The expeditionary force began to dominate Southeast Asia by recruiting defeated soldiers

Time quietly passed to January 1947.

At this moment, the Republic of China in the Northern Hemisphere is shrouded in severe cold, and this chill comes not only from the weather, but also from the collapsing economic system.

As the war between the Red and White factions fully unfolded, the Nationalist government's printing presses seemed to be running non-stop, like they'd just eaten a whole pack of gum.

The devaluation rate of the legal tender is faster than that of diabetics; what could buy a bag of rice in the morning can only buy a single grain of rice by evening.

Supplies were extremely scarce, prices soared, and the legal tender in the hands of ordinary people was practically worth less than toilet paper.

After all, toilet paper can be used to wipe your bottom, while the ink smell of poorly printed legal tender is even more pungent.

In this surreal reality where "everything is rising in price except life," the public has completely lost faith in fiat currency.

The hardest currencies on the market, besides gold and silver, are foreign currencies.

One is the White Eagle's Dao Le, and the other is the Nanyang Yuan, which has emerged as a dark horse.

At the current market rate, one dollar can be exchanged for approximately 7000 to 12000 fiat currency.

Moreover, the exchange rate changes every day, like a roller coaster.

As for the Nanyang Yuan (Southeast Asian Dollar), it circulated widely in the southeastern coastal areas because a large number of Chinese went to Southeast Asia in recent years, earned money, and sent it back to China to support their elderly parents.

This thing works well.

First, its value is stable, and its exchange rate with the Daole has long remained between 5:1 and 6:1.

Secondly, with these colorful banknotes, you can buy all kinds of industrial products produced in Southeast Asia.

From matches and soap to fabrics, medicines, canned goods, and gasoline...

In addition, the Nanyang Yuan was beautifully printed, made of thick paper, and had excellent anti-counterfeiting technology, unlike the crudely made legal tender, so it was very popular among the people of the Republic of China.

If a family could hide a few hundred Southeast Asian dollars, they would be a local tycoon who could do whatever they wanted in the surrounding area.

Lin Dayou, carrying only a few five-dollar notes from Southeast Asia exchanged for silver dollars, and his fourteen-year-old son Lin Xiaoshan, set foot on this sweltering land.

A pier in Singapore.

Lin Dayou carried a patched-up bedding roll on his back, one hand tightly gripping his son Lin Xiaoshan's wrist, while the other hand instinctively covered his crotch.

To be precise, it was the small cloth bag sewn into the lining of the underwear.

Those few Southeast Asian banknotes were hidden inside.

This was the start-up capital he obtained by selling his ancestral home in his hometown and pawning the only pair of silver earrings left by his wife.

My wife died of tuberculosis last year.

Lin Dayou is a carpenter with good skills, but in this chaotic world, where people can't even afford to eat, who has spare money to make furniture?

Watching his half-grown son eat his father out of house and home, Lin Dayu gritted his teeth and thought, "A tree dies when it's moved, but a person thrives."

So, the father and son squeezed into the hold, which reeked of sweat, foot odor, and vomit, and drifted for half a month before finally arriving at the legendary South Seas, a land of gold.

"Dad, this is Southeast Asia?" Lin Xiaoshan was so amazed by the sight at the dock that he couldn't close his mouth.

Everything before his eyes was a visual shock to this country boy.

The massive steel crane swings through the air, easily grabbing cargo the size of shipping containers.

The dock was bustling with activity, with those iron behemoths called "trucks" belching black smoke and rumbling back and forth.

"Shut up, don't look around, stay close," Lin Dayou hissed, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

He had heard that the docks were chaotic, with pickpockets specifically targeting "newcomers" like them who had just disembarked.

The two disembarked with the crowded flow of people, and a wave of heat immediately hit them.

It's January! Back home it's still winter, but here it's so hot you'd want to run around naked.

Lin Dayou felt a little unwell as soon as he stepped out of the customs gate.

The reason was simple: the personnel at the border had just told him that the good policy of distributing land and farmland to new immigrants had ended.

The newly disembarked immigrants now have to find work to support themselves.

He looked around and spotted a group of unusual women.

They wore bright red headscarves shaped like square hats, dark blue coarse cloth tops, black wide-legged trousers, and sandals made from old tire scraps.

These women were mostly short, but had broad shoulders and tanned, shiny skin.

They carried heavy loads filled with mortar, bricks, or sand, moving swiftly across the busy construction site.

That's a red headscarf.

Lin Dayou had heard about it from his fellow villagers on the boat.

Most of these women came from the Sanshui area of ​​Guangdong Province.

Because their hometown was poor and there were few men, they went to Southeast Asia together to make a living.

This tradition has been around for several decades.

In an era when men were treated like animals, they single-handedly shouldered half of Singapore's development.

Not far away, there was another group of women wearing blue headscarves, who were from the Hakka region.

They mostly did earthwork excavation or other heavy odd jobs.

The history of Chinese people migrating to Southeast Asia is so long that every crack in the bricks is filled with their sweat.

Lin Dayou, holding his son's hand, carefully avoided a speeding truck and walked to a woman with a red headscarf who was resting by the roadside.

"Hey, can I ask you for directions?" Lin Dayou said in broken Mandarin, a fawning smile plastered on his face.

The woman in the red headscarf looked to be in her early twenties, and she was drinking water from an enamel mug.

She raised her head, revealing a delicate face etched with the marks of time.

Her name is Axiu.

Ah Xiu glanced at Lin Dayou and his son, her gaze softening as she looked at Lin Xiaoshan's thin, monkey-like frame.

"A new customer?" Ah Xiu asked in Mandarin with a heavy Cantonese accent.

"Yes, I just got off the ship." Lin Da nodded and bowed. "I wanted to ask if there's anywhere cheap to stay around here? Also, where can I find a carpenter?"

Ah Xiu put down the enamel mug and wiped her sweat with the towel hanging around her neck:

“A carpenter? Well, you have a skill, you won’t starve. Go to Chinatown up ahead, find ‘piglet houses,’ that’s where all the newcomers stay.”

As for finding work, go ask at the construction sites over there. They're building houses everywhere right now, and there's a severe labor shortage.

"Thank you, thank you so much, sister." Lin Dayou was moved to tears.

"Don't call me 'little sister,' just call me Ah Xiu." Ah Xiu waved her hand and pointed to a construction site in the distance. "See that? That's the construction site of Nanhua Construction Group."

If you have real skills, go and give it a try.

The wages there are fair and timely, it's just a bit tiring.

"Nanhua Construction Group?" Lin Dayou remembered the name.

"And another thing," Ah Xiu said in a low voice, pointing to a few shady-looking guys by the dock.

Stay away from those 'snakeheads'.

They specifically target new customers, promising to introduce you to a job, but then selling you off to tin mines—a life-threatening endeavor.

Lin Dayou felt a chill run down his spine and nodded repeatedly.

After saying goodbye to Ah Xiu, Lin Dayou led his son toward Chinatown.

Along the way, Lin Dayou's eyes were opened.

This Singapore is truly prosperous, but it is also truly chaotic.

The streets were full of people looking for work; there were Chinese, Malays, and people as dark as charcoal.

Scaffolding was everywhere, and holes were being dug everywhere.

The Nanyang government seemed to be engaged in construction at a frenzied pace, with a vibrant energy that was completely different from the lifeless, even despairing atmosphere in the mainland.

Although it's tiring and hot here, there's a scent of hope in the air.

As long as you're willing to work hard, you can survive.

This is Lin Dayou's most direct feeling.

When they arrived in Chinatown, Lin Dayou finally understood what Ah Xiu meant by "piglet house".

This is an old shophouse area with narrow streets lined with clothes that look like flags from all over the world.

Following the directions, he found an old building with a "For Rent" sign.

The landlord was a fat, middle-aged man with a big head and ears. He was wearing a white vest, holding a palm-leaf fan, and had a face full of fat.

"A hotel room?" The landlord glanced at the father and son sideways. "There are beds available, but they're shared rooms."

"How much?" Lin Dayou asked cautiously.

"12 Nanyang dollars a month." The landlord held up two fingers as thick as carrots.

"What?!" Lin Dayou almost jumped up. "12 yuan?! Why don't you just rob someone?"

Before he came here, he had heard people in his hometown say that in the past, a dormitory room only cost a few yuan a month.