The hurried feet of men going from bow to stern ensuring that all personnel, cargo, and machinery was accounted for was a sight to behold. Ma Liu hadn’t seen anything quite this coordinated than the Northern Expedition, but then he was barely in his 20s back then. Naïve and believing that the Republic would be salvageable under Chiang or some other warlord. As the morning sun came into full view over the horizon line, Alex and his former comrade took a walk on the top deck for fresh air.
“What was that time like?” Alex looked over the railing with a cigarette in his mouth, failing to light it with a strike match. Ma Liu took out his own box of strike matches and ran it along the serrated surface. Nothing. Looks like they’d be going without smokes for the first time in weeks. Alex’s shirt and overcoat were stained with tea, but he didn’t care at this point to ask the staff to wash them.
“It was, in a word, hell. You know, we may be only a few years apart but imagine for a moment you grow up under an Empire that hates you and your people. They restrict your eligibility to imperial exams, the one method of getting out, and then Sun Yat-sen comes along with his grand ideals of five people under one flag, in democracy. Ah, democracy, that mirage we were so naive to chase for so long.” Ma Liu would tap the butt of his cigarette on a railing, the gentle thump of paper on metal bringing him a sense of calm when facing the cold northern ocean breeze. “You know, the fact is..”
Ma Liu was cut off by the sound of the steam engine roaring to life, bellowing out white puffs from the bowels of an engine room deep below the living quarters of passengers. The two of them silently looked out at the sea, passing by village after village. In some, crews of fishing vessels were just going out to sea hoping to make a living for their families that day. Such a simple life - Alex almost idealized it, but his hands were never going to be strong enough for that kind of work, and now in his early 30s it made no sense for him to think of quitting the job he has for something so uncertain. Running a bar, as hectic as the drama is with the girls and staffing and triads, was home to him. Going behind the bar to mix drinks is as natural as putting on the kettle at 2am. Several years ago, holding a rifle was equally as normal.
Alex flipped himself around to face the less interesting but also less blinding mural wall of the ship, the sun no longer burning his eyes. The mural wasn’t anything to write home about, a traditional landscape painting brought to the modern day. “Ma Liu, why did you leave the National Revolutionary Army? What changed?”
--
Liangfang woke up in a cold sweat. She was, for once, free. Free from the Green Gang, free from having to preform every night. It was liberating, ominous, and calming all at once. “Well, at least those bastards didn’t get on this boat.” Her stomach rumbled, and no sooner did she get out of bed did an attendant come by. Her room was tiny, a bedroom with a balcony view for two. A side table and small collection of books she’d managed to keep would bring her some solace – the boys would have the real prize among their luggage in the cargo hold.
“Miss, what can I get for you this morning?” The attendant was curt, but sweet in tone.
“The strongest black tea, jiaozi, and honey… if you can, make sure to deep fry the jiaozi.”
“Right away.”
The morning sun was barely above the horizon line, and soon she’d have a meal that she once held onto as a morning ritual in Shenyang. Laying back down on the comfortable bed for two, she’d run her fingers along the fine white sheets as memories would flood back. Memories of the teahouses full of red tea and cong youbing vendors, the smell of hot soymilk, hawthorn being cut open and juiced for lunch… soon she’d be back home where she belonged. The war may have changed some things, sure, but Shenyang would be Shenyang, just like Dalian would be Dalian… how bad could the KMT have ruined things, really?
After what felt like an eternity, the attendant knocked once more. In her hands was an alabaster tray. Atop the tray, a black gaiwan, porcelain cup, and large kettle of black tea. The gaiwan was for those who believed this tea to be anything more than a vessel for sugar. For all the Westerners rejected puerh and other forms of Chinese teas, the Russian tradition of samovar had not escaped Liangfang after hiding in Vladivostok. The Russian Civil War was long, but samovar at a harborside bar with friends? That’s the stuff good memories are made of. Liangfang slowly got up from her daydreaming and took the kettle in one hand, cup in the other, and poured herself a glass. The taste was bitter, the leaves just barely oversteeped – just how she liked it. Where others might see bad taste, this was nostalgia. She dropped a cube of brown sugar into the porcelain cup and stirred, remembering what her old boss once told her about minding her sugar intake… As she looked over to the tray, something was clearly missing.
“Attendant! I have no jiaozi!” The half-awake foxgirl would bemoan her lack of breakfast. As if on cue, the attendant came back in with a small plate of 9 deeply fried, golden and crispy dumplings. This was going to be, all things considered, a comfortable morning.
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“I really need to get back home… eventually.” As the crunch of the dumpling wrapper hit her tongue, the juicy pork inside made her forget about her troubles. The ocean water was cold, but her body and mind were warm. In remembrance that this journey would take her back to home, back to the place she could reclaim lost glory. All she needs is that elixir, that magical pill said to bring the dead to life, let the living go on for centuries more in near perfect health.
--
In the gambling halls below deck, Heinrich was losing at mahjong. He could never get the hang of it to begin with, but he was worse at it when it was 5am, half asleep. “Another round, German?”
“No, fuck no.” He could barely bring himself to a laugh.
“You know you can just watch – right?” A woman at the table next to him asked in German. She wore a bright red dress, looked like a nightclub dancer off hours. A cigarette dangled from her mouth, and she was on a roll.
“I am well aware. Who are you to ask me?” She walked over and sat down next to Heinrich.
“Someone who was told to contact you, Herr Heinrich. My name is Li Ahn.”
“Are you with the German military police?” Heinrich sheepishly asked.
She couldn’t help but laugh. The former soldier wasn’t an unknown entity to the Shanghai international government, nor was he an unknown entity to.. well.. many people. When not working with Alex, Heinrich worked with the Green Gang and other underworld characters to ensure the shipment of weapons and less than legal funds through teahouses and other ventures. He was infamous for counterfeiting ration cards during the Japanese occupation and forging documents, from there he went on to smuggling luxury goods to whoever would pay.
“I am not with the Republicans, or the German government. No, I am working on behalf of clients beyond your pay grade who knows of your expertise. They wish for you to deliver them something of great importance.” The smoke filled room went away, and all Heinrich could focus on was this woman complimenting his acumen. The place was hardly busy at this hour, with gamblers burning the candle at both ends trying to make back lost income chasing the fortunes of an earlier time.
“Is it some elixir of life?” Everyone was bringing that up. He’d overheard the conversation Alex had with Ma Liu at the cabaret only two weeks ago.
“No, it isn’t… Herr Heinrich, what I need from you is simple. I need you to collect on a large debt, ensure the transfer of payment, and you can collect a percentage.”
“Why me and not.. literally anyone else?”
“Your reputation for getting work done precedes you. I was under the impression a master forger and money launderer would know how to collect on debts. You’ve certainly had people slight you before, yes?”
“Once or twice in a blue moon sure, but not to the extent where I’d-“
“Hire someone out to collect?” Li Ahn’s lips widened into a smile.
“Exactly.” Heinrich was still confused on why it was him being contacted. “Who, exactly, is your client?”
“Captain Shen Zhong, and the person I need a debt collected on fled to Dalian, we suspect. All you need to do is make contact and ensure payment of the debts to the Captain. It’s not a large city, the debtor should be easy to find.”
“The Captain couldn’t get one of his men to do it for him?”
“The Communists, whatever you may believe, are trying to rid China of rule by men societal features. There are laws, they shall be followed. A member of the military cannot simply demand his men go after a debtor for a civilian manner- how would that make them look? They’d be no better than the KMT press gangs, or the violence of the lower ranks in the 30s…” Li Ahn put her head in her hands, putting out her cigarette in the process.
“I will think about debt collection. Have the Captain meet me shortly after we disembark. I am certain that this shouldn’t be too big of an issue, but I want to ensure what I get paid in the end and know who I am working for. As much as I may be a forger, I am not a debt collector. I don’t just rough people up.”
“That’s not what the boss says… He says you were an undecorated hero of the revolution, that without your help under Yuan Shikai, things would’ve turned out a lot differently in this world. Hell, maybe the boy emperor would still be in his seat, the Mandate not lost.”
“The Qing Mandate was lost in the 20s, nobody wants the imperial government to return. I was an opportunist young man back then, barely 23 when I got the job. Do you seriously think I didn’t see the writing on the wall during the Northern Expedition, or when Chiang arrested leftist KMT members at the Nanjing Assembly? It was kind of obvious where I had to stand to not get shot.”
“You make an interesting argument Herr Heinrich.. but I am not the woman you need to convince. That would be my benefactor, your client. We will set up a meeting when you reach Dalian. The Captain will be happy to know someone can take on this work while she is busy with her duty of expanding Party values.”
“She’s a fucking political officer and she can’t clamp down on gambling?!”
“Oh no, she’s not a political officer, she runs intelligence for the harbor… You would do well to declare everything when we get into port.” Li Ahn chuckled as she walked away, leaving Heinrich in a mostly empty gambling hall. After a few moments of sulking, he collected his meager winnings and cashed out. Whether a debt could be collected on was one thing, whether it should after a certain point is another. Who knows what this intelligence officer is setting him up for? What kind of criminal gang he’d need to investigate… it was all too murky. The Soviets held the city, but the port was under Chinese control as a courtesy measure, so he’d need to additionally go through the Russians.
He'd go back to the shared cabin, not seeing Alex or the Colonel in, Heinrich took off his shirt and fell asleep like a rock. It’d take three more days before reaching Dalian. At that point, who knows how the situation would evolve.