A Concubine for the Family: A Family Saga in China (8 page)

Glorious Dragon hated General Chin and his stranglehold on Crystal’s life. He and Bright Crystal joked about their clever deception, but anxiety always clouded their passionate love. Out of sheer outrage, he wanted to shout and punch everyone associated with the general. He chuckled to himself when he remembered the fireworks outside Prosperous Dream. Yes, he had hit the general where it mattered — his pocketbook. There were many factions in the underworld. It would be natural for the general to suspect foul play from a competitor. People could not possibly link him to the fire. No one would suspect him even if he had been seen there. He was with his sister — a woman with a reputation for righteousness. Everyone knew her to be a whetstone, ever ready to sharpen a sword in defense of virtuous living. He smiled at his cleverness.

He stepped off the streetcar near the esplanade on the Bund of the International Settlement area that operated as a British port. Concrete and steel buildings housing the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank, the Cathay Hotel and the Customs House with its clock tower dominated the Bund. A cool breeze from the Hwangpo River soothed him. Pale young sycamore leaves fluttered over the paved promenade. He strolled under the trees and lit a cigarette. Lingering on the walkway, he watched the river traffic. All manner of watercraft plied the waterway at his feet: sampans festooned with laundry and larger boats loading and unloading rice, vegetables, and furniture. Coolies squatted to smoke and food vendors clustered around the wharves. Farther out, the masts of large junks contrasted with the sturdy funnels and cables of ocean liners, warships flying flags of many nations and cargo ships anchored in deeper water. His own life was a mirror of this harbor. He straddled the East and the West — the nobility of his sister’s household and the duplicity and adventures of his life here. Feeling calmer, he remembered he could not tarry. He must be on his way to order the finest Kaoliang — potent whiskey made of sorghum. Prominent persons from the Chinese and European business communities would be attending Bright Crystal’s party that evening.

Glorious Dragon walked briskly to the wine shop. He tasted and selected the liquor for delivery to Avenue Joffre. On his way to his bachelor apartment on Seymour Road, the scent of frying bean curd wafted through the air and hit his nostril. He ordered a string. The vendor’s sweaty face grinned with pleasure as he fished out three cubes of golden crispy bean-cakes from the pot of boiling oil. With the fried bean-cakes nesting in the wire-basket ladle in one hand, he threaded a straw through the cakes with the other. He laid down the ladle, brushed red chili pepper sauce over the cakes, and served the bean-cakes dangling them over a piece of brown paper.

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!”

B
RIGHT 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 for 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.