A man needed fine clothes just as a horse needed a good saddle...
That was a time-honored saying in China.
Yamada not only understood it, but made a very good case for it.
But how could Chen Fan not understand that principle?
Of course, the original owner of this body really had little education. He had gone out into the world with his father at fourteen. How many books could anyone expect him to have read?
But the current Chen Fan was different. He was a bona fide graduate of a Project 985 university.
He had experience managing a company on his own, a wealth of knowledge, and a deft command of the ways of business.
Otherwise, he could never have reached director level at twenty-seven or twenty-eight...
Understanding it did not mean Chen Fan had the means to do it.
Prices in Shanghai were outrageously high now, too. A bespoke suit could easily cost dozens of silver dollars.
Add leather shoes, a wallet, a lighter, and other little accessories, and posing as a successful man took capital.
Hadn't he been forced to call on Cao Bin looking like a laborer?
At first sight, Cao Bin had even thought he had come to beg.
That was why he had generously given him some money to tide him over.
Soon, the goods were loaded onto handcarts and hauled away batch by batch. As the final load left the warehouse, Yamada tossed away his cigarette, stepped forward, and patted Chen Fan on the shoulder.
"Chen-san, this has been a very pleasant collaboration. I hope we can make our next deal soon."
With that, Yamada climbed into the vehicle, stepped on the accelerator, and led the way out of the warehouse...
Chen Fan gave Cao Bin and Brother Bao a few instructions, then left the warehouse under cover of darkness.
It was already past midnight when Chen Fan reached Shengping Theatre on Kingston Road in Hongkou, Shanghai.
Two of the gas lamps outside the theatre had gone out. Only the one furthest to the side was still lit.
The midnight air was cold and still. The plane tree outside rustled in the night breeze, and a few dead leaves spun across the flagstones.
They were swept into the air by the breeze, only to fall again moments later...
Chen Fan turned into a narrow alley along the theatre's eastern side and entered the building through an inconspicuous side door at the back of the alley.
That door was normally kept shut, but Old Knife Handle knew he was coming tonight and had deliberately left it open for him.
Once Chen Fan entered, a faint fragrance of Longjing tea drifted into his nose.
Old Knife Handle held a blue-and-white porcelain teacup, sipping from it little by little.
Seeing Chen Fan enter, he set the cup on the tea table and asked, "How did it go?"
Chen Fan took off his hat, placed it on the tea table, and sat opposite Old Knife Handle, leaning back a little.
Only now did the tension of the entire night truly ease.
"You can rest easy when I'm handling things," Chen Fan said evenly. "All the goods have left the docks. They took two routes and went aboard as planned."
"Everything went smoothly. No complications. I had people keeping watch, and no one paid any attention to our operation. The entire transaction took no more than forty minutes."
"Good, good, good. Young Master Chen certainly gets things done cleanly and efficiently." Old Knife Handle cracked his knuckles and said excitedly, "Once we deduct the capital and the payoffs, you and I stand to clear at least a little over ten thousand silver dollars from this deal."
"In a place like Shanghai, plenty of people risk their lives and still can't earn a fraction of that."
Chen Fan wholeheartedly agreed with Old Knife Handle.
The world was always unfair. Some people spent their entire lives barely scraping together a living,
while people like them could make more than others earned in half a lifetime with hardly any effort.
Chen Fan lit a cigarette, took a drag, and said, "Sixth Master, now that the job's done, shouldn't we work out how to split the money?"
Old Knife Handle frowned. "Young Master Chen, this isn't your first day in the game."
"You know the rules of the underworld, too. We can only discuss splitting the money after the goods have been sold."
"The goods have only just gone aboard. They haven't even reached Guangzhou yet. Isn't it a little early to talk about splitting the money?"
"This is a partnership. I'm not doing it alone."
"What? Are you short of money right now?"
Chen Fan grumbled inwardly, Don't you know whether I'm short of money? I'm so damned broke I'm about to piss blood.
But he did not say that aloud.
"Sixth Master, I brought people in for this job, too. My money can wait, but I can't hold up theirs."
"How about this? Give me thirty percent first, to tide me over."
Old Knife Handle stubbed out the cigarette in his hand in the ashtray, rose, and took a key from his pocket. He unlocked a cabinet, took out a stack of Central Reserve Bank notes along with several bundles of fabi, and pushed them toward Chen Fan.
"Here's five thousand. Together with the five thousand you borrowed last time, that makes ten thousand silver dollars."
"But one thing is one thing, and another is another. I'll give you the money, but I'll charge interest."
"It'll take about half a month to sell this shipment. I won't ask for much-ten percent interest on every thousand. Any problem with that?"
Without hesitation, Chen Fan picked up the fabi and Central Reserve Bank notes on the table. "Sixth Master, thank you!"
Early the next morning.
The first thing Chen Fan did after getting up was follow Yamada's advice and dress himself properly.
Shanghai's sprawling foreign settlements were bustling beyond compare.
Almost everything fashionable at the time could be bought there...
Naturally, that included all kinds of luxury goods and Western suits...
Most of the French Concession's finest Western clothing shops were concentrated around Avenue Joffre and Avenue Dubail.
Chen Fan first went to one of the most famous shops on Avenue Joffre, called Pei'ermeng Suit Shop.
The shop had a considerable reputation and a very conspicuous location,
Its sign was in English. Two wooden mannequins wearing fashionable suits stood in the glass display window, dressed in the season's latest styles.
A small line engraved on a brass plaque in the lower right corner of the window read, "Specializing in the latest English, French, and Italian menswear. Finely handcrafted. Delivery in three days."
Standing outside the shop, Chen Fan looked up at the sign, then pushed open the door and went in.
The interior was not large, but it was arranged with exquisite care. Fabrics of every color hung on all four walls, with everything from English twill to French worsted wool.
The shop had only just opened. A single shop assistant in his twenties stood behind the counter, dusting the shelves with a feather duster,
Seeing a customer enter, he immediately put down his tools and came forward to greet him.
"Good morning, sir. Would you like to have some clothes made?"
Chen Fan did not answer. His eyes swept over the fabrics on the walls.
The assistant did not look down on Chen Fan for his plain clothes. Setting down the feather duster, he enthusiastically began introducing the various fabrics on the walls.
Though he was only a shop assistant, he knew the origins and characteristics of every fabric like the back of his hand.
Chen Fan nodded repeatedly as he listened. Before long, with the assistant's guidance, he selected two lengths of fabric.
"These two fabrics, two suits. Use this one for a single-breasted, three-button suit, fitted at the waist, with a vent at the back."
"Use that navy one for the other. Double-breasted, peaked lapels, with a matching waistcoat."
The assistant nodded eagerly and fetched a measuring tape from beneath the counter. As he took Chen Fan's measurements, he said, "You have an excellent eye, sir. This English twill only arrived last month. We're the only shop in the entire French Concession that carries it."
"Several prominent businessmen in the French Concession have had suits made from this fabric here."
"Everything about this fabric is good. Its only drawback is the price..."