Chapter 33: P-26 Fighter Jet

It was Shu Qin and her uncle, standing at the doorway and conversing with a man in his forties.

Could it be that Shu Qin was also a member of the Overseas Chinese Association, or was she just passing by? Zhou Zhihan had come with the sole purpose of locating the association’s headquarters; he had no intention of lingering. He turned his bicycle to leave, but after only a few meters, he heard someone call his name: "Zhou Zhihan!"

It was Shu Qin.

Zhou Zhihan turned around and saw her walking toward him. Her uncle also spotted him and waved. Zhou Zhihan braked, keeping one leg on the pedal and the other on the ground, and returned the greeting.

"Zhou Zhihan, what brings you here?" Shu Qin smiled when she saw the small bamboo steamer of dumplings in his hand. "So, you came all the way here just for breakfast."

Shu Qin had short hair, and her smile was radiant.

"Oh, heh, it’s Sunday. I’d heard that the dumplings, soy milk, and fried dough sticks here were excellent. I’ve been in the United States for so long and haven't had them in ages, so I rode over specifically for breakfast this morning." Zhou Zhihan lied without batting an eye. "Anyway, have you eaten? I still have two steamers here—some meat and some vegetarian—and they’re still piping hot. The shopkeeper was very kind and even gave me some pickled vegetables and salted beans."

"Overseas Chinese are closer to each other than kin when they meet in a foreign land." Shu Qin smiled and held her watch up to Zhou Zhihan. "I’ve already eaten. Do you know what time it is? You should take those dumplings back to your girlfriend!" She placed her hands naturally in front of her, tilted her head, and glanced behind him to the left, then to the right. "Wait! It’s Sunday; didn't you bring her with you?"

Zhou Zhihan stammered.

"She is so beautiful, and she treats you so well." Shu Qin’s eyes were clear, bright, and untouched by any cynicism.

"Sigh," Zhou Zhihan changed the subject. "What about you and your uncle? Why are you here?"

Shu Qin’s smile revealed her white teeth. "My uncle is a member of the Overseas Chinese Association. I came here with him this morning for some business."

"Oh! Well, you two go ahead with your work. I’ll head back to school." Zhou Zhihan didn't want to stay. He felt it was best if fewer people knew him here. Once he found an opportunity to secretly deliver the gold, he would avoid coming back.

As he spoke, he released the brake and pushed off with his right foot to leave.

"Didn't you say you were free today since it's Sunday?" Shu Qin suggested. "Come inside and take a look with us. Many Chinese in New York have gathered here today to discuss the situation back home and our current lives here in America. There are many patriotic students like you who have come from various schools to contribute to the association and strengthen our community."

Seeing his hesitation, Shu Qin smiled. "Oh! Are you busy? Do you have to take those dumplings to your girlfriend?"

Zhou Zhihan thought to himself, *Why does this girl keep bringing that up?* He dodged the question. "I've been in the U.S. for several months and have never visited the Overseas Chinese Association. I might as well come inside and see it."

Shu Qin was delighted. "It’s very lively here, especially during our traditional festivals. There’s lion dancing, dragon boat racing, drumming, and opera. Sometimes we even have poetry recitations—it’s a lot of fun."

Zhou Zhihan’s interest was piqued. He wasn't much for poetry—he couldn't even recite three poems from the *Three Hundred Tang Poems*—but he was fascinated by the lion dancing and dragon boat racing, things he had only seen on social media before transmigrating.

He parked his bicycle and noticed several students in uniform entering the building. The two-story structure at the front served as the facade, but past the entrance lay a large courtyard that could hold over a hundred people. However, Zhou Zhihan sensed that the atmosphere was wrong; many people wore somber expressions.

Shu Qin’s uncle nodded when he saw his niece arrive with Zhou Zhihan. He was busy discussing something with several middle-aged men, including the man they had been talking to at the door—a man of medium height and stout build, with a swarthy complexion and a jacket, who looked like a merchant.

Shu Qin and Zhou Zhihan found a quiet spot to stand. Soon, several middle-aged men and women emerged from a room at the back of the courtyard, gesturing for silence. They looked deeply distressed.

One of the men, slightly older, wearing a traditional Chinese long gown, glasses, and a fedora, walked to the podium. "Fellow Chinese, fellow countrymen, today I must announce something truly heartbreaking. Just last night, another patriotic Chinese was brutally murdered. The killer remains at large. This is the second such tragedy in the last two months."

A heavy silence fell over the courtyard, followed by hushed, anxious murmurs.

"That is Mr. Liu Yunyi, Vice President of the New York Overseas Chinese Association," Shu Qin whispered. "For the past two years, he has led the fundraising efforts to buy weapons and supplies for our country."

Zhou Zhihan nodded. Such people deserved respect.

Liu Yunyi raised his hand to quiet the crowd. "This is not a random act. It is a premeditated attack against our people. Over the past two months, our association has raised over forty thousand dollars to support our Air Force in purchasing a batch of advanced fighter planes from the United States. Clearly, there are those who do not want our Air Force to receive these aircraft, and they are resorting to assassinations to obstruct us. But they cannot intimidate us. I want everyone to know that while we must stand united, we must also be vigilant. We have urged the American police to apprehend the killers as soon as possible."

*Buying fighter planes?* Zhou Zhihan glanced at Shu Qin.

Shu Qin shook her head, her expression grim. "I only just found out about this too."

"I just mean," Zhou Zhihan said, "after an announcement like that, who would dare donate to the association? And what kind of fighter planes are they?"

Shu Qin shook her head again. "You don't understand. You don't understand how patriotic the overseas Chinese are. Most of them aren't afraid of threats; they will continue to support the motherland as they always have. Since the General Association of Overseas Chinese proposed supporting the Nationalist Government’s Air Force in purchasing advanced fighters last year, four donors have been murdered. Everyone knows the Japanese are the ones pulling the strings, but we will never bow to them."

She continued, "Since late 1934, our Air Force has intended to buy a batch of advanced American fighters. But due to the war at home, a lack of funds, and corruption within the Nationalist Government where some sought to profit from the national crisis, the money was never fully raised. On top of that, the Japanese have been sabotaging the deal both overtly and covertly, using every trick in the book to prevent the sale and murdering many of our patriots in the process."

"How do you know about these military secrets?" Zhou Zhihan asked.

"These haven't been secrets for a long time," Shu Qin replied. "It’s been two years. Because the payments were delayed, the American arms dealers issued an ultimatum to the Nationalist Government last year: if the money wasn't produced by July of this year, the contract would be voided, and the planes would be sold elsewhere. That is why, since early last year, the General Association has been calling on all overseas Chinese to contribute and help the government secure these planes."

"What model are they?" Zhou Zhihan asked.

"My uncle said they are a batch of eleven P-26 fighter planes," Shu Qin replied.