Chapter 49: Mobilization on All Fronts!

Castellar Public High School.

Du Zhong had returned here once again, his expression tinged with nostalgia as he reminisced about the days before he transferred. Most of his stories revolved around the girls he had known, leaving Su Mu exasperated. It had only been a year or two, but Du Zhong acted as if he’d been gone for ages. Su Mu cut him off, “Enough with the reminiscing. Let’s get down to business. You know the clubs here—go find people as quickly as you can.”

“That’s easy. Let’s hope they haven’t forgotten me.”

Thanks to his striking looks, Du Zhong was always quite popular with the girls at school. He was constantly surrounded by different girls, which was why Li Ping’an often called him “Du Lady” and “Friend of Women.” Du Zhong brimmed with confidence, ever the narcissist.

Mr. Smith, meanwhile, looked around the campus with keen interest. He was a teacher by profession and knew that Leon Su had graduated from this very school. Watching clusters of students smoking and roughhousing, he shook his head with a sigh, realizing this was far from a good school.

The disparity in American educational resources was vast. The best learning opportunities were usually reserved for the wealthy—“money is everything” was not just an empty phrase, but a reality that permeated every aspect of American society, including education.

From birth, people were sorted into different classes—ancient wisdom would call this the distinction between the wise, the mediocre, and the foolish. In modern America, such divisions were drawn mainly by wealth.

Teaching at a prestigious private high school, Mr. Smith found it hard to imagine what sort of future awaited students raised in such a chaotic environment. In his heart, he felt increasingly convinced that Leon Su should be given a chance at Loyola High School—a promising young man from a humble background deserved the opportunity.

Su Mu had no idea what Mr. Smith was thinking. Smiling, he said, “Sir, perhaps you’d like to take a look around on your own? We may be tied up for quite a while—I wouldn’t want to take up your valuable time. Thank you so much for your advice, but I need to get moving. There are only a few hours left before the appointed time, and I have to find enough help.”

He was tactfully sending Mr. Smith away. After all, the man was investigating him, and Su Mu had concealed his true identity. Being around Mr. Smith made him uncomfortable; he had to be overly cautious with every word and action.

“OK, I’ll leave you to it then. Best of luck to you.” Mr. Smith nodded, genuinely hoping these young people could stand up to authority and secure the pension money for the elderly. With a warm smile, he added, “Can you tell me where the principal’s office is? I need to ask a few questions.”

Sensing this probably concerned himself, Su Mu pointed to a small red-brick building. “You’ll see it when you get there. Hope we meet again.”

“If you come to Loyola Private High School, we will.” The words startled Su Mu, but on closer inspection, he realized Mr. Smith was only making a casual remark and hadn’t recognized him.

Du Zhong left to rally support with leaflets in hand, and Mr. Smith departed as well. Su Mu had called Li Ping’an the night before—he would be on his way from the northern San Francisco area by now. The sports field was left quiet, with only Su Mu remaining.

In the U.S., high schools typically begin the fall term in August or September. Today was registration day at Castellar, with classes starting tomorrow. Many students hadn’t seen their friends all summer, so after finishing their errands, they lingered in small groups, eagerly sharing stories from their holidays.

Su Mu’s summer had been eventful. Between part-time jobs, he’d even made a windfall. Now he was about to leave Castellar for another school, though the paperwork wasn’t complete yet. Once he received the admission notice from his new school, he would have to come back again to finalize the transfer.

Returning to the familiar campus, Su Mu suddenly thought of Kate. They’d met at a convenience store over the summer, talked for a long time, and then each returned to their own paths, like two lines that briefly intersected. He hoped to see her again in the crowd, but she was nowhere to be found. Scanning the area, he spotted a group of Chinese students, approached, handed them a leaflet, and explained, “Sorry to bother you. You’re from Chinatown too, right? I don’t know if you have any elderly relatives, but there’s a lady near my home, almost ninety years old, who still hasn’t received her pension. We’re trying to help her…”

Su Mu had to explain everything to strangers, hoping to stir their sympathy, while things were much easier for Du Zhong. He went to the girls he’d known before, gathered a large group of young women, and cast himself as a champion of justice. With stars in their eyes, the girls didn’t care what he said; they all agreed to help with the protest. Beauty was a powerful weapon, but charm could be just as effective—Du Zhong was far more efficient than Su Mu.

Most students in the school had yet to be tainted by the harsh realities of society. To them, life was still about right and wrong, about what they were willing or unwilling to do. Su Mu had some success, though limited.

Not long after, he unexpectedly ran into Miss Lily Dumbo—the pretty white girl he’d seen in the library before the SSAT exam. They were classmates but didn’t know each other well.

They’d spoken briefly, so Lily remembered Su Mu. Her impression was that he was smart, diligent, but stiff—mainly because he’d never bothered to talk to her. Girls have long memories for such things; the time he cut off their conversation was fresh in her mind.

She meant to walk past him, but something made her stop. Standing before him, she asked with curiosity, “What are you doing? You took the SSAT, right? I saw you after the test. What was your score?”

“Over 2,300,” Su Mu replied, remembering Lily. Seeing her shocked expression, he asked, “What about you?”

“Um, a little lower than you.”

Lily had scored 2,213 and thought her marks were excellent—now Su Mu had left her speechless.

Once again, Su Mu repeated his explanation, which he’d already given more than a hundred times. When Lily finished listening, her face flushed with indignation. “Those people are so awful! You’re doing this all wrong—it’s way too slow. Come with me!”

“Where to?” Su Mu asked, dumbfounded as Lily tugged at his sleeve.

“The broadcast room! Use the school PA to call for help. Honestly, how long would it take to ask one person at a time?”

Security, Mr. Smith, Lily—since Su Mu had begun fighting for the pension money, many people had stepped forward to help selflessly. The thought made him smile. Clearly, this society still had a conscience.

There were others working behind the scenes that Su Mu never saw. For instance, a young lawyer named Sun Qicheng had come across the leaflet yesterday. It made him realize he’d handled several pension-related cases in recent years and had negotiated with the Social Security Administration many times.

He hadn’t thought much of it before, but suddenly he sensed something was wrong. Every year, there was a list of pension recipients; anyone who applied could usually get their money. For those unfamiliar with the law, volunteers would help register their names. There were many Chinese like Sun Qicheng and Su Mu. Quite a few lawyers had left lucrative jobs just to help their compatriots secure their rights.

Sometimes, pension applications were rejected on the grounds that the applicants hadn’t paid taxes. Many elderly applicants didn’t even speak English, so it was hardly surprising they didn’t understand tax law. When these cases went to court, the Social Security Administration often sought settlements.

Originally, Sun Qicheng and his colleagues thought the SSA simply wanted to avoid trouble. But yesterday, he realized something was amiss. If these people could get their pensions now, they should have been able to do so before. Welfare laws for the elderly were quite generous—it was unlikely that someone would be denied life-saving funds just because they hadn’t paid taxes, especially since many low-income seniors were exempt from taxes altogether.

So early this morning, he went to the Social Security Administration’s Los Angeles headquarters to look up the records of several elderly people he’d helped before. To his shock, he discovered that they’d been receiving payments into their accounts since turning sixty-five but had never seen a penny.

On a hunch, he called a colleague for the account details of Mrs. Lin and checked again. To his astonishment, he found that money had been going into the same account for more than a decade. Suddenly, he realized—someone was embezzling these elderly people’s lifelines!

He rushed to his car and drove straight toward Chinatown…

A little after 2 p.m., a dozen or so young people gathered at the entrance of the Social Security Administration office in Chinatown.

They didn’t see Su Mu or Du Zhong—those two had spent too much time mobilizing students and hadn’t arrived yet.

Someone checked his watch and grumbled, “What’s going on? Weren’t we supposed to protest? It’s just us?”

“I told you, scholars never make good rebels—this isn’t going to work.”

“Let’s just go. What a scam.”

Upstairs, Mr. Ge Qiu and Mr. Gillery stood by the window. Ge Qiu, slicked-back hair and cigar in hand, laughed, “I told you, these Chinese don’t know how to protest. Trust me, Mr. Gillery, I’ll go get the police to chase them off right now…”

At that moment—

From the street, a surge of students in a riot of colors—well over a hundred, not just Chinese but also black and Mexican students—came pouring in, with Su Mu and Du Zhong at the front.

Elsewhere, Old Su had gathered reinforcements, too. As mentioned before, old-timers in the Chinese community all had connections. He knew a union leader from the North American Chinese Chamber of Commerce, a childhood friend, and called in a favor. The man rallied over a hundred Chinese from all walks of life to stand up for Chinatown’s elderly.

Everyone had elderly neighbors—who didn’t know a few lonely old souls? Starving or dying of illness was all too common. Some passed away alone, only to be discovered days later. Others, homeless and on the brink of death, finally swallowed their pride to ask for a bite to eat.

The Chinese, in this foreign land, were still united overall. Even if it meant missing a day’s wages, those who could came out to help.

Grandfather and grandson caught each other’s eyes and shared a smile, both hearts warmed with joy…