Chapter 2: The First Fortune
1086 Words
In early February, England had not yet shaken off the cold, and the icy water felt as though it could strip the flesh from one's body. Under this harsh flow, both Arthur and Mouse were shivering uncontrollably.
"Turn around!"
Sohl tightened the water pipe and threw two towels toward them. After they dried themselves, he pointed to a set of clean clothes nearby and said, "The government hasn't paid for new clothes for you, so..." He casually took several silver coins from the basket where personal belongings were kept.
Arthur stopped Mouse, who was about to protest. He angrily said, "Sir Sohl, I’m not familiar with local prices, but I’m sure these rough fabric clothes don’t cost that much, right?"
"Oh? You have an opinion?" Sohl sneered. "Don't think just because you got a passport, you're now an Englishman. Either put on the clothes obediently or go out naked!"
Arthur clenched one fist while holding back Mouse with the other hand. His remaining rationality told him not to act impulsively. Even if they vented their anger, it would change nothing, and could even waste the rare opportunity they had.
Seeing that the two wouldn’t react, Sohl's face twisted with greed as he pocketed the coins, then said without looking back, "Consider this compensation for my mental distress!"
"Arthur, are we just going to let it go? How about..." Mouse motioned to his throat, but Arthur understood he couldn’t swallow the insult. He said seriously, "Killing them is the lowest form of revenge. To earn the respect of these foreigners, we need to choose another path."
"What path?" Mouse asked in confusion.
Arthur stared at the two passports in the storage area, as if seeing a mountain of gold, and slowly said two words: "Make money."
As the heart of England, Birmingham's constant train whistles were its signature tune. The polluted air was filled with white specks drifting down from above, while towering smokestacks emitted thick black smoke into the sky. The city hummed like a high-speed machine, vibrant but heavily polluted.
Arthur stood by the gritty cobblestone streets. The rough fabric of his clothes provided no warmth, and he had to tightly wrap his sleeves around himself, feeling like an outsider as he observed the passing carriages.
"Arthur, where are we heading now? I heard there’s a Chinese community here. Should we go to the docks first?"
Arthur didn’t make a decision immediately. He pulled out a newspaper with the little money he had left and scanned through the limited information.
If history hadn’t changed too much, 1924 was the first year that the Labour Party ruled in Britain. This short-lived government had passed a housing subsidy, a generous five-pound grant for those eligible, provided they had legal status.
The key was that the subsidy wasn't perfect. There was a small loophole: they wouldn’t verify whether you had housing, as long as you had proper identification. With this in mind, Arthur had even bigger plans than just the five pounds. He was more interested in the certificate the subsidy provided since many banks were happy to offer mortgage loans if you had proof of housing.
"Oh! I found it!" Arthur found the city's government office on the side map of the newspaper. It wasn’t far, and right next to it was a bank that offered home loans.
He instructed Mouse to wait outside and smoothed down his collar to appear more presentable.
There were many people handling subsidies at the government office, but Arthur was the only one with yellow skin in the long queue.
As the line moved, it was soon Arthur's turn. The thirty-something clerk glanced at him indifferently, handling papers while extending his hand, saying, "Documents."
After receiving Arthur’s passport, the clerk looked him up and down, then said in a business-like tone, "Sir, how may I assist you today?"
Arthur replied succinctly, "I’m here for the housing subsidy, and I also need a document that proves my residence."
The clerk flipped through the passport and found the address poorly marked, with blanks for the housing information. But given the post-war circumstances, that was understandable. Not wanting to complicate matters, the clerk pulled out a slightly moldy government form from under the desk and said, "Fill in your name in the first box, and your current address in the second. An inspector will verify your information within a month."
After completing the form, the clerk handed over a folder with five pounds and a temporary proof document. "This is a temporary certificate with legal validity for one month... Next!"
The clerk hurried to the next person, clearly not wanting to waste time. For Arthur, the entire process had gone smoothly, almost unrealistically so.
Outside, Mouse was crouched down, staring at the passing white women with drool dripping from his mouth.
"What? Thinking about women?" Arthur said as he approached. Mouse quickly wiped his face, grinning sheepishly.
"No, no, Arthur, is your business done?"
Arthur adjusted his collar and patted Mouse on the shoulder. Then he placed the five pounds in Mouse’s palm and whispered instructions in his ear.
"Got it?"
Mouse nodded, though still unsure of Arthur’s intentions. But he trusted him unconditionally.
Clutching his remaining belongings, Mouse shrugged his shoulders and walked off into the distance.
Meanwhile, Arthur wasn’t idle. With the government-issued housing certificate, he was now negotiating with a loan officer at the bank.
"Mr. Mike Lee, while your certificate seems valid, it is only temporary and hasn't been approved by the inspector. Also, I noticed the address listed is in London... Has it been bombed?"
"So, no loan?" Arthur pretended to misunderstand. The loan officer, not wanting to miss out on the opportunity, quickly reassured him.
"No, Mr. Lee, you misunderstood. We do offer loans, but I think one hundred pounds is more reasonable."
Arthur pretended to be angry, but inside he was overjoyed. "This big-nosed guy dares to ask for this much? A hundred pounds for a property in London? It’s worth at least five hundred pounds!"
The loan officer was clearly taking advantage of Arthur's lack of knowledge, but it worked in Arthur’s favor. Adjusting his tone, Arthur scowled and sighed in resignation. "Deal."
After leaving the bank, Arthur used the temporary housing certificate at almost every bank in Birmingham to secure nearly a thousand pounds using a property that technically only existed for a month.
While far from the five thousand pounds the system required, it was more than enough capital to plan his next move.
- Writer
