Muyang stood under the neon-lit "Bailu Men" sign, watching men in suits and women in high heels going in and out of the gate, listening to the jazz music coming from inside, feeling a little excited.
"The Paramount" has many legends, and in countless films that reflect the style of the Republic of China Shanghai, the image of "The Paramount" appears too many times, it has become one of the most famous symbols of Shanghai, without exception.
Although at that time the most famous dance halls in Shanghai were Xianleisi, Bailu Men, Xin Xianlin and Metropolis, but later generations only know Bailu Men relatively well, the other three have been swept into the dust of history.
Muyang adjusted his top hat and stepped inside. There was no old-fashioned elevator, but instead he walked up the wide staircase to the second-floor ballroom.
Although it's not too late, around six o'clock in the afternoon, inside is already bustling with excitement. On stage, a group of scantily-clad women are constantly swaying their smooth legs to the music, doing their best to entice and seduce.
Here, unlike the dance halls in Tianjin, it appears even more extravagant and decadent. People are laughing loudly as if they can't show off their presence otherwise. The band is playing with great enthusiasm, not just playing a few tricks to make the atmosphere even more intense.
Mo Yang found a relatively comfortable spot, sat down and ordered a bottle of wine. He poured himself a glass and sipped it slowly while occasionally observing the surroundings. He hoped to find someone like Takahashi Kojiro who was unlucky enough to let his guard down, so he could extract some information and get a lead.
Although there were Japanese people here, and their numbers weren't small, there wasn't that kind of loner. Mu Yang didn't dare to act rashly, and could only continue observing and waiting for an opportunity.
The atmosphere in the ballroom became more and more intense as time went on, as if everyone had gone mad, shouting, jumping and laughing. Were they really so happy, or was it because of their inner fears, helplessness and confusion about their future that they deliberately indulged themselves, letting themselves get drunk in this bewildering night, forgetting everything in reality.
It was already late at night, and Mu Yang still had no harvest, so he could only return to the International Hotel.
For the next two days, Muyang went to various dance halls, bars and entertainment venues in Shanghai, but all ended in failure. In his hotel room, Muyang looked at the endless stream of people below, standing still for a moment, quietly thinking about his action strategy.
It seems that I was overconfident, when I first met Takashi Goto in Tianjin, it was purely coincidental. My current behavior is just waiting for a rabbit to come and bind itself to a tree stump. It seems that I can no longer wait, I need to be more proactive and take the initiative to make contact with the Japanese people, but what exactly should I do?
After thinking for a long time, Mu Yang still had no clue. In the end, he only grasped one key point, which was to be high-profile, definitely high-profile.
As for taking the initiative to contact the Japanese, Muyang is not daring enough for the time being. The Japanese are absolutely not as foolish as in anti-Japanese dramas. As long as there is a slight flaw, one will be exposed and the consequences may be caught. Although I can escape back to modern times, it also means that I have failed. In the future, it will be even more difficult to get clues, and even the task may not be able to proceed.
In Shanghai, the secret service agencies are everywhere, and their peripheral personnel are all over various industries. Muyang believes that as long as he reveals a little abnormality, he will definitely be discovered. Now what Muyang needs to do is to be discovered by them but not too excessively, then take action according to the situation.
And in those white-faced restaurants and cafes scattered throughout Shanghai's streets and alleys, were the Japanese people's best informants.
The next day, Muyang appeared in a Japanese-style noodle shop, which was actually a place where people went to smoke opium.
A Japanese woman with a face as white as a dead person's, smiled and said to Mo Yang: "Sir, welcome to enjoy it. Have you ever eaten this thing before?"
Mu Yang looked at the beds in the house, which were already filled with people, and could only shake his head helplessly in his heart. The Republic of China's people nowadays are all using this way to numb themselves.
"This is my first time here, I'm a bit curious to take a look inside, can I?" Murong said in somewhat awkward Chinese.
The boss's wife looked up and down at Mu Yang, then said: "Sir, you're not Japanese, are you?"
"This isn't something you should be concerned about, I'm just asking you, can I take a look?" Mu Yang said with an expressionless face.
The boss's wife rolled her eyes and said, "Pay the money, take a look as you like."
Muyang directly threw 2 US dollars at this old woman and started looking inside.
This is a relatively high-end opium den, or white-faced house, similar to the ones Mu Yang saw on TV before. It's probably an old-fashioned opium den that has been renovated, but people no longer use those traditional pipes and instead use a more direct and brutal method: they put a tin plate over the fire, heat up some opium, and then use a bamboo tube to inhale it deeply into their lungs, savoring the intoxicating and hallucinatory pleasure.
There were also many attendants on the side, many of whom were 13 or 14-year-old girls, massaging legs and backs, serving water and spittoons, and even helping to hold plates and roast white flour.
Muyang went out of the door and pulled out a small notebook at the entrance. He wrote something on it, then left.
Moving on to the next house, it's even more dirty and messy here. The room only has a large kang with two sides, where people are lying or leaning in all directions, holding money that may have been earned by their own women selling their bodies, or even selling their children, to indulge in a mouthful of pleasure, without knowing whether they will be dead or alive the next moment.
After Mu Yang walked out, he still took out a small notebook and recorded something, then left.
Like this, Mu Yang visited about 3 smoke houses, 2 opium dens, and even one somewhat outdated smoke shop before finally settling down in a tea house to enjoy his afternoon tea.
In the tea house, there were Pingtan performers performing, and Muyang was enjoying himself with his eyes closed. Suddenly, Muyang felt that it had suddenly become quiet around him, and when he opened his eyes, he saw two men in casual clothes standing in front of him, wearing polite hats. Muyang was startled, and when he turned his head, he found that there were also two people standing behind him.
Muyang suddenly realized that he had attracted a spy, but judging from his appearance, he didn't seem like a Japanese person.
Suddenly one of them spoke up and said: "Sir, come with us for a walk."
"Let's take a walk and go there," said Muyang, pretending to be foolish, knowing that the Japanese person he was waiting for hadn't arrived, but the Chinese person had.
"The address is 76 West Nanjing Road, Shanghai." As soon as he finished speaking, he shouted "Take him away", and then several people behind Mu Yang rushed up, pressed his arms, and dragged him onto the street.
Outside, there was a sedan and a truck parked. However, Muyang seemed to have been treated differently from the sedan, as he was directly loaded onto the truck.
All the way, Muyang never spoke up, but his mind was constantly calculating.
They say that plans can't keep up with changes, and it seems that's the current situation. His original intention was to lure out the Japanese, then have Zhuo Yang reveal his identity, meet with high-ranking officials in the Japanese military, and see if he could get any leads on the antique.
But now, he was caught by Han traitors, and Mu Yang couldn't help but laugh and cry. Forget it, let's just adapt to the situation.
