Four agonizing days.
It would take Cao four days to figure out the meaning behind the document, and even then it wasn’t a concise explanation. The Colonel wanted to meet over breakfast. Beihan Banquet Hall, in the French Concession. The sun was barely rising above the Huangpu River as Cao made his way to the meeting. The building was hard to miss, both with the layered brick architecture and from the smell of Northeastern barbecue sizzling away. The restaurant was extremely modern on the inside, with electricity running around the clock, ceramic tiles, imported furniture made of solid wood and the latest designs. Several rooms in the back, of course, were much more luxurious, solely for private meals. Only a few years after the war, and life was slowly returning to some sense of normal.
“I am here to meet with Colonel Fang Yingwen. is he present?” Cao asked.
The hostess would begin to look through the reservation logs. Business was booming, and no tables were free of patrons gorging themselves on imported whiskey, vegetables, taro cake, radish cake, and various buns common in the northeast. Two plates of fried whole fish would whirl by the cabaret owner before finally the hostess found his name under reservation. As she did this, Cao couldn’t help but think about the days prior.
---
“What do you mean it’s archaic chicken scratch?!” Cao’s fist firmly hit a study room table in Shanghai’s main library. He had wracked his brain for two days already and ran to his friend almost in tears. Heinrich, a German confident from the war, had little comfort to offer.
“Alex, you can’t beat yourself up over this. The document is genuine, but I can’t read it. The German is genuinely from some older time period – Amish could probably help you, but a boat to America is unwise given your connections. They’d hang you in a week.”
“Do not remind me, Heinrich.”
Through gritted teeth, Alex asled. "What can we realistically do to get the Colonel what he wants?” The cabaret owner was almost out options.
“Well look, this is an alchemical text. There are hundreds just like it in my office. Maybe we can present them all as a collection of some kind? The photos look awfully similar.”
“Can we trust he won’t have us arrested?”
“Why would he do that?” Heinrich lit up a smokeless cigarette. What wonderful things people use magic for as it enters the world.
“We are literally providing him false information. Your plan is to stuff documents in his face and ensure that he doesn’t get wise to the fact it’s the same information presented 5 different ways. If one person knows German, we’re fucked.”
“Remember what he said? They all died at the front. We’re good, trust me.” Heinrich passed across a white envelope with four documents inside. “In any event, what they do with this information is up to them. We can only, conclusively, tell them it’s genuine and is linked to an elixir of life.”
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“Caohua? Right this way.”
The hostess led an extremely tense Cao down to the VIP room where the Colonel was busy tearing into a plate of lamb dumplings.
“Greetings commoner. You, sit there.” The Colonel pointed with his chopsticks at an empty seat. A plate of taro cake was brought out fresh for Caohua.
“What can you tell me about these German documents? Are they the key to end the war?”
“Well Colonel, having studied them with a confidant, what I can tell you is they are genuine. They were created during the war. There is reason to believe they point to an elixir of life, something the Germans had wanted to get their hands on in the midst of intense losses on the Eastern Front. The reason it is so hard to decipher, we believe, is due to it being primarily written in a runic script by occultist groups. What is in standard German is more commentary than instruction manual.” The Colonel was clearly too invested in his lamb to care about the background.
“So it could be nothing?”
“We strongly believe that the information itself is solid. I have several copies of similar documentation that point to experiments being conducted. With enough time, enough resources… it looks to be possible that such a stone or elixir may be produced on an industrial scale.”
The Colonel’s ears perked up at the idea of industrial production, he began to speak with black vinegar dripping from his mouth. “You mean to say that Brother Chiang can live forever?”
“it will not be easy to produce, but, in a way, yes. There’s a lot we don’t and even cannot know before one of these mythical... things… is brought into existence.” The Colonel nodded in approval, stuffing the documents into the inner pocket of his uniform.
“You haven’t eaten a thing Caohua, and I paid good money for that food. Eat, that’s an order.” The Colonel would jokingly remark as more food was brought in – steamed dumplings, desserts, various teas.
Idle chatter would ensue for the next hour as the two men grew a rapport.
“You know, for a former Communist soldier you’re not half bad.”
“I could say the same for you, Colonel. You are welcome to my cabaret any damn night of the week. The Liaoning budget might as well triple after a few nights out.”
“Brother Chiang is very easy with money; I will say that much. Ah, speaking of, your payment.”
A tan envelope was chucked over, the seal of the Republic clearly on the top right corner. Addressed to “Caohua, of Red Lily Cabaret”. Inside however were not the typical gold yuan, but crisp green American dollars. Counting them would be a problem, but with the exchange rate there was no question that the Red Lily could stay open for two years off this amount. Caohua got up from his seat, stuffed full of wonderful food, and began to make his way to the door.
“Don’t forget, Caohua. This stays between the two of us.”
“Certainly, Colonel.”
Caohua would take a final gulg from his tea cup and get up from his seat to leave the meeting room.
---
“Heinrich, why are you in my apartment?”
“I wanted a sandwich… How did the meeting end up?” The German was in the process of putting butter on milkbread when Caohua walked in.
“Fine enough? He gave me enough money to run the cabaret for what feels like a century. The documents were taken at face value.” Caohua placed a bag of dumplings onto the countertop. “Also, lamb dumplings.”
“Alex how many are in here? It feels like a rifle.” Heinrich attempted to pick up the bag, only to be met with its weight. Afraid of dropping the morsels, he set it back onto the wooden countertop.
“Enough for dinner, and that’s what matters.”
Cao would walk over to the couch and collapse into sleep. He’d need to be awake in several hours to open the business, and any ounce of sleep he could get was well deserved.
Not an hour into sleeping, there was another knock.