2023 Astounding - Xin Weimu part 3

[psocoptera]

Google translation of the third Xin Weimu story from the packet, 血肉之锤. About 13200 words.

Historical steampunk fantasy about the real-life Rock Springs massacre of Chinese miners by white miners. Story contains racial violence and racial slurs.



Hammer of Flesh
Text Xin Weimu
(Published in the September 2022 issue of "Science Fiction World")
[This article is based on real locations and historical events. The specific characters, companies, organizations, and storylines are purely fictitious. ]

1

That family came with the dragon. One day in early February 1880, the rumble of wheels rolling over gravel broke the afternoon silence of the small town of Evanston. on the road The black pig wandering lazily in the middle hurriedly got out of the way, causing the chickens nearby to flap their wings. Butcher Li - their common enemy - was sharpening his knife with a smile on the corner, while looking up at the long trailer passing by. More than a dozen Chinese children in the town ran out screaming, some even barefoot, scrambling to peek at what was hidden under the huge gray cloth. Soon, there was a group of adults on both sides of the car, and they followed it unhurriedly towards the Tang Temple not far away.

Fu Jiuren slid the steering wheel back into place between his palms and smiled at the envious eyes around him. He stepped out of the steam car with an actor's final call gesture, went around to the other side to help his wife, and the two children, a boy and a girl, got out of the back seat and looked timidly at the gathered peers. In the trailer at the back, the boy who was sitting on the gray cloth also jumped down. At this time, a few old people onlookers shook their heads and sighed. This man with a face full of dust and wearing old trousers like a coolie flew to his parents. It's actually a girl.

The five members of the Fu family lived in a small house in the backyard of Tang Temple. Over the next few days, their mysterious gifts gradually became apparent. First, two boys who were familiar with the second son of the Fu family swore they saw the shining claws under the canvas, and then a cart of coal just picked from Shiquancheng was transported directly into the temple. The eldest daughter who always wears pants will Coal was shoveled bit by bit into the chamber covered by canvas. The representatives responsible for planning the Spring Festival celebration all regarded Fu Jiu as a distinguished guest. They came together to visit and entertain him, and admired Fu Jiu around the piece of cloth. Even white newspapers published news that aroused imagination: “During the Spring Festival of the Year of the Dragon, the Chinese community invites Evanston residents to come to Chinatown to watch the dragon.”

What a dragon that is! When the firecrackers exploded, the pungent smell of gunpowder replaced the soot that filled the place in the past. The white people wearing hats and the Chinese with braids exclaimed, "The thirty-meter-long dragon emerged from the Tang Temple." It snaked out of the front door, spitting out wisps of gray smoke. The red and gold scales reflected the metallic light in the sun, and the eyes that were larger than a fist vaguely reflected the light of fire.

Dragon dance is a must-have program for the Spring Festival in Evanston's Chinatown every year, but this time, there are no more shirtless men carrying the dragon's body forward. The Fu family's dragon has one claw after another, just like Fu Jiu's full body of silk. His wife, Mei Axiang, walked equally gracefully. When she reached the end of the road, she turned at a right angle under the gentle tug of the Fu family's sister and continued cruising.

"There was a mechanical dragon like this in Jinshan City five years ago! It was designed by Mr. Fu! He took it to several Chinatowns and finally came here this year!" 16-year-old George Gordon II heard a Chinese elder The reporter raised his voice and gestured to the reporters around him. Strangely, he had never read about it in the newspaper. It was not until this year that he took a train with his father across the United States and approached Cheyenne, the capital of Wyoming, that he heard that engineers from China were going to show off their skills here - but he really wouldn't go and see it. News about Chinatown. Vendors pushed their carts in front of the crowd, selling rice rolls, sweets and popcorn to all kinds of faces. The smell of sizzling oil spread, making George turn around and leave. At this moment, the air seemed to vibrate, and there was a roar in the street next door. Before George could turn his head, the dragon that had been crawling past had already taken off from the other side of the row of bungalows, and the two pairs of wings spread out on its back flapped awkwardly. , the metal parts rubbed against each other and made a faint squeaking sound.

Suddenly, a square box was ejected from its mouth, and the Chinese people around it pushed and ran, chasing the box's falling trajectory, until a hand in the crowd raised a brass key: "It's settled! It's settled!"

"Whoever picks up the key will be the host of the Tang Temple this year." The Chinese elder hurriedly explained to the reporter, "One of our traditions!" Many viewers had just recovered from the robbery and looked around in shock. George ignored the heat in his throat and stared at the smoke gathering behind the dragon gradually fading away. In an instant, the dragon circled and landed at the entrance of the Tang Temple. The eldest lady of the Fu family, wearing a colorful skirt, bowed and patted its head, as if caressing a puppy that had completed its training.

2

The girl's name is Fu Lingfang, and she is only 14 years old. More than an hour later, when George's father, Mr. George Gordon, chairman of the board of directors of the Pacific Railroad Trust, crossed the threshold surrounded by the mayor of Evanston, the police chief and others, he frowned and listened to the introductions of the old and new Tang Temple abbots. While looking at the clay statue in the center of the hall, George struck up a conversation with her in the backyard.

He originally just wanted to see if he had a chance to observe the dragon up close, but he saw her who had already changed into work clothes, wearing thick gloves and sitting astride the dragon's spine to tighten screws. Her body was not as wide as the dragon, but she was lifted up because of her strength. Wings and blushed. George stepped forward and lifted the folded iron plate from below. She thanked her in a pure California accent and was not shy when she heard George's praise. She raised her head like those rich kids in private schools and said: "Thank you, my father and I designed this together."

But how did the dragon fly? George talked about the hot-air balloon bombers in the Civil War, the airship he flew in London, and the biplane that successfully flew in Paris. Fu Lingfang had heard about it all. When George expressed surprise at her erudition, she also looked puzzled: "It's been written in the newspaper, doesn't everyone know it?"

Fu Lingfang explained to George generously that Fu Jiu opened a hardware store in Jinshan Chinatown and had established connections with many suppliers in the western United States. The remaining materials from repairs could also be recycled. The painted dragon bodies are still mottled in color because they are made of different materials. Made of welded materials, the engine that drives the dragon was replaced with a new one this year. It was removed from an 1879 Spencer car that had an accident shortly after leaving the factory. But she ignored George's questions about the principles of flight. Whether George guessed that there were propellers hidden under the dragon's wings or that a large amount of helium was injected into the dragon's body, she seemed not to understand and asked him for help instead. Carry a bucket of water or wipe away the soot. The only information George got was that Fu Lingfang proposed the idea of transforming flying dragons to his father this year, because "since people can fly into the sky, why can't our dragons?" China seems to have been studying flight technology for hundreds of years. After all, "About 300 years ago, a man named Wan Hu tied himself to a chair and tried to use the thrust of a rocket, but unfortunately he was killed."

"George Gordon!" When Mr. Gordon's stern voice came from behind, George was introducing the Columbia University School of Mines and the Pacific Railway's coal industry in Wyoming to the yearning Fu Lingfang. The hat was missing, and the sweat-soaked shirt was covered in gray. Fu Lingfang lowered her head and slipped behind Fu Jiu in front of a crowd of astonished Huayang faces, and then disappeared into the dim hall. "I'm really sorry, this kid is so wild..." Fu Jiu explained to everyone with an apologetic smile, but Mr. Gordon didn't answer and led the white guests, including a dejected George, to leave. I don’t know who lost the sentence: “Savages who believe in paganism!”

3

The less-than-glorious ending of the Chinese New Year parade did not affect the Fu family's life in Evanston. They didn't drag Long back to Jinshan like previous years. They stayed in Tang Temple for almost a month, and actually found a newly vacated hut on the edge of Chinatown and moved into it. Not long after, a sign was hung at the door: "Fu Ji Hardware Repair - Jinshan Famous Store". Inside, there was the sound of metal banging day and night, interspersed with the sound of two girls reciting the Four Books. If they recited the wrong one, their father would soon be there. correct. The only son of the Fu family enrolled in the only private school in the area, and Mei Axiang also took her serious steps and bargained with vegetable vendors on the street.

There was an endless stream of customers at the hardware store. From buying scissors and hammer heads, lubricating clocks, to replacing mixer gears and modifying steam vehicle tires, Fu Jiu readily agreed to any request. His exquisite skills are all written on his rough hands - he was born in a family of craftsmen in Taishan, Guangdong. He went to the village scholar's home to study, and relied on building houses for them as tuition until he was eighteen years old and went abroad to make a career. I don't know when he passed away. It has the reputation of "can make anything". It is rare for a single Jinshan guest to start a family in a foreign country, but he got married quite smoothly. When the Pacific Railway was recruiting skilled workers, he left his pregnant wife for a while and went to travel along the road where Chinese laborers gathered.

Nowadays, the railway he participated in building has become a part of life. Workers in nearby coal mines such as Ogilvy and Mather, Shiquancheng and other places always come by train to report for work every day off. Logically speaking, they can only buy at the company store. Tools, but it was always okay to come here to have a cup of tea and chat for a while. Sharpening the pickaxe and drill bit was just a favor that Fu Jiu could do.

The managers of various coal mines also knew this tacitly. One winter, the boiler at Shiquancheng Mine exploded, and mechanics from the surrounding areas were called to provide support, and Fu Jiu was no exception. There are also a few people in the white community of Evanston who are interested in the low-cost and high-quality services of the hardware store. They write down the shape of the word "Fu Ji" and bring items that need repairing to their homes.

Fu Lingfang often visits the store with her father, rarely raising her head to say hello. She just sits at the corner of the counter and plays with various parts, with a copy of "Tiangong Kaiwu" by her side spread out. After Fu Jiu handed over the goods, she stretched out her hand and clicked a few times. The automatic abacus behind her displayed the amount like the difference engine popular in London. She still wore a boy's loose coat and gloves, and sometimes hid her face behind thick goggles. However, once someone expresses dissatisfaction with her presence, even if it is just a whisper between two customers, she will immediately put down what she is holding and retreat quietly to the inner room.

Over the past few years, Fu Jiu has become one of the most indispensable figures in Evanston's Chinatown. The coal, metal, and imported Chinese products that came into Evanston seemed to increase because of his presence, and every time the family took Long somewhere else to celebrate the Spring Festival, the dignitaries in Chinatown would always line up to see them off. , wishing them all the best and, more importantly, confirming that they will be back. Fortunately, they never broke their promise. Every fifth day of the Lunar New Year to welcome the God of Wealth, firecrackers would fly into the sky in front of the hardware store.

At banquets in Chinatown, people often asked Fu Jiu why he moved to this small town after already making a fortune in Jinshan. Fu Jiu always said nostalgically that he fell in love with the openness here when he was building a railway through Wyoming. Later, he went to the bustling city of Jinshan for almost ten years and wanted to give his wife and children a comfortable environment. Although the listeners nodded repeatedly, within a few days they saw sand and dust rolling in from all directions, and they couldn't help but raise questions about Fu Jiu's answer. Some people guessed that the Fu family was forced to leave Jinshan. They patted their chests and said that their relatives in Jinshan had heard about the misbehaving eldest daughter, who had been raised as a son since she was a child. Ruin a whole neighborhood of kids. Some people also told the story like a storyteller about how Fu Jiu was involved in a fight between several major Chinese clans in Jinshan. A flash idea helped the wrong person, and the whole family was hunted down, and finally hid in this barren mountain.

Others have seriously analyzed that the problem lies with Fu Jiu's wife Mei Axiang. She herself admitted to her neighbors that she was originally sold to a Jinshan businessman from Guangzhou by her parents, and worked as a model to sell mahogany furniture. She became famous for her looming three-inch golden lotus, but she suddenly disappeared in less than a year. That's because her feet are broken - someone said so vividly behind her back - you can tell by looking at her walking. She never shows her shoes, because she actually has no feet.

Fu Jiu laughed off these rumors and continued to study the drawings with Fu Lingfang behind the counter, listening with interest to the neighbor's description of the latest armed fight at the entrance of Jinshan Hall. Mei Axiang never let anyone see her feet.

4

Magic is coming to Stone Springs, even the priest who leads weekly services says so. Magic comes from the other side of the Pacific, where people have existed for thousands of years, speak in cadences, and write words like drawn square charms. They are scattered all over the earth like tens of thousands of seeds, with long tails hanging behind their heads. They eat little meat, but can work for more than ten hours at a stretch. Their mining speed is twice as fast as that of white people. Since the 1980s, not one of them has died in the mines. Even though a boiler accident in 1882 nearly broke the arms of two Chinese workers, within a week they were back at the mine, moving coal even harder than before.

The priest didn't know that the magic was hidden in the small bucket that the Chinese workers carried on the back of their poles every day. The upper layer of the lunch box contained rice and offal, and the lower layer was the thick soup from the Chinese restaurant. The seemingly unnecessary curved base could be removed and turned over. They were small hats made of scrap metal, just enough to cover their round foreheads. By 1884, several Chinese workers who often hung out in Evanston also added a new canary-shaped toy - they would take out the bird to play with from time to time. Occasionally, the bird's head would suddenly hang down, and they would rush out and ask for a bigger size. Exhaust air. Although the white foreman thought it was strange, he had no choice but to do as he saw these normally stern people suddenly shouting in a panic.

Every two or three weeks, Fu Jiu would drive to Shiquan City to visit, have morning tea with the workers, and play mahjong. He recalled that when he was building the railway, he had to bend his back to fix the rails every day. Sometimes he forgot what it felt like to stand upright. His only solace was the sunset at the end of the desert. He said that none of the Chinese workers who came back from the railway had a narrow escape. At that time, he always tried his best to help everyone. Now he also hopes to reduce the burden of the suffering compatriots. He asked the workers how they felt about wearing helmets and discussed with them how to improve the hammer head to save more effort. Occasionally Fu Lingfang came with him, and when the men gathered for dinner, she had to wait outside the door and look around. But every time Fu Jiu asked about the "automatic canary", she would always make sure that Fu Lingfang was nearby.

No matter what they do in Shiquan City, visiting Chen Afa and Chen Axian, who were injured in the boiler accident in 1882, is an unbeatable mission for the Fu family. They would ask the other workers in the hut to stay away, and ask the two of them to roll up their sleeves and move their repaired hands. When Fu Jiu tapped on their hard shells and replaced worn screws, Fu Lingfang did not avoid suspicion and stood nearby, staring down. Several times, Fu Jiu simply asked Fu Lingfang to give orders, just like the apprentice's exam before he officially started his apprenticeship. Every time he said goodbye, Chen Afa, who was over fifty, almost knelt down and kowtowed. Chen Axian, who was one year old and younger than Fu Lingfang, stared at the rare girl until Fu Jiu said: "Please keep it a secret."

"Since Uncle Chen and Ah Xian can use prosthetic limbs to mine coal, why not make a dummy with prosthetic limbs to go down the well instead of them?" Fu Lingfang turned to her father when she was helping her mother "wash her feet" at home. Although protected by cloth shoes, Mei Axiang's iron feet were still covered with a thin layer of dirt, and the area where her skin met the metal was slightly red. Fu Lingfang squatted on the ground and scrubbed her with the dry cloth handed over by her younger sister. Then she took the lubricating oil from her second brother's hand and applied it lightly. "No one has even seen your grandma's feet, so they say she is a monster. Uncle Chen and A-Xian are also careful to avoid making people suspicious. If we really make a dummy, others will accuse us of practicing witchcraft." Fu Jiu's tone contained warning.

"But I saw in the newspaper that there was an automaton that played chess on display in London, and there was also a mechanical menagerie owned by a Paris businessman. Isn't there a lot of that in China? The puppets of actors made by Yan Shi in "Lieh Tzu", "Taiping Guang Ji" Someone has been making the wooden maid who helped the queen dress up in ""..." Fu Lingfang refused to give up, "Why just make these into toys? With the dummy, A-Xian and the others don't have to risk their lives every day. You don’t have to huddle up underground when your life is in danger, and you don’t have to have chest tightness and cough all the time. Dad, you also want them to stop suffering so much, so you keep helping them, right?”

"That's different. The risk of bringing people into the mine is too high." Fu Jiu said with a straight face.

"How do you know if you don't try it?" Mei Axiang stepped in and looked at her husband, "That year I heard that there was a craftsman in Chinatown who could do anything. He sneaked out and begged you to chop off my useless feet. You They also said the risk was too great. What happened next? Look at how old these three children are. Ah Fang is so kind and wants to help others, so you should help her."

Fu Jiu couldn't bear to see his wife's generous iron feet. With his eyes closed, he could draw faint scratches on them. But at the same time, he would also think of the twisted and blackened corners when she took off her shoes for the first time. The howl coming from the other side of the bloody curtain, and the fear he felt when he embedded her healed wound into the iron frame. Fu Lingfang and her younger siblings were looking up at him expectantly. From learning crafts to making flying dragons, this was the case every time she made any extraordinary request. She and Mei Axiang were so excited when they were holding on to the wall and learning to walk again. The children are exactly the same.

"You two are so similar!" He sighed helplessly, but couldn't help but smile.

5

One dawn in April 1885, Chen Axian took his brother, who was a head shorter than him, into the mine. The blue night still shrouded the town, and the workers marching silently were like groups of shaking ghosts. Under the cover of the miners in front and behind, Chen Axian bent down and carried his brother into the mine cart, and jumped in after him. When he got close to the coal house, he moved Adi out and pressed a switch. After a rustling sound, Adi's limbs touched the ground, revealing a thin rope, and he was being held by Chen Axian in the narrow alley. Crawl up. Chen Axian looked back from time to time - he had practiced this action countless times in Fu's Hardware Store and at his own home, but when he was alone with it in the dark coal room, he still found it difficult to believe that he was not dreaming.

"Chen's Adi" is a cover that Chen Axian and Fu Lingfang came up with together. In fact, the foreman never looked directly at the appearance of the Chinese workers. Even if he found that there were more people when counting, he would think that he was distracted and counted wrongly. Even so, if anyone asks, this guy who always lowers his head and hides most of his face in his hood is the silly brother of the Chen family who came to help. Actually it's not stupid at all. At first it was just a pile of metal blocks, wires and gears, but under Fu Lingfang's skillful hands it could walk, crawl and dig. In the past year, the Fu family invited Chen Axian to Evanston every day off, and Fu Lingfang came to Stone Spring City as often as possible.

When he got higher, he asked him about every step of coal mining, the size and distribution of tunnels and chambers, and went with him to see the route in and out of the mine. The co-workers joked that Chen Axian had found an uncontrollable wife, but Chen Axian was just laughing. It was a good thing to have a home, but his eyes could never keep up with Fu Lingfang's writing and drawing speed on the drawings. Apart from working in the mine, he did not dare to talk to Fu Jiu about any personal matters. Adi adapted faster than anyone else in the mine. Fu Jiu replaced a small piece of the left knee that it often bumped into in the alleyway. Although it walked a little crookedly, it no longer made a dull sound from time to time. At first, it could only cut through the most superficial pieces of coal. Chen Axian thought it was too slow and often pushed it aside. But when she came back and told Fu Lingfang, she opened Adi's shoulder and fiddled with it a few times. The next day When I was working on it, my brother broke open a large piece with one hammer. Its two sets of clothes were made by Meachon from old fabrics. If there was any fraying, they were sent back to Evanston, and they were patched when they came back a few days later.

Its advantages over ordinary miners also gradually emerged, from barely catching up with the per capita output of ten tons a day, to eleven tons, thirteen tons, eighteen tons, and finally almost doubled. These increments were evenly distributed to each Chinese foreman, and during the settlement, the foreman could hardly believe his eyes. Soon the news spread to the white miners. The most skilled among them could only mine less than ten tons a day at most, but the Chinese workers had obviously found some better method of mining coal.

No one has ever cracked the secret of the Chinese workers - from commuting to work to lunch break, they always crowd together in a large group, and the coal rooms they are assigned to are also close to each other. When the white miners pass by, they can only see them waving their hands. Looking at Khan's back, if anyone stayed at the door for a while, other Chinese workers would gradually gather around, block his view, or send him away with mutterings.

6

"How can a normal person mine twelve or three tons a day? It's a false report!" "The coal mined has been weighed. There really is so much. The Chinamen must have stolen it from us." "Maybe they can do magic, their language It’s so weird, who knows what the spell is!” In early August, when 21-year-old George Gordon II came to the Pacific Railway’s coal mine in Stone Spring City, he heard such discussions in the Irish bar frequented by white miners. After finishing his junior year at Columbia University School of Mines, he took advantage of the summer vacation to explore west along the railroad. Although it is certain that he will inherit his father's business, he wants to find a suitable place after graduation and work as an engineer for a few years before getting into management work.

Almost every coal mine and construction site he passed had legends about Chinese workers, who either dug coal faster than others or lost less raw materials. He took a closer look and saw that the yellow people with braids didn't have much expression. They lowered their eyes and bent over while working. The muscles wrapped on their slender frames were the same color as the earth, like rows of silent ants.

"We are the nation that built the Great Wall," a Chinatown elder from Reno, Nevada, explained slowly during a banquet. "We have built palaces, opened post roads, and regulated rivers for thousands of years. When the Pacific Railway was being built, , aren’t the sections where Chinese workers are employed faster than other sections? It’s not because we are stronger, but because we have better craftsmen and more hard-working people.”

Someone also gave another explanation. It was in a club on the Strasbourg section. An engineer who graduated from the Colorado School of Mines shook his whiskey and said: "To be honest, only Chinamen can do such a dangerous project. They were born to do hard work. For them, this is not slavery at all, it is just a natural state of life. They are really perfect workers. They don’t even need whips to deal with niggas, let alone those Indians who don’t overestimate their abilities. Aboriginal!"

The Chinese workers in Shiquan City even left their compatriots elsewhere. When he was in Carbon, George discovered that everyone from the mine manager to the foreman wanted to be transferred to Stone Spring City, saying that there must be rich mineral deposits and they could easily achieve super high performance. When I went to Stone Spring City and looked through the diary, I found that the per capita output here was indeed higher than other places. Especially for those names consisting of two or three syllables, the output was slightly higher than the human extreme value that George learned in class. I asked the mine manager carefully what his secret was, but it was no different from other places.

George put on an engineer's helmet and went down into the well, specifically asking the foreman to take him to the coal room where the Chinese workers gathered. In the dark alley, the sound of hammers and hammers could be heard endlessly, ping ping ping pong, ping ping pong pong. No one spoke, and the rock wall pressing above his head and the choking smoke made George feel bored. Looking in from the door of the coal house, there is nothing special about those thin figures - they just wear some kind of special hat that looks like a helmet, rarely stop to rest, and the frequency of chiseling is relatively intensive.

The foreman couldn't help but cough. Looking at George who was also covering his mouth and nose, he suggested to go up quickly. George was about to answer when he suddenly noticed the innermost coal room. A pair of teenagers were concentrating on working on the wall. The one outside was covered in sweat, while the one inside was wearing long pants and long sleeves, and his face was unrecognizable.

"Mr. Gordon, let's go up." The foreman was a little impatient, but George stood still: the sound of the worker inside was beating at a constant speed. Although it was not obvious when it was sandwiched with the man outside, he was used to hearing the sound of the soldiers downstairs in the dormitory. George, who was rehearsing with the drum corps, knew clearly that it was like a pendulum, beating the rhythm of the sounds in the alley. The worker outside heard the sound and turned his face, his body just blocking his sight. "What are your names and how long have you been here?" George asked tentatively. The man looked confused, pointed at himself and the people inside, then at George, waved his hands a few times, then simply crossed his arms and shook his head repeatedly.

"They don't understand English." The foreman explained as if he was afraid that George didn't understand. George took a step closer to see what was going on, but the man pushed up and refused to let him in. Several Chinese workers appeared out of nowhere and gathered around George. One of them said in English: "I'm so sorry, those are the two children from the Chen family. They are very strong, but they are a little stupid."

Finally, George and the foreman retreated. When they got into the mine cart, five or six Chinese workers stood staring at them, including the young man who was blocking the road. "As you know, they have a bad relationship with the white miners and are very guarded against outsiders," the foreman said with a smile on his face, "Let them go and ensure safe production."

7

At the end of August, it was extremely hot during the day, but the temperature dropped sharply to nearly freezing point at night. Mei Axiang said her feet were a little swollen and she couldn't go out anymore. There are fewer miners hanging out in Evanston's Chinatown on their days off. The few who come occasionally have tired faces. The paleness caused by long-term underground work is mixed with the dirt from coal ash sinking into the pores, plus the hair dripping from the roots. The sweating made them all look sick.

Fu Jiu asked Fu Lingfang to stay at home while he went to Shiquan City to visit him. He asked Chen Axian to let his brother rest for a few days and then take him to work when the weather gets better. When he came back, Fu Jiu showed his family the leaflet he picked up outside the mine, which said "Drive away the Eastern Monster". The machine in the painting had a human face, slender eyes, and long braids, but it put coal into the air. Swallow it into your stomach. There is a shield drawn at the end of the leaflet, with the abbreviation of the "Labor Defenders" organization marked inside.

"I'm afraid something is going to happen." When Fu Jiu said this, she looked at her 19-year-old daughter. Fu Lingfang didn't understand what her father meant. A few days ago, when the mayor of Evanston entertained George Gordon II, the heir to the Pacific Railway, who came to inspect, she hid outside the door and overheard George talking to Fu Jiu and two other Chinatown residents. Approval from the representative: "Gentlemen, please accept my respect. The discipline and precision of these Chinese workers are comparable to the most advanced machines, and can even be said to be intimidating."

In the next few days, Fu Lingfang often recalled George's speech at the banquet: "...but now that machines are becoming more and more like humans, we also have the opportunity to reflect: Should we still force foreign countries to do it for our own convenience?" The citizens of the country live a life that is close to slavery. As human beings, we should use our creativity and manage machines well to serve us. Just like Pico della Mirandola during the Renaissance in "On Humanity" "Dignity" said that God only gives man free will, and man can determine his own nature according to his own will. He can either degenerate into a lower beast or be reborn in a higher divine level... .”

There was only one thing he said that was wrong. Fu Lingfang thought, if a person can freely decide her nature, then why can't she become a boy? Then she can go in and compete with this "Master Gordon" to see what machines he can build, or simply Go to his school and study science systematically. You can also write long speeches and quote famous quotes from sages. As she sat on the bench behind the counter of the hardware store, swinging her feet and fiddling with the automatic abacus, her thoughts would return to this issue from time to time.

8

On September 2, before dawn, Chen Axian walked out of his underground residence carrying tools and lunch boxes, and met Chen Aqiang at a wonton shop that was holding a morning market. Aqiang came from the same village as him. He entered the United States just two months ago with a fake certificate pretending to be the son of a Jinshan businessman, and then moved to Shiquancheng to work to pay off debts. In terms of seniority, he can be regarded as Chen Axian's distant nephew. Since Fu Jiu asked him to leave Adi at home recently, Chen Axian turned to partner with Aqiang. Aqiang happens to be about the same height as Adi. Many people in the mine joke that Aqiang is the real Adi of the Chen family. Pretending to be fussy, he said: "It turns out that brother can talk!" Ah Qiang didn't know what was going on. Sometimes he would get angry and jump up with clenched fists. Chen Axian quickly pushed him back.

In any case, Chen Axian felt that his burden was much lighter. He no longer had to cover up the iron man next to him at all times, nor did he need to act like a fool who didn't understand English in front of white people. The low output is not a problem. The mine is already as hot as a pot of rotten meat, and everyone is restless. Several times he saw white people gathered in a group after leaving the mine. Some of them waved their arms as if they were arguing fiercely. If anyone moved a little too loudly, they would start shouting and pushing. Chen Axian always followed the warning of the old man at the mine and stayed away.

He and Aqiang were the first to arrive at Mine No. 5. When they went down to the coal room, they packed up the tools and started working. Before they had done a few chisels, a voice with a Welsh accent came from behind: "Is this the guy?" Chen Axian turned around, and two white men holding hammers were walking in, "Get out of here." Get out, this coal house belongs to us."

Chen Axian was hesitating whether to pretend not to understand, but Aqiang had already pointed a pickaxe at them like a weapon and spoke in blunt English. Shouted: "What are you talking about? This is our territory!"

"Hey, you can still talk!" The fat man among them whistled, "It seems like there is magic!"

"We have been mining coal here, and we have arranged it this way..." Chen Axian finally decided to speak, but before he finished speaking, the fat man stepped forward and grabbed his collar: "You are quite flexible, you are What is it made of? Iron? Tin? Wood?" The man showed his uneven yellow teeth. The residue of the overnight wine and the body odor mixed with the smell of sweat made Chen Axian feel dazed.

"Let me go, Uncle Chen!" Aqiang shouted in Chinese and rushed over. Before the tip of the pickaxe could reach his opponent, he was knocked to the ground by another tall man, who then punched him in the stomach.

"Soft," the tall man seemed to be making a report, "How strong can you be if you are so small?"

Amidst Aqiang's crying curses, Chen Axian struggled with the fat man who was grabbing him. It was not difficult to break free with his body. He knocked the opponent to the ground and bent down to pick up the pickaxe on the ground. When he saw the tall man holding a hammer and was about to hit Aqiang, he quickly stretched out his left arm. block.

There was a "bang" impact, and the four people in the coal room were stunned - Aqiang's arm did not bleed, but was flattened. The fat man who was the first to react forcefully pulled open Chen Axian's sleeves, revealing his hard arms made of metal. "Sure enough," he snorted.

Before Chen Axian had time to react, Aqiang's screams rang out from beside him - the tall man took out a sharp blade from somewhere and plunged it directly into the boy's chest. At the same time, a stinging pain and a sense of heat also came from Chen Axian's abdomen. He looked down blankly, and saw something fleshy was flowing out of his body, while the fat man, who was also holding a knife, was still poking inside, muttering: "Fake! It's all fake!"

When the foreman yawned and stepped into the coal mine gate, he was startled awake by the sight in front of him. Four Chinese workers took the two bodies out of the mine cart and placed them on the ground. A pool of blood gradually formed around them. Their bodies were all open, and their internal organs seemed to have been piled back haphazardly after falling out. Then two white people were escorted out - Blake and Willoughby, certified members of the "Labor Guards" who always gave him a headache, and their curses were indispensable in the recent strikes - their hands and feet were tied, and the young men were beaten. There was still a look of contempt on his swollen face. Later, three bleeding Chinese workers limped out and were helped out by their uninjured companions. According to their story, the two white men accused Chen Axian and Aqiang of being machine-made automatons, followed them and stabbed them to death. Later, the Chinese workers heard the news and rushed over. Although they finally subdued them, they were helpless with a knife. Several people were stabbed during the struggle.

"You still have one hour," the Chinese workers were urging the foreman to call the police. Blake's cold warning silenced them, "Get out of Stone Spring City, or you will end up like them." The foreman looked out of the mine. It looked like several white men were running past with sharp knives and rifles. They were all workers who were supposed to go down the mine according to their schedule.

The bells in Shiquan City rang, and the shops and restaurants that were preparing to open at noon hurriedly bolted their doors and lowered their shutters. Some seemed to have prepared wooden boards to block the doors behind the glass. Only the door of the gun shop was open, and the counter was almost empty. The Chinese workers who had returned from the mine dispersed, and soon red cloth with a warning sign was raised on several houses in Chinatown.

The foreman showed the gun handle at his waist and locked the two murderers into an empty coal storage shed. He went to the office and called the outgoing mine manager, the Pacific Railway, the Rock Springs Police Department and the Wyoming Territory Government in turn, and thought about it. After a while, he still didn't stay in the coal mine and closed the door when he got home.

Less than an hour later, groups of white people came out, mostly men working at work, but there were also women, old people, and children whose faces were distorted by anger. They seemed to have been divided into several groups in a planned manner, blocking the bridges and roads at the exit of the coal mine. Then they broke in and inspected every mine pit and pump room. Onlookers who climbed to the top cheered.

Black smoke rose from the nearby Chinese labor camp. Amidst the crackling sounds of tents and huts burning, occasionally indistinguishable men and women emerged from the ground screaming, and soon fell to the ground without making any sound. Chinatown was also surrounded. Doors and windows were knocked open and broken one after another. Chinese people carrying large and small parcels came out in panic, some wearing only their underwear, like a herd of antelopes being hunted by wild beasts. Under people's gaze and curses After leaving Shiquan City, he ran in all directions.

9

The bells in Stone Spring rang and reached Evanston on September 3rd. "Get out of here, China!" Early in the morning, before Fu Lingfang could sit down behind the counter of the hardware store, she was startled by the shout. Before she could speak, Fu Jiu nodded to her, opened the door and went out. Fu Lingfang turned around a few times and realized that she was chewing her nails involuntarily. She quickly put down her hands and looked out the window. Fu Jiu's back had disappeared around the corner. Three Chinese workers in ragged clothes were staggering towards him. Their faces were the color of mud, whether it was blood, sand, soil or tears. They were followed by a group of slaves. A white kid who had never been seen in Chinatown was swearing provocatively.

Fu Lingfang welcomed the men in without hesitation and glared at the children fiercely. Mei Axiang and her two siblings came when they heard the commotion, brought them towels and snacks, and then listened to them talk about the tragedy that happened in Shiquan City the day before. After escaping from the town in the afternoon of the previous day, they walked west along the railroad tracks, braving the severe cold, tired and scared all night, until they stopped at a small station along the way in the morning and encountered a stopped train. It is said that the government ordered the trains along the way to pick up the Chinese workers coming out of Stone Spring City and send them to Evanston.

When Fu Jiu shuffled open the door and came back, the three guests were bowing their heads in silence. Mei Axiang held the heads of the two children with a solemn expression. Fu Lingfang was the only one wailing in the dead silence. "It was me...it was me who harmed A-yin!" She threw herself into her father's arms and gasped for air. Fu Jiu patted her on the back and told everyone what she learned:

The Chinese in Stone Spring City are running away in all directions. Some are heading towards Evanston along the railroad tracks. There are probably many who are hungry, exhausted, and lost. There are also some who are heading in other directions along the river. The situation may be more critical. . The Evanston branch of the "Labor Guard" is also ringing the bell, and is probably planning how to resist the influx of more Chinese. In a few days, the ultimatum of Stone Spring City's Chinese exclusion may be repeated here.

"I have to save them," Fu Jiu waited for his daughter to let him go, then went behind the counter and took out two pistols from the locked drawer, and said to Mei Axiang, "If I don't even go, then... ..”

"You have to go." Mei Axiang interrupted him, no further explanation was needed.

Fu Lingfang immediately responded: "I want to go too!" "It's too dangerous, you can't go!" Fu Jiu sternly stopped her. Seeing that she was about to cry again, he removed the magazine of one of the guns and checked it.

He put it back into her hand and regained his gentle tone, "And if you're not at home, who will protect my grandma and siblings?"

The family watched Fu Jiu drive away in the steam car, dragging behind it the dragon that was used to transport the dragon. The trailer was said to be able to carry more people if needed. At the same time, more Chinese people were trudging through the nightmare like streams, protruding into the streets and bungalows of Evanston. The Fu family took in five more people. Mei Axiang was busy letting everyone eat and wash themselves. The second brother helped make the mattresses, and the younger sister acted as a messenger, shuttling back and forth to deliver them here and there. In the shop in the front room, Fu Lingfang kept on sorting out various tools quickly, especially picking out sharp tools such as axes and saws, hiding them behind the counter that was not visible at a glance but could be accessed at any time, and distributed them free of charge to those who came in to find weapons. Self-defense Chinese. whenever

Whenever she saw unfamiliar white faces passing by, she would count them on her abacus: 2, 5, 9, 16... Then she would look at the gun at hand and recall the actions her father had taught her with an empty gun.

However, when protesters broke into the hardware store in the evening, Fu Lingfang still did not raise his gun. He just stood quietly and watched a few white people rummaging through the boxes. She remembered that there should be a law that said that shooting to defend one's own property would not be punished, but she had to calculate the gains and losses: the four people who came in were all brandishing gun barrels. Once she opened fire, one bullet would be exchanged for four bullets, and her family would be destroyed. The adopted compatriots will also be attacked more violently, as well as the mother and younger siblings. She held her breath, as if she would hit the invisible gunpowder in the air with just a little force. Just now, several Chinese workers heard the noise and wanted to come out to confront them, but Fu Lingfang stopped them and had to squeeze in at the threshold of the back room to suppress their anger. snoop.

"That's it? Where are the other things?" One of the white men pointed dissatisfiedly at the scattered screws, pinions and wrenches on the ground. Fu Lingfang replied: "Sold out."

"Where is your shop owner? We need to see the shop owner!" "I'm the shop owner." The man glared at her fiercely: "It's you, selling cheap tools to those yellow scabs and making labor-saving gadgets for them. Knowing that the company stipulates that they can only buy things at the mine's store? And you also gave them their helmets?"

"We sell them to them for home use and have nothing to do with the work of the mine. Fu Lingfang followed Fu Jiu's usual words, "If you are willing to come, you can buy it." As for why your company thinks helmets are more valuable than workers’ lives, I don’t quite understand. I have to ask you. Our boss.

"Hey, wait, what is this?" Another person who was rummaging through the cabinet in the corner of the room suddenly shouted. He was holding several metal objects in his hand. "I think I heard my friend in the mine mention this!" "It's just a little toy." Fu Lingfang's expression remained unchanged as she watched the man move the bird's head up and down. This can detect gas leaks The bird may have saved his friend's life. "Cunning Chinaman..."

The man was bored and cursed, "How long are you going to stay in Evanston?" Fu Lingfang didn't want to talk, but when he saw that he had left his beloved work Throw it up, catch it, break off its tail, and pluck it out He raised his head and thought of Chen Axian whose body was still unknown and Adi who might have disappeared in the sea of fire. The boulder pressing on his chest gradually shattered: "How long will you stay in Evanston? Then you plan to lie down." How long will we have to live in our blood and sweat? The railroads you run in and out of Evanston, the coal burned in the factories, the firewood used for heating, the iron sheets on the appliances in your homes, the gold boasted in the newspapers, none of these are the scars used by the so-called "Chinamen" In exchange for our lives? Like any of you, we earn our pride through labor, and we also demand the same dignity and freedom!"

Several people were stunned by what she said, and no one responded for a moment. Fu Lingfang took a deep breath. She only thought about it secretly in her heart, but she didn't even dare to say it in front of her father, let alone in English. Fu Jiu taught her that "fullness will cause harm, modesty will benefit" and "being born without having it, doing it for the sake of it" If you don't rely on it, you won't be able to live in it even if you succeed." This is said to be an ancient virtue. But when their hard work is ignored or even trampled underfoot, should they remain silent? She wanted to ask her father, but thanks to these people, she didn't know if she could reunite with him again.

In the end, the intruders said "Get out if you want to live" and left with the scrap metal they collected. People in the back room came out to thank Fu Lingfang, and then arranged for dinner. Fu Lingfang was not hungry at all, and did not rest even after nightfall. She stared blankly at the streets outside that had finally calmed down. After discussing with her mother for a few words, she turned around and got into the work shed in the backyard. Amidst the heat and smoke of something burning, the sounds of banging and welding continued intermittently all night, accompanied by little sparks flying out.

On the morning of September 4, more protesting residents marched toward Evanston's Chinatown. Several streams of people came out of different neighborhoods and converged on the main road of Chinatown. Before they shouted the first slogan, they froze on the spot. The Tang Temple stands at the end of the empty road, looking more majestic than usual. I don't know whether the two are playing around or among the roaring stone lions, it is the giant dragon that once made a splash at the Spring Festival celebrations of the Year of the Dragon. This time it did not fly high, but slowly stepped out of the Tang Temple, and walked creakingly towards them along the main road, led by a girl. What spewed straight out of its mouth was not the Tang Temple key, but a cluster of blazing fire.

10

The official figures stood at 28 dead and 15 injured. No one knows whether they include the wounded who died a week or two later, the children who were not included in the miners' roster, or the refugees who trekked through the night in the desert where the howls of wolves echoed. Fu Lingfang only remembered that Fu Jiu was carrying a dozen wounded people home two days later. His face was blue, all the food and coal he had brought out were used up, and there were a few bullets missing from his gun. Fu Jiu didn't speak for a whole week. People told him how Fu Lingfang controlled the fire dragon to scare off the protesters that day until the afternoon when the police chief sent people to guard Chinatown. He just raised the corners of his mouth tiredly and patted his eldest daughter on the head. Later, he finally recovered, but every time he mentioned the tragic scenes he witnessed in Stone Spring City and surrounding areas, his body could not help but tremble.

Federal troops sent by President Cleveland escorted the Chinese workers from Evanston back to Stone Spring City. Some people swore they would never go back to that ghost place, and those who thought about making some money would also run away again within a few days. They came out and said that when they closed their eyes at night, they could see the ghosts of the deceased who had not been buried. Moreover, since their home was gone, they could only live in the carriage. Some of them stayed in Evanston, while more, like the existing Chinese in Evanston, packed up their belongings and prepared to try their luck elsewhere.

The Fu family provided testimony to the investigation team of the Qing government's minister in the United States. After bidding farewell to the last Chinese worker who was temporarily staying, they also left Evanston in early October. White people have begun to move into the buildings on the outskirts of Chinatown, and the chickens, ducks, and vegetable vendors that used to be popular have disappeared. come train Only a few people stood to see him off, and they bowed to Fu Jiu, but the next moment they couldn't help crying. On the contrary, Fu Lingfang calmly signaled to her mother to lead her little sister into the car, and she and her second brother carried the luggage and the engine removed from the dragon aboard.

They headed east to New York. Fu Jiu said that if he couldn't stay in New York, he might as well go to China with his family. In fact, they can still go back to Jinshan, but the factor that drove Fu Jiu to leave in the first place is still there - all the halls are vying to hire Fu Jiu to make guns for them, and apart from the two guns he uses for self-defense, he is a staunch pacifist. The fights in New York were just as fierce, but since he was new here, at least he wouldn't attract too much attention.

"We should build some guns and cannons," Fu Lingfang murmured to her father as she watched the small towns scattered in the wilderness flash past the window. "At least we can protect everyone."

"Then what?" Fu Jiu asked, "Kill one, attract more people to take revenge, and then fight with them? How will it be over? What will happen to the Chinese in other places who don't have guns? Congress has banned the entry of new Chinese workers. , what if we issue another decree and exterminate all the Chinese here? You were born in the United States, but this is not your home or mine."

"What is home like? I mean... in China, your and grandma's home?" A sad smile appeared on Fu Jiu's face: "That's all in the poem I asked you to memorize. A magnificent and tragic land..."

11

They settled in Chinatown, New York, and with the help of the hometown association, they opened a small shop and bought a second-hand car. The sign of "Fu Ji Hardware Repair" was put up again. After all, Manhattan was much more crowded than the western frontier. Amid the car exhaust and the fumes from Chinese restaurants, a family of five was crammed into two small rooms divided into one room. Late at night, the sound of banging bowls and chopsticks was still heard. Fu Lingfang was lying on the small bed with the light bulb on, reading the newspaper. She no longer browsed aimlessly, but cut out any reports that mentioned Shiquan City, the Chinese and China, and pasted them for use. In a notebook made of waste paper.

The trials for the Stone Spring City tragedy are all over. Blake and Willoughby were acquitted because "no one saw that they had killed anyone, and the Chinese workers who were said to have fought with them were nowhere to be found." The testimony of the foreman at the mine that day alone could not prove the two men. The person is not acting in self-defense. There were also no witnesses to other shootings and arson incidents. According to the defense lawyer, “We can’t even confirm that this was not an accidental fire.”

The Qing government took out the investigation results to claim compensation from the United States. From Harper's Magazine to the American-China News, discussions about whether the White House should be responsible for the personal safety of foreigners appeared in Chinese newspapers from time to time. Many of them criticized what the United States had previously asked other countries to do. An introduction to issues such as compensation, the Qing government's foreign treaty system, and the anti-foreign wave among Chinese people. One day, Fu Lingfang saw a familiar name in the New York Times: George Gordon II, president of the Columbia University Debate Society and son of George Gordon, chairman of the board of directors of the Pacific Railroad.

"...The people of China will eventually return to their homeland. They have no obligation to cross the ocean in order to develop our country and risk their lives to earn a salary lower than ordinary people." George wrote, "Our free And a resourceful nation should not be eroded by the unthinking obedience and trivial and vulgar pursuits of the East. We should set an example for the world, find shortcuts to alleviate human suffering and develop the earth's resources, and use machines to replace brute force. Use your mind to lead ignorance. Enterprises are calculating carefully, not out of malicious intent to exploit the interests of workers, but to use capital where it is most urgent and update technology to expand output and benefit all consumers, including the workers themselves."

"In August this year, I happened to visit Shiquan City. I saw two Chinese children underground. One was fifteen or sixteen years old, and the other was probably only thirteen or fourteen years old. They were not smart and couldn't even speak, but they started working. But it was as if it was equipped with a motor, and its efficiency exceeded anyone I had ever seen. I asked the foreman how to make their output the average of the entire coal mine. The foreman told me that unless all workers were replaced by Chinese workers, or they invented A mining machine that is more labor-saving and cheaper than humans. In my opinion, the latter is the right choice, because Stone Spring City has reminded us of the consequences of the former in the most extreme way. Now, when that mass-produced While the pagan nation of mechanical men sees us as our enemies, we must treasure the creativity God has given us. There is no other choice.”

Fu Lingfang recalled overhearing George's speech at an Evanston dinner. He used long, complex sentences and multi-syllable words, and his voice was clear, as if a demigod was preaching to mortals, but he was "vulgar" and "ignorant" , "mechanical person", but it is extremely dazzling to read. If those things never happened, who would consider whom an enemy?

The two Chinese "children" he mentioned sounded just like Chen Axian and Adi. Maybe it was because the Orientals were too thin and he thought Axian was two years younger. Could it be that he saw A Di working and told the foreman? Fu Lingfang read that paragraph over and over again. There was some unspeakable horror hidden in the simple narrative: the foreman knew A Di, and also knew that the future boss intended to let more The workers became like him; the foreman heard that there would be more Chinese workers to replace the white people, or simply replace them all with machines that would not be lazy and make mistakes; the foreman remembered his instructions and revealed them to other workers on a certain occasion. Workers, maybe when they are chatting in the bar after work, maybe when they are scolding them for being too inefficient, maybe when they threaten to strike again...

In short, someone finally knew about the two "mechanical" Chinese workers, someone followed them, someone brought a sharp knife, just like the British workers who smashed textile machines in the past, and they - the misunderstood Ah Yin and the accidental Aqiang was implicated - disembowelled. After hearing Fu Lingfang's inference, Fu Jiu read the newspaper carefully with a solemn expression. He said that at that dinner in August, George had indeed been asking the Chinatown representatives about "two Chinese workers who were simply inhuman", and he did not mince words with the white guests, saying that he must find the secret of the success of the Stone Spring Coal Mine. At that time, Fu Jiu told Chen Axian not to take his brother down the well for the time being. This was partly due to the weather.

"Is he the one who really killed them?" Fu Lingfang asked her father. "Any white miner could have stabbed that knife. Just think that he might lose his job at any time, just because their boss wanted to 'save labor and be cheap.' .”

"You are almost 20 years old, and you still think about killing all day long. When your mother was as old as you, she would have given birth to you." Fu Jiu clicked his tongue. He had long since stopped expecting his daughter to be like you. A normal girl would marry young, but after leaving Evanston, watching her sink deeper and deeper into memories of the tragedy, he began to fear every question his daughter asked him.

"Did A-Xian and others die in vain? No one should take responsibility?" Fu Lingfang's face turned red. "No matter what, I have to take responsibility. I created A-Di and killed A-Xian." , and all of them. But even if I use my life to repay, it is not enough to redress their grievances. I must do something more for them."

"Don't involve yourself. You were also trying to help them, reduce their danger, and make them feel a little more relaxed. How could you predict what would happen next?" Fu Jiu advised, but she felt powerless even listening to it. He clutched the newspaper in his hand and thought of George's naturally shrewd eyes when he talked about "human cost." He understood that Fu Lingfang's judgment was correct. If it were him, he would probably leave at this moment.

"Only I can do it. Even if you don't want to help me, at least don't stop me." Fu Lingfang had a pleading look on her face. Fu Jiu looked at her deeply, and the light in her eyes dimmed the incandescent lamp next to her. Over the years, every time he looked at his restless eldest daughter, it felt like he was looking directly at the sun itself. He was always amazed by her seemingly innate talent, and was warmed by her persistence and vitality. . No power, not even the most advanced motors, can defeat the sun thirsting for revenge. There was only one answer before him: "You need a helper."

"You need more than one helper." Mei Axiang's voice sounded at the door of the room. She didn't know how long she had been listening silently, but she had obviously heard enough.

12

February 4, 1886, the first day of the first lunar month of the year Bingxu. In Chinatown in Lower Manhattan, New York, the bells and drums rang, firecrackers roared and exploded, and red confetti hung on people's heads and clothes, and fell to the ground to form a thin layer. The humble laundresses, cooks, pimps and opium den clerks in the past put on bright new clothes and wandered leisurely on Broadway. Gong beaters, opera singers, and lion dancers compete for the eyes and ears of onlookers.

George Gordon II, the Qing government's consul in New York, and others sat in the teahouse box overlooking the parade below. He was attending on behalf of his father - the Pacific Railway employed a large number of Chinese workers, and with the recent Rock Springs massacre and reparations controversy, the Chinese probably wanted to find out what Mr. Gordon had to say, but his father had never been willing to step into Chinatown for so many years in New York. We don’t even want to get involved in diplomatic mediation. George himself actually had little interest, but he accidentally saw a flyer on the Columbia campus saying that there would be a special mechanical dragon show and auction in Chinatown this year. Recalling what he had seen in Evanston, he went back and took the initiative to ask his father for the invitation.

"I heard that there have been mechanical dragons in the West for a long time. They have come full circle, but New York is lagging behind." The consul said to the guests, "But this year we held an auction to support the rights and interests of Chinese workers, and a hardware master volunteered. I want to make one and give it a try. Of course, there are also antiques passed down by our compatriots, top-quality tea and porcelain specially imported from China. If you gentlemen are interested, you may wish to take a look later."

George had no time to discuss the treasures at home with the old and new rich who loved collecting. His eyes focused on the dragon who was slowly walking behind the crowd. Just like in Evanston, the dragon seemed to be breathed into life, moving easily with just a child holding it. Probably because the streets of New York are too cramped, its length is only about ten meters, but its color is more intense. Between the dazzling golden scales, the red edges make people think that the blood flowing in its body is real.

"The exciting thing is yet to come," the consul smiled proudly when he saw the guests leaning forward and pointing, like a child who had a rare opportunity to show off the treasures at home. But George had already anticipated what was about to happen - sure enough, the child holding the dragon ran away, the dragon's voice roared, and the people in front of him dispersed to both sides. Flames erupted from the dragon's mouth, and the wheels under its claws rolled forward rapidly. After running for less than a block, it had lifted off the ground and spread its wings in the direction of Wall Street. George stood up and followed it with his eyes as it disappeared behind a tall building and reappeared next to another tall building. The crowd's exclamations were like the ebb and flow of ocean waves, gasping in fear as the dragon passed through the narrow building gap, and bursting into cheers as it successfully shot into the vast blue sky.

Whether it is imitating a kite, an airship, an automatic man, or some other mysterious craft, this flight requires a lot of field calculations and meticulous planning, as well as a powerful enough engine. Manhattan is the best place for this dragon, George thought, not in the wild land of Evanston, but in the center of this new world, among the steel and concrete, side by side with mankind's most magnificent creations. He felt that his chest was vibrating with the dragon wings. He had never experienced this kind of emotion even when he visited the Parthenon in Athens. He recalled the girl who "tamed the dragon" he met in Evanston. Her delicate figure formed a delicate balance with the dragon's hard shell. Was she still safe when Shiquan City was expelling Chinese? When Long slowly descended, he tried to find her figure among the men swarming up. It's a pity that she is a yellow girl. Otherwise, George would be embarrassed to imagine what stupid things he would do in front of such a white girl. Or even if she is just the son of an ordinary worker's family, George would be happy to get to know her in the classroom at Columbia University. , funding a little scholarship is not a problem.

George went to the auction and bought the dragon for $2,000. The "Oriental collectors" around him laughed at him for spending money to buy a pile of scraps that were already showing rust. But then again, the heir who planned to go to the mines to work as an engineer was a bit stupid. Mr. Gordon was used to his son's willfulness. As soon as he received the news, he ordered people to vacate the hall of his house and wait for the dragon's arrival. The 6th was Saturday, and George drove a steam train from school back to his estate north of Manhattan. At the same time, four members of the Fu family - except for the little sister who was waiting at the end - also took a steamboat up the Hudson River to escort the dragon to the buyer.

Fu Lingfang, her long hair tied up in a hat, dressed as an apprentice, lay on the railing and looked at the desolate mountains and forests in winter. Everything went more smoothly than she planned: two months ago, her mother introduced her to the wife of the consul in New York through neighborhood chats, and suggested that her father build a dragon to participate in the auction; a month ago, her younger sister, through the help of the hometown association, replaced the main dragon. The maid who planned to return to China permanently sneaked into Gordon's house; a week ago, the second brother pretended to be a laundry delivery guy and sneaked into Columbia University. He posted flyers about Chinatown's Spring Festival activities on several bulletin boards around the School of Mines.

The basis of all this is Fu Jiu's unintentional remark: "By the way, during the Spring Festival of the first year we came to Evanston, you met that Young Master Gordon - he seemed to be quite interested in flying dragons, in the backyard of Tang Temple I’ve been chatting with you for a long time.”

It turned out to be him. Fu Lingfang saw George striding out of the mansion under the dusk sunset, politely shaking hands with Fu Jiu, and shining his eyes at the dragon covered by canvas, she recognized the man who had helped her carry water and listed various new aircraft. A young man who even flew into the sky himself. This time, his attention was entirely focused on Long, without even looking at her.

She hated this guy who kept talking about "free will" and then compared Chinese workers to machines. It was his metaphor, along with his father, whom newspaper radicals denounced as a "robber baron," that started the massacre. The dragon was coiled up and placed in the hall. According to Mr. George and Mr. Gordon, they want to decorate this place as a "temple of technology", with the metal forged mythical beast as the center, and place various items that they will collect in the future that show the beauty of industry. Fu Jiu supervised the two apprentices - his two "sons" - completed the work together with the summoned male servants, and then stood by the wall with his wife without saying a word. It wasn't until George ended his discussion with his father and remembered that there were others in the room that he turned to them and deliberately slowed down his speech like he would to a child: "Thank you for your hard work."

"There is still fuel in it. For safety reasons, should we take out the fuel and engine?" Fu Jiu asked.

"Don't worry, I want to study it for a while, and then I can dismantle it myself." George grinned, suddenly realized something, and asked hesitantly, "Excuse me, have we met before? You look familiar."

Fu Jiu lowered his eyes humbly: "No, you must have made a mistake." "Oh, sorry," George smiled sheepishly, "I'm not very good at recognizing... Oriental faces."

13

Late at night, Fu Lingfang hid in a hidden corner that her younger sister had scouted in advance. Watching the lights in the hall dim, George walked briskly up the stairs and returned to the room humming a ditty, leaving a faint smell of coal along the way. After a while, the light from the crack in the door disappeared, and the whole house sank into complete darkness.

She tiptoed downstairs and entered the hall. The dragon was still in its original position, and its scales reflecting the glistening moonlight seemed to have been wiped clean, making it cleaner than when they were delivered. The dragon cavity has been opened, but there are still a lot of things inside. It should be processed slowly during the day when there is free time. She found the traction rope under the dragon's head, pulled it hard, and swung it left and right twice. The rope retracted automatically, and the gears in the dragon's cavity began to rotate. After a while, the wooden bars that were about to rub gradually came closer. She retreated to the hall door and covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief.

"In another more ideal world, you might be able to become confidants like Boya Ziqi. Isn't it ironic?" Fu Lingfang remembered Fu Jiu's wry smile after hearing the plan. Now she fully understood what he meant. Only a soul like hers would fall into this trap. She didn't need to use her brain to predict George's actions, because she only had to imagine what it would be like if she were herself.

The canary in her arms lowered her head, the time had come. When the fireball exploded, Fu Lingfang emerged from the woods sweating profusely, with mud on his trouser legs and weeds in his hair. The steam car waiting on the side of the road started. Mei Axiang and her little sister stretched out their hands together and pulled her into the car. "Is it over?" Fu Jiu, holding the pistol, turned back from the passenger seat. Fu Lingfang responded breathlessly. "Then let's go," Fu Jiu ordered, and the second brother stepped on the pedal.

George Gordon and his wife and their two adult children were killed in the explosion. The servants living on the ground floor and outside the manor escaped in time. A few disappeared, probably because they were scared away. Anyway, they were definitely not at the scene when the incident occurred. Investigation revealed that the Chinatown Wyvern purchased by George Gordon II exploded due to a leak of fire-breathing gas, and that the Gordons' main bedrooms were located just above the hall. Several male servants testified that the Gordons once inspected the goods in front of a master in Chinatown. At that time, the other party reminded him whether to remove dangerous items from the dragon's body, but George refused. The owner of Fu Kee Hardware Store also showed the police the design drawings and fuel order form, saying that there had never been any problems with the dragon from its production to its parade in Chinatown. He was afraid that George accidentally touched something when he was tinkering with it later.

"The son of a rich man who was obsessed with technology accidentally caused the tragedy of annihilation." After the major media came to such a conclusion, they turned their attention to the equity dispute of the Pacific Railway. Every day, reporters shuttled between the high-rise buildings of Wall Street to inquire everywhere. Less than a mile away, Fu Kee Hardware Store took down its sign early one morning, and the five people left in a steam car. There was no one to say goodbye, and the hawker selling breakfast just looked up curiously when he passed by, and then continued to go about his business.

No one knows where the Fu family has gone. Their flying dragon is like other Chinese stories in the New World - a mother who took the case to the Supreme Court for her children to go to school normally, a scholar who challenged foreigners to a duel with chopsticks, and a famous actress who climbed from an unknown actor to the Broadway stage. .....The details fade into obscurity until they become legend.

In the years that followed, some third-rate writers seeking fame and fortune imagined a terrifying inventor from the East who manipulated machinery and magic in an attempt to destroy the white man's world. Some adults scare children not to peek at the old woman's feet. Maybe they will open their toga and see an iron monster. A reporter wrote about a middle-aged female pilot born in San Francisco, who walked as fast as flying and had a bright gaze. She returned to her father's homeland alone and joined the revolution to overthrow the imperial system. They, their faces and names are like thousands of ordinary Chinese, wandering in tiny corners of the earth and disappearing in the rolling history.