America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"Our boss bought very pure goods... which led him to have his partner take off his pants and perform an elephant trunk dance on the spot. Now the health department has discovered everything inside."

Just then, a commotion broke out at the front gate.

The tattooed manager, handcuffed, was roughly escorted to a police car by two LAPD officers. His face was pale, and he was still screaming in despair.

"I really don't know anything, and I really did get beaten up by a lunatic wearing a Batman mask last night... You have to believe me!"

"Shut up. You have the right to remain silent, but you'd better think carefully about how you're going to explain to the judge why there are illegal drugs in your kitchen... Seriously, I want to punch you right now. My wife ate here last week!"

The fat police officer ruthlessly shoved his head into the back seat of the car.

Heck shook his head as he watched the police car drive away.

"That bastard must have overdosed on something and is hallucinating. Batman, my foot! Why doesn't he just say Captain America stole his Rolex?"

Chen Ming nodded in deep agreement.

"Indeed, too much knocking is bad for your brain."

"Oh right, you don't know the most exciting part yet." Heck pulled out his cracked phone again.

"An independent journalist has exposed our store's dirty secrets, even posting our purchase invoices and high-definition photos of vegan influencers eating tech-inspired steaks... Now the internet is full of memes mocking vegans."

Chen Ming glanced at the screen.

The latest tweet from that "vegetarian goddess" has been flooded with 100,000 malicious comments, all of which are memes of her closing her eyes and enjoying eating animal organs.

Below is an urgent statement from her legal team, stating that she "has suffered severe psychological trauma and is preparing to sue the restaurant for malicious fraud."

"It seems that Los Angeles litigators will soon be able to buy luxury cars outright again," Chen Ming remarked.

"That's right, I heard even those three thieves are looking for human rights lawyers." Heck laughed heartily.

Chen Ming patted Heck on the shoulder.

"This is getting out of hand... Let's call the brothers over. I'll treat you to an authentic Chinese meal, guaranteed to be completely unprocessed."

An hour later, at a long-established Sichuan restaurant in Chinatown.

On the table were boiled fish, garlic-flavored pork belly, authentic Mapo tofu, and a hot pot...

Chen Ming generously paid the full amount—he felt somewhat guilty for ruining everyone's livelihood.

Heck was sweating profusely from the spiciness and chugging ice water.

"Good heavens... this is real Chinese food? What were all those other dishes I ate before? I thought Chinese food was just General Tso's Chicken and Orange Chicken."

"That's American-style Chinese food, designed to fool Americans' palates," Chen Ming said with a smile, picking up a piece of fish.

"But this is normal. Any dish has to be localized when it is taken to another country. Just like when we Chinese eat pizza, we don't mind putting pineapple or fruit on it at all, and we even think it tastes pretty good."

"Put fruit on pizza? The Italian Mafia would pull out their guns and kill you if they heard that." The Mexican guy chopping vegetables next to him kept making the sign of the cross.

"I don't care what Italians think," Chen Ming said, pursing his lips.

"But I absolutely cannot stand the Japanese-style Chinese food that they have modified."

"What did they put in it, wasabi?" Heck asked curiously, grabbing a napkin to wipe his sweat.

"They add tapioca pearls, the kind used in milk tea, to Mapo Tofu..." Chen Ming said with a disgusted expression.

"The chewy texture combined with the spiciness is simply an anti-human heresy."

Several sounds of extreme discomfort and dry heaving suddenly rang out from the table.

"Alright, let's get serious." Chen Ming put down his chopsticks and looked at his former colleagues who no longer had legal status.

"The Green Tree Restaurant was shut down by the health department. What are your plans now?"

Heck shrugged.

"What else can we do? Tomorrow we'll go to Koreatown or the East District and find a kitchen that's willing to pay cash... As long as the boss doesn't report us to ICE, we'll do anything, from washing dishes and preparing ingredients to doing other things. We're used to this kind of thing."

The others nodded silently in agreement.

This is the daily life of undocumented immigrants from the lower rungs of Los Angeles, forever on the road to their next daily cash payment.

Chen Ming thought for a moment, then took out his phone and opened the contacts app.

"Guys, let's leave our numbers here." Chen Ming pushed his phone over.

"I might need to collaborate with you on some projects in the future... I'll pay in cash daily."

Heck's eyes lit up, and he immediately grabbed the phone and entered the number.

"Of course... as long as you give us US dollars in cash, we'd do anything for the Mafia, even if they asked us to wash dishes for them!"

"Don't worry, it should be much more interesting than that."

Chen Ming put away his phone and smiled meaningfully at them.

……

A vintage car restaurant next to Santa Monica Beach in the evening.

As agreed, Chen Ming sat down in the booth with two iced Americanos to wait for Michelle, but when he looked up and saw who was opposite him, he almost spilled his coffee.

"You... just escaped from a Halloween party at some high school?"

Across from her, Michelle was munching on fries and grinning smugly.

She usually wears smart business suits, but today she changed into a tight-fitting lettered short-sleeved T-shirt, paired with a high-waisted pleated skirt and a high ponytail, looking as youthful and energetic as a cheerleader who had just come off the field...

"What's wrong, are you stunned?" Michelle handed the check to Chen Ming.

"Final payment plus bonus... I took half a day off to celebrate topping the Twitter charts."

Chen Ming casually stuffed it into his coat.

"I just never expected that Los Angeles' most daring independent journalist would actually take this California sweetheart route in private."

"Don't underestimate me, Chen. I was a genuine school cheerleader captain in high school." Michelle raised an eyebrow, her tone full of pride.

"Back then, all the boys on the school's rugby team were writing me love letters like crazy. My locker would be overflowing with pink envelopes whenever I opened it..."

"Is it that exaggerated?" Chen Ming leaned back on the red leather sofa.

"Among so many physically strong team members, are there any lucky ones you've chosen?"

"Come on, football teams are basically a bunch of idiots whose heads are full of alcohol and hormones." Michelle rolled her eyes.

She stirred the ice cubes with a straw, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"However, there was this big, dumb guy who played linebacker who would drive his dad’s Ford Raptor and block my garage door every day, harassing me relentlessly."

"And then, you agreed?"

"I pretended to agree to go to the prom with him, but I made a condition." Michelle leaned forward.

"I told him there was a suspicious guy selling leaves on the back street of the school, and asked him to bring a camera and take some photos as evidence."

"Did he go?"

"Of course he went, to show off his masculinity." Michelle laughed so hard she almost fell over.

Chen Ming's eyelids twitched.

"He wasn't beaten to death, was he?"

"The moment the big oaf pressed the shutter, the flash went off, and the drug dealer immediately pulled out a pistol and chased him around the school's baseball field, emptying an entire magazine." Michelle smugly patted the table.

"The bullets all hit the barbed wire... He reportedly ran his fastest 40-yard sprint ever, and his pants even came off."

"After that, he never dared to say a word to me again, and he would even avoid me when he saw me."

Chen Ming looked at the woman in front of him who was smiling like a little devil, and silently took a sip of his iced Americano.