Chapter 33: A Public Announcement

Morning sunlight filtered through a foot-square window, the yellow beams cutting through the gloom of the basement. A mosquito occasionally flickered through the light. The June air was stifling, and the damp basement reeked of mold. Although these conditions had caused Li Leqin to break out in eczema, he had no other choice; it was the only housing he could afford.

Two years ago, after the outbreak of the Pacific War, Li Leqin had lost his source of income. His family back in Jiangsu could no longer support his studies as they once had, and as a self-funded student, government aid was out of the question.

"I just need a job..." Li Leqin muttered to himself once again.

His gaze fell upon the newspaper nearby, lingering for a long time. It was filled with job advertisements, but how many factories were willing to hire a Chinese engineer? What did it matter that he was a graduate of New York University?

Watching the light shift slowly across the dark, damp basement, Li Leqin let out a long sigh. He stood up, washed, changed into a decent suit, and flashed a smile at the mirror.

"Hello, my name is Leqin, Li..."

A flicker of almost imperceptible distress crossed his smile. He soon left the basement, walked to the corner of the street, and spent a few cents on a copy of the *New York Times*. As usual, he read while walking, until a certain advertisement caught his eye.

"Karl Metal Company is hiring engineers and workers of all kinds. Excellent terms. If interested, please call..."

Anyone would have been drawn to this notice, for it was printed in Chinese. As an engineer, Li Leqin could tell at a glance that it had been handwritten and then photo-transferred; after all, American newspapers certainly did not possess Chinese character typefaces. The Chinese-language advertisement made Li Leqin so excited he nearly jumped.

"My God! This... this is meant for our people. It’s specifically recruiting our own..."

The Chinese advertisement naturally attracted the local Chinese community. A simple notice like this immediately caused a sensation in circles in New York and beyond. The community was small, and news traveled fast. Especially for the students stranded in the U.S. due to the war—whether they were self-funded students who had dropped out mid-way due to financial reasons, or government-sponsored students who had completed their degrees but could not return—they all flocked to New York, rushing to Karl Metal Company. To them, this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

By the time Li Leqin arrived at the company by bus, he saw the area outside the main gate crowded with people—the vast majority of them Chinese, speaking Cantonese, Fujianese, or Mandarin in excited tones. The corridors of the company’s office building were equally packed. No sooner had Li arrived than he bumped into several acquaintances.

"Wenli."
"Le'an."
"Jiade..."

Li Leqin saw not only friends who had studied engineering like himself but even a fellow townsman.

"Jing'an, why are you here? I thought you studied English and American literature."

"Ah, Brother Le'an, I figured that since the company is so large, they can't only be looking for engineers; they must need someone to handle administrative tasks," Zhao Jing'an said, adjusting his glasses. "Being a clerk here is certainly better than washing dishes in a restaurant!"

"Heh, you’d be lucky to even find someone to hire you to wash dishes. You never know when a customer might point at you and shout 'Japs' in a rage."

"Japs" was a slur for the Japanese.

"Ha, then I suppose I’d just have to wash dishes in the back."

These seemingly simple words laid bare the hardships of Chinese people seeking work in America. You not only had to be more talented and outstanding than everyone else, but you also had to endure endless injustice and discrimination.

"Do you know why this company posted a job ad in Chinese?"

"I heard the company was acquired by a Chinese merchant, which is why they are specifically hiring Chinese."

"To open such a large factory in America—this is truly the pride of our people!"

For a time, the corridors were filled with praises. These were not empty flattery, but heartfelt sentiments; after all, in this day and age, establishing such a large factory in the United States was a feat worthy of admiration.

It was not only worthy of praise but also drew attention. The Chinese advertisement was not just a notice; it was news, to the extent that even the *Wall Street Journal* began reporting on the ad and the story behind it.

"He bought such a large factory without spending a single cent?" Song Peilun exclaimed, staring at the newspaper. "How could a Chinese man pull off such a feat in America, seizing another man's business? The papers even praise his 'considerable skill'."

As he finished speaking, Wang Fuji, who was eating breakfast, remarked, "Brother Song, you don't understand. This is America. To that Mr. Karl, the factory was not an asset, but a burden. If he had kept it, he would have been dragged into bankruptcy. During the Great Depression, many millionaires and even multi-millionaires were ruined exactly like that. Bank interest, property taxes—when these pile up, even a multi-millionaire cannot hold on for long."

Compared to Song Peilun, an engineering expert, Wang Fuji, who studied economics, understood not only the economy but also America. Having lived and studied there for fifteen years and having witnessed the Great Depression, he had seen many millionaires head toward ruin.

"So, giving away the company, the machinery, and the land for free was the best choice. And it’s not as if Mr. Li isn't taking a risk. If he can't secure orders and revive the enterprise, the factory could very well drag him into bankruptcy as well..."

"So this free gain isn't so easy to come by after all! If you’re not careful, you could lose everything. Still, this is quite a novel situation."

As Song Peilun sighed and shook his head, Wang Fuji seemed to have a sudden thought. Looking at Song, he said, "Brother Song, he posted the ad in Chinese to look after our compatriots. Could we perhaps lend him a hand? After all, our company has quite a few orders on its books."

"You mean, we give our orders to him..." Song Peilun frowned, staring at the news. "But he has no experience. These orders are of great importance. If I rashly suggest such a company, I’m afraid I won’t be able to answer to the Chairman."