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The morning light in Los Angeles was like watered-down milk, thinly seeping into the basement skylight.

Suning opened his eyes precisely at 5:45 and found that the dull pain that had accumulated in his finger joints last night had transformed into a strange sense of relief.

He flexed his wrists...

The delicate fragrance of tea oil mingled with the musty smell unique to the basement, weaving a fine net in the nasal cavity.

On the folding table in the cafeteria, Mr. Chen's mistress, Afang, was tapping an aluminum basin with a long-handled spoon: "New guy, here are your eggs."

The boiled egg made a hollow echo as it hit the bottom of the bowl, and by the time it rolled to Suning, it had cracked with spiderweb-like patterns.

Fatty Wang sat in the diagonal position.

His oily face looked unusually pale today, his left nostril was stuffed with a wad of blood-stained tissue, and there was a scabbed crack on his thick lower lip.

When Su Ning deliberately rolled the egg on the table to make a crisp sound, the head chef jerked as if he had been electrocuted, knocking over the soy milk in front of him.

"Hmph! Your hands are shaking like this, what are you even cooking for?" Boss Chen frowned as he watched the milky white liquid spread on the plastic tablecloth. "I'll give you three days off. Don't throw the spatula into the oil."

"thank you boss."

Fatty Wang's gaze was like a poisoned needle, but it softened into fear the moment it met Su Ning's eyes.

However, Su Ning grinned at Fatty Wang...

He had practiced this expression countless times with the stray dogs at the dock, his canines flashing a stark white arc in the morning light.

The head chef's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and he suddenly stood up, clutching his backside: "I...I'll go buy some liniment."

"Hey! Did a black guy rob you?" Boss Chen shouted at the staggering figure. "I told you not to hang around in the black neighborhood!"

Turning back, he noticed that Su Ning was skillfully peeling an egg with chopsticks...

The egg white, once peeled, is smooth like a pearl. In my hometown in southern Fujian, this is called "removing the shell," a lucky omen only observed during celebratory occasions.

The bell in the front hall suddenly rang.

At six o'clock sharp, the first group of elderly men and women who wanted to have morning tea filed in, carrying the scents of rheumatism plasters and the World Journal.

Afang kicked Suning's stool: "New guy! Go refill the soy sauce bottles in section B."

"..."

The lobby lights are ten times brighter than the kitchen lights.

While Suning was restocking the condiments, he overheard an elderly woman with white hair at table number 4 complaining in Taishan dialect, "This shrimp dumpling skin is harder than my dentures..."

He instinctively replied in Cantonese, "Would you like a hot one?"

The clear and articulate pronunciation surprised the old man, who pushed up his reading glasses in astonishment.

"OK!"

"New guy! You can speak Cantonese?" Boss Chen appeared behind me at some point, holding an account book in his hand.

“There are many overseas Chinese from my hometown in Fujian.” Su Ning arranged the soy sauce bottles at a perfect 30-degree angle. “They can also speak a little Hakka.”

"..." At this moment, Boss Chen looked at Su Ning meaningfully.

Then, without saying much, he turned and left. Some things still need to be observed and carefully considered.

The turning point of this morning occurred at 9:17.

At that moment, a white man in a gray suit was loitering at the door, holding a piece of paper covered in English writing in his hand.

All the waiters hid in the kitchen...

Immigration raids are a perpetual nightmare for Chinatown.

"Can I help you?" When Su Ning opened the glass door, she heard her own voice was unusually steady.

The man in the gray suit visibly relaxed: "I need to order working lunches for forty people..."

He pointed to "General Tso's Chicken" on the note, pronouncing it comically like a spell.

Twenty minutes later, when Suning confirmed all the orders in fluent English and even suggested changing the fried rice to a "fortune cookie set" that was more suitable for American tastes, Mr. Chen's wrinkles smoothed out.

He pulled out five Franklin bills from the cash register: "New guy, from today onwards you'll also be the receptionist, and your salary will increase by five hundred."

"Boss, my name is Su Ning."

"okay, I get it."

During the lunch rush, Suning found himself switching between three languages ​​simultaneously: explaining the difference between "Kung Pao" and "Mala" to white-collar workers from Wall Street in English, soothing an elderly lady complaining about the slow service in Cantonese, and yelling at the kitchen in Fujianese, "Table 12 needs extra spice!"

The tip column in his ledger was growing at an alarming rate...

One blonde even gave him an extra 20% because he correctly pronounced the characteristics of her native Alabama accent.

"Suning, who taught you English?" Lin Xiu suddenly appeared in front of the counter when the market closed at 3 p.m.

The medical school graduate now works at a laundromat three blocks away, his white coat replaced by a blue shirt stained with bleach.

Suning took two bottles of Coke from the freezer: "My high school English teacher was a rightist who had studied at Cambridge before being sent down to the countryside."

The sound of bubbles bursting out the moment the bottle cap was opened was like some kind of secret cheer.

He noticed that Lin Xiu's right hand was wrapped in a bandage: "Did the washing machine bite you?"

"Hmm, the dryer parts are worn out." Lin Xiu used her teeth to help unscrew the bottle cap. "I heard you beat up Fatty Wang? Now all the illegal workers in Chinatown are talking about it..."

He suddenly lowered his voice, "A Fujianese guy single-handedly took down 'Butcher King'."

The glass door reflected Suning's suddenly tense smile.

He recalled the look Wang Pangzi had given him that morning…

That gaze, a mixture of fear and hatred, was like that of a cobra whose fangs had been removed, which I had seen at the dock when I was a child.

At 6 p.m., when the second batch of diners poured in, Boss Chen called Suning to the storage room.

Behind the jars of fermented soybean paste on the shelf was a copy of "The U.S. Immigration Law" with a gold-embossed cover.

"Suning, the immigration office will be coming to inspect next Wednesday." The boss pointed to the "political asylum" clause. "You'll be in charge of receiving them."

Suning noticed brown stains on the edges of the pages, which looked like dried blood.

When the store closed that night, Afang handed him an envelope: "The boss said you'll be living in the upstairs storage room from now on."

Besides the salary, there was also a brass key inside.

As Su Ning climbed the narrow stairs, he heard Fatty Wang drunkenly cursing from the basement: "...I'll kill that mainland kid sooner or later!"

The storage room is only four square meters, but it has a window that lets you see the moon.

Suning placed the tea oil bottle on the windowsill, and the moonlight gave the glass a silvery edge.

He pulled out the New York Times job postings page hidden under his pillow; it was left behind by the customer in the gray suit earlier that day.

Next to the job posting for "Medical Assistant," there was a phone number circled in red.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Chinatown began to flicker.

The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, but this time Su Ning did not hunch his shoulders.

He held up the Coke can to the moon, the water droplets condensing on the aluminum can resembling some kind of shimmering medal.

……

In the days that followed, Suning quickly adapted to the work in the front office.

His English made foreign customers feel welcome, and their tips increased accordingly.

At the end of the first week, he counted his earnings...

It was almost three times more than when washing dishes.

Fatty Wang was clearly very dissatisfied with this.

Every time Suning passed by the kitchen, he could feel the cold, menacing gaze behind him.

But with Boss Chen's protection, Fatty Wang didn't dare to do anything for the time being.

In fact, on the morning that Fatty Wang returned to work after his vacation, the sound of chopping meat in the kitchen was already three times quieter than usual.

Suning was wiping the glass door of the front hall with a rag, and through the reflection, he could see that bulky figure tiptoeing around the dishwashing area...

It looks like a startled hippopotamus trying to avoid a crocodile.

The head chef's apron was tied exceptionally neatly today, and he even wore a sanitary cap, which was unusual for him.

"Su...Brother Su." Fatty Wang suddenly came over, holding a cup of bubble tea in his hand.

Water droplets condensed on the outside of the plastic cup dripped onto his new Nike shoes, leaving dark dots. "Bought in Kowloon City, low sugar."

When Su Ning took the drink, she noticed that the other person's right little finger was still in a splint. He shouldn't have hit him that hard that night in the alley.

The moment the straw pierced the sealing film, Wang Pangzi's thick shoulders visibly trembled.

"Thank you." Suning deliberately made the plastic cup rattle softly on the counter. "Remember to add extra green peppers to today's special lunch of sweet and sour pork with pineapple."

His Fujian accent in Mandarin was like a dull knife, slowly grinding away at the other person's tense nerves.

The way Fatty Wang bowed and scraped as he retreated almost made Ah Fang behind the counter spill her abacus.

The woman, in her forties from Guangdong, suddenly asked in broken Mandarin, "You know kung fu?"

She mimicked Bruce Lee's classic hand gestures, her yellowed nail polish peeling off into strange patterns.

The bell in the front hall suddenly rang.

Three immigration officers in dark blue uniforms stood at the door, their badges gleaming coldly in the sunlight.

The entire restaurant froze instantly... Waiter Amin knocked over a soy sauce dish, the dark brown liquid spreading across the white tablecloth like an abstract painting.

It's an open secret that Chinese restaurants in Chinatown use illegal workers; the owners and the immigration authorities have deals to varying degrees.

Since Mr. Chen arranged for Suning to receive them, it's clear he trusts Suning's American English speaking skills.

The most important thing is that they have already established connections with the immigration bureau; otherwise, they wouldn't have known the specific inspection time.

"Good morning, gentlemen." As Su Ning pushed open the glass door, she caught a whiff of the light tea oil scent emanating from her cuffs. "Would a seat by the window be alright?"

The leading official raised an eyebrow in surprise.

At this time of year, restaurants in Chinatown will suddenly have a dozen or so temporary workers complaining of "gastrointestinal problems".

When he took out his ID, Su Ning noticed a thin scar on his ring finger...

It looks like a cut from paper, but the location is too precise.

“Routine inspection.” The scarred official’s gaze swept across the kitchen. “How many employees do you have?”

“There are seven people, including the boss.” Su Ning smiled and handed over the employee registration form.

This is the version he rewrote last night, the ink slightly spreading on the cheap copy paper.

"Would you like to see our health rating certificate? It was just updated last month."

As the officials went through the documents, the sound of shattering porcelain came from the kitchen.

Suning knew without turning around that it was Fatty Wang who accidentally broke the plate...

This is the third time this month.

Since that night, the head chef's hands have been like those of Parkinson's disease; he can no longer hold a scalding hot pot.

“Your English is very standard,” the scarred fingerprint officer suddenly said. “Where did you learn it?”

“The missionary school on Gulangyu Island,” Su Ning lied without batting an eye. “The teachers were all Harvard graduates.”

He deliberately pronounced "Harvard" with a Boston accent, the last syllable lingering on the tip of his tongue like a toffee.

As expected, Su Ning's performance eased the apprehension of the immigration officials, since they were only there to go through the motions.

When Mr. Chen came out of the storage room, the immigration officers were already enjoying the free fortune cookies.

His oily face was filled with disbelief until he saw the officials sign and leave, at which point he slumped down in front of the cashier like a deflated balloon.

“Ah Ning…” Boss Chen took out a handkerchief to wipe his sweat. Su Ning noticed for the first time that his right little finger was missing half a piece. “I’ll raise it to two thousand two next month.”

For the first time ever, this stingy boss, who even mixed leftovers into his employees' meals, took the initiative to offer to raise their wages.

"thank you boss."

After lunch, Suning discovered a pleasant surprise in the storage room...

Mr. Chen sent someone to replace the mattress with a new one and also bought a second-hand electric fan.

On the folding table sat a book titled "Business English Crash Course," with a hastily written inscription on the title page: "To the most promising son."

The signature featured a crookedly drawn lucky cat.

But what truly made Su Ning squint was the envelope hidden under the book.

Besides this month's salary, there's also a social security card inside...

Although the name was misspelled as "Su Ning" instead of "Suning," it was already a golden ticket for unregistered individuals.

The edges of the card were speckled with oil, as if someone had repeatedly rubbed them with greasy fingers.

……

Lin Xiu came again when the store closed in the evening.

The medical student wasn't wearing his uniform today; his white shirt was tucked into his jeans, making him look like a proper international student.

"The laundromat went out of business?" He waved the newspaper in his hand, the classifieds section highlighting a job posting for a Chinese clinic circled in red. "Want to give it a try together?"

Just as Lin Xiu was about to answer, a dull thud came from the back alley as something heavy fell to the ground.

When they rushed out, they saw Fatty Wang slumped next to a trash can, his white uniform stained with vomit.

The head chef was clutching a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the same brand as that night.

"How long has he been like this?" Lin Xiu squatted down to examine his pupils.

“Since…” Su Ning suddenly stopped speaking.

Under the moonlight, he saw a purplish-red ligature mark on Fatty Wang's neck, shaped like some kind of long, thin tool, such as the iron hook used in restaurants to hang roast ducks.

Mr. Chen's roar came from the back door: "Stealing drinks again! Don't bother coming in tomorrow!"

But when he saw Su Ning, his voice immediately switched to a doting father mode: "Ning! A new batch of tableware is arriving tomorrow..."

"Boss, I understand."

On his way back to the storage room, Suning hid his social security card in the bottom of a tea oil bottle.

Outside the window, the neon lights of Chinatown began to flicker, turning the "Golden Gate Hotel" sign blood red.

He suddenly remembered Fatty Wang's unusually obsequious behavior today, and that cup of bubble tea. The head chef knew perfectly well that he hated sweets.

Beneath the mattress, a corner of the New York Times recruitment section peeks out.

Suning scratched a mark next to the "medical assistant's" phone number with her fingernail.

The sound of sirens came from afar. This time, he didn't count his heartbeats; instead, he appeared unusually calm and composed.

……

A month later, on a Friday evening, the restaurant was unusually busy.

Su Ning was taking orders for a table of customers when he suddenly felt someone gently tug at his sleeve.

When he turned around, he saw Lin Xiu, the girl who had come to America on the same ship as him.

"Brother Ning..." Lin Xiu's eyes were red, clearly from crying, "Can we talk in private for a moment?"

Su Ning greeted her colleagues and followed Lin Xiu to the alley behind the restaurant.

The early autumn nights in New York were already a bit chilly, and Lin Xiu was shivering in just a thin sweater.

"What's wrong?" Su Ning asked, even though he could probably guess the reason.

Lin Xiu's tears flowed again: "I can't take it anymore... That laundromat is no place for a human being. I work sixteen hours a day, but I only get half the agreed-upon pay... and the boss even... he even lays hands on me..."

Suning sighed.

He had heard about Lin Xiu's situation before...

Young and beautiful girls like her often face double exploitation in the low-level factories of Chinatown.

"What do you want?"

“I…I want to learn English.” Lin Xiu raised her head, a hint of determination flashing in her eyes. “Like you. I know you do very well at the Kinmen Hotel…Could you teach me?”

Under the streetlights, Lin Xiu's face appeared exceptionally pale and fragile.

Su Ning knew what she hadn't finished saying...

In this dog-eat-dog world, a helpless girl must find someone to rely on in order to survive.

“I can teach you,” Su Ning said slowly, “but you know there’s no such thing as a free lunch here.”

Lin Xiu bit her lip, then did something that surprised Su Ning...

She took a step forward and gently hugged him: "I know... I want to be your girlfriend."

Suning did not push her away.

He could feel Lin Xiu's body trembling slightly, whether from the cold or fear, he couldn't tell.

In this unfamiliar country, they all need some warmth, even if it's just temporary.

"Come find me at your place during your lunch break tomorrow," Su Ning finally said.

The next day at noon, Su Ning found Lin Xiu's residence according to the address...

A small, damp, and dark room in the basement, containing only a bed and a simple wardrobe.

Lin Xiu had changed into a relatively clean dress and stood nervously by the bed.

"Let's begin." Su Ning put down her bag and took out the English textbook she had prepared in advance.

After a two-hour "lesson," the textbook was left aside.

As Lin Xiu trembled as she unbuttoned her clothes, Su Ning took out a pre-prepared shield from her pocket…

In this precarious foreign land, pregnancy is the biggest crime, a golden rule understood by all illegal immigrants.

Afterwards, Lin Xiu nestled in Su Ning's arms and whispered, "Will we get better?"

Suning stared at the mottled water stains on the ceiling without answering.

He didn't know the answer, nor was he sure how long the relationship could last.

But at this moment, at least they were no longer so alone.

……

(End of this chapter)