Chapter 47: "Selling Piglets"

Su Mu thought it was an excellent suggestion. Seeking cooperation with those organizations was certainly much better than wandering aimlessly in the streets like a headless chicken. Since Castelar Middle School’s registration had just taken place today, it was a perfect opportunity to reach out to the students.

No sooner said than done!

The three packed up their things and set out. Mr. Smith drove his old Dodge pickup, which conveniently had just enough space to take them along.

Knowing that this protest for rights was initiated and organized by Leon Su, Mr. Smith was determined to follow these two young men to see just how far they could go. As an experienced adult, he was well aware that matters of this sort were never as simple as they seemed. If the American authorities were so easily persuaded, countless conflicts would never have arisen. Regardless, the mere fact that these boys were fighting for the rights of the elderly had already left a very favorable impression on Mr. Smith. In this era, what was truly lacking was not talent, but talented individuals with noble spirits. Su Mu’s actions resonated with Mr. Smith’s own beliefs in life. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have stayed behind on such a sweltering day, selflessly helping distribute flyers, motivated purely by a sense of fairness and justice.

Of course, if Mr. Smith were to discover that Su Mu was actually the same person as Leon Su, it’s hard to say what he might think...

Su Mu and his friend Du Zhong whispered in Chinese. It was generally impolite to use another language to talk secretly with others present, but the content of their conversation was something that Mr. Smith must never hear. Otherwise, there was a high chance he would fly into a rage, and Su Mu’s chances of enrolling in Loyola Private High School would likely be ruined.

At that moment, with a tone of irritation, Su Mu lowered his voice and said to Du Zhong, “This is all your fault for running your mouth! Now look, no one plans to leave anymore!

I just hope he goes back soon—preferably never to see him again, or at least not until after I’ve enrolled. You never know what could happen. I suppose I should send out a few more applications, just in case I need a backup plan.”

Du Zhong, carefree as ever, replied, “He seems like a pretty good-tempered guy. Why don’t you just explain? Maybe he’ll forgive you.”

“I have no intention of gambling on something with such a high chance of failure.

Let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll discuss it again later. What a naïve teacher... I’m starting to wonder what I’ll really learn at Loyola High School.”

“Isn’t that what private high schools are like? Did you think it would be the same as Castelar, where the teachers spend all day pondering how to discipline students?”

Du Zhong shook his head and continued, “Not at all. At a good school, teachers don’t worry about that kind of thing. If there’s ever a problem, they just recommend expulsion. All you need to do there is study and make friends. As for chasing girls, forget it. I heard that at Loyola even the teachers are all men—hahaha!”

Su Mu replied lightly, “Then I’ll just settle for you.”

As if someone had grabbed him by the neck, Du Zhong instantly lost his smile, a look of horror spreading across his face. After a long pause, he finally managed, “Damn you...”

Castelar Middle School was just ahead.

A few days ago, Su Mu had thought he’d never have to come back, yet here he was again. He honestly didn’t have much confidence in rallying these students to support him...

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Boss Han Yu did not get involved in Su Mu’s affairs. Lately, he had been so busy preparing for the opening of FunBuy Supermarket that he was barely ever seen, money flowing out like water.

A supermarket was nothing like the small convenience stores he usually ran. While renovating the old glass factory, he also had to pick up a great deal of management knowledge and negotiate with suppliers. Han Yu had to handle these issues personally; there was simply no one else to help.

When the middlemen’s prices weren’t right, he had to contact the manufacturers himself. Some companies thought his operation too small and wouldn’t bother with special deliveries for him. Sometimes, including the freight, their prices were even higher than local suppliers. These headaches left Han Yu exhausted, and he had finally begun considering hiring a professional manager—perhaps even poaching someone from Walmart.

For the time being, though, he couldn’t afford the expense. His initial capital was limited, so he had to pinch every penny, determined to save wherever possible and reserve resources for the future.

He regretted not having demanded 55% or even 60% of the shares before signing the agreement. It irritated him that Su Mu could lie back and collect dividends. But if it hadn’t been for Su Mu’s investment, Han Yu himself wouldn’t have been able to raise so much capital at the moment. The scale of the supermarket would have been much smaller. There’s always a trade-off.

The roof of the old glass factory was quickly dismantled by Chinese laborers, leaving only the four bare exterior walls. The windows would also be replaced. There had been too many before, and now some were being bricked up by craftsmen to carve out around 1,500 square meters of warehouse space. Otherwise, they’d have to rent elsewhere.

For Han Yu, who was painfully short on funds, any money saved was a blessing. The expenses far exceeded his expectations; just making it to FunBuy Supermarket’s opening day would be a relief. Thankfully, he’d just learned that wages could be deferred until the end of the year, and the materials suppliers, eager for the business, were also willing to wait for payment until year’s end. This was excellent news—now, the money on hand would just about suffice.

The Chinese workers were highly efficient and diligent. As long as they were paid extra for overtime, no one ever complained. In these times, people worried more about not having work than about picking and choosing jobs.

Seeing his workers toiling under the scorching sun, Han Yu especially arranged for several large pots of mung bean soup to be cooked, calling the craftsmen to take a break and have some refreshments before continuing.

His ancestors had been “sold as pigs” to America—his grandfather had worked on construction sites all his life and suffered from chronic illness as a result. So Han Yu understood well the importance of looking after his workers’ health.

Many young people today don’t understand what “sold as pigs” means. The “pigs” here were not animals, but people!

The vast majority were Chinese. Those who were abducted to the Americas to serve as forced laborers weren’t just Black people; many Chinese ancestors had suffered the same fate. This kind of transaction became known as “selling pigs.”

After the Opium War, Western invaders abducted and kidnapped large numbers of Chinese laborers from the southeast coastal regions, sending them to Southeast Asia and the Americas for resale. Many of these contract workers were bound for years, treated as less than human, and worked to exhaustion like machines.

History books only teach about the Industrial Revolution, not about the shortage of labor that led to Chinese people being sold as livestock. Human life was as cheap as grass, every dollar stained with blood.

There were also “indenture” workers, whose passage overseas was paid by recruiters. The debtors were then bound to their employers abroad until they had paid off both principal and interest. Many never managed to make enough to live a good life—some died with their debts unpaid, leaving their wives and children to continue repaying them.

Back then, journeys from China to the Americas took three to five months by sea. Laborers were locked in ship holds under appalling conditions, with mortality rates as high as fifty percent. Such ships were known as “floating hells.”

Even upon arrival in the Americas, Chinese laborers endured inhuman lives, with more than half dying on the job. It’s said that America’s railroads were laid over the bones of Chinese workers.

Han Yu’s ancestors suffered even more—kidnapped and shipped over in crates, nearly dying en route, longing for home until their last breath.

When it comes to the old Chinese in America, every family in Chinatown has its share of heartache...