At the same time, at the Mission Bay railway construction site.

Dozens of Chinese workers of varying heights stood around with lingering fear in their hearts, surrounding the vicious bandit who was tied up tightly. Someone checked his breathing.

The smell of gunpowder lingered for a long time. Footprints were scattered chaotically on the ground, with various caliber bullet casings strewn about. The newly built crude fortifications were half demolished. A pile of railroad ties stacked together was riddled with bullet holes.

But… they had won.

Su Minguan led several young Chinese workers, skillfully directing the cleanup of the scene. All evidence of the intruders’ crimes was preserved, unfavorable evidence to themselves was erased, and unexploded explosives were dismantled.

As A’Fu had predicted, as the strike action escalated, the capitalists’ suppression also rapidly escalated. They had stood guard for several nights and finally waited for the evil minions to arrive.

Just after dark, before the stars had risen, four cowboys rode in on horseback to attack, all armed with guns.

It should have been a night with no way out alive. But under the command of this newcomer, Jin Lanhe, the Chinese workers also picked up their guns, created diversions, and repelled three of them while capturing one alive!

In the past, they would never have dared to imagine that there would be a day when they could look down upon and interrogate Americans.

The young worker A’Xian, who had the best English, spat viciously at the cowboy on the ground.

“Who sent you?”

“What were you planning to do?”

“How much money did you get?”

“There’s blood here, perfect for him to press his handprint!”

…

Everyone was fired up with righteous indignation when someone suddenly noticed: “Where’s A’Fu?”

A’Fu, exhausted, had collapsed at the edge of a tent. Su Minguan gently helped him up.

“They’ve confessed everything.”

A’Fu moved his blackened lips, his trembling hand pointing in one direction.

Su Minguan immediately understood his meaning.

“The telegram has also been sent, directly to Minister Chen at the Chinese Legation. Don’t worry, Miss Lin has already communicated with Minister Chen. As a newly appointed official, he also wants to make his mark. When he heard that our Chinese people were being bullied here, he beat his chest and promised to stand up for you all. He should have gone to the police station to file a report by now.”

A’Fu let out a gentle sigh, wearily closed his eyes, and grasped the pumpkin stem at his chest.

Having persisted for so long, having struggled for so long. If it weren’t for the miraculous assistance this time, it would probably be another strike that died halfway through, and they might even have lost their brothers’ lives…

Was it so difficult to live with dignity, without oppression, without being trampled upon, whether in China or America?

Mr. Stanford was taken away from the banquet in full view of everyone, causing an uproar among the guests. Even His Majesty Norton I condescended to inquire about the situation.

Officer Brown patiently explained: “Please rest assured, everyone, we will handle this according to the law.”

Under normal circumstances, the police station would also give face to the capitalists and wouldn’t embarrass them publicly at banquets. After all, they were major taxpayers and had given the police station plenty of benefits in the past. But today was different. The Minister of the Qing Dynasty had personally visited the police station, demanding to know why Americans were acting against the wind and disregarding the safety of Chinese lives. Fortunately, Officer Brown was experienced and managed to calm things down with much persuasion, keeping the Minister in his office for tea; otherwise, it would have escalated to a diplomatic incident.

The Minister was still waiting at the police station. Officer Brown had no choice but to act, even if he wanted to delay.

Although company executives continued to entertain the guests, the uninformed shareholders weren’t buying it and immediately began various speculations.

“Surely Mr. Stanford hasn’t broken the law?”

Capitalists had money and privileges. For ordinary, trivial matters, they would never mobilize such forces. Is this something serious?

As they were speculating, suddenly the beautiful “Chinese lady” from earlier let out a scream.

“Oh my God, what is this?”

By the brilliant colored lights of the banquet, people could see clearly that several blood-stained flyers had somehow fallen to the ground.

The flyers were crudely printed, but their content was shocking: these were strike propaganda leaflets from the railway construction site Chinese workers, clearly listing all the inhuman treatment suffered by workers of the “Central Pacific Railroad Company”, even including several reprinted photographs.

Hands and feet blackened by sepsis with deformed joints; backs covered in whip marks like freed slaves; half a face blown apart by explosives, too horrible to look at…

There were also some copies of “pig trade” documents treasured by Chinese workers. The elaborate English clauses stipulated the details of “selling oneself”, with heavy handprints pressed below by people who obviously couldn’t understand these words.

The guests exclaimed: “Where did these come from?”

The Chinese woman who claimed to have a brother working for the railway company was nearly fainting, wiping away tears as she speculated: “Surely these weren’t brought by the officers? There’s blood on the flyers, which proves that a gunfight just occurred… What did they do wrong to be harmed so wantonly? I… what should I do…”

Lin Yuchan covered her face, sobbing incoherently while hiding the slight smile on her face. We won!

It was a pity she couldn’t witness Su Minguan commanding the gunfight in person.

Her mission wasn’t finished yet. She adjusted her emotions and continued acting.

“Wuu wuu wuu… my dear brother, he hasn’t already died, has he… I haven’t seen him for several years…”

Crying and crying, she began coughing, struck by sudden nausea. At the banquet, she hadn’t dared drink a drop of alcohol; her nerves were highly strung, and her stomach was empty. Now exhaustion and nausea struck together. She leaned against a fire hydrant, her vision darkening in waves, unable to help retching.

Several people immediately helped her up, shoving a bottle of smelling salts in her face.

Lin Yuchan accidentally inhaled through her nose and nearly cursed out loud!

Was this smell meant for humans?

No wonder Western ladies woke up immediately upon smelling it!

She didn’t dare faint anymore, and the nausea miraculously stopped. Gritting her teeth, she got up and said bravely: “I’m fine… can someone tell me what exactly is happening…”

This was naturally asking while knowing the answer. The incriminating photographs were taken with Rong Hong’s camera that she had borrowed and lent to Su Minguan for emergency shooting, with rush development costing ten dollars and twenty-five cents. The flyers were privately printed by someone found in Chinatown. When initially presented to Minister Chen Lanbin, Minister Chen was still hesitant, feeling that, as he was newly arrived and a guest in America, it wasn’t worth damaging a friendship with the host over a few pig laborers. It was Lin Yuchan and Rong Hong singing in harmony with various persuasions: if this matter spread back home and your superiors saw that you turned a blind eye to it, wouldn’t they hold you accountable? Even if they just called you back to explain, it would be months of arduous travel, not worth it. You are a Qing Dynasty parent official, and when you come to America, you become the parent official of all overseas Chinese. You must step forward to handle this kind of matter!

Only then was Chen Lanbin persuaded, agreeing that if the foreign merchants used guns against Chinese workers tonight, he would immediately report to the police upon receiving the telegram, also counting as “ruling for the people.”

“This official will only report the case and won’t get involved in anything else,” Chen Lanbin insisted. “The main purpose of this trip is to safely enroll the students. We should try to avoid complications.”

Lin Yuchan assured Minister Chen that she had her limits and would not cause trouble for him or the court.

…

A pair of strong arms helped her up. Norton I, seeing his female companion frightened for no reason, was thunderously angry, more furious than anyone.

“Someone, explain this clearly to us!” He embraced the girl who was trembling like a small bird, casually grabbing a railway company manager to vent his anger. “Weren’t you just boasting about worker benefits? What about these photographs? I hear you even want to silence these poor souls who have suffered endless abuse? Does American custom allow you to be so corrupt? Have our years of governance been in vain? This is the crime of deceiving the sovereign! Why is no one helping these pitiful foreigners? Where is the army? Why don’t you quickly arrest these blind officials who despise imperial authority!”

Everyone present was a capitalist; only he had no related interests. He was accustomed to giving orders and making grand speeches. In his tirade, from “false president” Grant and the Congress that should have been dissolved long ago, down to the San Francisco city government, hypocritical clergy, and fallen pickpockets, all were thoroughly berated by him, deeply lamenting that petty people were ruining the country.

Norton, I was raging when he suddenly became teary-eyed, climbed onto a wooden box, supporting himself with both hands on his staff, lowering his head to recite the Latin Lord’s Prayer.

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum…”

Faded gold epaulettes pressed on his broad shoulders, illuminated by the colored lights in the trees in rainbow hues. His worn hat pressed down his disheveled hair, with the huge inflatable train head model floating behind him, appearing both serene and absurd.

Some people were baffled, while others were infected by his intense emotions, their eyes scanning over those flyers, sighing heavily.

“Really… Mr. Stanford shouldn’t have lied…”

Humans are emotional creatures. Empty accusations and cold statistics are hard for people to empathize with, but bloody photographs and details have a tremendous emotional impact.

Just as some people might waste energy and paper without any guilt, thinking “the disappearance of Amazon rainforest is none of my business,” but showing them a disgusting autopsy photo of “migratory birds eating garbage, stomachs full of debris” might make them instantly realize “we really shouldn’t destroy the environment”; just as experienced anti-war propagandists won’t list specific casualty numbers and economic losses, but will directly photograph refugee girls crying beside their parents’ corpses, because the latter can instantly disrupt people’s hormone levels.

Capitalists and their supporters might think that exploiting workers is natural law. We have money and can buy out your labor, health, even lives… all suffering can be converted to economic growth, all sacrifice has meaning. What perfect social law.

They had all heard about how hardworking Chinese workers were, how low their wages were, how high their death rate was… to upper-class respectable people, those were just numbers.

But when they truly saw those vivid, concrete sufferings, it was quite another matter.

Especially the ladies present. Many surrounded Lin Yuchan offering care and comfort, consoling her that “this is a sudden accident, your brother will be fine”; some kept shaking their heads and crossing themselves, joining Norton I in reciting the Lord’s Prayer together.

When Mr. Stanford returned from questioning, he immediately felt that the shareholders were looking at him strangely.

“Please listen to me, everyone…” Mr. Stanford strained his voice, struggling to speak up. “Officer Brown just confirmed that regarding the accusation of this person hiring ‘Bloody Charlie’s’ gang, there is… no solid evidence… This is just a private grudge between bandits and workers. God is my witness, our company has not violated any laws…”

Capitalists were also old foxes. Before taking action, he had, of course, carefully cleared all relationships and erased all evidence connecting him.

Officer Brown also had no intention of breaking with him completely. After routine questioning, he politely said goodbye and returned to handle the case.

But Mr. Stanford discovered that his “self-vindication” had not achieved the expected effect.

“This gentleman, uh, Your Majesty, please come down… our company has been wrongly accused, and now it’s been clarified…”

Everyone looked at him coldly. Even the most rational and calm gentlemen were now in extremely poor spirits with no interest at all.

Someone put down their wine glass and left in a huff.

For these wealthy gentlemen, they didn’t care about worker benefits. However, Mr. Stanford’s passionate speech full of social responsibility had obviously been slapped in the face by these flyers and police questioning.

What did shareholders fear most? They feared their money going down the drain, feared company executives being duplicitous, saying one thing to their faces and another behind their backs.

Today, he could lie about the harmless matter of “worker benefits,” how could they know he wouldn’t fool people on other topics tomorrow?

Was there water in the company’s performance? Were the annual reports real? Those ambitious “prospects” and “benefits” – were they real or just empty promises?

Today, he could make company shareholders cry over their relatives being abused, but how could they know they wouldn’t be the ones crying tomorrow, for some other reason?

Once the white paper of trust develops a crack, inside is a bottomless abyss.

Mr. Stanford was silent for several seconds, realizing the “main contradiction” of this matter.

Why would the Qing Dynasty’s Minister to the United States get involved in this affair? It was said that on their territory, when Western merchants bullied Chinese civilians, local officials swallowed their anger; why had they suddenly become tough today?

He believed it must be because of Lin Yuchan – this wealthy Chinese lady happened to be a member of the diplomatic mission. To seek justice for her, or to please her, the Minister decided to make a big deal of it and embarrass him.

Mr. Stanford was wrong this time – the Qing Dynasty was poor and weak, with great powers running rampant on its soil; this was true; however, not everyone was naturally servile and cowardly. The reason Chen Lanbin volunteered to go to America was that he harbored classical scholar-official integrity, was frustrated in officialdom, and decided to travel across the ocean to seek new prospects. Now he was on the other side of the earth, with no court supervision above and no spineless petty people below. He was no longer an insignificant third-rank clerk but had become, as a matter of course, the leader of all Chinese in America. Every move represented national dignity, and his sense of responsibility was unprecedentedly high. After being persuaded by Lin Yuchan and Rong Hong, he would naturally step forward.

Chen Lanbin not only went to the police station to protest solemnly, but had also written a letter to send back to the Zongli Yamen, detailing the abuse of Chinese workers in foreign lands, requesting the court to take measures to protect Qing subjects.

Mr. Stanford naturally couldn’t think of these things. He only thought that Lin Yuchan was the key to the problem and must quickly settle things with her.

So he arranged his expression and personally went to support the Eastern beauty who was crying so sadly, sincerely apologizing for frightening her.

“Madam, don’t panic. The bandits attacked the work site because our security was lax. Fortunately, no lives were lost, and your brother may not necessarily be there, so you can rest assured. I will immediately have people add security guards to ensure this won’t happen again… By the way, what is your brother’s name? I can send people to inquire…”

Lin Yuchan was already emotionally unstable, with the strange smell of smelling salts lingering at her nose tip. Crying and crying, she acted for real, grabbing the strike flyers from the ground and demanding: “Are these true or not?”

Mr. Stanford’s face alternated between green and red. “Uh… no, absolutely not! Of course, railway construction is dangerous, and work injuries are unavoidable, but our company has always provided appropriate compensation to the injured. There are related expenditure records in the financial statements… As for unequal pay for equal work, excessive working hours, etc, perhaps they were done arbitrarily by the supervisory personnel below, causing worker dissatisfaction. This is not the norm! Please allow me to investigate and hold people accountable. Give me some time… and please say a fair word to Minister Chen. ‘Central Pacific Railroad’ is not that kind of sweatshop company that exploits workers. Please let him and the Qing government rest assured…”

Lin Yuchan slowly stopped crying and asked: “You’re not lying to me?”

“No, no, of course not. I swear to God—”

Norton I loudly chimed in from the side: “Fault confessed is half redressed! Mr. Stanford, I believe you are a law-abiding citizen. Today I will temporarily not arrest and punish you. But your company image represents San Francisco’s city appearance. I hope you will reform within a time limit and not disappoint Us…”

Mr. Stanford practically wanted to commit regicide and shoot this troublemaker dead!

Lin Yuchan took the opportunity to raise her head with dignity, saying: “Then I hope to see in tomorrow’s newspapers Mr. Stanford’s series of statements just now – equal pay for equal work, work injury compensation, reasonable working hours, and taking measures to protect Chinese workers’ safety. This is also an explanation to the broad shareholders. Can you do it?”

Mr. Stanford gritted his teeth and nodded: “Fine. All the gentlemen present are witnesses.”

Lin Yuchan broke into a smile through her tears. She sincerely thanked Mr. Stanford and shouted to the people around: “Everything is clear now. It was the middle management supervisors in the company who violated company regulations and exploited workers. Kind Mr. Stanford has already indicated he will make amends. I’m so grateful to him! Heaven bless, I can sleep well tonight.”

Although she wanted to make Mr. Stanford lose face, be ruined, go bankrupt, and get lost, that wasn’t today’s main contradiction.

Her only goal was to help A’Fu and other Chinese workers resist exploitation and win the strike.

Not to break with this railway magnate, rich as a nation, and cut off the retreat of tens of thousands of Chinese workers under him.

Others, seeing her “reconcile” with Mr. Stanford, also breathed sighs of relief, smiled to smooth things over, and bid farewell one after another.

Mr. Stanford urged her: “That Minister…”

Lin Yuchan took Norton I’s arm, walking toward the edge of the lawn while turning back with a charming smile: “Don’t worry, I’ll explain the situation to him. The Qing Minister has no law enforcement power in America. All he wants is a gesture; he won’t make things difficult for you.”

The implication was: don’t forget to publish in the newspapers.

Mr. Stanford swallowed his anger, shook hands with her, and saw her to the car.

The cool autumn evening breeze of San Francisco blew gently, lights in skyscrapers gradually went out. Guests returned to their mansions in groups of two or three. Children from China ended their day of study tours and were having late-night snacks at the hotel. His Majesty Norton I returned to his palace to sleep, and the entire city paused its rapid development.

But on this ordinary autumn evening, some were destined to lose sleep.