Hong Kong variety show: The mastermind behind the scenes is emerging.

November 8, 1988.

The chilly autumn winds swept in from the Rocky Mountains, across the central plains, and headed straight for California on the west coast.

Before dawn, tens of millions of voters across the United States had already flocked to polling stations, forming long lines in the morning mist.

Outside a polling station in Durham, North Carolina, a housewife yawned softly while holding her child in the queue; at an intersection in Ranch City, Texas, a pickup truck was parked on the side of the road, and a redneck man jumped out of the driver's seat and walked into the polling station with his head held high; in Manhattan, New York, a white-collar worker rushing to work held a coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other, tiptoeing as the person in front of him moved forward.

Outside every polling station, without exception, volunteers from both parties held up signs and shouted slogans at the top of their lungs, their breaths drifting in the cold wind.

Today is the 51st presidential election.

For the 64-year-old George H.W. Bush, this was also the heaviest and longest day of his political career.

……

Lu Chen was having breakfast at the manor.

The bacon is fried until crispy and fragrant, the fried egg has an enticing golden-brown runny yolk, and the aroma of coffee wafts through the air. Today's copy of *The Washington Times* lies at my side, its front-page headline simple—Election Day.

Just then, footsteps came from the stairs.

Lu Chen put down his knife and fork, looked up, and saw that old Bush had changed into a sharp suit and was slowly walking downstairs with his wife Barbara by the arm.

"Mr. Lu," old Bush extended his hand, "today, it's up to fate."

"Mr. Vice President, have you forgotten that I am an Eastern wizard?" Lu Chen shook hands with him, his smile full of confidence. "Heaven will be on your side."

"Thank you for your kind words." Old Bush smiled and said nothing more. He pulled Barbara into the car and headed straight for the Greenwich polling station.

The polling station was set up in the gymnasium of a middle school in town. The entrance was already crowded with reporters and photographers, their flashes going off everywhere. Secret Service agents, wearing headsets, were scattered around the crowd, their eyes scanning the surroundings with the vigilance of hawks.

George H.W. Bush got out of the car, walked into the stadium, received a ballot under the guidance of staff, stood in front of the voting table, filled it out carefully, folded it, and solemnly put it into the ballot box.

Then he turned around and said his only words to the camera: "Today, I voted for the future."

As they were talking, Barbara finished casting her vote beside them. The two didn't linger, turned around, walked out of the polling station, got back into their car, and headed straight for the airport.

On the tarmac, Air Force Two, painted in blue and white, was already on standby. After George H.W. Bush boarded the gangway, the engines roared to life, and the plane pierced through the clouds, heading towards Houston, Texas.

That was where his political dreams began.

In 1948, after retiring from the Air Force, he did not return to his hometown of Greenwich, but instead plunged into this dusty oil city.

Forty years have passed, and he never imagined he would get to where he is today.

……

At 10 a.m., after the plane landed in Houston, the Bush team rushed to City Hall for a final campaign talk with voters.

The square in front of the city hall was already packed with people, holding signs that read "Bush-Quail" and standing in the midday sun. As the motorcade approached, cheers rose in waves.

George H.W. Bush walked up the steps, stood in front of the microphone, first waving to his enthusiastic supporters, and only after the cheers gradually subsided did he begin to speak emotionally:

"Forty years ago, when I retired from the Air Force, instead of going back to Greenwich, I packed my bags and went to Houston alone. I didn't have much money in my pocket and didn't know anyone."

"It was the oil wells in this city that taught me what the market, risk, and responsibility are. It was the people of Texans who taught me how to be a true American."

The cheers from the audience erupted again.

"Those so-called experts say Texas is already in my pocket," George H.W. Bush smiled slightly, "but I never trust experts, I only trust you!"

A burst of laughter and applause erupted from the crowd.

"I'll repeat myself, this statement will remain true throughout my term—no new taxes."

The atmosphere in the room was instantly brought to its peak by this sentence!

George H.W. Bush concluded by saying, "Tonight, vote for me. Tomorrow, together we will make this country a better place."

After his speech, he waved to the crowd chanting "BUSH! BUSH!", got back into his car, and headed to the next promotional location according to his itinerary.

However, as the car drove along Richmond Avenue, George H.W. Bush suddenly said, "Stop for a moment."

The Secret Service agents' walkie-talkies immediately crackled to life—this was an unplanned parking incident.

Barbara was about to speak up to dissuade him when old Bush had already deftly unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed open the car door.

Amidst the astonished and uncertain gazes of the crowd, old Bush straightened his clothes and strode towards the faded sign of Molina's restaurant by the roadside.

This is a famous old Mexican restaurant. In the early 1940s, the Molina family traveled north from Mexico and settled in Houston, where they opened this small restaurant.

For the first ten years, it was just a small shop where neighbors drank coffee and ate tacos; later, it gradually gained fame with its high-quality beef tacos and chilled margaritas, becoming a hub for Houston politicians and journalists.

The restaurant walls are covered with faded old photos—mayors, senators, baseball stars, all of whom have posed for photos and signed autographs here.

At this moment, the restaurant was bustling with activity as people sat around the tables enjoying tacos and discussing today's election with great enthusiasm.

Just then, George H.W. Bush pushed open the door and walked in. Everyone in the room was stunned for a moment, and then burst into enthusiastic cheers.

"Mr. Bush, you're definitely going to become president!"

"President Bush, our whole family voted for you!"

"Mr. Bush,..."

As he warmly shook hands and greeted the crowd, George H.W. Bush slowly walked to the counter. His gaze swept through the gaps in the photos on the wall, finally settling on a yellowed black-and-white photograph—a young man in his early twenties with thick black hair, his shirt collar open, and a radiant smile.

That was a photo taken in this store in 1966, during his first campaign for Congress.

Old Bush stared at the photo for a long time before smiling and ordering a beef taco from the shop owner.

The second-generation Molina, with his graying hair, personally served the tacos, his hands trembling slightly: "Mr. Bush, the beef was freshly stewed this morning, the old recipe."

"That's wonderful! How's old Molina?" Old Bush asked nostalgically.

"He's in great health and comes to stew beef every morning," the shop owner said with a smile. "My dad said that our regular customers only recognize his cooking."

Old Bush nodded, took the taco, and slowly savored it, one bite at a time, eating very attentively.

After a moment, he looked at his supporters and smiled sincerely: "It tastes great, just as good as it did forty years ago."

Everyone at the table burst into laughter.

……

At seven o'clock in the evening, night fell.

Inside Bush's ranch, the protagonist and his son Bush, along with others, sat around the television, watching the news anchors from the three major broadcast networks announce the vote counts for each state.

Lu Chen leaned back leisurely on the sofa, occasionally taking a sip of his whiskey. Little Bush, however, was completely restless, pacing anxiously back and forth in the living room, sometimes getting closer to the screen, sometimes retreating to a distance.

Several of Bush's longtime friends huddled at one end of the sofa, none of them speaking, only the cigarette butts in the ashtray were being extinguished one after another.

In the first few hours, the two sides traded wins and losses in several industrial states in the Northeast. Pennsylvania remained deadlocked, Michigan saw back-and-forth voting, and New York was a close race. The situation seemed unpredictable at times.

Bush Jr. was so nervous that he kept wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trouser legs.

However, the turning point that broke the deadlock came faster than expected.

At 8:30 p.m. Eastern Time, the vote count results in the southern states exploded—Texas, Florida, Georgia… The maps on the television screens were swallowed up piece by piece by red, and the overwhelming red wave instantly swept across the entire southern territory.

That was a solid legacy left by Reagan's eight years in office, and a perfect realization of the strategies of George H.W. Bush's campaign team.

Around 9:30, key states Pennsylvania and Ohio turned red.

The three major television networks displayed the subtitles almost simultaneously—

George Herbert Walker-Busch sealed the victory.

Then Bush Jr. suddenly turned around, hugged Lu Chen tightly, and roared excitedly, "We won! We won!"

Lu Chen was jolted by the bump, but he patted Lu Chen's back with a smile and said casually, "I told you, today will have a good outcome."

Little Bush, trembling, released him and rushed to the phone like a madman: "Father, we won! We won!"

Old Bu's hoarse voice came from the other end of the phone: "I know, I know..."

Lu Chen looked at the subtitles on the TV screen, picked up his wine glass, and took a sip.

……

Boston, Massachusetts, Democratic Party headquarters.

The air froze completely in that instant.

The vote counter was deathly silent; the numbers that had once held such high hopes faded one by one. Full of ambition, Dukakis stood blankly before the counter, staring at it for a long time, so long that no one in the entire hall dared to utter a sound.

Finally, he slowly withdrew his gaze and walked onto the podium with a complicated expression.

"I will call Vice President Bush to congratulate him," he said calmly. "It's a pity we couldn't make it to the end."

Some people in the hall lowered their heads, while others covered their faces.

Dukakis did not shed a tear. He delivered his farewell speech politely into the microphone and then walked off the stage alone.

Only the photographer who was closest noticed that he seemed to lose his footing and stumbled as he descended the steps.

……

Houston, Westin Hotel.

The banquet hall had long since transformed into a sea of ​​jubilation and noise.

Tens of thousands of balloons rained down, red, white, and blue, hitting the heads of the cheering crowd, while signs reading "Bush-Quail" were waved wildly in the jubilant throng.

Some people embraced and wept, some raised their glasses and laughed wildly, and some shouted themselves hoarse until they lost their voices.

As midnight approached, George H.W. Bush, accompanied by his wife Barbara, walked through the cheering crowd and onto the stage.

A barrage of flashbulbs bombarded the newly elected 41st president as he stood before the microphone, fists clenched.

He delivered a victory speech to the nation, promising to build a "more inclusive and moderate America." He extended an olive branch to the Democratic Party, seeking bipartisan cooperation.

In the audience, Barbara was smiling, her eyes shining.

That night, the Houston night sky was completely torn apart by the noise.

The Bush family, spanning three generations—from the steel industry to Wall Street capital, and then to the Senate—finally reached the pinnacle of power on the night of November 8, 1988, after a long period of political and business accumulation.