“Boss Cao, we have a problem!” The crack of breaking glass reverberated through the cabaret, its bluntness breaking the dignified atmosphere – at least, the appearance of dignity. The woman making the call was no stranger to these problems, but they were never good for business. Not a minute later did her boss come around the corner, a pistol at his hip and steel baton at the ready.
“Sir, get your hands off the bottle.”
“Or what?! I’m with the Republican government, you dogs can’t touch me. Bunch of lowlife gangsters! This woman is too smart for her own good, trying to upcharge me." The official, reeking of baijiu, shouted. The hostess, clearly shaken up, would take this moment to slip out leaving her heels off.
Boss Cao thought for a moment, tapping the steel baton against the door frame, only a curtain stood between the two men. His tab was nearly 4,500 gold yuan, half what the boss takes home in a month. The average worker makes a tenth that amount, and here was this official visiting their “lowly cabaret” for drink and company, unwilling to pay up or either. Even worse, he thought he could mess with one of the employees because of his station. It didn’t take long for the boss to make up his mind.
The steel baton made an audible crack as the official’s knees were hit. Boss Cao didn’t hit hard enough for there to be a break, but enough to knock him back on the couch in pain, send a message. Boss Cao would gingerly walk closer to the man, tapping with the baton to get the man’s wallet unlodged from his trouser pockets. The official dug around his pockets and threw it over, from which Boss Cao took 9,000 gold yuan notes.
“It would have been less expensive if you just cooperated, sir. We must add a cleaning fee, and a fee for any damage to our women you may have caused... oh, and your name is going in the blacklist so that no one else has to deal with you.” The boss would run dozens of fresh notes through his fingers, counting each portrait of Sun Yat-sen.
After the money was accounted for, he would walk back to the bar and fix himself a drink of vodka and an orange flavored soft drink, one of the few luxuries left in Shanghai. Life outside was hell, but there was a kind of serenity in watching the patrons mingle and order round after round for their chosen hostesses. The party never stopped, even when one patron got too rowdy the rest were too busy ordering drinks and watching women dance to care.
In a half hour, medics would arrive to take the official to Shanghai No. 1 Hospital.
Over the sound of a roaring crowd, Boss Cao went to check on his coworker. Walking through a smaller hallway off to the behind the bar, he would pass several open doors. From the outside he could hear hostesses complaining about male patrons- a real wellspring of information.
Knock, knock
“Come in.”
“Are you okay, Qianlian?”
“What do you think?... I was nearly assaulted by a drunk with a broken glass bottle. That baton basically saved me. Where did you even get that thing anyway, it looks old.” At this point, Qianlian had changed out of her dark red qipao into a more comfortable fitting skirt and fur coat, with a cup of puerh tea on the dresser. “I grew up during the Warlord Era so I am no stranger to men being pigs, but that was just too up close.. One of the girls asked if I had seen a demon on my way back here.” Qianlian leaned over and gripped her tea cup close, its warmth filling her with comfort.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Shenyang. Can’t you tell?” Qianlian was laying on the Northeastern accent thick at this point. “My family is part Korean, my brother fought with the National Revolutionary Army, at least that’s what my aunt told me. He dropped off the face of the earth in ’38, we suspect he fled to Hong Kong or god knows where else. He isn’t in the Legation that’s for sure.”
“Here’s hoping that he is alright, wherever he may be. The city isn’t as safe as it used to be, that's for certain.” The veteran cabaret dancer would take a swig of tea, before finally relaxing. She had seen worse, they both had.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Thanks boss.” A question soon came to her. “If I can ask, how did you end up in Shanghai under this circumstance? You don’t strike me as the type to be in this… area of work, much less this area of the city. Usually its gangsters, not Westerners in suits.”
“Well, I first came here in the 30s. I was inspired by Edgar Snow but was too reluctant to make the journey to Yan’an.” He would pause, unsure how to tell the important piece. That was always a struggle.
“After the war against the Japanese, I had a lot of free time on my hands. I couldn’t go back to Europe, and the Americans considered me some kind of Communist devil. You ever wonder why I use my courtesy name? Precisely because the Americans never write it down on official documents.”
“So then, what is your birth name?” Qianlian put down her finished tea cup and reclined in the couch.
“I’ve been here long enough to know not to humiliate myself, Qianlian.”
“Come onn… we’re friends, aren’t we?” Qianlian pouted.
“We are, but not that close. Some other time, I’ll tell you. Keep using my courtesy name.”
---
It was getting to be about 3 in the morning. Officially, all bars had to be closed two hours ago. The Red Lily Cabaret only had the lights on for two reasons – counting the night’s earnings to tip out dancers, and keeping one of the more high class patrons happy. This man had the sense to not break a glass bottle within half a meter of a dancer, and he paid well, so he got to say. Boss Cao went through the rounds of private rooms, and made sure to check on this client.
“Sir, I am afraid the Cabaret will need to close for the night. We are happy to call you a cab, for you and your ahem… companions.” The perfume and general demeanor of the women left little to the imagination. The official sat up, clearly not expecting company, shifting his tie to be more presentable. Why it wasn’t off by this point was anyone’s guess. He was a well built man, chiseled jawline, if not for the three packs of Japanese cigarettes Cao might think him to be health conscious.
“Listen sonny, you call me a cab and I’ll be out of here. Far as my tab is concerned, consider it paid in full by the Government of Chiang Kai-shek.” The two men would laugh as Cao motioned for Alina, a Russian waitress, to go call for a black cab
The status of Shanghai was unique. Officially, Sun Yat-sen’s profligate lieutenant was in charge, even If he was over a thousand kilometers south. Even if the guards were all Western, Western languages were as common as Mandarin on the street, and gold yuan was regularly traded at Western banks for Western currency, appearances must be upheld. At this point, all Cao cared about was keeping the lights on, who was mayor or which flag flew over city hall didn’t matter as long as money kept flowing in. 500,000 in gold yuan was placed onto the mahogany table. “Pleasure doing business with you..”
“Colonel Feng Yingwen, Vice Bureau Chief of Industrial Finance for Liaoning Province.” Of course he was spending money at a cabaret, buying the company of women and thousands in cigarettes. If he didn’t, Liaoning would have no budget to speak of. “I actually do have a job for you, cabaret man. My men have come across some strange German writings, and need them to be deciphered.” Cao was a bit taken aback by the request.
“Didn’t you people get help from Germans during the war, isn’t that something you should know?” Cao could barely read Mandarin after 5 years, let alone German.
“Well, we lost a few million defending China, and had more than a few thousand defect. Who knew forcing rural conscripts to learn German under threat of a bullet would mean they demand to go to East Germany once captured in war? Oh well.” Colonel Feng shrugged. “Are you able to help us, or not?”
“What, exactly, is the document you are requesting I decipher?”
“We believe it to be an alchemical text. We have been detecting strange phenomena since the Japanese were kicked out of China. Artillery pieces operated entirely by the wind, sightings of apparitions long thought left to folklore, crop failures, bodies rising from the dead. The guns in Yan’an never go silent, and we know for a fact no one is manning them anymore. Reports suggest a strange amber glow at all hours.” Cao couldn’t help but laugh at the mention of Yan’an, as if a decade of failing to capture the city could be chalked up to magic.
“Look… This text might help us understand what exactly we are facing, both in the battlefield and off.” The Colonel rose from his seat and took hold of his dark green jacket. Rifling through deep pockets, the paper was eventually produced. It's strange markings, diagrams, and symbols were certainly intriguing, but German?
“Let me know by Sunday what you are able to find out. I will pay handsomely for any useful information you can come up with.”