Hypocrisy

Wusong Estuary was exceptionally busy now. With the dockside port having been bombed, all freighters traveling to and from Shanghai were anchored offshore. Smaller vessels could enter the Huangpu River to unload, while larger ones could only wait outside. Small boats ferried supplies to the crews, while cargo was unloaded from the ships bit by bit, like ants moving house, then carried back to shore. The port was also being rebuilt, with the Japanese hiring Chinese laborers at low wages, along with prisoners of war sent back from the front lines.

The harbor at this moment was an impressive sight. The shore was packed with people, while the sea was densely covered with little boats. Workers in rough linen undershirts bared their sturdy chests, sweating profusely as they hauled cargo back and forth, loaded it onto trucks, sent it into railcars, and shipped it to North Station.

Aside from those working for the Japanese, the dockworkers, cargo boat crews, and others had all been celebrating the New Year lately. There was more work than they could finish, and in order to get the goods ashore sooner, employers had tacitly raised their rates. On top of that, the Green Gang thugs stationed at the docks—the so-called dockworkers' union—coordinated matters in the middle, making it a win-win situation for everyone.

There was no beautiful seascape in sight, only densely packed freighters and small cargo boats bobbing with the waves. Shouted calls of communication drifted over with the slightly fishy sea breeze. There were many makeshift plank huts along the shore, along with vendors who had come to sell food and cold drinks. Trucks, sedans, donkey carts, and rickshaws came and went on the roads, and people hurried along with brisk steps.

It was a simple scene of bustling activity. If not for