Outnumbered? I'll conquer America with an unlimited number of suicide soldiers.

Chapter 36 The Changes in Xinghan Hall and Chinatown

San Francisco's Chinatown.

As dawn broke, Chen Chunsheng lifted the coarse cloth quilt, which was patched in many places, and sat up on the four-foot-wide plank.

The cramped shack was filled with a complex mix of smells: sweat, mildew, and foot odor, but he remained calm, clearly used to it.

"I don't know when we'll be able to move into the new house."

His gaze swept over the other empty beds, and he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with envy.

Since the five major tribal groups were eliminated, strong men calling themselves Xinghan Hall have taken over the management of Chinatown, and the streets have undergone tremendous changes.

They demolished some dilapidated houses on the street corner and built several large and bright three-story buildings on the original sites.

When Xinghantang first posted the "Room for Rent" notice, Chen Chunsheng just thought it was a joke.

After all, the rent was even lower than the dilapidated shack built by this white landlord. Why would the people in the gang do such a good deed?

However, a few roommates who couldn't stand the environment decided to pool their money and give it a try, and to their surprise, they actually managed to rent a room.

Chen Chunsheng went over to take a look. It was a room about two zhang square, very spacious, and could fit four bunk beds without feeling crowded. Next to each bunk bed were two cabinets, one on the left and one on the right, for the use of the people on and off the beds.

In addition, there is a latrine at the end of the outdoor corridor. Pull the rope by the wall and clean water will "whoosh" out to wash away the filth, flowing through the pipe to who knows where.

It's safe to say that the environment here is many times better than this shack.

Unfortunately, by the time he wanted to rent it, it was already rented out.

He mustered up his courage and asked the foreman at Xinghan Hall. The man was very kind and told him that the next building would not be completed for another week.

Before that, you can go to the six major venues to get a number plate, wait in line, and when it's built and your number is called, you can use the plate to rent a room.

"Ah Sheng, what are you thinking about? Go get some water to wash up and get ready for work," a fellow villager from the same shack called out to him.

"Here it comes, here it comes."

Chen Chunsheng suddenly realized what was happening, picked up the bucket, and followed them out.

The other man, also surnamed Chen, was named Chen Youtian. They were from the same village. Originally, there were several other villagers, but over the years, some died from illness, others from overwork, leaving only the two of them.

"Arita-kun, when do you think this troublemaking by the foreigners will finally end?"

The two walked side by side down the street toward the newly dug well in the distance.

The wells were also dug by the craftsmen from Xinghan Hall, and they dug ten wells in various parts of Chinatown, saying it was for their convenience to get water.

Xinghan Church also set up a shed near the well, where people would heat and cool the well water before selling it to the Chinese who came to fetch water for one cent a barrel.

To be honest, the water was much cleaner than the water I used to buy from the foreigners' water trucks, and it didn't give me diarrhea.

Chen Youtian scratched his head, picked out a louse, and crushed it: "How would I know? But it probably won't stop anytime soon. I heard that the foreigners killed a lot of people in the square a couple of days ago, and yesterday they killed the head constable of the yamen in public."

"They even killed the head constable? Isn't that tantamount to rebellion?!" Chen Chunsheng's eyes widened. "If the foreign army comes to quell the rebellion, won't they kill us all along as well?"

"It's hard to say."

Chen Youtian was also somewhat worried: "Haven't you seen the Xinghan Hall and the guild hall people parking a lot of wooden carts at the street corner these days? When they're fighting, those things can be laid sideways, almost like boxcarts."

"And there have been more patrols on the streets lately; they probably sensed something was wrong, so they..."

Before he could finish speaking, Chen Youtian suddenly shut his mouth, grabbed Chen Chunsheng, and pulled him to the side of the road to clear the way.

At the street corner ahead, a group of burly men, ten in total, emerged.

They stood in a neat line, wearing short sleeves and shorts, carrying rifles on their shoulders, their faces tense, jogging forward in unison.

Watching their departing figures, Chen Chunsheng couldn't help but ask, "Brother Youtian, what exactly is the background of this Xinghan Hall? These people seem even more ferocious than those soldiers from the imperial court!"

"Why bother with all that if they don't want our money or our lives?" Chen Youtian said. "Besides, the fiercer they are, the lower the chances of those foreigners coming to cause trouble, right?"

The two walked and talked, and soon arrived at the well.

Under the shed, a burly man was pasting something on a wooden sign. Chen Chunsheng asked curiously, "Brother Huang, what are you pasting here?"

The man's name was Huang Chu, and according to him, he was from Shandong.

"I'm putting up a notice."

Huang Chu turned to look at the two of them, the brush in his hand still dripping with paste. "The higher-ups are going to launch a 'pest control and hygiene' campaign soon, saying they'll be cleaning up street garbage, digging and clearing ditches, and filling in sewage pits, so they're posting notices to let everyone know."

Chen Chunsheng blinked: "Get rid of pests and talk about hygiene? I know about pests, rats, mosquitoes, bedbugs and stuff, but what does hygiene mean?"

Huang Chu said: "It means to protect one's life, prevent disease and eliminate disaster."

"As you all know, San Francisco is a godforsaken place. Every few days, it gets an outbreak of plague, typhoid, or cholera, and these diseases are brought by pests such as rats and flies."

"That's why we need to clean up the garbage, dredge the ditches, and fill in the sewage pits so that pests have nowhere to live, thereby changing the poor sanitation situation in the streets."

As he spoke, he took a bundle of herbs from a large bag beside him and handed it to the two men.

"Oh, right, take this. It was prescribed by the doctor in the clinic. Light it when you get home, and the smoke will drive away the insects."

Chen Chunsheng thought about the insect-infested shack and suddenly felt a surge of interest. He gritted his teeth and prepared to take out his money: "Brother Huang, how much do you want?"

"It's free."

Huang Chu waved his hand and said, "My lord said that this is part of the infrastructure construction."

"Oh, right, I almost forgot to mention. If you kill a rat, you can exchange its tail for money, one cent per tail."

Chen Youtian's eyes lit up, and he quickly asked, "Brother Huang, is this true? You're not just playing a trick on us, are you?"

"It's written in black and white on the notice board, why would I lie to you?"

Huang Chu took the buckets and cents from the two men, filled them with water, and then handed them back to them.

"When you get back, remember to tell the people around you about this and help me spread the word so I don't have to do all the talking."

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.

Morning, weapons factory.

Inside a chemical laboratory far from the factory buildings.

Doctors such as Li Shizhen and Fleming, along with chemists such as Su Song, gathered together for a heated discussion.

On the table in front of them was a white porcelain bowl filled with a thin layer of bluish-green filtrate.

Su Songdao said, "Let me state my position first: large-scale production of penicillin is absolutely impossible at present. Even if you treated our chemistry team like animals, you still couldn't do it!"

Fleming frowned. "Can't we even try? Those poor women are suffering from syphilis and gonorrhea every day. We finally managed to produce penicillin under our Lord's guidance; even small-scale production would be fine!"

Su Song spread his hands: "How can we try? I've seen the penicillin you produced: the penicillin concentration in the filtrate is less than one part per thousand, the impurities are fifty times more than the effective ingredients, and it becomes ineffective after half a day."

Solving each problem requires enormous amounts of funding to develop new equipment and research new technologies, as well as a stable power supply.

"We don't have any of these things. Even if we start trying little by little now, it will be many years before we see any light at the end of the tunnel."

Li Shizhen sighed and said, "Then we can only use prescriptions like Smilax glabra and Bazheng San to tide us over for now. Although it can't cure the problem completely, it's good if it can alleviate some of the symptoms."

Fleming scratched his messy hair and said, "If penicillin doesn't work, what about the other drug my lord mentioned, sulfamethoxazole?"

"The coal tar plant is almost finished. With pure benzene, there won't be a shortage of aniline. As a chemist, you also have the equipment, so you should be able to develop it successfully sooner, right?"

The name para-aminobenzenesulfonamide is a bit of a mouthful, but everyone is familiar with it when it's called by another name.

Sulfonamides.

The most potent antibacterial drug before the advent of penicillin.

Su Song thought about the chemical structural formula that his lord had written on the paper, and nodded after pondering: "This is easier than penicillin."

The process of refining benzene from coal tar, nitrifying it to obtain nitrobenzene, reducing it to aniline, and then sulfonating it... are all known reactions. Artificial synthesis is definitely faster than developing penicillin.

But let me be clear from the start: it may be easy, but the synthesis process involves many steps, and failure is easy if you're not careful, so it will require a period of research.

Fleming breathed a sigh of relief: "As long as the chemistry team can do it."

He didn't want to fail in his mission to cure the prostitutes in Chinatown, otherwise he wouldn't be able to explain it to his master.

"Alright, if there's nothing else, you can leave now. Don't disturb me while I'm doing my experiment." Su Song waved his hand and began to see the guest out.

Finally, he suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, have you settled those women who no longer want to be prostitutes?"

Li Shizhen nodded and said, "They've been settled. Master Lu Ban demolished the houses that originally belonged to Xieyitang nearby and built several dormitory buildings on the site to accommodate them."

"That's not what I meant by 'settling in'."

Su Song twitched the corner of his mouth and said, "What I mean is, have we found them jobs? We can't just support them for nothing, can we?"

Li Shizhen suddenly realized: "Oh, you mean this? Yes, we have that too."

"The director of the Six Associations, Chen Long, helped contact various laundries and tailor shops in Chinatown and recruited some women with skillful hands."

"As for the rest, Jianyuan found some people to help train them. They trained them in farming, weaving, and even opera. They were trained in whatever direction they wanted to learn."

Fleming interjected, "There are also about twenty people who want to study nursing. Li Shizhen and I are currently teaching them to identify medicinal herbs and learn bandaging. In the future, they can also be helpful in treating patients."

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.

Evening, Jackson Street.

The Chinese workers, exhausted from their work, walked slowly along the side of the street.

Despite the ongoing unrest in San Francisco these past few days, people still have to go to work.

Those capitalists living in the villas on Mount Norb don't care what's happening outside. Even if it's raining knives outside, let alone a few policemen and officials dying, they still have to go to work, otherwise they won't get a penny.

Thus, the chaotic city presented an absurd picture: white people shouted and marched in the square, while Chinese people worked in factories and on the docks.

Thanks to this, San Francisco has maintained basic order, the port is still operating normally, and ships and cargo have not clogged the docks.

"Ah Sheng, how about we go out to eat tonight?" Chen Youtian asked Chen Chunsheng next to him. "I've been really exhausted these past few days, let's treat ourselves to a good meal at a restaurant."

Chen Chunsheng was also a bit hungry, so he nodded: "Let's go to that place we went to last time. Their stir-fried offal is a generous portion, and they give a lot of rice too. We'll also order a steamed fish, but I don't know if it tastes authentic."

Chen Youtian laughed and said, "The seafood here is different from that in my hometown. It's definitely fresh enough, but whether the taste is authentic is another matter."

As the two were chatting, a dispute suddenly broke out in front of them.

"Old hag, what do you want to do?"

Five Chinese laborers stood in a circle, with a middle-aged man sitting on the ground in the middle, his trouser legs covered in mud.

Across from me were four drunk white men, their shirts open, holding bottles of liquor, and grinning maliciously.

"Get out of here, qingchong!"

"China men go home!"

"America for Americans!"

The foreigners waved their bottles and shouted in a language the Chinese couldn't understand, but their hostile gestures and expressions conveyed the meaning of their words to the Chinese around them.

The Chinese men exchanged glances. One of them, hot-tempered, had his fist clenched so tightly that the veins on the back of his hand throbbed, but he was being held back by his companion.

"Forget it, why bother arguing with a drunkard?"

The Chinese people's retreat only made the drunken foreigners even more smug.

They laughed triumphantly, and one of them even pulled out a revolver, pointed it at the Chinese people, and made a series of "bang" sounds.

"Chinaman, rot in hell!"

A crowd of white onlookers gradually gathered on the street, whistling and shouting provocatively in support of the drunkards.

The Chinese people gradually gathered together, glaring angrily at the foreigners on the other side of the street.

"Put down your gun and get out of here!"

Accompanied by the sound of hurried running and a roar, a patrol team from Xinghan Hall also arrived at the scene.

As soon as they arrived, seven of them scattered, found cover, and aimed their rifles at the group of drunkards and the foreigners around them.

The remaining three men continued forward, revolvers already gripped tightly in their hands. The burly man in the lead shouted in English, "Drop the gun, get out, now!"

After a brief commotion, some of the foreigners who sensed something was wrong left the center of the storm.

But some oblivious foreigners pulled out their revolvers and began to confront the assassins.

"San Francisco is our city, you're the ones who need to get out, you Chinamen!"

The burly man at the head of the group remained expressionless: "I'll say it again, put down your guns and get out of here. Otherwise, you can leave your lives here!"

"Fuck you!"

A drunkard, enraged, pressed his finger on the hammer, about to pull the trigger.

boom! boom! boom!

The gunshots didn't ring out one after another, but rather sounded like a continuous rumble of thunder.

There were no warnings, only precise salvos.

The bullets flew into the foreigner's eye sockets, bringing out a patch of red and white substance. Some bullets even severed his neck, leaving only a thin layer of skin connecting his head and body.

In just a few seconds, the drunkards who were causing trouble and the foreigners who refused to leave were all wiped out on the spot.

Screams and gasps erupted from the street as the crowd scattered in panic.

The burly man ignored them, turning to his teammate beside him and saying, "Go back and report to Brother Jianyuan immediately. Eight provocative white men were shot dead on Jackson Street. There are over thirty white witnesses at the scene, which may provoke retaliation from the Westerners."

He then turned to another team member: "At the same time, notify the people at the six major associations to reassure their compatriots and tell them not to wander around or run around in the next few days, and not to go to work if they can avoid it."

Finally, he scanned the Chinese laborers on the street and shouted in Cantonese, "Still looking?! Get back home now! Lock your doors tight, nobody's going out tonight!"

As Chen Chunsheng was being dragged into the alley by Chen Youtian, he glanced back.

As dusk settled on Jackson Street, the men of the Star Hall were quickly sweeping the streets, removing the bodies, and collecting the dead's weapons.

"This has really blown up!"

The two ran back to Chinatown, panting, and looked at each other, both pale-faced.

"Arita-nii, what should we do?"

Chen Youtian gritted his teeth: "What else can we do? Grab our weapons and get ready to fight those foreigners!"

"No matter what, Xinghan Hall is a Han Chinese force, and those foreigners don't distinguish between us when they're killing people!"