Preparation for the negotiations turned out to be more troublesome than expected. At dawn, Deng Shiyang and Semler arrived at the training camp office.

The first thing Deng Shiyang did was instruct Harris to tell the cafeteria to change the breakfast menu, replacing high-calorie foods like bacon, ham, and buttered bread with light dishes such as corn and oatmeal porridge. He also ordered that the accompanying drinks be switched to black coffee and tea, and set up a water station by the open area to provide water for the strikers.

After breakfast, the black soldiers resumed their singing and dancing in the open area in front of the office building. However, the light breakfast and frequent trips to the restroom soon sapped their energy. The clapping and stomping became erratic, and the dancers lost the synchronized momentum they had shown the previous day.

“Looks like the first step worked,” Deng Shiyang said, turning from the blinds to Harris: “Make sure the cafeteria serves a hearty lunch, and keep them there after they’re full. To show we take them seriously, I want you to attend the negotiations as the ‘camp director.’”

“No problem.”

“Good,” Deng Shiyang continued. “We need a witness for the negotiations. Do you have anyone suitable?”

“There are plenty of people here, but I’m not sure what you’re looking for.”

“The person shouldn’t be white, should be older, and must be respected.”

“Then call Old Red,” Harris interrupted.

“Who?”

“Ellis Bod Redi, known as ‘Red,’he working in the canteen .”

“Sorry, I still don’t know who that is,” Deng Shiyang said, trying to recall the name but drawing a blank.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Uh—” Harris lowered his head in thought before explaining, “It's the canteen manager who looks a lot like Morgan Freeman.”

“Ah!” Deng Shiyang exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say that earlier?”

“I thought you’d know,” Harris replied. “‘Red’ is old enough, well-educated, and well-liked. I think they’ll accept him.”

“But will he be willing to be a witness?”

“No doubt. I’ll talk to him in a bit.” Harris said confidently.

“In that case,” Deng Shiyang thought for a moment, then turned to Semler. “Wait until just before lunch and inform them that the negotiations will be at one o’clock. Tell them we’ll send three representatives and they should do the same.”

“Understood.” the German replied.

Noon arrived quickly. The black soldiers, tired and hungry after a morning of protest, cheered when they heard that management had agreed to negotiations. They eagerly made their way to the cafeteria, and with the promise of a hearty lunch and cold beer arranged by Harris, no one wanted to leave and stand in the hot midday sun to support their fellow protesters.

The negotiations were set in the ground floor meeting room of the office building. At the long rectangular table, Deng Shiyang, Harris, and Semler sat side by side. Across from them were three black representatives, with Old Red’s seat in the middle as a neutral witness.

Semler began by introducing the representatives and the witness. He placed a notepad and a pen on the table, opened them, and spoke a few words in Portuguese. Thus, the negotiations began.

From the representatives’ demeanor, it was clear that the true negotiator was the tall, thin man in the middle, Vanduren Mudi. The two crew-cut men flanking him were there to support his statements. Mudi’s lighter skin and narrow, elongated face set him apart from the rounder faces of most other black soldiers. His wide mouth stretched to his cheeks, and his thin, pale lips added to an unusual appearance, complemented by down-turned, triangular eyes and short, bushy eyebrows.

The negotiations unfolded as Du Preez had described. The black representatives began by airing grievances—complaining about the instructors’ harsh treatment, the grueling nature of the training, inadequate safety measures, and the camp’s disregard for black soldiers’ rights, which they claimed led to the accident.

Since the discussion required translation by Semler, it took even longer. The lengthy and cumbersome complaints dragged on for most of the afternoon, until the sun casting a long golden beam across the floor.

“We value the opportunity you provide and are willing to work for you…” A subtle signal reached Deng Shiyang’s ears as Semler translated the words.