Organized by McCann and others, the nascent city of Oklahoma soon held its first election since its founding.

The Chinese here are no strangers to such things as elections.

Together with the whites of the North Shore, they actively fulfill their civil rights and obligations.

There was no suspense in the results.

Chen Jianqiu became the first Chinese mayor of the American mainland.

What is surprising is that in addition to the votes in the hands of the Chinese, many other whites also voted for Chen Jianqiu.

Some of them came with the Chinese from Roswell.

Some of them were bombarded by the guns.

For the rest, the reasons are simpler.

The reasons for the peasants are simple and simple.

Mr. Chan sold them seeds and miraculous fertilizers, lambs and calves, bridges for them, and help them keep the law and order so that they would not be attacked by bandits as they did in other towns in the west.

Life is thriving.

What is skin color? Can I change a cart of nitrogen fertilizer? Can you keep it safe?

The city council and other related institutions were also established at about the same time.

Although the sparrow is small, it has all kinds of organs.

This news did not cause much stir locally, but it caused an uproar in Washington and New York.

Chinese as mayor? Still in Oklahoma territory!

Does this mean that the area has been occupied by the Chinese?!

People who don't know the truth are beginning to speculate.

Soon, however, new news was reported in the media, and several media outlets, led by Pulitzer's New York World, described the incident as a successful integration of the western nations.

Here, Chinese and white people are at peace with each other and building their homes together.

They are able to communicate fluently in English.

This is yet another testament to the inclusiveness of the United States and the greatness of its institutions.

Most newspapers said this because they took Chen Jianqiu's money.

Wang Qingfu's "Chinese Suffrage Alliance" brandished Boss Chen's checkbook and successfully "reshaped" the national outlook of reporters and editors.

As for Pulitzer's "New York World", it is a very small number of people who cannot be bought with money.

Mr. Pulitzer personally took the train to Oklahoma City.

He didn't tell Chen Jianqiu in advance.

Instead, he adhered to his spirit of seeking truth from facts and came here to conduct an interview in person.

He stayed here for a week and interviewed a lot of white people.

"The mayor is a great man, he doesn't get a salary, he doesn't take a piece of land here, he builds us a school and a clinic for free!"

"That's right, our mayor, hey, I've met him, and he personally chose the little lambs for me, you see, how fat they grow!"

"Huh? Sir, come and see, what is this? It's an electric light! My sir, it's a rare thing in the East, and it's used in our town now, even on the road! ”

Every redneck's face was filled with pride and excitement, as if this was their hometown.

"What's that?" Pulitzer pointed to the four fenced ruins on the river's edge.

"Oh, that's the work of a bunch of fools who have a good life, and every time we pass by, we take it as a warning."

Pulitzer and Chen Jianqiu knew each other.

He remembered the criticism of the people in New York, and for some reason he had an inexplicable sense of mission.

He must tell the truth to the people of New York, Boston, and Washington!

On his way over, Pulitzer also passed through two other cities in Oklahoma that were founded almost at the same time as here, Inid and Guthrie.

Compared to this place, those two places are!

Under the repeated brainwashing of newspaper public opinion, the people's discussion on this matter gradually subsided.

But it also caught the attention of others.

One night, 221 Fifth Avenue, New York.

A carriage stopped in front of a nondescript hut.

A gentleman in a gown stepped out of the carriage.

His name was Greck Hawke, and he was originally from Philadelphia, was the lead director of the Reading Railroad Company in Philadelphia, and was also a well-known railroad tycoon.

Hauke is a man of upright prime and a large beard.

He straightened his clothes and hat, straightened his back, and strode toward the door of the room.

There was a waiter standing at the door.

Hauke pulled out a delicate velvet pouch from his pocket.

He untied the rope that tied the mouth of the bag and poured something out of it.

In the light of the doorway, the thing glowed with metal.

is a badge.

A sub-gauge and a curved ruler make up the pattern of the coat of arms, and between the two is a large letter "G".

The waiter saw the badge and bowed deeply to Hauke, then opened the door behind him.

Hauke walked in.

The entrance is a passageway, and on the walls on both sides of the passageway, delicately framed portraits are hung in turn.

The portraits are all prominent in the history of the United States, including George Washington and Benjamin Franklin

Hawke's gaze swept over the portraits, and a hint of pride involuntarily appeared on his face.

After passing through the hallway, there is a living room that does not look luxurious, but very sophisticated.

In the living room, there are already people sitting there.

Sitting on the couch, with a face as smooth as an eggshell, is Thomas Edison; Leaning back in the chaise longue with a newspaper in his hand, the big nose that was reading by the light of the fireplace was John Pierpont Morgan; And standing next to Morgan, smoking a cigar and frowning, was John Davidson Rockefeller.

Hauke sensed that something wasn't quite right in the atmosphere in the room.

"Mr. Hawke, are you here?" Edison got up from the couch and said to the railroad tycoon.

But his face didn't seem to be very good-looking, and his expression was a little embarrassed.

The two bigwigs over there, after hearing Thomas's words, realized Hawke's arrival and nodded at him.

Hauke sat down on the couch beside Thomas.

However, the topic of Morgan and Rockefeller's conversation does not seem to have anything to do with him.

"Is that kid we met at Scott's house?" Rockefeller asked, taking a puff on his cigar.

"Well, it's him, called, Chen Jianqiu." Morgan placed the newspaper on the table.

"He's pretty beautiful right now." Rockefeller's eyebrows furrowed even more, "A few years ago, he was a hillbilly digging for oil in New Mexico. ”

"Now it's different, he's the president of the Gunpowder Society, the chairman of the boards of directors of the Pacific Railroad and the Santa Fe Railroad, the boss of the Roswell Electric Company, and the mayor of a new city of tens of thousands of people."

Morgan began to name Chen Jianqiu's current title from memory, and when he said it, even he was startled.

This person's business seems to overlap with all of you.

"He still has a bank!" Rockefeller reminded.

"You thought you could pinch him to death with one finger, right?" Morgan ignored Rockefeller's teasing words and looked at him playfully.

"I can still do it now!"

Rockefeller replied.

The richest man is the arrogance of the richest man, of course, whether in terms of total wealth or existing volume, he has such arrogant capital.

"Otherwise, let's bring him into the guild, what do you think?" Morgan said suddenly.

At this time, not only Rockefeller, but also the other two people in the room also looked at Morgan.

"Mr. Morgan, you don't know that he's a Chinese, right?" Rockefeller asked, puzzled.

Freemasons have never said that they do not accept Chinese, they only reject atheists.

It's just that the core Presbyterian Church in New York has now become an internal organization of the upper echelons, a tool used by businessmen and dignitaries to bind their interests.

Morgan smiled again and waved his hand: "I'm just talking." ”

"However, it is true that he can no longer continue to develop like this." Rockefeller took a deep puff on his cigar.

"Let's start with his most profitable railroad!"