America 1881: They Call Me Legend
Chapter 359 The Man Who Sells Letters
This New Year should be the third Spring Festival since the establishment of New Roswell.
During the first Spring Festival, Chen Jianqiu asked Zhang Danian to briefly explain. During the second Spring Festival, he spent the second Spring Festival in Iquique, Chile, with the Chinese there.
He had to plan carefully for this third Spring Festival.
So, on his last day in New York, Chen Jianqiu went to downtown Manhattan.
There, there is a small Chinatown.
In the mid-19th century, a Guangdong businessman opened the first store here.
After that, more and more Chinese moved from the west coast.
They also settled here one after another, gradually forming a small settlement.
Compared with upper Manhattan, this place can be called a slum, with all kinds of dilapidated apartments erected there, and fires break out from time to time, making the situation worse.
After the bill was announced, the situation in Chinatown became even worse.
Although sensitivity to the bill is different on the East Coast than on the West Coast, the dislike of the Chinese is felt throughout the country.
In the Chinatown area, gangs began to run rampant.
Some of them began to fight with each other based on the principle of "If they can't bully foreigners, they can't bully you?"
In addition, many Chinese people at that time were not allowed to write about their hobbies in certain novels.
It became a ghetto within a ghetto, a violent neighborhood within a violent neighborhood.
Even the idle police in New York are unwilling to come and take care of it.
As long as the gang members don't leave this area, they can do whatever they want. Anyway, they are robbing the Chinese themselves.
But Chen Jianqiu doesn't know much about the situation here.
He wanted to see if there were any other original New Year products he could buy.
Holiday is busy with security work in Cleveland, so naturally someone like Little Astor would not appear in a place like this.
So Chen Jianqiu walked into Chinatown alone.
The Spring Festival will be celebrated in one month.
There is still no sense of the New Year in the narrow streets.
Chinese people wearing thick cotton-padded jackets and melon-pipe hats greeted each other on the street. Most of them still had braids.
This makes Chen Jianqiu look a bit like an alien inside.
He put his hands in his sleeves and looked around at the shops on both sides to see if there were any better-written couplets for sale.
But after visiting several places, he was disappointed.
Not really.
In addition to the grocery store, there are Chinese restaurants and laundromats here.
"If you want someone to write couplets for you, look at the corner in front. There is a man selling calligraphy there." A grocery store clerk said to Chen Jianqiu.
Following the boy's instructions, Chen Jianqiu found the stall.
He originally thought that most of the people who were engaged in this kind of business of selling letters and writing letters were old scholars. But what he saw in front of him was completely different from what he thought.
A man in his thirties sat in front of his stall.
In front of him were a writing brush, paper, and an inkstone, as well as a pen and letter paper. He was wearing a Western-style high-collar shirt under a thick Chinese robe and mandarin jacket.
The back of the man's head was cut flat. Without braids, he became an outlier in this neighborhood like Chen Jianqiu.
At this time, he was writing something on the paper with a pen.
Chen Jianqiu walked up.
"Sir, may I ask if you have any Spring Festival couplets for sale?"
"Yes, please wait a moment."
When the man heard the sound, he bent down and went under the table to get the red paper.
But when he inadvertently raised his head and saw Chen Jianqiu in front of him, he was stunned.
Because he found that Chen Jianqiu did not have braids like him.
However, the man did not say anything. Instead, he bent down again, picked up some water from under the table, put it into the inkstone, and began to grind the ink:
"Sir, what do you want to write?"
"Let's write something like 'Celebrating the new year in troubled times, what is the difference between high and low; ask the vast earth, who is in charge of ups and downs'." Chen Jianqiu thought for a while and said.
The man was startled, took a breath, and the pen in his hand trembled slightly: "What a great courage. Who is your Excellency?"
Chen Jianqiu smiled slightly: "I didn't write it."
But it seemed that the man was too distracted to write.
He thought for a long time and then put down his pen in despair.
"I'm not worthy of writing such a powerful couplet." He sighed.
This man seemed to have suffered some kind of blow, and there was a gloomy feeling in his chest that he could not express.
Chen Jianqiu put his hands in his sleeves and looked at the man quietly.
"Wang Qingfu!"
A sharp shout came from the street.
Chen Jianqiu raised his head and looked over.
Four or five rogue-like figures with pigtails were walking towards here.
The cloth robes they wore were dirty and their faces were sluggish. It was obvious that they had just come out of the "fairy" life.
The group of people walked up to the man's stall.
The leading rogue shook the braid on the back of his head.
He pressed half of his nose with a finger and blew it hard. Snot flew out from the other nostril and fell into the man's inkstone.
"Who the hell asked you to set up a stall here?"
The rogue squinted at the man and asked angrily.
One of his feet was on the ground, and his body was shaking rhythmically.
The man remained silent, seeming to be patient and not too disdainful to answer.
The rogue's arrogance became even more arrogant. He looked up and down at the man and his stall.
"I heard that you told those fools that it was us who ruined the image of the Chinese that made foreigners look down on us. Is this true?"
"Isn't it?" The man stared at the gangsters, gritting his teeth and looking like he hated the iron.
"Yo? Your grandpa, I told you, I always look like this no matter where I am, but I still have something to eat." The ruffian sneered with a crooked mouth.
"Don't you know how to give a speech? Don't you know how to speak English? Don't you know how to run a newspaper? Why did you get here to set up a stall? I didn't see those foreigners give you half a copper?"
"These meals of yours are taken from the mouths of your compatriots. You are worse than dogs!" The man couldn't bear it any longer and scolded angrily.
"Yo, how dare you fucking talk back? Brothers, destroy his reputation!"
The rogue winked at a few people around him.
And he himself had already flown out, trying to knock over the man's mess.
But he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his knee.
Then he fell to the ground.
The man who was standing next to the stall just now kicked him on the knee.
He felt as if his knees were broken.
Several other scoundrels swarmed up to him, and each of them got kicked.
Chen Jianqiu's kicks were extremely precise, and each kick hit their lower abdomens.
The four or five people fell to the ground and rolled around, shouting "Grandpa, Grandma, Dad, Mom".
The leader of the gangsters opened his eyes and saw Chen Jianqiu looking at him from above, without any emotion in his eyes.
"Grandpa! Grandpa! Spare my life!"
he wailed.
Chen Jianqiu lifted him up like a little chicken.
The rogue's face was pressed onto the inkstone.
"Suck back what you sprayed out." Chen Jianqiu's voice was cold.
Pippy was speechless, half of his face was covered in ink.
In the end, it was his braids that took it all.
"Close the stall." Chen Jianqiu threw the rogue aside and said to Wang Qingfu, "You are the Wang Qingfu who founded the "Meihua Newspaper", right?"
"My name is Chen Jianqiu. Let's talk somewhere else."
Wang Qingfu vaguely remembered where he had heard or seen this name.
He suddenly remembered:
"Are you Chen Jianqiu, the big boss in the west?"
Chen Jianqiu nodded.
Hope suddenly rekindled in Wang Qingfu's eyes.
His newspaper seems to be saved.
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