America: From a Fallen Child Star to the Head of the University of the West

(Thanks to General Wenhu for the monthly ticket and recommendation vote)

Tony Martinez was dragged out of the conference center through a side door by two security guards.

He staggered a few steps and almost fell on the sidewalk.

"Get lost and don't cause any more trouble," one of the security guards said coldly, then turned and went back.

He just stood there, staring at the closed door, and muttered a few curses.

He knew his actions today were foolish. Causing trouble in front of so many people would only make the union members dislike him more, making it even harder to get justice later.

But he just couldn't help it. Every time he saw those suited union leaders speaking eloquently on stage, he was reminded of his son lying in a hospital bed.

Michael was only twenty-three years old. He should have had a bright future ahead of him, but now he can only spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.

Tony sighed, pulled his old jacket tighter around himself, and walked north along the street.

He needs to drink something, eat something, and calm himself down.

Fifteen minutes later, he pushed open the door of a Chinese restaurant.

This restaurant is called Jinlong Restaurant. It's not a big place, and the decor is old. There are a few faded landscape paintings and a dusty Chinese knot hanging on the wall.

Tony likes it here. The food is cheap and good, and the owner is a nice guy.

"Hey, Chen." Tony sat down at the bar. "Give me a Budweiser and a General Tso's Chicken."

The middle-aged man behind the bar looked up and gave a weathered smile.

His name is Chen Guoqiang, he is 51 years old, and he is the owner of this restaurant.

More than 20 years ago, he immigrated to the United States from Guangdong and has worked hard here for most of his life. This Chinese restaurant and his son are the two most important achievements in his life.

"Tony, you don't look well today." Chen Guoqiang's English still had a heavy Cantonese accent. "What happened?"

"Don't even mention it." Tony took the beer and gulped it down. "I caused a scene on the union forum today and got kicked out."

"Causing trouble? Why?"

"Because those bastards don't care about us ordinary workers at all," Tony said angrily. "You know about my son's situation. I went to the union for help, but they made excuses and wouldn't help at all. Today I couldn't take it anymore, so I stood up and spoke the truth. And what happened? I was dragged out like a madman."

Chen Guoqiang sighed, took out a bag of peanuts from under the counter, and pushed it in front of Tony.

Even if it's the truth, you can't just go around telling everyone.

"Eat something, don't just drink," he said. "I've dealt with those people from the union before. When I first opened my shop, they came to me and asked me to join some kind of restaurant union and pay monthly dues. I asked them what benefits they could offer me, and they said they could help me get better prices for supplies and speak up for me if I encountered any trouble."

"And the result?"

"I paid membership fees for two years and didn't see any benefits at all." Chen Guoqiang shook his head. "So I stopped paying. They came to bother me a few times, but they couldn't be bothered with a small shop like mine."

"That's how it is," Tony said with a wry smile.

Just then, the restaurant door was pushed open.

A man walked in. He was wearing an ordinary gray coat and a baseball cap, looking like an average customer.

But Tony felt that the face looked familiar.

The man sat down next to Tony and picked up the menu on the table, flipping through it.

Chen Guoqiang walked over, ready to greet the new guest.

"Sir, what would you like to order?"

The man looked up and said in fluent Mandarin, "Boss, give me a plate of stir-fried beef noodles, a plate of stir-fried bok choy with garlic, and a bowl of soup."

Chen Guoqiang was taken aback. There were white people in Philadelphia who could speak Chinese, but it was rare to see someone who could speak it so fluently.

And what moved him the most was that finally no one was ordering General Tso's Chicken anymore!

"You can speak Chinese?" Chen Guoqiang asked in Mandarin, although his Mandarin had a heavy Cantonese accent.

"I know a little," the man replied with a smile. "I've studied it before."

"Oh, that's perfect." Chen Guoqiang gave a thumbs up. "Wait a moment, I'll go make it for you."

He turned and walked toward the kitchen, thinking to himself: How come this white man's Chinese sounds more fluent than many ABCs?

Tony stared at the man for a long time before finally remembering where he had seen him before.

"You are...Sean Penn?"

The man turned his head and nodded at him.

Do you know me?

"I saw you on the forum," Tony said. "You were sitting in the back row and didn't say a word. I thought you were one of Congressman Donovan's men."

"I don't belong to anyone," Sean said after being recognized.

"Then why did you follow me here?"

"I wasn't following you." Sean pointed out the window. "I was just wandering around the neighborhood and saw this shop, so I thought I'd come in and grab something to eat. Running into you was purely coincidental."

Not at all, he actually followed us all the way here.

Tony looked at him with suspicion.

"I heard everything you said on the forum," Sean said. "I'm sorry about your son."

"What's the use of an apology?" Tony sneered at Sean. "You're just here to put on a show, aren't you? Like those politicians, you say a few nice words and then leave."

"Maybe," Sean didn't argue, "but I'd like to understand the situation first. Can you tell me how unions operate in Philadelphia?"

His question made Tony glance at him again. For some reason, he felt that this person was different from those politicians.

"You really want to know?" Tony asked. "You should go and curry favor with those big shots; we poor bastards can't help you."

"The cunning flatter the leaders, the clever flatter the masses," Sean said with a wry smile.

"good!"

Seeing this, Tony took another swig of beer and began to speak:

"Labor unions in Philadelphia are mainly divided into two categories. One is industry unions, such as construction workers' unions. The other is corporate unions, which are unions within a large company."

"Industry unions have a lot of power; they control the labor supply for the entire industry. If you want to work as a construction worker in Philadelphia, you have to join the construction workers' union, otherwise no company will dare to hire you, unless you're working illegally. The union will help you negotiate wages, benefits, and working conditions, but you also have to pay dues and obey the union's arrangements."

"It sounds like a monopoly." Sean squinted.

Tony is right. After all, the United States has the Right to Work Act, and only states with the right to work can guarantee that workers can freely decide whether or not to join a union.

A "right to work" state is a state that has passed specific laws that guarantee employees the right to choose not to join a union or pay union dues, while still keeping their jobs.

However, Pennsylvania is not among the states that have the right to work.

Whether the existence of work rights states is a good thing for workers is a matter of opinion. On the one hand, in work rights states, even if you are not a union member, you can still benefit from union services and enjoy other benefits.

As a result, unions will have fewer sources of income and their power will be weakened.

"It's a monopoly," Tony nodded, "The union's original intention was to protect workers, but when it became too powerful, it became another form of oppression. Union leaders colluded with bosses to divide the profits. Ordinary workers were just bargaining chips for them to use and then discard."

"What about enterprise labor unions?"

"Corporate unions are even worse," Tony said. "Corporate unions are nominally organized by the workers themselves, but in reality, many are controlled by the company. The company will put its own people in there, making obedient people the union president. In this way, the union becomes a puppet of the company and will never really speak for its members."

"After my son's accident, I went to the port's labor union for help. Do you know what the union chairman said? He said the company was already being very lenient and was willing to pay 50,000 yuan in compensation. He said if I didn't accept it, the company might withdraw the compensation and fire me."

"He threatened you?"

"Not a threat, just a friendly reminder," Tony said sarcastically. "This is the reality of unions. Or rather, the reality of unions in Philadelphia. Other cities probably aren't in such a bad state."

"Tony," Sean paused for a moment, "then what do you think should be done to change this situation?"

"I don't know." Tony shook his head. "I'm just an ordinary dockworker. I don't understand politics or law. I only know that the situation is wrong, but I don't know how to change it."

"Maybe..." Sean was about to say something when the restaurant door was pushed open again.

A young man walked in.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with a typical East Asian face, and was wearing a University of Pennsylvania sweatshirt.

Chen Guoqiang poked his head out of the kitchen, and as soon as he saw him, he immediately called out in Cantonese, "Ah Chi, why aren't you at school today?"

The young man shrugged and replied in Cantonese, "I didn't have any important classes today, so I came back to help out."

"Whatever you want." Chen Guoqiang subconsciously switched back to English. "Now that you're back, go cook me a couple of dishes."

"it is good."

The young man walked into the kitchen and took the spatula from Chen Guoqiang's hand.

He was cooking absentmindedly while listening to Sean and Tony's conversation outside.

For some reason, he felt that the voice sounded somewhat familiar.

A few minutes later, he came out of the kitchen carrying two plates of food.

"Stir-fried beef noodles, and garlic-flavored bok choy." He placed the dishes in front of Sean. "The soup will be ready in a moment..."

He stopped mid-sentence.

He saw the face of the person in front of him clearly.

Sean Penn.

This is the same person he spent the entire afternoon analyzing things in the APO activity room. Right now, he's sitting right in front of him, eating the dishes he cooked.

"Chi, what are you doing standing here?" Chen Guoqiang came out from behind and, seeing his son standing there blankly, asked with some confusion:

"Hurry up and get the soup."

Then he turned to Sean and proudly introduced him in English: "This is my son, his name is Matthew. His Chinese name is Chen Feichi. He studies history at the University of Pennsylvania. He's very smart, just a little slow."

Sean looked up at the young man.

The system shows that his favorability rating is [62].

"Hello, Matthew," Sean said with a smile, extending his hand. "My name is Sean Penn."

Matthew stared at the outstretched hand, countless thoughts flashing through his mind.

He recalled what he had said in the activity room:

"How can I be sure he's not just another con artist?"

Now, the answer is right before your eyes.

He can find the answer himself simply by holding this hand.

Matthew relaxed his brow and took Sean's hand.

"Hello, Mr. Pan," he said. "I...have heard of you."