Paul. By the time Corriant gasped and woke up from his nightmare, it was almost 10 a.m.

He got off the bed in a cold sweat, walked to the bathroom next to him and rinsed his face with cold water, which made him a lot more conscious.

In his dream, he was back in the cramped, filthy Morio slum of São Paulo, and he was the plumber who spent his days walking through the sweltering and damp sewers, paid only $30 a month. At the end of the nightmare, he is chased by a giant red-eyed rat and runs desperately in the sewers, and finally wakes up in the last moment of being bitten to death.

Paul. Corriant is the original name of Paul Fujiwara. The surname Corriante was the only inheritance left to him and his sister by his Brazilian gambler father.

But now Fujiwara doesn't want to hear anyone call him Coriante anymore, just as he doesn't even want to dream of recalling his poor life in Morio.

Paul Fujiwara, 24, came to Japan four years ago with his sister Rina Fujiwara, and the most correct thing his late Japanese mother did in her life was to give birth to him and his sister in a Japanese hospital in São Paulo, and his mother's nationality was recorded in the birth record. It was with this record that he and his sister had the opportunity to come to Japan four years ago.

The 80s were a golden decade for Japan, and the rapid economic growth caused an extreme shortage of labor in Japan. At this time, several countries in South America were in turmoil, and among the Japanese immigrants who immigrated to Brazil, Chile and other countries in the early years, the middle and lower class groups who could not make ends meet chose to return to Japan to survive. The Japanese government, which was in dire need of labor, gave these people great convenience and even encouraged them to return to Japan to work. The Fujiwara siblings caught the last train of this trend.

From the hell of the Morio slum in São Paulo to the metropolis of Tokyo, the Fujiwara siblings felt like they had arrived in heaven. The Japanese government, which was willing to accept them and save them from the sea of suffering, was full of gratitude from the bottom of my heart.

However, in the 90s, Japan's economic bubble began to burst, and the country's growing unemployment rate caused both the Japanese government and citizens to reject these immigrants from South America. In 1991, the Japanese government issued regulations to cancel the priority period of permanent residency for South American immigrants in Japan, and no longer renew visas for those whose visas expired without a valid reason.

Such a policy smashed the Fujiwara siblings, who had just enjoyed two years of free life, into black households at once. If it weren't for the fact that her sister Lena was still a little bit beautiful, she hooked up with Kazuzo Toda, the director of the Maruyama Meat Processing Factory, I am afraid that my sister and brother would have been sent back to Brazil long ago

Fujiwara was stunned in the bathroom for a while, then took off his pajamas soaked in cold sweat, pulled a piece of clothing in the closet at random, and went downstairs to the kitchen with a kick.

There was no one in the kitchen, but the dining table outside was neatly arranged with rice, miso soup and two small fried fish. Fujiwara couldn't help frowning when he saw this. He pulled open the door of the refrigerator standing aside and rummaged inside. In addition to milk and beer, there are only unprocessed vegetables and meat in the refrigerator, and there is no food that can be eaten directly.

He slammed the refrigerator door behind him with some irritability, just in time to see his sister Lena coming in from the backyard with an empty basin. He yelled at her dissatisfied:

"Why is this shit miso soup again? You know that's what I hate the most! ”

Sister Lena walked to the side of the kitchen, stuffed the empty basin into the storage cabinet above the washing machine, and replied without looking back:

"We have to try to fit in with Japanese society, and of course we have to adapt to Japanese food. What's wrong with having rice and miso soup for breakfast? ”

"Why do we have to adapt to Japanese food? Japan is not our country! This shit nation called us back when it needed us, and now that it doesn't need it, it's going to throw us away like garbage! Fujiwara retorted indignantly, like a revolutionary.

Fujiwara Lena rolled her eyes helplessly and said, "You've been messing around with Gomez's gang again these two days, right?" Paul, I warned you, don't associate with those people, they're dangerous people who will ruin you! ”

She grabbed Fujiwara by the shoulders, forced him to sit on a chair by the dining table, and said to him solemnly:

"Tomorrow, you give me an honest job at the Maruyama factory, and don't have any more contact with the Gomez gang!" She thought for a moment and said:

"Tanaka told me that last week you asked him to help you fire Chinese from two factories? Paul, you still have to be a little more restrained in the factory in the future, those Chinese really want to make trouble to Toda, and I can't help you speak. After all, the factory belongs to Toda, and there is no reason for him to lose his own interests for your sake. ”

"What Chinese? It's China! Fujiwara scoffed.

"Lena, my sister, don't worry. The yellow-skinned monkeys of China are the most honest and weak creatures in the world. As long as I'm not so bad that they can't live, they're the best slaves and cash cows! It's no wonder that a small Japan conquered most of the country. ”

He picked up the bowl, held his breath and drank the bowl of miso soup like a pill, smashed his mouth twice with a bitter face, and continued:

"Sister, you know that old thing Toda can't marry you. He also isn't obsessed with you to the point where he can spend a lot of money on you. Even this house is rented to you, but the way you collect rent is different. He smiled sarcastically, and added:

"We can't put all our hopes in that old man's kindness and generosity, we have to find our own way to make money. Lena, do you know? The group of yellow-skinned monkeys in the factory, well, plus the group of macaques from Southeast Asia. At this, Fujiwara seemed very proud that he had come up with this macaque analogy, and he giggled a little nervously before continuing to his sister:

"I can make 1 million yen a week from these monkeys, 4 million a month! Lena, that's $60,000! $60,000, you know? And the cost is just spending $2,000 a month to raise Pedro's gangsters! ”

"As for trouble, you don't have to worry about it at all, Lena. You haven't dealt with these monkeys, so you'll never know how low their tolerance is. You know what? Last time, a monkey woman came to the factory to look for him, and Pedro was the bastard who encountered her first, so he tied the woman to the garage to make everyone happy. ”

Speaking of this, Fujiwara chuckled proudly twice, and continued in a surprised tone:

"You must not have imagined that the male monkey came to look for trouble, and after we beat him up, I promised to waive his fee for a month, and he was honest as if nothing had happened. You say, "Can people like this cause us trouble?" ”

Rina Fujiwara looked at her brother with a look of surprise mixed with disgust, wanting to say something, but finally fell silent. She got up and took off the apron she wore when cooking, walked to the entrance and put on her coat, turned to Fujiwara and said:

"I'm going out, Toda made an appointment with me today, and I won't be back in the evening. You remember to go to work tomorrow! ”

Naturally, it was impossible for Paul Fujiwara to spend a day at home alone. After his sister went out, he called Pedro and a few other younger brothers who followed him, and they went to the downtown area of Shinjuku together.

At the end of the day, I went bowling, ate, sang karaoke, and in the evening named a few bartenders in the bar on Kabukicho Street. In addition to being happy, Fujiwara used up at least thirty Fukuzawa Yukichi in his wallet.

Fujiwara, though, didn't care. Anyway, it's easy for him to make money, and it's normal to spend a little fun once in a while.

They laughed and laughed with the barmaid at the bar until closing, and then they staggered out of Kabukicho Street by the hands of each other. After one person sent a 10,000 yuan bill and sent the younger brothers away, Fujiwara lit a cigarette a little depressed, stood at the intersection and waved for the taxi.

The escort lady he had just taken a fancy to finally didn't agree to accompany him to the hotel, which made him very unhappy. But he also knew in his heart that this was Shinjuku, not the Maruyama factory where he could call the shots. So he could only watch the little girl giggle and disappear into the back hall of the bar with a group of companions, while he could only take a taxi home alone.

When the taxi arrived home, he was drowsy and woke up by the driver. After paying for the car, he got out of the car, and the cold wind in the middle of the night made him shiver, but he was much more sober. He fumbled his way to the door of his house, took the key out of his pocket, and inserted it into the lock with the help of the street lamp outside.

After opening the door and entering the house, he felt the switch on the wall and turned on the lights in the entrance and living room, and his throat was burned dry with alcohol, and he planned to change his shoes and go to the kitchen to get some ice water to drink.

Unexpectedly, just as he turned into the living room from the entrance, a dark shadow suddenly flashed in front of him. Immediately afterwards, Fujiwara felt a sharp pain in the bridge of his nose, and tears could not help but pour out of his eyes, making him completely unable to discern what was happening in front of him.

He covered his face and bowed his waist, sobbing and retreating backwards, trying to get away from the threat. I never thought that as soon as I took two steps back, I was grabbed from behind, and then it was dark in front of me, but someone covered my head with a pocket.

He writhed his body hard, trying to break away from the control of the man behind him, but the man's strength was obviously a notch higher than his, and his two hands grabbed his shoulders from behind like iron pincers, but he couldn't break free no matter what.

Fujiwara, who had grown up in the slums, still had some experience in dealing with raids, and seeing that he had completely fallen to the upper hand in terms of physical strength, he took a deep breath and prepared to shout. He believed that with the current level of silence around him, even if his shouting would be drowned out a lot by the hood, it would still alarm the neighbor next door. As for whether the neighbors will call the police or come to check after being alarmed, it can only be all up to luck, and the dead horse will be a live horse doctor.

Just as he was about to breathe, he was punched hard in the stomach. At this moment, the wine in his stomach suddenly spurted out of his mouth, blocked by the hood outside, and poured into his nose in turn.

Fujiwara, who was choked so much that he couldn't even breathe, finally lost the strength to resist, and sat down limply while coughing violently.

His mind was in chaos at this time, and he didn't know who attacked him or what the attacker's purpose was. He was choked and coughed, and he couldn't even open his mouth to beg for mercy.

However, before he could regain his senses, there was a sharp pain in the tibia of both legs, and the pain was so fierce that it suddenly turned his entire mind into a blank.

He finally fainted as if freed.