Chang wanted to say more, but St. Yves suddenly stood up.
He wrapped an arm around Chang Yu's shoulders, lowering his voice, "Chang, I am not like those foolish and rude Irishmen who spout nonsense patriotism to cover up their own laziness and incompetence, but I am not. Not just me, the whole Enfield, even San Francisco, sees you in a different light. Chang, you have lived in this city for ten years, it has taught you advanced knowledge and provided you with a job that allows you to realize yourself. She has nurtured you like a mother. But what did your compatriots, your land, your real mother give you? They gave you nothing but hunger, disease, and poverty."
St. Yves shifted topic abruptly, "Back then, everyone in your hometown was dying of hunger, and your parents sold you for two jin of millet, you were only fifteen that year, herded onto the ship like an animal by the slave traders."
