Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 110 Assassination of the Police Chief

Chinatown.

The air is viscous.

Hundreds and thousands of Chinese laborers surrounded this small square called Garden Corner.

They were like a group of sardines trapped in a can, packed tightly together, shoulder to shoulder, struggling even to breathe.

They've been waiting here for almost two days.

Ever since Wang Dafu and the uncles from the six major associations took the thirty elected representatives north in a carriage, Chinatown has been caught in a strange state of excitement and anxiety.

"What if they don't come back?"

A man who was so thin he was just a skeleton asked the person next to him in a neurotic manner.

Shut your stinking mouth!

A burly man next to him growled, "Wang Dafu doesn't look like a conman."

The skinny man laughed sharply: "Which of those white pigs looks like a conman? They smile and shake your hand, but they can turn around and swallow your bones whole!"

"Thirty people, plus the owners of six major clubs, if they're all wiped out, they'll be sold to South America to dig up bird droppings..."

This speculation caused a stir among the surrounding crowd.

"They're back!"

Suddenly, someone let out a scream that sounded inhuman.

"Fucking hell, they're back!"

The crowd surged toward the street corner like madmen.

"Don't squeeze!"

"Let me through, my brother is in the car!"

"Is it true? Are they still alive?"

The crowd surged like an out-of-control wave, crashing against both sides of the street.

Several four-wheeled carriages covered in yellow mud struggled through the sea of ​​people.

When Uncle Yu, the president of the Six Guild Halls, stepped down from the carriage, his silk mandarin jacket still intact, the crowd fell silent instantly.

Immediately afterwards, the thirty Chinese laborers jumped off the carriage one by one.

Gap-toothed Liu, the one-finger worker, and Old Chen—not one is missing.

They are all still alive.

These people were neither sold nor skinned.

Wang Dafu is definitely not a fraud.

"Woo!"

An elderly woman with gray hair knelt on the ground and wailed like a child.

Her cries instantly ignited a powder keg that had been simmering for two days.

"Gap-toothed Liu, you son of a bitch!"

A burly man burst through the crowd, grabbed Liu the gap-toothed by the shoulder, and shook him violently: "Is it true? What's it like up north?"

"Old Chen, say something! Say something!"

"What about food? Do they really feed them? Or is it just pig swill?"

"One eagle dollar, is that just bragging?"

The thirty delegates were instantly overwhelmed by their fellow villagers, friends, and countless anxious eyes.

"Quiet!"

Uncle Yu's loud shout silenced the commotion.

The crowd wisely shut their mouths, and hundreds of bloodshot eyes stared intently at him.

Uncle Yu looked around at the faces worn down by life, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently.

His usually calm and composed face twitched slightly with extreme excitement.

"Guys, Northern California is a good option!"

"That's a good place."

Upon hearing this, everyone could no longer contain themselves and jumped up and down excitedly.

"Ooooooh!"

"Did you hear that? Uncle Yu said we can go!"

"Heaven has not forsaken me!"

"and many more!"

Gap-toothed Liu jumped onto another carriage.

Do you know what we saw?

"Apple orchard!"

Gap-toothed Liu held up one finger: "An orchard that stretches as far as the eye can see, where hundreds of our compatriots work!"

"No queues, and no whips from the white-skinned pig overseer!"

"What about food?"

The man with the severed finger, his eyes red and his voice trembling, said, "There's plenty of white rice, two eggs in the morning, and meat soup in the evening!"

The crowd erupted in uproar.

Heaven knows how valuable the words "white rice" and "eggs" are to them nowadays.

Being able to eat this once is enough to make me cry with excitement, let alone being able to eat it every day.

If you could eat like that every day, what would that be if not paradise?

"Where's the money? Where's the money?"

"Hmph, do any of you know Zhou Dapao and Erzhu?"

Gap-toothed Liu searched through the crowd.

"Does anyone know them, from the Gangzhou Association or the railway?"

"I know!"

"That's my cousin!"

"How are they doing?"

"They're foremen now!"

Gap-toothed Liu roared, "A full dollar and fifty cents a day, cash only!"

"A way out! We have a way out!"

The crowd finally regained its vitality and saw hope for life.

As long as they can work there, they will no longer be livestock to be slaughtered, no longer live in constant fear, and no longer have all their value squeezed out.

"Mr. Wang, please take me with you! You absolutely must take me with you!"

"Uncle Yu, I'm kowtowing to you. I have three children at home who are starving to death!"

"Let me do it! I can do anything!"

"Quiet, quiet!"

Wang Dafu, who had been silent all along, finally stepped forward.

"Don't worry, brothers. Northern California is huge. Anyone who wants to go there can settle down."

"but!"

His voice suddenly rose: "We must maintain order! We're going to work, not to flee!"

"They need to come in batches, in stages, understand?"

"The Six Great Halls!"

Wang Dafu turned to Uncle Yu.

Uncle Yu immediately understood; it was time for him, as a member of the old guard, to make his stance clear.

He took a step forward, leaning on his cane: "Mr. Wang is right, we need to maintain order!"

"Starting today, the six major associations will cover all travel expenses to Northern California!"

"Furthermore, Mr. Wang has also reached an agreement with the farm that the Chinese Youth Association will help you build the sturdiest wooden houses, so you'll have a place to stay as soon as you arrive!"

"Ooooooh!"

The cheers nearly lifted the roof off Chinatown.

"but!"

Uncle Yu slammed his cane on the ground, and the crowd fell silent once more.

"Let me be frank from the outset. The farmers in Northern California aren't running charities. The fact that they're willing to hire us Chinese is an opportunity that our brothers in the Chinese Youth Association risked their lives for!"

"You're going there to earn money to survive!"

"If anyone dares to steal, cheat, smoke opium, gamble, or cause trouble over there, they're not just destroying their own livelihood, they're destroying the livelihoods of all Chinese Americans! This is absolutely unacceptable!"

"Do you understand? By then, before the white pigs even make a move, the Huaqing Association will be the first to break your legs, the farm will fire you, and you can forget about ever going back to Chinatown!"

"Go back to the Qing Dynasty and die in the Pacific Ocean, it's none of our business!"

These words stunned everyone, yet no one found them unreasonable.

After all, with such good treatment, it's understandable that they have expectations of them. If they had no expectations and offered heaven-like treatment, that would be truly dangerous.

"Correct!"

Gap-toothed Liu was the first to roar: "We finally have a way to survive, and whoever dares to spoil this pot of soup, I'll be the first to kill him!"

"We can't let one bad apple spoil our lives!"

"Uncle Yu is right, anyone who dares to cause trouble should be killed!"

The Chinese laborers wholeheartedly agreed, and they cherished this means of survival more than anyone else.

An unprecedented mass migration began in the heart of San Francisco.

With the full support of the six major associations, the cans of food in Chinatown were pried open.

Thousands of Chinese laborers began to move.

Although there were many people, their possessions were pitifully small.

The Chinese Youth Association has chartered five large steam ferries at the pier at the end of Sacramento Street, which have been transporting Chinese laborers 24 hours a day to Sausalito in the North Bay.

There, there would be carriages from the White Tiger Security Team and a reception station from the Chinese Youth Association, transporting them in batches to their new homes.

The rooftop terrace of the Aoyama Club.

Lawson's consciousness fell on Qingshan, quietly watching this bustling scene.

The street leading to the dock had now become a seemingly endless river made up of blue coarse cloth and yellow skin.

The enthusiasm of the Chinese laborers exceeded his expectations.

It seems that there are far more people struggling in hardship in this world than he thought.

Perhaps in the future, some people will think, "I'd rather be a dog in the city than go back to the countryside to farm."

but now.

Lawson looked at the emaciated women carrying children on their backs: "But this is 1878, and things are different now."

"They go wherever there is a way to make a living."

"If we don't go, we'll just starve to death."

During this period, Chinese laborers in America did not have many options.

If you miss this chance, you may never have another one.

Although the Chinese laborers were almost numb to the pain, they were not fools, and everyone cherished this hard-won opportunity.

"Three days."

Lawson murmured, "At this rate, at least 20,000 to 25,000 laborers will be drawn from this can in three days."

Twenty-five thousand people.

His nearly 10,000 acres of apple orchards, vineyards, pastures, and fertile black soil waiting to be cultivated were finally being cultivated.

Such a large-scale, almost complete evacuation naturally attracted a lot of attention.

When the first and second waves of thousands of Chinese people, with their families and luggage, quickly crossed the edge of the Barbary coast and headed for the dock, the Irish drunks, Mexican pimps, and white foreigners loitering on the street corners were all dumbfounded.

"what the hell?"

An Irishman with a bulbous nose, carrying a bottle of liquor, blocked the road: "Is this a fucking Chinese funeral?"

"They even brought their luggage!"

"FUCK!" another Mexican suddenly yelled. "They're leaving! Those damn Chinese are going back to Qing China!"

The discovery quickly spread throughout the neighborhood.

Those scumbags were all in an uproar.

They rushed out of bars and brothels, gathered on both sides of the street, and cheered as if watching a circus.

"Go back to your mother's hometown, you bunch of rat-eating scum!"

"Get out of here, you bunch of yellow-skinned bastards! You stole our jobs, it's a huge favor we didn't kill you!"

An Irish bitch even threw a bucket of urine out of a second-floor window.

"Hey." A white foreigner whistled lewdly at a Chinese woman carrying a baby on her back, clutching his crotch: "Before you get lost, let me see what your tits look like!"

"Damn it, I'll fight these beasts to the death!"

In the group, several hot-blooded young Chinese men, their eyes bloodshot, gripped their carrying poles tightly, ready to rush forward and fight to the death.

"stop!"

The assassins of the Chinese Youth Association and the elders of the six major associations all let out a low growl.

"Ignore them and keep walking!"

"Our way out lies ahead, not here!"

The young Chinese men gritted their teeth, filled with resentment, but they knew they had to consider the bigger picture. In the end, they could only lower their heads, carry their luggage, and quicken their pace.

late at night.

At Nob Hill, a top-notch salon gathering has just ended.

Chief Harrison staggered out of a brightly lit mansion, drunk.

He was very proud, extremely proud.

The air still lingered with the expensive perfumes of those high-society bitches, a scent he couldn't forget.

Especially the banker's daughter, that virgin who was only eighteen years old.

As he talked about how he maintained order in San Francisco, the little fool looked at him with eyes full of admiration.

This feeling is absolutely amazing.

Harrison licked his lips smugly.

"Stupid little bitch, does she think I'm a hero?"

"Maybe next time, I won't even have to spend a penny. She'll be begging me to play with her soft, tender little butt! Hahahaha!"

"Huh? Where's the carriage?"

At this time of day, the carriage should be waiting here, but it seems to be late today.

"Where the hell is my carriage?"

Soon, a four-wheeled carriage bearing the police badge slid out of the shadows and stopped in front of him.

"Damn it, they're finally here!"

Harrison wobbled as he climbed up, then plopped down on the soft seat.

"go home."

He yelled at the blurry black figure in the driver's seat, "You idiot, fucking drive faster!"

The carriage started slowly.

Harrison closed his eyes contentedly, burping from the alcohol, completely unaware that just twenty feet away in an alley filled with the stench of urine and garbage, his personal driver was being stripped naked and knocked unconscious.

Harrison was jostled around in the carriage, enveloped by a warm, sticky fog of alcohol.

My mind was filled with fantasies of that virgin girl without clothes.

I must win her over in a few days.

Sudden.

The carriage stopped abruptly, and the inertia caused his large belly to slam hard against the front wall.

"FUCK!"

Harrison sobered up a bit, but his anger surged.

He pushed open the car door and rushed out, pointing at the driver's back and cursing, "You bastard, are you drunk too?"

"It's so hard to get me home! Huh? Where the hell am I?"

Harrison shivered for no reason, squinted at his surroundings, and realized that this was not the way home.

It was pitch black here, with no streetlights, not even a road, only knee-high weeds swaying in the fishy wind of the bay.

The driver slowly turned around.

Harrison's curses were now stuck in his throat.

Beneath the brim of the hat was a completely unfamiliar face, with the characteristic pallor of the Irish.

"you……"

Harrison's remaining alcohol levels evaporated completely, and this time his entire body felt completely cold.

He instinctively reached for his holster, but he had drunk too much and the holster was pressed down by his fat. After groping around for a while, he couldn't find anything.

"Wait a moment, we can negotiate amicably!"

Seeing this, the Irishman didn't even bother to pick up his gun.

Harrison was frantically trying to come up with a way to save his life when a cold glint suddenly flashed before his eyes.

"Uh!"

He lowered his head.

A crudely made sailor's dagger plunged its entire blade into his fat-filled heart, the edge precisely severing the aorta.

"I am the police chief..."

Harrison collapsed in the mud, convulsing and spitting blood, and died shortly afterward.

(End of this chapter)