Reborn in America, I am a legendary short seller on Wall Street.

Chapter 9 The Baltimore Incident

The stock market closes at 12:00.

Almost no one in the trading hall was in a hurry to leave; instead, they wanted to learn more about the stock market crash.

At that moment, newsboys shouted "Extra!" on the street.

"Breaking news! Breaking news! Chilean mobs attack navy, 2 dead!!"

Half of the staff in the sales department rushed out immediately, and after a while, they all returned to the sales department with newspapers in their hands.

Larry sat on a stool next to the counter, watching people holding copies of the Boston Globe, getting the latest updates on the situation.

Larry absentmindedly fiddled with the chalk in his hand, but pricked up his ears to learn the whole story:

On October 16, 1891, yesterday, the USS Baltimore, a cruiser of the U.S. Pacific Fleet, was docked in Valparaiso, Chile, for a rest and repair.

Bored sailors took to the streets, harassing women, drinking and fighting, eventually clashing with local residents.

Of course, the newspapers embellished this fact, but the meaning remained the same.

After the conflict broke out, the American sailors suffered losses; two were killed on the spot and 18 were seriously injured.

The current US president is Benjamin Harrison, a standard "third generation of presidents".

His great-grandfather, who shared the same name, was one of the founding fathers of the United States; his grandfather, William Henry Harrison, was the ninth president of the United States; his father, John Scott Harrison, was a member of Congress, and he was the 23rd president of the United States.

President Harrison, from a distinguished family with a long history of service, and having also served in the American Civil War, was determined not to tolerate the conflict between the Chilean and U.S. navies.

The Harrison government immediately raised the navy's combat readiness and issued a strongly worded diplomatic note condemning the Chilean president for condoning violence.

That's why the stock market experienced a sharp drop as soon as it opened this morning.

Larry was completely unconcerned about the American sailors being brutally killed by local civilians; what he cared about was his short position!
Unexpectedly, fate provided such an opportunity, causing Barton Mining, whose stock was already showing signs of collapse, to experience an even more severe drop.

Larry had a strange feeling that if he could be on the right side of the stock market trend, even God would be on his side.

At 1 p.m., Larry strolled leisurely along the beach, one hand holding his coat and the other swaying back and forth.

That's just how slow the securities industry is. When stock trading is suspended, you have to rest; you can't even work overtime.

This is true throughout history and across the world.

As Larry walked to the embankment, he tossed his coat onto the grass and looked down over the entire Boston Harbor area.

Boston was one of the earliest developed ports in the United States and was the second largest port in the country at the time (after New York). Boston Harbor is one of the best deep-water ports in the United States, where all kinds of ships from various countries are docked, including steam-powered iron ships, such as the "Duchess" in the most conspicuous berth in front of Larry, which is being towed out of its berth by a tugboat, its thick smokestacks belching black smoke.

In addition, there are relatively old sail-steam hybrid ships, which are currently the main vessels for transatlantic freight.

Then there are the fishing boats of all sizes. Boston Fishing Port is the oldest professional fishing port in North America. Every day, thousands of fishing boats of all sizes dock here, bringing countless cod, oysters, lobsters and other catches.

Larry rarely takes such leisurely harbor strolls. Of course, today is an exception; he's in a particularly good mood today, knowing his short position in Barton Mining will bring him substantial profits.

At this moment, another batch of fishing boats docked. Larry looked from a distance and saw that there were bluefin tuna on the boats!
At this moment, his DNA from his previous life in the Great Foodie Country stirred again!
Larry picked up his coat and strode toward the port, intending to use the two dollars he had left in his pocket to buy some food for dinner.

As soon as I arrived at the port, three Chinese people walked towards me.

Larry paused, unconsciously stopping in his tracks, watching the three Chinese laborers with whips coiled on their heads, shirtless, their shoulders padded with coarse cloth, as they unloaded crates of goods from the ocean liner. Following the direction they had come from, there were many more Chinese laborers busily working on the ship.

This was the first time Larry had seen so many fellow countrymen in Boston in 1891 since his rebirth.

Contrary to his expectations of "pale-faced, numb, and dull-witted" Chinese people, Larry now saw them with lively expressions, just like in later generations, chatting casually while carrying tea leaves.

Larry was curious and listened intently. His memories from his past life allowed him to understand most of the Mandarin spoken by these people, and a small amount of Cantonese.

The Chinese were discussing where to eat that evening... The monotonous life at sea and the terrible food were driving them crazy!

"Pfft!" Larry couldn't help but laugh.

Larry's laughter made several Chinese laborers turn around. They glanced at Larry, muttered "little devil" a few times, and then went back to their own business.

Larry turned his head and looked at the goods they had brought. They were all wooden crates about a meter square, with sealing wax and seals on them, as well as trademarks printed in Chinese and English. On them were a few traditional Chinese characters that read: "Wuyi Mountain Tea, First Grade".

Larry stared blankly at the tea leaves, remaining silent for a long time.

Larry stood there in a daze, and soon he attracted someone's attention.

The man was wearing a coarse cloth shirt typical of Americans and leather shoes, but his face was Chinese. He just didn't have a braid, and the hair at the back of his head was shoulder-length, like a woman's haircut.

"Sir, is there anything I can help you with?" the man greeted him in slightly broken English.

"You... Ni, Hao!" Larry almost said in Chinese, but in a quick change of tone, he managed to say something that sounded like a white person imitating Chinese.

The man paused for a moment, then smiled and said in English, “Sir, it is an honor that you recognize me as being from China.”

Larry also composed himself and began to chat with him.
"Where are you from?"

"Shanghai! Have you ever heard of this city? It's very far from here."

“Oh, I’ve heard of them. Besides that, there’s Guangzhou, Hong Kong, Quanzhou, Tianjin…” Larry murmured as he named these cities.

The man was even more delighted, nodding repeatedly and saying with a smile, "You're right, sir. I've never met such a young and wise American. I'm very fortunate today."

As he spoke, he extended his right hand, intending to shake hands.

Larry reached out and shook his hand without hesitation.
You can call me Huang!

“Oh, Mr. Huang, it’s me, Livingston!”

“It’s an honor, Mr. Livingston,” Huang said with a smile.

“Why don’t you have a braid…” Larry pointed to the back of his head with his other finger, then pointed to the laborers in the distance, “Why do they have one?”

Huang pursed his lips, gave Larry a mysterious smile, and then said,
"A queue, no good! It's a symbol of slavery."

"And what about their braids?" Larry pointed to the laborers.

"Their braids will be cut off sooner or later, just like mine!" Huang said firmly.

(End of this chapter)