Empire of Shadows

The car slowly came to a stop. After Erwin got out, he looked around. Only after Madol confirmed there was no danger did Lance emerge from the vehicle.

The children, who had been waiting impatiently, ran over, chasing after him, keeping a distance while eagerly watching Lance.

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Since Lance first gave them some pocket money, the number of children chasing his car every day had increased, especially near the company.

Many children would follow his car as soon as they saw it. To prevent them from getting too out of breath, Lance would sometimes ask the driver to slow down a bit.

He gave Erwin a look, and the latter returned to the passenger seat, opened the glove compartment, took out a handful of change, and tossed it to the children.

The children's laughter and childish voices of "Thank you, Mr. Lance, thank you, Mr. Erwin" blended together, making people feel much happier.

After the children had picked all the coins from the uneven ground, they said goodbye to Lance one by one.

Some homeless people around also looked enviously at the children, as they didn't have this benefit.

Someone had once tried to walk over and beg Lance for some money to buy food and a pack of cigarettes, but that guy was sent by Lance to work at the docks.

Lance gave the children money so they wouldn't have to, or could reduce the time they spent, working.

The Federation allowed child labor, legally. So don't be surprised if you see some short children working.

As one of the representatives of civilized society, the federal government's raising of the common age limit from eight to ten years old was already a display of their gentlemanly conduct!

Yes, children over ten years old could work. According to federal regulations, as long as it didn't exceed six hours a day, neither their parents nor the companies that employed them were in violation of the law.

Employing child labor was something capitalists particularly liked, because they could pay child laborers less money to obtain more labor value.

Especially in some labor-intensive light industries, the factories were almost entirely filled with young teenagers of twelve or thirteen years old, who wore work clothes and sat in front of the assembly line just like adults, sitting for hours.

Capitalists would even arrange staggered lunch and dinner work schedules to save a meal, so they could only bring some food from home.

Some whole-wheat bread with wood fiber added, or something else.

Their income was very low, but if Lance occasionally gave the children some money here, maybe their parents would be able to let them off.

In the children's polite expressions of gratitude, Lance's mood also became cheerful.

Some homeless people in the distance looked on with envy and jealousy at everything that was happening here. Although Lance wouldn't give money to the homeless, and might even send them to work at the docks.

But sometimes Lance would still distribute some free food to them, so they wouldn't go hungry.

However, the food had to be eaten here, otherwise there would be no next time.

Some people didn't understand Lance's actions, why he insisted that they finish the food here even when giving it to them.

That was because some of the homeless people who came to receive food were women, or some younger teenagers.

If they didn't finish the food here and were allowed to take it away, there was a high probability that most of that food would not be eaten by them themselves.

Even among the homeless, there was a hierarchy, there was exploitation and oppression.

Letting them finish it here at least filled their stomachs.

"Mr. Lance is a good man!" one homeless man commented. His clothes looked slightly cleaner than the others.

He washed his clothes every so often, and this set of clothes had a special meaning.

He was considering getting a job. He was emerging from a period of failed life, and someone like sunlight had shone into his life, illuminating his gloomy existence!

He decided to make some changes, right this summer.

Now there were still some things he hadn't thought about. Once he had thought them through, he would say goodbye to everything that had happened in the past!

The surrounding homeless people also expressed their agreement with emotion. Mr. Lance was indeed a good man.

One homeless man said with a smile, "If he could give me a glass of wine, he would be God!"

The others all laughed. Wine was so expensive, even the cheapest wine was very expensive, for them.

Some people licked their lips, they hadn't had wine in a long time.

Because the prohibition law prevented stores from openly selling alcoholic beverages, and at the same time the soaring prices left them with no way to get any.

Before, they could pool fifty cents to buy a bottle of cheap wine and enjoy themselves, but now even the worst wine cost three or four dollars, an increase of seven or eight times, making it difficult for them to make a decision.

The neatly dressed homeless man spoke to the homeless man next to him with a smile. Sometimes when a person's thinking was cleared, the whole person seemed to change.

He was no longer sad, no longer hopeless, he was a little excited, he was looking forward to the arrival of a new life.

Inadvertently, he glanced at a homeless man in the corner. This homeless man had only recently arrived. He was a cripple and it wasn't very convenient for him to walk.

Every day he would disappear for a period of time, probably to find something to eat. This person didn't communicate with others, but he sat with everyone.

There were many strange people, and even more strange homeless people. He used to be a strange person too.

He walked over to this indifferent homeless man with matted hair and sat down, "Hey, brother, would you be willing to share your story with me?"

That homeless man glanced at him sideways, "Get lost."

The neatly dressed homeless man was stunned for a moment. He cursed "Fack," then stood up.

"He's not right in the head, don't talk to him," someone reminded him. It seemed someone had tried to talk to him before and failed.

The neatly dressed homeless man nodded. A group of people sat by the roadside, begging.

They smoked a very special kind of local tobacco. This local tobacco was cigarette butts found in the trash, with a little bit of tobacco left inside (without a filter). The collected tobacco was re-rolled together, that was their local tobacco.

The taste was very strange, but at least it could provide them with nicotine.

If brewing wine wasn't too complicated, they might have brewed their own wine long ago.

The neatly dressed homeless man smoked his cigarette, occasionally paying attention to the crippled homeless man. He always felt that this guy was a bit strange.

But he wouldn't stare at this guy all the time. He would still think and read newspapers.

There were many newspapers in the trash. From these newspapers, he could sometimes get some inspiration.

The running newsboy waved the newspaper in his hand, inside was hidden his future and dreams!

The next morning, the freshly printed newspaper was brought by Owen under his arm to the hospital ward. The mayor leaned back on the bed, and in just a few days, he felt like he had lost a lot of weight.

The contours of his cheeks had become more obvious, and there was no color in his face.

"This is today's newspaper," the secretary handed over a pile of newspapers.

The one on top was "Goldenport Today."

The heat of his shooting was declining, and the heat of the dock strike was constantly rising. The front page used "Dock Shutdown, Huge Trade Losses" as the headline.

The editor of the newspaper was someone who understood visuals. The front page picture was very impactful. On the left was a group of people wearing blue work clothes gathered together, and on the right were a few managers wearing red clothes huddled together, with worried faces.

The sharp contrast between red and blue made this picture even more impactful!

One side was full of power, passion, and surging vitality!

The other side seemed embarrassed, worried, and without any motivation.

The mayor picked up his glasses and put them on. He looked at it for a while before saying uncertainly, "The person inside… is Lance?"

Printing technology was limited, it was impossible to print Lance very clearly. Under the dotted picture, you could roughly see Lance's appearance, but it wasn't so clear.

Or rather, preconceptions would make the guy in the photo look like anyone.

The secretary glanced at it and nodded, "Yes, he gave the workers on the dock blue overalls yesterday, now they have become more united and more imposing!"

The mayor pursed his lips, his saliva was a bit bitter. He picked up the milk with coffee and took a sip, "He is very smart, I always wanted him to lean over to my side before, but he refused me."

The secretary smiled aside to resolve the possible or non-existent embarrassment for the mayor's "failure", "This proves that he is not a smart person, because a smart person would definitely choose you."

These words made the mayor couldn't help laughing, but after laughing twice, he squinted his eyes and covered his body, the vibration of laughter and changes in abdominal pressure made him feel pain.

After a while, he calmed down, "It really hurts, but it's worth it."

He commented, "Lance is very smart, he is uniting these striking groups and making them gather around him."

"And the dock is very important…"

Suddenly someone knocked on the door, the secretary got up and opened the door, it was one of their own.

After the two spoke for a while at the door, the secretary returned to the room, the mayor looked at him, "What happened?"

"The governor wants to talk to you, in five minutes."

The ward, or rather the patient's suite, had an independent telephone. After hearing this, the mayor's eyes fell on the newspaper again, "It should be for it."

"Strike?"

"Yes."

The mayor closed his eyes and leaned back on the backrest, "Go lock the door."

In less than five minutes, more like three, the phone rang. He answered on speaker after the third ring.

“It's me.”

“Sidney, I want to know what this strike is all about!”

The secretary didn't dare speak, even slowing her breathing, remaining perfectly still.

The mayor clicked his tongue. “What do you think it's about?”

“They're not happy with their salaries, so they've stopped working.”

“Governor, I'm a patient right now, lying here in the hospital. You need to consider my situation!”