15: Chapter 15: Keep the queue, but not the person; keep the person, but not the queue!
"The meeting just covered the three-step plan, why didn't you mention your own future?" Lin Shi changed the subject and asked.
"Me? The core of the plan is to expand the organization and make you the underground emperor, Dad. As for me, I have to take a different path."
Lin Tian looked out the window, and only after the carriage drove past the wooden sign reading Chinatown did he continue, "The path I've chosen has nothing to do with the organization; I will never touch a single bit of underworld business!"
Hearing this, Lin Shi understood everything.
"I understand. It certainly isn't easy to become an underworld emperor. But before you have fully spread your wings, even if I have to risk my old life, I will block the storms outside for you!"
"Dad, thank you for your hard work." A look of emotion welled up in Lin Tian's eyes.
He knew clearly that the path he had pointed out for his father was by no means smooth; it was fraught with danger, and a single wrong step could lead to an abyss.
Lin Shi didn't say anything more, intending to use his shoulders to hold up the sky for his son.
He reached out his thick palm and ruffled Lin Tian's hair.
"If conditions allowed, I would only hope for you to grow up happy." Sighing, Lin Shi turned his head to look out the window.
On the side of the street, a Chinese man was carrying goods with a shoulder pole.
Two white police officers rushed over and blocked his way.
According to the rules set in California, goods must be delivered by carriage.
The Chinese man carrying the shoulder pole had broken the rules; not only would he be fined, but he would also have to go to the station and be locked up in jail.
The young Chinese man pleaded anxiously.
The white police officers paid no attention, grabbing the long queue behind his head and dragging him toward the police station like a dog.
After witnessing this, a surge of anger rose in Lin Shi's chest.
In the past, he only cared about his own affairs; although he sympathized with his suffering compatriots, he had never taken it to heart.
But today, after hearing his son's plans at the headquarters, his heart could no longer remain calm.
What fate would the young man with the shoulder pole meet after entering the police station? Would he be brutally beaten, or extorted until he was destitute? How would he survive in the future?
Along the way, Lin Shi's mind was filled with these questions.
"It is indeed time to change the world!" he gritted his teeth and thought.
Night fell on Van Ness Avenue in San Francisco.
A white youth named Lopez stumbled out of a bar, spewing profanity:
"Damn Chinese, damn Irishmen, they're all a bunch of shit, fuck!"
Lopez was a Spanish immigrant.
He had just been released from the cell today and was full of anger.
A few days ago, he had taken men to smash the Lin family restaurant in an attempt to extort money, but it was ruined by the cowboys called by Old Smith.
Not only did he fail to get money, but he was also used as a punching bag by the Irish police leading the team, who threw him into the police station for several days.
After paying the fine and being released, the casino boss fired him for absenteeism.
Having lost his job, Lopez could only go to a bar run by Mexicans to drown his sorrows.
He wanted to hit on a pretty woman, but he reeked, and no one paid him any mind.
Drunk to the point of stupor, he staggered out, blaming all his bad luck on the Chinese and the Irish police, planning to find some Chinese laborers to vent his anger on in a few days.
He walked along a dark alley toward his rental, completely unaware that two dark figures were quietly following him.
The two had their collars turned up and wore newsboy caps, their faces completely covered.
When Lopez reached the depths of the alley, the dark figures lunged forward, throwing a large burlap sack over him from head to toe.
The two moved nimbly, delivering a flurry of punches and kicks before stuffing the unconscious Lopez into the sack and carrying him on their shoulders.
A cargo carriage was already parked at the entrance of the alley.
Throwing the sack onto the carriage, it quickly disappeared into the night.
The carriage bypassed City Hall, drove for an hour, and stopped at an abandoned pier by the sea.
With a dull thud.
The sack, tied with a large stone, hit the water.
In less than a few seconds, apart from the sound of waves hitting the rocks, the surroundings returned to dead silence.
That night, several street corners in San Francisco were not peaceful.
Three or four Spanish thugs who had participated in smashing the shop had their hands chopped off, lying in pools of blood and writhing in pain.
Three days after the branch meeting concluded.
The various branch leaders acted swiftly and decisively, and the Zhigong Hall across all of America was fully operational.
The gang issued a strict order: cut off the long queues immediately!
Anyone who dared not to cut it would be expelled from the gang immediately, and they would never receive any benefits from the gang again.
With a wave of the command flag, the vast majority of disciples took up knives and cut off the queues behind their heads.
Only a few stubborn diehards were driven out.
Immediately after, the Zhigong Hall began posting notices in major cities, persuading Chinese laborers to cut their queues.
Brooklyn, New York.
"Don't miss out! The Hongmen Zhigong Hall is recruiting, as long as you are Chinese, you can join!"
"There is one condition: you must cut off your long queue! We in Hongmen absolutely do not want people who keep queues!"
Streets of Los Angeles.
"What are the benefits of joining the gang? There are plenty! Judging by your accent, you're a fellow countryman from Qilu, right? Would I scam you? Once you join Hongmen, if anyone dares to bully you, the brothers will stand up for you!"
"This madam wants to join? Your husband was falsely accused by white people and taken in? Okay, I will write it down immediately and report it to the main hall; we will definitely help you get him out!"
Chicago.
"Targeted by an Irish gang? Don't be afraid, we in Hongmen will stand up for you!"
San Francisco.
"Your husband went to deliver goods three days ago and hasn't returned? Rest assured, madam, leave this to us!"
Hongmen changed its rules, sparing no expense to help Chinese people resolve issues.
For a time, the idea that joining Hongmen meant not being bullied by foreigners and having people help you fight back if you were beaten spread rapidly in the Chinese community.
Compatriots felt like they had found their home, and Chinese people everywhere were scrambling to sign up.
Sun Tiezhu, a low-level laborer in Chicago, was one of them.
Chicago, bordering Lake Michigan, was the third-largest city after New York and Washington.
In this bustling metropolis, Sun Tiezhu worked in the most inconspicuous trade: shoe repair.
Although he was at the very bottom of society, he was different from the black people who spent their days stealing and pilfering; he had hope.
He planned to save money with his own hands and open his own shoe repair shop in Chicago.
Earning a few more dollars each day, he would send the money back home so his parents and wife could buy a few more acres of good farmland in the East.
Whenever he thought of a good life, Sun Tiezhu felt he had endless energy.
He had never considered himself a person of the USA, only thinking of returning home once he had saved enough silver.
The foreigners in the USA hated this practice the most, feeling that these people were draining the local wealth.
But the Chinese didn't think so: I don't steal or rob, I earn my living by my own strength, why should I be looked down upon?
Sun Tiezhu kept his head down, but trouble still found its way to his door.
While repairing shoes, he offended an Irish gang thug.
Later he realized that this was a trap specifically designed for extortion.
A thug named Mike took a pair of worn-out leather shoes and insisted they were a valuable gift from his mother, demanding Sun Tiezhu pay five hundred dollars in compensation.
Sun Tiezhu had been working with shoes for half his life and recognized them at a glance as two-dollar street stall goods.
What could he do even if he saw through it?
Report it? The police were even darker than the gangs; they might turn around and sell him out.
If he really made a big deal out of it, the outcome would be even worse.
But even if they chopped him to pieces, he couldn't cough up five hundred dollars.
Mike dropped a harsh threat, giving him only a three-day deadline.
If he couldn't pay, they would take his life.
"Working hard with my own strength can lead to a good life?"
Sun Tiezhu finally understood how ridiculous this statement was.
Seeing no way out, he picked up a flyer outside the futures trading hall.
It was written with the rules and benefits of joining Hongmen.
Cut the queue?
Sun Tiezhu touched the hair behind his head.
He was still thinking about returning to the Qing Dynasty, so he hadn't dared to cut it.
Coupled with the old concept that one's body and hair are gifts from parents, cutting his hair felt like it would kill him.
But the deadly deadline was arriving soon; he gritted his teeth, took scissors, and cut off his queue directly.
He ran to the Chicago branch, receiving an iron badge.
The brother who gave him the badge told him that wearing this thing meant he was a member of Hongmen.
Whoever dared to touch a single hair on his head, Hongmen would definitely retaliate tenfold.
The day for payment arrived, and Sun Tiezhu hung the badge on his chest.
The gang thug Mike brought people to collect the debt.
As soon as he saw the iron badge on Sun Tiezhu's chest, Mike's face changed wildly, as if he had seen a ghost, and he turned around and ran away with his subordinates, not daring to let out a fart the whole time.
Watching the bully run away, Sun Tiezhu tightly gripped the worthless iron badge on his chest.
Wearing it, it was as if he had a backbone, with thousands of compatriots standing behind him.
Just like what the brother at the branch said to him when he joined:
"We Chinese must not be humiliated!"
From this day on, Sun Tiezhu became one of the most loyal brothers of the Zhigong Hall.
No matter what mission the gang assigned, he would never even frown.
He understood clearly: helping others is helping oneself.