Reborn in 1878: America's Number One Bandit

Chapter 66 Lawson's Rules

Erzhu was out of breath from running, clutching his knees, unable to speak for a long time.

Zhou Dapao gulped down a ladle of cold water to catch his breath.

"Brothers! That place is real, an endless apple orchard, full of ripe apples!"

"The wages are real too, one silver dollar a day!"

Upon receiving the answer they wanted, the crowd immediately erupted in excitement.

"Oh my God."

"Where is that acquaintance?"

One worker asked anxiously, "That guy said he knows someone we know, but who is it?"

Zhou Dapao cleared his throat, enjoying the feeling of being the center of attention.

"I'm afraid you'll be scared to death if I tell you."

"Stop fucking suspense, just tell me!"

"Yes."

Zhou Dapao chuckled: "It's Lawson, the Lawson who ran into the mountains."

The moment the name was uttered, the camp fell into an eerie silence.

"Losen?"

"Isn't he dead?"

Zhou Dapao puffed out his chest and embellished Lawson's "Americans recognize a godfather" rhetoric.

After hearing this, the Chinese laborers were all dumbfounded.

"Damn, why didn't I get to have this good thing?"

"What incredible luck! I've really stepped in dog poop!"

"No wonder the wages are so high, it turns out the manager is one of their own."

Once Erzhu recovered, he waved his hand to interrupt the crowd's discussion.

"Fellow villagers, don't worry about how Lawson made his fortune. Now he's in charge. He said himself that it's one silver dollar a day, with room and board included, no deductions. There will be bonuses for good performance."

He glanced at Liang Kuan, whose face was ashen, and deliberately raised his voice: "Luo Sen said that as long as our own people go there, there will be work to do and money to earn."

He said no more, and pulled Zhou Dapao around to his work shed: "Whether you go or not, we're definitely going. Let's pack our bags now."

"I'll go too."

"Count me in. It's better to work for Lawson than for these traitors."

"Let's go, let's go together."

Of the more than 200 Chinese workers on the construction site, more than 180 immediately expressed their desire to go and see.

"Rebellion, rebellion, everything is rebellious!"

Liang Kuan was trembling with rage: "I've known for a long time that that little bastard Luo Sen is a scoundrel, a traitor! And now he dares to ruin my plans."

"Grab your weapons, let's go. I want to see if this Lawson really has three heads and six arms, and is as audacious as a dog. Don't think that just because he doesn't work for me, I can't deal with him."

……

Soon, a large group of people set off for the apple orchard.

At the back of the group, Liang Kuan led five or six thugs wielding sticks, their faces grim.

When the workers stepped into the manor and saw Lawson waiting for them, the crowd fell silent once more.

Lawson, it really is Lawson.

But now, he is completely unfamiliar to everyone.

He was no longer the emaciated laborer in tattered overalls.

He wore a clean shirt, sturdy riding boots, and his muscles bulged beneath his open waistcoat.

He stood there casually, looking at the crowd with a half-smile.

"Fellow villagers, welcome to Apple Manor," Lawson said with a smile.

"We're all compatriots, so I don't have all those messy, ridiculous rules here. Like I always say, the wage is one silver dollar, paid daily, monthly for long-term workers, and there will never be any delays."

Here, you won't have to worry about anyone's attitude, and no foreigner will dare to bully you. As long as you don't slack off, don't cause trouble, and work diligently, I guarantee you'll earn money steadily.

We'll also give you four days off each month to do your own thing.

This treatment, which truly treated them like human beings, made the workers present cheer excitedly—it was simply heaven.

Lawson waved his hand, suppressing the cheers.

"However, I also have two requests, firstly..."

He pointed to the shiny braids in the crowd and said, "Cut them off."

"Second, smoking opium is forbidden."

"Those who can accept it can stay; those who can't can turn around and go back to the railway construction site now."

After he finished speaking, the crowd fell silent once again.

The wages are too tempting, and the safety is too tempting. But these two rules are too difficult to enforce.

Some people instinctively clutched their chests, where they kept the opium paste they had painstakingly saved up for.

This was their only solace in this hellish foreign land.

Making them quit is harder than killing them. Others, too, can't bear to part with their queues.

An elderly worker in his fifties stepped forward shakily: "Manager Luo, this queue... it doesn't affect our work. We are people of the Qing Dynasty, and this queue is our lifeline. If we cut it off, how can we face our ancestors when we go home? We won't even have the face to enter the ancestral grave after we die."

"Yes, Manager Luo, please be lenient with me."

Lawson frowned and shook his head, interrupting the plea:
"America is a free country, and it's your freedom to keep a queue, it's none of my business."

But this farm doesn't welcome people with queues (pigtails). According to the Westerners, it's called corporate culture. If you can accept it, stay; if you can't, go back—it's simple.

After saying that, he turned to leave.

This can be left to Da Niu and Er Zhu to manage; his patience has run out.

It's true that Chinese laborers are capable and hardworking.

No nation in the world is more capable of enduring hardship or more resilient.

However, its shortcomings are also obvious: ignorance, selfishness, infighting, and disunity.

They've all come all the way to America to make a living, and their lives are hanging by a thread. Why do they have to stay faithful to that old lady who treats them like pigs and dogs?
He has no obligation to enlighten or educate each one individually. What he needs to do is open up the environment and give them better choices.

But the first step in granting him protection is that one must abide by his rules.

Cut off your queue, cut off the servility in your bones.

Quit opium and let them live like human beings again.

A piece of trash who can't even do these two things doesn't deserve his protection.

"stop!"

Just as Lawson was about to leave, Liang Kuan's loud voice suddenly rang out.

Liang Kuan squeezed out of the crowd.

He was also intimidated by the completely transformed Lawson.

But the thought of having his livelihood cut off by poaching his employees, and that the beast of burden who used to be beaten and scolded by him now daring to challenge him, filled him with a surge of anger that overwhelmed his fear.

"Losen, you really underestimated me. A few days apart and you've gotten so arrogant. In my eyes, you'll always be that stinking laborer who ran away from my construction site. Now you think you're so tough, daring to poach my workers? Do you even know who my boss is?"

Lawson looked at him with disdain for a while, then suddenly sneered:

"I'd almost forgotten about you. Who's your boss?"

Liang Kuan subconsciously straightened his chest, regaining some of his confidence:

“Listen to me carefully, my boss is the head of the Lung Chi Tong in San Francisco’s Chinatown, Master Lung.”

He paused deliberately, enjoying the look of dread on the faces of the Chinese laborers around him.

"Master Long's men are all ruthless and bloodthirsty men. You, a mere laborer, dare to ruin Master Long's business? You'd better think carefully."

"Oh--"

Lawson exaggeratedly prolonged the tone, even taking a half-step back in response.

"Lung Chi Tong of Chinatown? Master Lung? And his ruthless henchmen?"

"Correct!"

Seeing his appearance, Liang Kuan became even more arrogant:

"You're nothing but a damn lucky loser. If Long Zhitang wants to kill you, it's just a matter of a word. If you know what's good for you, you'd better show some sincerity, and maybe I'll let you go."

Lawson looked at him with a half-smile, and suddenly understood.

This guy isn't just here to demand workers, he's here to extort money.

"Ergou, escort Mr. Liang out."

"okay."

Er Gou immediately understood what it meant.

"You, you, you! I never said I was leaving! If you don't give me an explanation today, I'm staying here!"

Liang Kuan quickly called to the thugs behind him: "Go! Damn it, stop him! You fucking do it!"

No matter how he shouted, the thugs behind him were too scared to move.

They have guns; this is just asking to die.

Liang Kuan felt a blur before his eyes, and a powerful force gripped his throat.

"No, you can't—uh!"

Er Gou carried him out like a chick.

There was a muffled sound.

Liang Kuan was violently thrown out of the manor gate.

The thugs quickly ran out after them.

At the manor gate, Liang Kuan cursed and yelled for a long time before leaving in a huff.

He's going to San Francisco to complain to Long Zhitang. He can't deal with Lawson, but Long Zhitang can.

The area in front of the manor has returned to silence.

The cursing Liang Kuan and his lackeys were completely unaware that a shadow was quietly following them.

Before long, several corpses appeared in the desolate mountains, and they were quickly fed to the coyotes.

In this chaotic West, it's not unusual for a few people to disappear, especially Chinese laborers, who are often ignored.

(End of this chapter)