Chapter 16. Fun Party (2)
As soon as I arrived at the party venue, Dr. Dyke greeted me warmly.
"Looks like the conversation went on for quite a while. Did it go well?"
"Thanks to your consideration, we had a pleasant talk. Thank you for the opportunity."
"No, no. When you get to be an old fogey like me, you naturally want to help promising young people. If you take away a lot from this, that's all I could ask for."
With that, he grabbed my arm and started leading me somewhere else again.
"While you were at the annex, a new guest arrived who wanted to meet you."
"Again?"
This time, maybe the Democrats.
Please, please let it be the Democrats!
Of course, the Democrats of this era were still dominated by Southern good ol' boys. Woodrow Wilson, the moralistic schoolmarm, hadn't yet purged the party's unique venom, and it would be decades before Franklin Roosevelt rolled out his sweeping progressive policies.
Even if the Democrats reached out now, it was a cold fact that I couldn't fully trust them.
But unexpectedly, the person waiting for me didn't look like a Democrat no matter how I squinted.
"Well, well. It's so heartening to see young folks like you together."
Another woman.
About my age, too.
But more striking than her glamorous dress was her distinctly visible skin tone.
"Hello, I've heard a lot about you. I'm Rosamond Soong."
Chinese? Seems like it.
A Chinese person suddenly showing up at a Kansas party was a novel experience.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Eugene Kim."
"What's your Korean name?"
"Kim Eugene. In Korea, Eugene is used as a given name too."
"That's fascinating. My real name is Song Qingling. Call me whichever you prefer."
Song Qingling.
No matter how I racked my brain, nothing came up in my knowledge base.
"Rosamond Soong is honing her studies at Wesleyan College. Her father is a very progressive man—he sent all three of his daughters to study at Wesleyan."
Sounds vaguely familiar...
Nothing to lose by taking a shot in the dark.
"Is your father Charlie Soong, by any chance?"
"You know my father? Yes, that's right. I'm the second daughter."
Now I knew who she was.
Charlie Soong was a heavyweight entrepreneur and one of the major backers of Sun Yat-sen of the Republic of China.
His three daughters would go down in history: the Song Qingling before me would become Sun Yat-sen's wife, and the youngest, Song Meiling, would marry Chiang Kai-shek.
But that aside, why?
"You young people chat. I'll go tend to my host duties. Haha."
Unaware or uncaring of my bewilderment, Dr. Dyke sauntered off toward other guests.
"..."
"..."
And there I was, sipping wine in awkward silence, utterly dumbfounded.
Talking to old men in suits was no big deal, but with a girl my age, I had no clue what to say.
"You're the quiet type, I see."
"Ah, no. It's just... meeting an Oriental—especially such a beautiful one—on American soil for the first time, I don't know where to begin. Haha."
This woman doesn't pull punches.
Bluntly calling me quiet. Hitting me with facts—it's a timeless truth that stings.
"How do you know my father?"
"Charlie Soong is already a famous figure. Any Oriental aiming for success in the United States has to know the big names Americans recognize."
"So, no personal acquaintance."
Of course not.
She's Chinese, not Korean. Why would I?
"I also received a letter and came here because of it."
"A letter?"
"Yes."
She handed me a small folded piece of paper.
I glanced around discreetly, then unfolded the crumpled sheet. It was filled with dense, cursive English handwriting.
To Mr. Charlie Soong,
From Mr. Woouam (An Chang-ho)
"Mr. Woouam to Mr. Charlie Soong?"
She nodded instead of answering.
"This might be awkward for others to hear, so maybe we should—"
"Just do it here."
When I replied in Chinese, a flicker of surprise lit her eyes.
"You speak Chinese well."
"Any Korean raised in San Francisco their whole life speaks at least four languages."
"Got it. As the letter says, Father reacted quite positively to your gun business idea."
"Without me telling him any business model or product details?"
That didn't make sense.
Chinese people making blind investments?
Hell, I'd sooner believe a Jew donated to me.
"Of course not. This is an investment in you and the Korean community. The business's success or failure isn't the main point. What's important is that here in this distant United States, Han Chinese and Koreans—as Asians—need cooperation more than conflict."
"In other words... a gesture of collaboration."
My head hurt.
Why propose this directly to me through her, instead of the Korean National Association?
Her father was a battle-hardened businessman and revolutionary who'd seen it all.
Future knowledge aside, reading a titan like Charlie Soong was impossible.
So, time to test the waters.
"Your father's noble intent is truly admirable, but regrettably, I'm not in a position to represent Koreans. You'd be better off discussing with leaders like Mr. Woouam or Mr. Dosan."
"Oh, I was told you'd say exactly that."
Shit. Figures.
I knew nothing about her side, but they'd clearly investigated me before making the offer.
In times like this, the Thirty-Six Stratagems were the answer.
Korea's tradition: our ancestors and Syngman Rhee did it—run is always the best!
"Father said you're the only one who'll lead Koreans from here on."
"Cough, cough!!"
I nearly choked on my wine.
"I can't understand that. I'm just a lowly cadet."
"For a 'lowly cadet,' being at West Point is an incredible status. Don't say silly things."
Failed again.
My escape routes were closing fast.
She quickly summed up the offer.
Chinese gunsmiths available. Small factory in San Francisco available. Funding for prototypes and pilot production available.
"If you can provide all that... why not just do the business yourselves?"
"Because it's not just about the business."
Right. I'd heard that before.
This offer was too sweet.
Accepting it would tie me to Charlie Soong—businessman and investor, or more like patron.
If I unveiled the "Chicago Typewriter" the moment the U.S. entered the Great War, as planned, I could solidify my position in the Army.
But in exchange, I'd owe Charlie Soong a huge debt.
"I need some time to think."
"Fine. Just write me a letter. Here's my address."
She handed me the address and bowed politely.
Whew.
My back was soaked with sweat.
Worlds apart from meeting Senator Curtis earlier. I knew exactly what it felt like to have my breath catch in my throat.
"For young folks in their prime talking at a party, the vibe's awfully strange. Less romance, more like D.C. old-timers scheming."
"Gah!!"
The voice from behind startled me into jumping.
Why does this guy move without a sound!
"Senator, good to see you again."
"Hoho. Sorry to interrupt your serious talk."
Oddly, only his youngest daughter, Dorothy, was with Senator Curtis.
"Where are your other children...?"
"They came to have fun—can't expect them to stick by me. They'd already been held up because of me, so I sent them off to enjoy themselves."
Then what's this one doing not playing?
My expression must have shown it; Senator Curtis grinned.
An uneasy feeling welled up again.
Here, once more: last time it was the "feigned retreat" ending, but this time, emulate our ancestors and run—
"If it's not too much trouble, could you keep Dorothy company for a bit?"
Failed again.
Maybe my military talent sucks?
Have I been coasting on mental age and future knowledge? What if my real stats are Xiahou Dun or Mudadaguchi level?
Regrets.
Should've hidden in a dark corner of the garden and yelled "Status window!" Maybe reincarnation came with one.
"Hoho. Of course. Miss Dorothy, may I have this dance as your escort?"
"Certainly. Looking forward to it."
Contrary to my thoughts, my body moved on autopilot from West Point's drilled etiquette.
"Take good care of her," Senator Curtis said before vanishing. My vision went dark.
"Shall we dance?"
"Sure."
Miss Dorothy seemed demure. At least that was a relief.
Dance a bit, chat, and she'd go find some white guy.
Ah, those were the days when I thought like that.
We'd been chatting animatedly and ended up out on the veranda.
Nerves? Or too much booze drying my throat? I couldn't even remember what we'd talked about. She hadn't slapped me yet, so probably no blunders.
She was smiling anyway, so all good.
"By the way, what's your relationship with that lady from earlier?"
That lady? Who?
"Ah, Rosamond Soong?"
"Yes, the Asian lady."
"First time meeting her today. I'd asked some Korean community elders to introduce me to connections, and it led here."
"Mind if I ask what for?"
Dorothy's eyes sparkled.
Hm. No harm in telling.
Even if I said I was prepping big for the Great War to make my name— she'd just think I was showing off to impress her.
Absolutely not the alcohol clouding my judgment. For real.
"—So, I figured I'd try developing some guns."
"Wow. You've got a lot on your mind."
Of course, I skirted the details, but her reaction was subtle.
"So, in short: make money, gain fame, build prestige among Koreans?"
She nailed the core. Do politicians' daughters all have this knack?
I nodded lightly.
"Then why hesitate?"
"Korean community lacks the capacity. Plus, the Chinese could be solid backers."
"Hm... I'm not Asian, so I might be wrong."
Unlike before, her voice was bright and lively.
"Partnering with Chinese—no, from what you said, it's basically one-sided investment. Are Koreans usually on good terms with Chinese?"
It felt like a slap to the head.
"No. They'd call me a sellout living off Chink money."
"No need to agonize then?"
"Ha. Haha. Hahahaha."
Shit.
Blinded by the juicy carrot of massive investment, I'd overlooked the obvious.
If Prince Lee intended this, he's a genius. No, shit, of course he did. The moment I accepted, any bid to lead the Korean community would get attacked over this forever!
"Normally, a girl talking business at a party would get looks of contempt or called arrogant... you okay with that?"
"What era do you think this is? I'm grateful for the advice. Cleared my head right up."
"Oh, can't sober up yet. Can we talk more?"
Of course. She just saved a drowning man.
"We've been standing so long, my legs and back ache. Mind going inside?"
"Sure. Grab a wine on the way?"
I followed her lead back to the annex.
One of the biggest regrets of my life.