America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"You look like you're rushing to Hell's Kitchen." Elena buckled her seatbelt.

"But to be honest, I've never actually ridden in a dining car before..."

"Then you'd better hold on tight, this car's shock absorption system is probably from the last century..." Chen Ming shifted gears and stepped on the gas, swaying and squeezing into the traffic heading to the city.

The Los Angeles highways were a sea of ​​red under the setting sun. Chen Ming held the huge steering wheel with one hand, weaving smoothly from side to side through the dense traffic. The massive car was like a slippery deep-sea fish.

"To be honest, I've ridden in a Ferrari to Santa Monica to watch the sunset, and I've also ridden in a Lamborghini speeding down Sunset Boulevard." Elena's eyes lit up as she looked out the window at the bus that was almost brushing past the dining car's rearview mirror.

"But sitting next to a kitchen cabinet that's a meter off the ground and squeezing through the gaps in the machine, that perspective is indeed...interesting."

"That's called a sense of life." Chen Ming skillfully avoided a deep pit.

"Supercars have such low chassis that driving them on roads like those in Los Angeles, which are full of patches, is just asking for trouble."

"So you drive this thing to school every day?"

"What else? It's both my mode of transportation and my ATM." Chen Ming pointed to the trunk.

"I can sell a few dozen more servings of fried rice at an intersection later."

"You're really weird." Elena laughed heartily, her ponytail swaying in the smoky driver's cab.

"If you're willing, you can join any racing team, and the bonuses alone are enough to buy fried rice for an entire street."

"I told you I need to get my graduation certificate." Chen Ming said calmly, but his eyes were scanning the passing police cars in the rearview mirror.

The two chatted along the way, from Hollywood gossip to the terrible safety situation in California.

Elena soon discovered that Chen Ming not only drove well, but also had a thorough understanding of the city's dark corners and survival rules.

It wasn't until nightfall that Chen Ming carefully parked the food cart at the back door of the club.

"That's it? I thought you were going to treat me to fried rice." Elena jumped out of the car, looking somewhat unsatisfied.

"It's quite an honor. You're the first woman to ask for fried rice after riding in my car... Unfortunately, I have something to do tonight."

Chen Ming waved goodbye and was about to start his car to go home when his phone vibrated.

It was a message from Chad.

"Coach, I just tried to observe the frequency of the police lights and realized there was an ambulance behind me... but I still used the method you taught me to block the view, and now I'm detained at the police station. Can you come and get me out?"

Chen Ming rolled his eyes and turned off his phone screen.

"You can't save him, you idiot. Just wait to die."

……

three days later.

The California sun is still scorching.

Chen Ming leaned against the food cart, skillfully turning the leftover rice in the pot.

"Hey, the food smells a bit smoky today," a regular customer complained casually after putting down a dollar.

"It's just the smoky flavor from a wok. Do you want some or not?" Chen Ming smiled and handed over the last serving of rice.

"Of course I'll eat it... You're the only place in all of Los Angeles that has such delicious fried rice and meat. To be honest, I'm afraid you'll go out of business."

After the diners had left, Chen Ming closed the roller shutter door of the food cart.

Chen Ming pulled down the roller shutter, leaned against the steering wheel, and sighed as he looked at the account balance on his phone.

We need to find a way to expand into some "real business".

He couldn't explain the strange cash flow in his account to the French tax authorities by selling fried rice alone, and he couldn't go to Las Vegas often—any fool would know there was something wrong with a poor student who hadn't even graduated going to the casino every few weeks and stealing tens of thousands of dollars.

Just as I was pondering this, my phone on the dial suddenly vibrated.

The name "Old Joe" flashed on the screen.

"Hey, what do you want?"

"Hey Chen..." Old Joe's voice sounded like he was chewing sandpaper, and he hesitated for a long time before finally managing to utter a sentence.

"Do you still offer that kind of service recently?"

Chen Ming frowned.

"Are you serious? You just took tens of thousands of dollars. Did you charter a yacht in Miami?"

"Don't even mention it!" Old Joe coughed twice in annoyance.

"After deducting the cost of getting you the explosives and equipment, I only get a little over ten thousand yuan."

"You can't possibly spend over ten thousand in just a few days... Did you eat noodles?"

"It's Angela!" Old Joe was a little overwhelmed, and his voice rose.

"My ex-wife... she somehow heard that I had made a small fortune, and she came to my apartment and cried for three whole hours, complaining about how outrageous California's property taxes are, and saying that her current boyfriend is a good-for-nothing who can't even afford their daughter's dental insurance..."

"So you softened your heart?" Chen Ming was so angry he almost laughed.

"I remember you originally only planned to give her a few thousand dollars to get rid of her."

"That's my daughter, and she was crying so hard, and she even baked my favorite cookies..." Old Joe muttered, his voice growing weaker.

"In short, all my money is gone, not a single penny left. I even had to pay six months' worth of alimony in advance."

"Where's your shooting range?"

"We're about to go bankrupt," Old Joe sighed.

"Bullets are ridiculously expensive, and with inflation, these rednecks would rather go to the Nevada desert and shoot empty beer cans than come to my place and pay the thirty-dollar entrance fee... Chen, you have to help me out, take me to pull off another heist!"

"Do you think I'm some kind of NPC in GTA?" Chen Ming rubbed his temples.

"Old Joe, I'm still a college student."

"Give me a break. A good student stealing a corpse from a security company headquarters at night? I'm begging you, I'd even steal containers from Long Beach port..."

"No containers were stolen, but..."

Chen Ming suddenly thought of something and changed the subject.

"Old Joe, how big is your shooting range in total? Is the land privately owned or leased from the county government?"

There was a pause on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, followed by Old Joe's suspicious voice.

"Mine, including that cactus-covered wasteland behind it, a total of sixty acres, all private property... Why are you asking this? Are you planning to bury a corpse there?"

"I never bury corpses, that's a waste... Since it's private property, I want to legally build something there." Chen Ming tapped the steering wheel.

"What do you want to do? Build a Chinese-style pavilion?"

"No, I want to buy a piece of your land to open a shop."

"Huh?" Old Joe exclaimed as if he had heard some international joke.

"Chen, have you lost your mind from the cooking fumes? My place is on the edge of the desert, and besides rattlesnakes and poor wretches who can't afford bullets, there's not a single living creature. What are you doing opening a shop there?"

Chen Ming lowered his voice.

"Never mind that... Your place is remote enough to be perfect for dealing with cash transactions that are hard to explain."

"You're going to launder money?" Old Joe immediately lowered his voice, but his tone was filled with excitement.

"Pretty much... I'll pay you for half of your land, on the condition that I get the operating rights and you have to help me get the building permit."

"Deal! As long as I don't go to jail, I'll help you build nuclear bombs even if you're there!"