America 1982

Tommy got into the driver's seat and didn't rush to start the car. Instead, he rubbed his face and then looked outside.

To be honest, he doesn't have any means to make big money at the moment.

The idea of ​​selling doctor's certificates and prescription drugs was due to financial pressure, and he came up with it based on his memories from his previous life. It was a side business that could make a little money without violating U.S. law in a strict sense.

This is all thanks to his unlucky girlfriend in his last life who insisted on taking him shopping and got him shot. She had a grandfather who came from the South Bay to study in Boston in 1974. The old guy had boasted to him many times about his first time. The experience of making my first pot of gold when I came to the United States.

Now Tommy could only hope that most of the old guy's boasts were true, and that all his hopes of making a little money to support his family depended on him.

After thinking about it again and again, Tommy started the car and headed along the interstate highway to Boston, the largest city in New England.

Boston is not far from Providence, only a hundred kilometers away. At 10:30 in the morning, Tommy has already arrived at Chinatown in the center of Boston. However, compared with the quaintness of the previous life, Boston in 1982 Chinatown looks like an old and dilapidated urban village.

The surrounding traditional British-style buildings that have been preserved for hundreds of years and regularly maintained properly, so even after a hundred years, still retain their elegance, are in sharp contrast to this dilapidated Chinatown. The Chinese or Asian gathering places derived from the radiation of Chinatown, It is dirty and messy, with advertising paper or graffiti on the walls, and Asian faces walking on the street in a hurry.

After finding a parking space and parking the car, Tommy looked around at the familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings, feeling a little emotional.

Although the streets were a bit dilapidated and messy, the large number of Asian faces and familiar Chinese language around him made Tommy feel a lot of closeness. However, every time he wanted to get closer and hear clearly the words exchanged by pedestrians or shop owners, the boss or Pedestrians would quickly stop talking, put on a humble smile, bow slightly towards him, look nervously in their eyes, and ask in English:

"Sir, do you need me, a Chinese, to help you with anything?"

Tommy could understand the reason why Chinese or Asian people today quickly indicate their nationality when they see a white person like themselves. They are worried that they will cause trouble for them, beat them in the street, or even kill them brutally.

Nowadays, many blue-collar workers or lower-class white people in the United States are in a state of extreme hatred of Asians. To be precise, they hate RB people, but they cannot tell the difference in the appearance of Asians.

The outbreak of RB's economy has taken away American business. A large number of RB cars have landed in the United States. American auto companies have canceled production lines, resulting in many blue-collar workers losing their jobs. As a result, major industrial cities in the United States have set off a wave of anti-Japanese sentiments. A few months ago, a group of Detroit auto workers beat a Chinese worker to death simply because they mistook him for an RB.

Even after the murderers learned that they had shot the wrong person, they showed no remorse. When facing reporters, they even joked that the poor man looked so much like RB that he could participate in an imitation show.

As for the penalty? The leading men were sentenced to probation and fined $3,000, but the other workers involved had no impact.

Even the $3,000 fine was paid with the help of the labor union and the automobile company, and was not paid by the murderer.

Just like yesterday afternoon, the Chinese laundry shop where Tommy worked part-time was vandalized by his father. The local labor union was even secretly adding fuel to the fire, hoping to start a trend.

This, of course, fueled the arrogance of white blue-collar workers in the United States against Asians. Immediately in cities such as Boston, Detroit, and Cleveland, restaurants owned by RB people were vandalized, and RB cars were vandalized from time to time. On many occasions, Chinese and Korean people were also vandalized. The phenomenon of Vietnamese and Filipinos being misidentified and beaten by white people.

Many Asians who originally thought they had stepped out of the Asian life circle and integrated into American life were taught by white people with an iron fist. They immediately retreated to the familiar environment and hugged each other for warmth. They recognized the cruel reality, that is, although they hold the same color American Identity proof, but they are still fundamentally different from the white masters.

Nowadays, Asians in Boston will feel uneasy when white people appear. They will quickly identify themselves and draw a clear line with the RB people. Even some RB people will call themselves Chinese or Vietnamese when they are in trouble to avoid being beaten. They are unwilling to pretend to be Koreans in the United States. The only stubbornness of RB people.

Tommy did not walk into Chinatown, which was inscribed with the four words "The World is Common". Instead, he went to a British-style building on the side of the street, where a bilingual signboard hung: Chinatown Asian Medical Center.

This was his destination in Boston.

Pushing open the door of the medical center, a front desk medical assistant who looked like a Korean woman was sitting on her seat reading a newspaper. When she looked up and saw a white man walking in, she quickly stood up and smiled:

"Sir, how can I serve you?"

"Dr. Chen Furen, I want to see him. I want to ask him to check my condition." Tommy walked to the stage with a straight face, put his hands on the table to increase his momentum, and said in a bad tone.

The woman was stunned for a moment. She didn't expect a young white man to come to the Asian Medical Center to see the doctor. She was a little confused and wanted to explain: "Are you here for medical treatment? Sir, this is for Asian people..."

"So, I encountered racial discrimination in a medical center in the United States? Miss, are you discriminating against white people? ************ Because I am not Asian, so I have to f**k You can't get treatment even if you die here? Do you want me, a white man, to teach you what racial discrimination is?" Tommy's eyes were fierce, and he imitated the vulgar tone of an Irish drunkard and used a string of curse words with a high F content. questioned.

The woman waved her hands repeatedly and defended in a tone that was about to cry: "No! No! Sir, of course not, it's just a routine... OK, I'll contact Dr. Chen for you."

The woman picked up the phone at the front desk, dialed a number, explained the situation very quickly, then smiled at Tommy, motioned for him to follow her, and personally took Tommy to an office on the second floor of the medical center.

Tommy was relieved when he saw the Chinese doctor waiting at the door. Although the doctor was only twenty-seven or twenty-seven years old, he could vaguely recognize his face as belonging to the grandfather of his girlfriend in his previous life.

"Sir, please come in." Chen Furen introduced Tommy into his office, then sent the receptionist away and closed the office door.

After Tommy sat down, Chen Furen smiled and asked, "Sir, how can I help you?"

Tommy took out the paper filled with information from his jacket pocket and handed it to Chen Furen: "Doctor, I want twenty medical certificates."

Chen Furen just took the piece of paper, but before he could open it, when he heard Tommy's words, his hand shook and the piece of paper fell on the table. He looked at Tommy with a trembling tone: "Sir, you are talking about something... …”

"Listen, Asian guy, I know that the most profitable business of this Asian medical center is to issue medical certificates for those wealthy Asian international students, so that they can have enough vacation to go to New York and San Francisco, and you sell it to them. Each ticket costs fifteen to thirty dollars, and I am only prepared to pay you five dollars per ticket." Tommy Hawke narrowed his eyes slightly and said in a slow tone.

Chen Furen picked up the piece of paper in surprise and looked at Tommy with a rather embarrassed expression. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but he was worried that he would be retaliated against by the tall white man in front of him after rejecting it.

"Or, I call the police, and then countless wealthy Asian international students are punished by their universities. I promise to let them know that the reason why they were punished by the school is just because you did not issue me twenty medical certificates. ." Tommy Hawke said in an indifferent tone: "I think those international students with the same skin color as you will line up to greet you, very, very cordially."

The sweat on Chen Furen's forehead had already oozed out. He pulled out a tissue and wiped it. Then he knocked on the table hard and cursed in Chinese:

"Fuck! I told you to keep it a secret a long time ago and don't spread this kind of thing to white people's ears!"