Escape from Shanghai (20 page)

The news article wasn’t a long one, but it did include a picture of Governor-General Li and his family. “Well, look at this. Isn’t this the same fellow you worked for?” grandpa asked.

Mom came around to her father’s chair and looked at the picture. “Yes, that’s him,” she said in a subdued voice.

Grandpa looked up. Her tone of voice was a giveaway. “Tell me about him. What kind of man is he?”

Mom hesitated. “Well, he was all right, I suppose.”

“You haven’t said a thing about him since your return. That’s unlike you,” grandpa said.

I started to say something, but Mom hushed me.

“I promised to keep certain information confidential,” she said. “But I suppose it’s all right for family members to know.”

Grandpa looked at her with disbelief in his eyes. “What has this world come to if you can’t even tell your own father about him, hey?”

Mom had wanted to tell grandpa, now his insistence opened the flood gates.

“Father, I was hesitant to tell you because I had promised not to say anything about the war. But I know this is simply nonsense. They are just trying to protect themselves and hide the truth.”

“Hide? What is there to hide?”

“Well, I saw some documents that I wasn’t supposed to see. They were bank statements from Switzerland—two numbered accounts. But don’t worry father. Nobody knows that I saw them.”

“Go on,” grandpa said, leaning forward in his chair.

“Nobody knows about Chiang’s participation in the scheme to move the gold from the Bank of Canton to numbered Swiss accounts. Outside of General Li, I’m the only one who saw those documents, but I have not told anyone that I saw them. And the general does not know that I saw them. As far as the world knows, the gold was never stolen. It just mysteriously disappeared. They claim that all the documents had disappeared in the chaos of war, too,” Mom said.

“The money could have been used to fight the war—to buy arms and ammunition from the Americans. But they acted selfishly and sacrificed the country instead. I think what they have done is hateful,” she said angrily. “Thousands of people died from starvation during the last year because of poor
planning and stupidity. We couldn’t even manage our own precious supply of gasoline. Li’s security guard fell asleep and accidentally set the gas on fire. It was an accident that never should have happened. The man just didn’t understand how flammable gasoline is. No one explained it to him. He warmed himself with an open brazier full of hot coals. It tipped over and the gas went up in a cloud of smoke. This was the man that Li put in charge of our gasoline!”

“You are certain that Li does not know that you saw the Swiss bank statements?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. “The only way he would know is if I told him I saw them. As far as Li is concerned, nobody has seen those papers, except himself and his co-conspirators. His story is that nobody knows what happened. Bandits might have taken it during those last chaotic days. And of course Chiang went along with this story. They just wanted to keep the entire affair a secret, and they have. Who is going to contradict these two powerful men?”

“What about the Americans?”

“As far as they are concerned, this is an internal matter for the Chinese government. It is none of their business, but they know.”

“Then why did they ask you to go to Chungking?”

“The Americans didn’t ask me—Chiang, or rather, his staff asked me.”

“Oh,” grandpa said. “What did they want to know?”

“They were investigating the fire and they wanted to know if anyone had heard anything about the gold, or the anonymous letter that they had received. They were investigating the whole story. Naturally, the administration wanted to keep things quiet. Chiang’s best response was to fire Governor Li before things got out of control. Before his own local party members rebelled against him. It was encouraging that he acted so quickly. Only it wasn’t the corruption that did it. I think it was the gasoline explosion that finally ended Li’s career. That explosion was not something that Li could hide. Especially when people found out that his own hand-picked guard had set the fire, and not a Japanese bomb.

“But Li told Chiang that the fire was an accident. So Chiang gave him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to save face. He suggested that Li take a leave of absence to do a diplomatic tour the world. Chiang told his friend that going abroad and studying the war-torn capitals would bring him respect and restore his luster. He told Li he could have his job back after his grand inspection tour. After he learned how other countries dealt with the aftermath of war, Li could apply his newfound knowledge to China. His newly acquired international
credentials would enhance his position in Chiang’s government.”

“Unfortunately, that is the old Confucian way,” grandpa said. “Education and then re-education can transform anyone. This also gives Li a chance to save face. It is certainly civilized of Chiang to let his friend off so easily. But then he has no choice, does he?” grandpa asked rhetorically. “Well, your former employer is about to leave on his face-saving world tour,” grandpa said, angrily stabbing his finger at the picture in the newspaper.

“Madame Li has invited us to their bon voyage party,” Mom said with a nod in my direction.

“They get to go before we do? That’s unfair,” I whined. “I’m an American citizen and they’re not.”

“I know. I know. But you do understand, don’t you? This is how things are.”

“You must go to their party,” grandpa said. “Keep up the pretense. You will be fine, although I find it rather humorous that you have been sworn not to disclose the circumstances surrounding the fire.”

“And the corruption by Li’s cronies. They wanted to keep that a secret, too, but that didn’t work because Chiang fired all of them, so everybody knew. And I was afraid that they had discovered my role in the secret meetings. Worse, I thought they knew I had
somehow stumbled onto those secret Swiss accounts. Thank goodness it was none of those. Being a woman has its benefits. They always underestimate me. Perhaps the most ironic thing was the rumor that Madame Li circulated about me being related to Dr. Sun Yat-sen. When the rumor became as good as fact, it enhanced my reputation and it probably helped save our lives.”

“You must not say anything to anyone about this, do you understand? This could be very dangerous for you and your mother,” grandpa warned me.

“He understands, father.”

“Of course he does! A boy who can walk past a Japanese guard with a money belt under his clothing can do anything. I am very proud of the both of you,” grandpa said. “Now, tell me, how much longer will it take for you to get your visa to go to America?” Suddenly, grandpa wasn’t so sure that we should stick around Shanghai much longer.

“A few more months, perhaps longer,” Mom replied. “The corruption in Shanghai…” her voice trailed off. “Father, Chiang’s government will not last long. We should sell our properties in Shanghai before the Communists take everything,” Mom said hoping to get a positive reaction.

“I know the Americans,” Grandpa said. “They will support Chiang, not the Communists. We will
be all right. Besides, I cannot sell what my father left to me to hold and protect, you know that.”

“But these are not ordinary times, father. I don’t believe that Chiang will survive. Too many people are going over to the Communists. They are tired of the corruption. They are afraid of the total collapse of our economy. We are on the verge of going back to bartering to do business. The yuan is worthless. The Americans may say one thing in public, but in private, they think of Chiang as a little peanut. The Americans have no respect for him. They may support him with words, but they will not support him with their army.”

“I have devoted my life to modernizing China, to build new infrastructure that will benefit the country for years to come. I will not abandon my principles. Regardless of who is in power, I will work with them to rebuild our country.”

My great grandfather was illiterate. It is questionable whether his ancestral village even had a school. He learned everything from listening to people. His grocery stores were post offices and centers of communication. Returning workers from America told him how they laid mile after mile of railroad tracks over the Rockies and into the desert. About how the fire-breathing dragons slithered across the endless land that was America. They told of rail cars that carried people and freight across thousands of miles.
Mainly, they told of the riches that the fire dragons bestowed on Mei Kuo or Beautiful Country, the name that the Chinese coolies gave to America.

Though he had no formal education, he knew that China had once been the center of the world. In fact, the Chinese name for “China” is Tsong Kuo, or literally translated: Center Country. He saw China’s River Dragons, the Yangtze and Yellow Rivers, as the country’s lifeblood flowing across the land. Over two thousand years ago, the First Emperor completed the 1,100-mile Grand Canal that connected the southern city of Hangchow with the northern Imperial Capital of Peking. (Now Beijing) This north-south waterway helped control the floodwaters of the Yangtze and the Yellow Rivers. The Grand Canal was known as the bridle for the dragons. Additionally, grain from the south came up the canal to feed the northern cities. Commerce flowed freely over the River Dragons. China’s wealth and commercial vitality came from these arteries.

Great grandfather Sun believed that China’s waterways were similar to the great American railroads. When he compared China to America, he compared the speed of the steam locomotive, the fire dragon, with the snail’s pace of the canal barge. He knew that China would have to change.

It was no accident that his number one son, Carlos, studied railroad engineering at Cornell.

My Bou Bou was a tiny woman. Standing on her bound and mangled feet, she barely reached five feet. She came from a well-to-do family, one that was comparable to grandpa’s. Her feet had been broken and bound in the traditional Chinese manner when she was a child. All of this pain and lifelong discomfort just to show society her status. She would never have to work and she would always be waited on. But times change.

When grandpa moved his family from our bombed-out compound to his town house in the city,
there wasn’t enough room to hold the family members and the staff. He had a staff of eight at the compound, but the town house could only accommodate three. The chef and his wife cooked for the family like they always did while the Amah took care of the children. After the move, the adults pretty much had to take care of themselves. Bou Bou was no longer waited on hand and foot.

Grandpa’s house was a three-and-a-half storied structure. The kitchen and the servants’ quarters occupied the ground level. The large French doors of the kitchen opened onto the backyard. There was a set of two, semi-circular stairways that wrapped themselves around the French doors. They were cantilevered over the doors and acted as a cover against the afternoon sun. The matching stairs curved down from the second floor to the garden. There was a wrought iron gate that opened out into the service road where the garbage cans were kept. It was on one of these service roads that I had seen the dead baby girl on top of a garbage can.

My cousins and I used to play in the walled-in garden. One hot afternoon, I was thirsty so I ran into the kitchen for a drink. Sitting on the work counter was a bowl of water. I picked it up and took a healthy gulp. Instantly, I gagged and spat out the rice wine. I couldn’t spit out the remaining liquid in my mouth fast enough. Then I heard the heavy laughter. The
chef had seen the whole thing. He ladled a cup of water into a bowl and handed it to me. I rinsed my mouth and then drank. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. He gave me a spoonful of sweet black bean paste and told me to hold it in my mouth. The sweetness took the bitterness away.

From that day on, I used to go watch him prepare and cook dinner. On weekends, when he and his wife made dim sum for brunch, I would go watch them make the delicate dumplings and assorted delicacies. Because I took such an interest in their work, they would take the time to teach me how to prepare and cook. I’ve been cooking ever since. It was better than playing hooky.