novelSusiti Chapter 27 Chinatown and Land Deeds
Chapter 27 Chinatown and Land Deeds
The four dragon heads were ashen-faced, their lips moved slightly, but they remained silent.
After all, all the gang members in San Francisco were wiped out. Now we're at their mercy, what else is there to say?
Seeing their silence, Su Song didn't take it to heart and said calmly, "It's fine if you don't talk. Even if a few manage to escape, they won't cause any trouble in the future."
He paused, then reassured them, "Don't worry, although you have committed many evils, your crimes do not warrant death."
"You will be sent to places like mines and forests for labor reform until one day you have atoned for your sins and realized your mistakes."
These words greatly relieved most of the gang members who had thought they were doomed. After all, it's better to live a miserable life than to die, and even doing hard labor is worse than dying.
Su Song said no more and waved his hand.
The assassins understood and immediately began to systematically group, bind, and escort the prisoners away.
The first batch of modified camel-drawn locomotives needed to be transported to the gold mine, and these laborers could be escorted along the way.
After dealing with the matters at the branch, Su Song turned around, a gentle smile returning to his face.
He looked at the presidents and directors of the various associations in the temple and said, "Gentlemen, it's almost noon. Why don't we find a restaurant and chat while we eat? I'll treat you all to a meal to calm your nerves."
No one dared to say a word of objection, and they followed Su Song out of the Tianhou Temple and into the nearest restaurant.
We booked the largest private room, ordered some food and dishes, and had a few pots of tea served.
Su Song took his seat at the head of the table, and seeing the somewhat reserved crowd, raised his glass and said, "There's no need for you all to be so tense. After all, I'm just a businessman."
"To deal with those lawless scoundrels who make a living by oppressing their fellow countrymen, we must be swift, ruthless, and eradicate them completely."
But you are different. For many years, the six major associations have sheltered and united tens of thousands of Chinese compatriots in California, allowing everyone to have a foothold in a foreign land, to communicate with each other, and to resist foreign aggression. This is a great deed. I have only respect for you all and will never use the methods used against other associations.”
His sincere words eased the tension in many of the audience.
Director Chen clasped his hands in a fist and asked, "Boss Su, since we met once before, may I ask you a question?"
"What exactly do you want to do?"
Su Song put down his teacup and said seriously, "I've already made myself very clear: establish some rules for Chinatown."
"You are all doing legitimate business, I will not interfere, nor will I charge you any interest."
"On the contrary, if you encounter any difficulties in your business in the future, I can still provide assistance."
"If any foreigners come and cause trouble, I will take care of it for you."
He paused, his tone turning slightly serious: "There's only one thing I need your cooperation on, and that is to make Chinatown obey."
Yuan Tong, the president of Yanghe Guild Hall, frowned slightly and asked cautiously, "What does Boss Su mean by this?"
Su Song smiled slightly: "From now on, if I feel that certain aspects of Chinatown need to be changed, I hope that the six major associations will unconditionally cooperate with my decision and use your prestige and channels among the community to do a good job of communication and persuasion, ensuring that orders are carried out smoothly, rather than obstructing or paying lip service to them."
He gave an example: "For instance, I don't like the current narrow, dilapidated, and sewage-filled state of Chinatown, and I want to change it."
The association must then step in to appease the businesses and residents temporarily affected by the construction and to stop any protests or disruptive behavior.
"So this is what obedience looks like."
The presidents and directors present all breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile, "Don't worry, Mr. Su. If you have any instructions in the future, we will definitely do a good job of communicating with our fellow villagers."
Director Chen blinked and asked, "Boss Su, are you really going to clean up the filth in Chinatown?"
"That's natural."
Su Song complained, "These days, many parts of Chinatown don't even have a decent stone-paved road. The dirt roads are dusty on sunny days and muddy on rainy days. Garbage piles up on the streets, sewage flows everywhere, and animal excrement is everywhere. I don't know how you've managed to walk on these roads all these years!"
"Who can argue with that!"
Director Chen seemed to have found a kindred spirit, slapped his thigh, and joined in the complaint: "I mentioned this to my uncle and the directors of several other associations a long time ago, but everyone was not interested and just felt it was a waste of money."
"Ah Long, you're just a well-fed man who doesn't know the hunger of a starving man!"
Chen Wenhan, who was mentioned, took a sip of tea and said irritably, "Do you think everyone's businesses are as profitable as your clothing store that does business with foreigners?"
Locally quarried stone costs over ten dollars per ton, and in streets and alleys like Pudupan Street and Washington Street, it would cost at least six or seven thousand dollars, not including labor and transportation costs.
"The costs of other expenses, such as collecting manure and cleaning, are also considerable. Using your own money to build a city for foreigners—you spendthrift son of a bitch, how could you even think of that!"
After he finished speaking, he realized what he had said and quickly said, "Boss Su, I wasn't talking about you."
"It's alright, Chairman Chen's words are all true, I understand."
Su Song waved his hand to indicate his understanding, then changed the subject, "However, I also have something to say, and I would like you all to listen quietly and weigh the pros and cons."
"Since Chinatown was formed in San Francisco, to my knowledge, there have been four large-scale fires and numerous outbreaks of plague such as cholera. Each time a natural disaster occurred, people lost their lives or were ruined."
As for the various minor illnesses and ailments caused by poor hygiene on ordinary days, they are countless.
The root cause lies in the dirty streets, poor drainage, and the excessive density and disorganization of wooden buildings.
"If we don't find a way to resolve this, it will be too late to regret it if these things happen again in the future."
Yuan Tong sighed and said, "How could we not know? But Boss Su, you've forgotten the most important issue."
"The land deeds for these houses in Chinatown, and the land beneath the streets, aren't in our hands!"
"A few years ago, I also approached those foreign landlords, thinking of paying for a sewer to make my place better, at least not so smelly. But those foreign landlords, in order to collect more rent, built their houses so densely packed that they were unwilling to leave any open space, and they absolutely refused to let us start construction."
"If you want to lay flooring and install plumbing, you're touching the land owned by the Westerners. They won't agree, so there's nothing we can do."
"Yes, Chairman Yuan is right!"
"The land title is in their hands; we are just tenants and have no say in the matter."
Other association leaders echoed this sentiment, their faces showing reluctance.
"You all don't need to worry about that."
Su Song picked up his teacup and took a sip. "Soon, those foreigners will no longer be able to control Chinatown."
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.
Earlier, while various branches and associations in Chinatown were blaming each other, inside the San Francisco courthouse.
The judge rubbed his temples and said, "Mr. Sutter, you're not thinking of using a Supreme Court ruling to take back the entire city of San Francisco, are you?"
"Is there a problem?"
John Sutter retorted, "According to the laws and the spirit of contracts of the United States of America, this land has always been my legal property. It has always been my territory."
Those speculators and land grabbers who flocked here during the gold rush built houses, opened shops, and even established city governments on my land without my permission. Isn't this blatant encroachment?
"I am now demanding the return of a portion of the illegally occupied land to exercise my legal rights. What's wrong with that?"
"But Mr. Sutter, it's just that the state Supreme Court ruled in your favor."
The judge couldn't help but interrupt, saying, "The federal court's hearing on this case hasn't even begun yet. If the federal court ultimately overturns the state's ruling, you will be obligated to return the land and compensate for the losses."
"That's the risk and consequence I need to take."
Sartre impatiently interrupted him, shoving a document in front of the judge. "Your Honor, now, please sign this enforcement order issued by the State Supreme Court."
I don't expect the municipal authorities or bailiffs to send people to help me enforce the order, because I know they have a vested interest in those who occupy the land.
My only request is that official forces refrain from interfering with my lawful exercise of my rights; that is sufficient.
The judge sighed, but ultimately signed his name on the enforcement order and affixed the court seal.
Thank you.
John Sartre picked up the document, examined it carefully, nodded, and turned to leave expressionlessly.
The judge watched them leave his office, then immediately summoned a trusted subordinate and instructed, "Go find the mayor and tell him that John Sutter is about to begin a large-scale repossession of the land he claims to own. Remind the mayor that this could trigger huge social unrest and violent conflict!"
"Yes, Your Excellency!" The subordinate dared not delay and hurriedly left.
The judge sighed again and muttered a complaint to the Chief Justice in Sacramento: "Your Honor, why did you rule in his favor? If he had simply lost, the legal issues in San Francisco and Sacramento would have been completely resolved."
John Sutter, who had already left the courthouse, was unaware of the judges' actions inside. He boarded the carriage and nodded to Dutch inside.
"Mr. Dutch, that's enough."
"it is good."
Dutch smiled slightly: "Then let's go and meet Mr. Sterling and Mr. Brandon."
Ferdinand Sterling and Connor Brandon.
These two names are household names in San Francisco's real estate industry, especially in the Chinatown area.
The two controlled several streets, including Duban Street, Sacramento Street, California Street, and Washington Street. It can be said that Chinatown, now and in the future, is their property.
They built simple houses and rented them out to Chinese merchants and residents at extremely high prices.
The vast majority of the profits generated by the entire Chinatown went into the pockets of the two men.
The carriage wheels chug along, and after about fifteen minutes, they stopped in front of a luxurious café called Golden Gate.
Dutch and Sartre got out of the car and went straight into the store.
Two people were already sitting at a quiet table in the corner.
One was a fat man wearing an expensive suit, and the other was an old man with white hair wearing hunting attire.
"Tacitus Kyrgo!"
The fat man, his face grim, called out Dutch's fake name. "How dare you show your face in San Francisco, in front of me?"
John Sartre paused for a moment, then asked, "Do you have a grudge against this Mr. Sterling?"
"It was a minor business dispute. Specifically, I shorted a gold mining company he owned and made a fortune from it."
Dutch, unperturbed, chuckled, "Mr. Ferdinand Sterling, are you still upset about the small loss we suffered earlier?"
Ferdinand Sterling gritted his teeth and said, "A small loss? That's a mining company worth tens of thousands of dollars!"
"You better not let me find any evidence linking you to those damned thugs, or I'll put you in court and on the gallows!"
Dutch shrugged. "Really? Good luck then."
"Alright, Mr. Sterling, there's no need to waste time arguing with them."
The older man on the other side, Connor Brandon, spoke up. "Mr. Kiergo, seeing Mr. Sartre accompanying you, I can roughly guess why you've come today. It's about the land, isn't it?"
Sterling was stunned: "Sartre? Which Sartre?"
"Of course it's John Augustus Satter, the lord of New Helvetia."
Brandon downed his coffee in one gulp and sneered, "Let me be frank. The land deeds for those plots are now in Mr. Sterling's and my hands; we are the legally recognized owners."
That so-called state court ruling in your hand is no different from a piece of waste paper in my eyes. Want to take back the land? Fine, bring more and more ruthless men and guns than we do and seize it.
"But I can guarantee that everything you're trying to do will not succeed in San Francisco!"
"So you're Sartre," Sterling sneered. "Mr. Brandon's meaning is my meaning. To hell with New Helvetia! My land belongs to me alone, and no one can take it away!"
"I love this kind of straightforward conversation."
Dutch suddenly clapped his hands, a genuine, almost admiring smile on his face: "If every negotiation could be this smooth, that would be wonderful."
Brandon frowned. "Kilgo, are you crazy or didn't you hear me?"
"No, no, no, of course I heard you clearly."
Dutch's smile faded, and he said regretfully, "I'm just feeling sorry for the two gentlemen. After all, I genuinely wanted to resolve this dispute peacefully."
"Alright, gentlemen, then so be it."
He said no more, nodded to Sadie, and the two left the café, leaving Sterling and Brandon looking at each other in bewilderment.
Brandon spat and scoffed, "A washed-up lord, a slick opportunist, thinks he can intimidate us with a worthless judgment? What a joke!"
He hadn't finished speaking.
"boom!!!"
"boom!!!"
Two deafening explosions, almost simultaneously, came from two different directions not far away!
The loud noise made the coffee shop's glass windows rattle and the cups and saucers on the table jump!
After the explosion came a barrage of gunfire.
Chaos erupted instantly in the streets as pedestrians screamed and fled in all directions, and horses neighed.
Sterling and Brandon's expressions changed drastically, and they rushed to the window.
"My God, that looks like the direction my house is going?!" Sterling's voice trembled.
"Damn it, that's my villa!" Brandon exclaimed.
The two men's eyes instantly reddened, and they rushed out of the coffee shop, jumped onto the horses tied outside, and hurried back home.
But it was too late.
A raging fire engulfed the magnificent mansion, and thugs, armed with long and short guns, opened fire on anyone who dared to stand in their way.
The bodyguards were forced to retreat, with one after another being shot and falling to the ground. Screams and wails continued to echo from inside the house.
"Damn scum, I'm going to kill you all!"
Brandon rushed into the house, drew his revolver, and fired repeatedly at one of the thugs.
boom! boom! boom!
As if sensing the murderous intent, the thug immediately rolled to the side and hid behind a thick pillar.
Just as Brandon emptied his magazine and was frantically reloading, the thug darted out and fired a shot!
boom!
Brandon froze, then fell backward, a bloody hole appearing in his head.
On another street not far away, Sterling encountered a similar scene.
When he saw that almost all the guards of the house were dead, he immediately turned his horse around to flee, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Madmen! You bunch of madmen!"
Using such horrific methods is an act of defiance against the entire respectable society of San Francisco! It is an act of hostility against the law and order of California! You will not have a good end!
His response was a cold bullet that seemed to come from nowhere.
Sterling's obese body tumbled heavily from the horse's back, convulsed a few times, and then fell silent.
A dozen minutes later, the rioters withdrew in an orderly manner, riding away from the scene before the city police arrived.
Dutch, standing by the street, lit a cigar and silently said in his heart, "My lord, the matter is resolved."