that these Englishmen must be cultivated with the utmost care, because no one had the money to buy generators.
As the men stepped out of their shower stalls after the games, giggling young servant girls greeted them with warm towels. After drying and powdering the men, the girls led them to silk-covered massage tables. The masseuses proceeded to give them a soothing rubdown in scented oils. A more vigorous massage of each muscle followed, from the scalp all the way down to the toes. Initially the Englishmen were surprised and embarrassed, but soon, as the kinks and knots in their arms and legs disappeared in blissful warmth, their tensions and suspicions evaporated. They dozed for half an hour. “That Dragon fellow is a most sporting chap.” They agreed.
Afterward, the threesome relaxed on the stone patio. They sipped their whiskey and nibbled on Russian caviar, Chinese fried peanuts, and Japanese seaweed crackers.
“Shanghai is now one of the great metropolises of the world,” Glorious Dragon said. “As you can see, we’ll need more electric-generating power. Tonight I’ll introduce you to several directors of the Shanghai Power and Light Company. They’re interested in your generators, but you must convince your company or government to supply the loans.”
Red Chinese lanterns danced among the trees, and the shifting shadows on the broad lawns made Wilson and Dunning feel they had arrived in paradise. The gloom of England, on the verge of another war, seemed very far away.
Glorious Dragon understood their mood. The Englishmen had no interest in discussing China’s dread of yet more foreign political interference. He had to remain positive. “Of course, being a poor country, we can accept loans only on the most favorable terms. We’ll discuss the details in my office tomorrow. Your company will prosper and you’ll become great humanitarians for helping us develop.”
“Yes, Mr. Chou, we’ll be most happy to help.” Wilson spoke for both of them. “You have our word!”
The Englishmen appreciated hearing this fine fellow speak humbly, like the most courteous of Chinamen. These would be very risky loans. Japan might invade China, but Shanghai would still need power. If the English company would not supply the loans, the Chinese could persuade American bankers to finance the deal. Yes, the English were ready to grease whatever wheels were necessary to sell generators to the Chinese. With the increase in business, perhaps they could get themselves transferred to the Orient, where they would be treated like kings. Such complicated arrangements would be time-consuming, but this Dragon chap seemed to know how to take care of a fellow. They agreed to meet at ten-thirty the next morning.
Like Glorious Dragon, Bright Crystal had lost her mother in infancy. Since her father was a cook for a foreign family, she had grown up in a foreigner’s home. She had a small straight nose and an infectious smile that made the most of her beguiling dimples. As a child, she played freely with her master’s two young boys. When the boys were old enough to attend boarding schools in England, she capitalized on her childhood English to become a hostess in the Cathay Hotel on the Bund. With her hair elegantly bobbed, and her judicious use of makeup and scent, she radiated cosmopolitan charm. Although her manners were reserved and her eyes modestly hooded, she had a habit of throwing back her head whenever she laughed. She soon won General Chin Bartau’s patronage.
Bright Crystal’s father now supervised her famous kitchen. No one except Glorious Dragon knew the identity of the rotund master chef. Bright Crystal was fully aware that the foreigners expected a genuine Chinese meal in her house. Her father also knew that the Westerners could not tolerate the raucous gaiety and unusual flavors of a true Chinese banquet. He made sure that the shrimp had been shelled and the fish deboned and sautéed without any heavy seasonings that could offend stomachs accustomed to bland food. Chicken and other meats were cut into large chunks so that clumsy fingers could handle them with chopsticks. There would be no slurping and sucking of bones before the foreigners.
A twelve-course banquet awaited them all. Two round tables were set for ten guests each. The guests included a White Russian, two Eurasian gentlemen from the Shanghai Power and Light Company, a man representing the Silk Council, Eugene Ma, and a flour tycoon who arrived with a movie starlet and two aides. General Chin brought his usual entourage of government officials along with an American reporter, a Mr. Archie Strong.
Strong was short and pear-shaped. Round lines dominated his profile. His large eyes bored into everything — a glance from those blue eyes made one feel exposed. General Chin introduced Bright Crystal: “My niece is giving this dinner party for her friends in Shanghai industry and commerce. I thought it might be interesting for you to write home about the leading citizens of our biggest city.”
“My assignment is to report on the Xian incident.” Mr. Strong smiled. He raked his coppery brown hair with his fingers. “Do you think the generalissimo will ever release Marshal Zhang Hsueh-liang?”
“I read your report last week.” Wilson sipped his wine. “Is it all true?”
Everyone knew the headlines dominating the newspapers: Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek went to Xian to confer with Marshal Zhang on his sixth campaign against the Communists. Zhang kidnapped him and forced him to unite with the Communists to fight Japan. Then Zhang followed the generalissimo to Nanking and was placed under house arrest.
“The whole incident is incomprehensible to us,” Dunning joined in. “It is as if Neville Chamberlain had kidnapped Churchill, followed Churchill home and allowed himself to be put under house arrest!”
General Chin signaled the serving girl to pour more Kaoliang. “Marshal Zhang is a loyal, sympathetic friend of our anti-Japanese cause. The generalissimo would be a poor host if Zhang were sent home before his time.” He laughed. “Now, let’s enjoy our dinner.”
Archie Strong knew Chin was trying to distract him. He thought Marshal Zhang a fool for accepting only a verbal agreement from the generalissimo. “We in the West are so baffled by this whole Xian incident.” He knew full well that General Chin could clear up all his questions. He nursed his drink carefully. “Why did the generalissimo offer his resignation last week but refuse to free Zhang even now?”
“Ah, the generalissimo wants to be a good host! It is important to be a good host! Enjoy, enjoy!” General Chin swept his hand over the table full of delicacies.
“Dragon-ko, you’re a poor host!” Bright Crystal cried. “Why don’t you help Mr. Strong and Mr. Dunning to some marinated beef?”
“Oh yes, of course, my apologies.” Glorious Dragon focused his attention on Dunning. “This is a Shanghai favorite — impeccable texture and taste.”
“Beef interlaced with, what, some flavorful fat? And what is the interesting taste?” Dunning was already distracted.
“The beef shank has been braised f
or hours in this special five-spice sauce until the meat has thoroughly absorbed the taste and aroma. The ligament and tendon also become so tender that they taste like fatty jelly.”
While he talked, Glorious Dragon sensed an undercurrent of political intrigue. General Chin had dodged the American reporter’s questions, and diverted him from the subject of Nanking, where the aftermath of the Xian incident was unfolding. The general had brought Strong here to distract him and prevent further prying into the internal maneuverings at the capital. The dinner was meant to facilitate General Chin’s goal. Dragon understood the dynamics around the table. The life experiences of the different nationalities were fascinating. The Englishmen were interested only in trade. The flour tycoon, the Eurasians of the Power and Light, and the men from the Silk Council were all pillars of Shanghai industry, loyal to the National government. Eugene Ma was a very successful dealer of armaments. Using his German education and connections, he was able to sell German and Italian munitions to the Nationalists. The White Russian obviously hated the Communists. General Chin, as a member of the inner circle of Chiang Kai-shek, was also an ardent anti-Communist. Everyone around the table was pro-Nationalist except for Strong, an impartial reporter.
“Will the generalissimo honor his agreement?” Strong persisted. “The Japanese ambassador Kawagoe was in Nanking pressing for ‘cooperation’!”
“There would be no Communists in China if the West had provided support.” The White Russian slammed down his winecup. “After the Chinese Republic was established in 1911, the so-called democratic countries wanted only trade. Soviet Russia alone provided help. It is no wonder so many Chinese turned to communism!”
“The Germans helped the Chinese wipe out communism!” The wine stirred Eugene Ma. He was reminded of his fun-filled drinking days as a student in Germany. “General Alexander von Falekenhausen advised Chiang. He’s a great leader for our democratic future!”
Glorious Dragon wanted to clarify that Eugene Ma’s sense of democracy was based upon what Hitler said: “This is all for the PEOPLE.” He tapped his lips and decided not to open his mouth.
“A Nazi general?” Wilson whispered, incredulous.
“A fervent anti-Communist!” General Chin reassured everyone.
“The generalissimo went to Xian on December 7 to meet Zhang. He thought Zhang would help him wipe out the Communists!” The flour tycoon picked up a jumbo shrimp. “Treachery! Sheer treachery!” He chewed up the shrimp.
“Perfidy!” the Eurasian from Shanghai Power and Light shouted.
“Treason!” Eugene Ma nodded.
“Why did Madam Chiang and her brother T.V. Soong go to Xian?” Dunning asked.
“Zhang and Mr. T.V. Soong have been friends from way back — since their student days, I think.” General Chin turned his cup to Glorious Dragon, nodding and smiling — a signal to drink more. “It is in the national interest that they join the negotiation.”
Glorious Dragon raised his cup, but Wilson frowned. He knew that instead of fighting the Japanese, Chiang Kai-shek had used American aid to wage war against the Communists. “Did Chiang Kai-shek agree to form a united front with the Communists on Christmas Day, just to buy his freedom?” Wilson asked.
“I’m ignorant like a foreigner,” Strong joined in quickly. “If Marshal Zhang achieved his objective of uniting the Chinese, why did he accompany Chiang back to Nanking?”
“We’re all upset by Chiang’s kidnapping.” Glorious Dragon took a sip. “Let’s not worry about things we can’t understand.” In his mind, he wondered: If Chiang honored his agreement to unite with the Communists, what would happen to foreign trade in Shanghai?
Dunning was thinking along the same lines. “Chiang and the Soong family have been most accommodating to Western trade. How will the Communists proceed?”
“The Communists will not favor trade with the West,” said the White Russian. “Chiang did a good job driving them into the barren Shensi Province.”
Everyone knew that since 1930, the generalissimo had launched five campaigns to eradicate the Communists.
“I agree,” added Eugene Ma. “The Communists were almost decimated during their Long March to Shensi.” He smacked his lips. “The generalissimo must not let them recover.”
“So you think the generalissimo will renege on the promises he made at Xian?” Strong looked to General Chin for an answer.
General Chin raised his winecup, waving it in front of the guests. “We’re making far too much of this incident.” He assumed the cheerful mask of the diplomat.
Glorious Dragon made a mental note. The generalissimo was trained in the Chinese classics — bound by the traditional ethics of a scholar. Should he honor his promise, and should the coalition become a reality, Japan surely would not accept a united China. If open warfare erupted between China and Japan, the foreign concessions would become sanctuaries of peace; real estate prices would skyrocket. A look into further investments in the area would not be amiss.
The Englishmen also found the discussion intriguing, but the Kaoliang was warm and the chicken in garlic sauce was superb. That dapper Dragon chap would surely clarify everything for them in the morning. So ignoring Strong, they readily agreed to learn the finger-guessing game Glorious Dragon suggested.
“You see, the game is quite simple,” Glorious Dragon explained in a cheerful voice, his face flushed from the Kaoliang. “Both of us must shout out a number together from one to five. The rhythm picks up as you become familiar with the game, but for now, let’s use this simple rhythm: one, two, three, shout . . . one, two, three, shout . . .” He smiled, waved his arms, and conducted the chorus of robust voices shouting numbers from one through five. “Now, as you shout, you throw out a fist for a zero, or a one, two, three, four or all five fingers.” He gesticulated with his right hand, throwing out a fist, then one finger or more to demonstrate. “If the added number of fingers on the two competing hands equals the number that one of us shouted, you win. The loser drinks the wine.”
“Oh-ho.” Dunning laughed. “That’s insane! Why should anyone play to lose?”
“It’s only a game. Let’s try.” Glorious Dragon smiled. “Three,” he shouted, throwing out two fingers while Dunning shouted “two” at the same time and threw out one finger. Glorious Dragon won and Dunning had to drink. A serving girl stood behind each guest and replenished the cup after each drink. Bright Crystal urged food on the guests.
It soon became apparent that Wilson often shouted the same number of fingers as he threw out. He formed the numbers with his lips even before he shouted, so he was losing and drinking heavily. Bright Crystal quietly maneuvered herself next to Wilson. Twice, she squeezed his arm and soothed him with her soft eyes; flashing her sweet dimples, she purred, “I’ll drink for you.” She motioned her serving girl to pour, and while the guests cheered and hooted, she downed her drink in one toss. “Kang-pai,” she hummed. She drained her cup and held it in an upside-down position. The men cheered wildly; it was intoxicating to see a refined lady drink with such liberal gusto. Following her example, shouting “Kang-pai, kang-pai,” they drained their cups. The guests were soon rendered rosy-faced and hazy-minded. Even Strong joined in the merriment. “This is very similar to a finger game I played as a child in the U.S. I can’t remember what it’s called now,” he said.
The Xian incident was completely forgotten.
No one at the table, not even General Chin, was aware that although Bright Crystal and Glorious Dragon’s first few cups contained liquor, they had drunk nothing but colored tea the rest of the evening. Their serving girls had been instructed to pour only for them, and in the excitement of jovial carousing, no one noticed. The Westerners couldn’t tell one serving girl from another. They complimented Bright Crystal’s generous capacity for wine.
The following morning, Messrs. Wilson and Dunning, thoroughly dazzled by the hospitality, acceded to all terms of the contract drawn up by Glorious Dragon.
ARCHIE STRONG ENJOYED his even
ing on Avenue Joffre. Nevertheless, during the following week, he contacted all the party guests to discuss their understanding of the Xian Incident. When he called on Glorious Dragon, he was surprised to be invited by the young man to visit his sister and brother-in-law in Hangzhou. The beauties of the idyllic West Lake in Hangzhou had been renowned since the time of Marco Polo, so he accepted.
The diligence of the American reporter impressed Glorious Dragon. He understood the foreigner’s confusion. He mulled over Strong’s questions at the dinner table but could not respond without giving him a lecture on Confucian culture and ethical behavior. Although this was already 1937, the Chinese people understood that the emperor ruled with a mandate from Heaven based upon his exemplary life. Zhang would go down in history as the quintessential hero who had kidnapped the present emperor, Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek, and forced him on a course of virtue — unification with the communists to fight Japan. Zhang would accept whatever punishment, including death, if required. For centuries, storytellers, singers and actors had celebrated such courageous men, in households, theaters, operas, teahouses, wine shops and restaurants with slight variations on the theme. How could Strong even begin to understand the emotions simmering in the Chinese soul? Glorious Dragon would not know how to tell him. Should he take Strong to a Chinese opera based on the same heroic theme? The falsetto voices of the singers on a bare stage would be trilling in half tones and would drive Strong away from his seat within minutes. No, he could not lecture Strong on Chinese thought and maintain a cordial relationship.
More to the point, Glorious Dragon wanted to know what Mr. Strong had already discovered about the recent events in Nanking. Would the generalissimo continue to keep Marshal Zhang under house arrest? Would he integrate the Communists into his army, and thus pose a serious threat to the Japanese occupation?