America 1881: They Call Me Legend

After the five people left Arizona, they headed north and soon arrived in San Francisco.

Strictly speaking, this is Chen Jianqiu's third visit to this city.

However, the body was not his for the first time, and he had no memory of it.

The second time I went straight to Chinatown, I came and left in a hurry.

So this time, he was not in a hurry and took a leisurely stroll around the city with the other four people.

This is the largest city on the west coast of the United States.

The main road is very bustling, with tall buildings of different shapes standing on both sides. Trams and horse-drawn carriages pass through the center of the street, carrying well-dressed gentlemen and glamorous ladies one after another.

However, behind the main road, in those dark alleys, where even the sun doesn't shine, there are poor souls huddled one after another.

Many of them are disabled people who have lost the ability to work due to war, accidents and other reasons, and have to make a living by begging.

These people don't appear on the main roads.

Because San Francisco introduced a city law more than ten years ago: ugly people are prohibited from appearing on the streets. Those who violate it will be fined from 1 to 50 US dollars or imprisoned for 25 days.

When Chen Jianqiu first heard about this law, it was from Mark Twain, which made him worried about whether Sean would be arrested on the street.

But later I learned that this law was mainly targeted at disabled people begging.

However, this seemingly ridiculous law is very popular among San Francisco residents because they think it makes their city look more "clean and tidy".

On their behalf, Holiday exchanged some of the silver coins into banknotes in the bank to reduce the burden. After shopping in the store, they found a decent-looking hotel to stay in.

"You guys take a rest first, we will be very busy in the next two days." Chen Jianqiu ordered.

And he himself went to deliver Mark Twain's manuscripts.

The address the writer gave him is in Atherton, a small town located in the southern suburbs of San Francisco.

It is not close to the center of the city, but the scenery is beautiful, leisurely and quiet.

There is no endless coastline here, nor is there a dazzling array of shops, but it is a good place for wealthy people in San Francisco to vacation and escape the heat in the summer.

Chen Jianqiu rode a horse and came to a big house. He rang the doorbell.

After a while, an old housekeeper with white hair opened the window next to the door: "Who are you looking for?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Joseph Pulitzer. I was asked by Mr. Mark Twain to bring him something." Chen Jianqiu took out the thick envelope from his saddle bag.

The old housekeeper looked up and down at the yellow-skinned man.

This man was dressed in cowboy clothes and smelled like a horse. Although the glittering gold belt around his waist was valuable, it could not change the fact that he was a country bumpkin.

What's more, he is still Chinese.

"Put your things at the door." The butler had no intention of opening the door.

Chen Jianqiu was just about to put the envelope at the door and leave, but suddenly a voice came from inside the room: "Ruben, who is outside?"

"A Chinese, sir, sent by Mr. Mark Twain." said the old butler.

However, Chen Jianqiu was not interested in listening to the conversation between the two, so he turned around and left.

"Mr. Chen! Please stay!"

Chen Jianqiu turned his head.

The door to the house suddenly opened, and a middle-aged man wearing glasses and a big beard appeared at the door.

Apparently, this gentleman is the famous Joseph Pulitzer.

"Are you Mr. Chen Jianqiu?" he asked politely.

"Yes." Chen Jianqiu gave a rather brief answer.

"Mr. Mark Twain mentioned you to me. If it's convenient, could you come in and sit down?" Pulitzer coughed and made a gesture of invitation.

Chen Jianqiu thought for a while and followed Pulitzer into the house.

They came to the yard behind the house.

There is a table in the yard with two chairs beside the table. It is obvious that the newspaper tycoon drinks afternoon tea here on weekdays.

"Please take a seat, Mr. Chen." Pulitzer pointed to one of the chairs, and he sat on the other one.

Chen Jianqiu handed him Mark Twain's manuscript.

Privy flipped through the manuscripts: "Mr. Mark Twain's pen is still so sharp and sharp."

He has been coughing, looks very bad, and seems to be in poor health.

After coughing again, the middle-aged man took out a handkerchief and covered his mouth.

He put the manuscript on the table and apologized repeatedly: "I'm sorry, Mr. Chen, these two years of newspaper career have affected my health. This is why the doctor recommended that I take a vacation in San Francisco."

Chen Jianqiu didn't say anything. He was actually a little curious about what this person wanted to do with him.

When I separated from Mark Twain, my identity seemed to be that of a kidnapper suspected of kidnapping Master Astor.

Does this Mr. Pulitzer also need to kidnap someone?

"I have heard your name from more than one person," Pulitzer said. "If I remember correctly, you should now be the majority shareholder of the Santa Fe Railroad Company."

"Oh?" Chen Jianqiu was a little surprised. Is he that famous?

Pulitzer saw that he was a little confused and laughed: "Don't forget, I am a newspaper owner, and many of the shareholders of the Santa Fe Railroad are my friends."

This makes sense. It seems that I have left a deep impression on those gay guys.

Pulitzer continued: "To be honest, you don't look Chinese at all."

"I'm the same as them." Chen Jianqiu replied coldly, "Same yellow skin and black eyes."

"Oh, no, no, no, you misunderstood me." Pulitzer shook his head hastily and explained, "I mean, as a Chinese in the United States, if you want to achieve your level of achievement, it is

A very difficult thing.”

"What do you want from me?" Chen Jianqiu didn't want to continue this topic. He was going to ask Pulitzer's purpose clearly and then leave.

"Oh, here's the thing. The French plan to send us a bronze statue to celebrate freedom. I've seen the drawings of that statue. It's a goddess holding a torch." Pulitzer adjusted his glasses.

"Well, I've heard of this statue." Chen Jianqiu nodded.

"However, there is a problem now." Pulitzer frowned, "The cost of building the statue has been raised, but the cost of the base of the statue has not yet been settled. I asked their professional people for their opinions. It probably takes

Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"So, I would like to ask you, as the chairman of the board of directors of the Santa Fe Railway Company, if you are interested in donating to this project?" Pulitzer looked at Chen Jianqiu.

He had seen many rich people, but the one in front of him was something special.

I have never seen a board chairman wearing denim clothes and personally running errands to deliver letters, especially in an industry like the railway where you can make money with your eyes closed.

"Mr. Pulitzer, what do you think the meaning of the Statue of Liberty is?" Chen Jianqiu suddenly asked.

Pulitzer blurted out without much thought:

"She represents that our country is a country of freedom. She uses the torch in her hand to illuminate the road to freedom for everyone who comes. Everyone who yearns for freedom is welcome here..."

"Except the Chinese, right?" Chen Jianqiu looked at Pulitzer calmly, feeling like a ray of light on his back.

"Millions of my compatriots have been unfairly treated and blocked from the borders by a plan. Now you want me to donate to the base of a statue that symbolizes 'freedom'?"

There was no emotional change on Chen Jianqiu's face, but the facts he told were cold and cruel.

Pulitzer was a little ashamed. He found it difficult to face the young man in front of him. He didn't know what to say for a while.

"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave first." Chen Jianqiu was about to get up and leave.

Suddenly, he suddenly raised his foot and kicked Pulitzer, who was sitting on the chair next to him.

And almost at the same time, a gunshot rang out from outside the yard.

A bullet struck the spot where Pulitzer had been sitting.