City of Vice

Shanghai 192x: The most vibrant city on the planet. The most wicked city on the planet. A place where fortunes are made in deals in the opulent boardrooms of the bund and in the back alleys of the Chinese quarter. Home to countless opium smugglers, gangsters, prostitutes, businessmen, adventurers, diplomats and missionaries, it is the gateway to the vast territories along the Yangtse River.

In the Shanghai Club, Fessenden sat back in his leather chair, pushing his glasses up, smiling what he thought was a disarming smile. He did not like this man, A Chinese, how on earth did he even get in? He was too thin, his posture was too straight, and that cup in his hand contained only tea. Fessenden reached for his glass of Scotch, looking at the Russian translator as he began to speak.

We do not consider the communists a threat, Mr Fessenden. In fact, the opinion of the Chinese Revolutionary Party here in Shanghai is that all Chinese need to unite and end the reign of the warlords that too long have taken advantage of the vacuum left by the corrupt Manchu emperors. As for the matter of the smuggling syndicates…one consider such concern regarding opium trade a bit odd for a British official.

“Damn it, man, I am an American! Do we all look the same to you yellow devils?”

Fessenden couldn’t be sure, but for a second, he thought that the Chinese man’s composure slipped and he saw the shadow of a smile play on his lips as he responded. The thick Russian accent of the translator relayed his words, as the Chinese men stood up to leave.

“Wouldn’t that be amusing, Mr. Fessenden? As it is, I think you might have a point regarding the communists. We will watch them carefully. Still, there is the matter of the Warlords of the Sichuan basin. They are loyal to us now, but if we move against their livelihood, they will not be as pliable.”

Fessenden drained his scotch and looked to the long bar. The third impossible guest of the day, returned his gaze. Straightening her chipao, she walked languidly to stand behind him. Fessenden looked straight out towards the Huangpo river and nodded to himself.

“It can’t be helped, you can begin.”

The woman smiled knowingly, “I shall do my best, Stirling.”

When Fessenden turned around, the woman had gone.