Taoist priest goes to America

As Ang Lee stepped onto the surface from the Union Square subway station exit on 14th Street, the Manhattan night wind swept over him, carrying the fishy smell of the river and the coolness of the night.

He stood on the steps of the subway exit, squinting as he surveyed the street.

The night in Manhattan is like a wall of light. Streetlights, car headlights, neon signs on shop signs, and a giant electronic screen on a building across the street playing GG Cosmetics all intertwine, making it particularly eye-catching in the night.

The city lights shone on the night clouds, creating a jumbled halo of light that stained the night sky a bright orange.

The intersection of 14th Street was crowded with people. White-collar workers in suits walked by quickly with briefcases in their hands. Several street performers with guitars were tuning their instruments on the roadside. White smoke was rising from the hot dog stand cart. Taxis drove past him one after another.

This is the edge of Midtown Manhattan, a hub of transportation and commerce.

Ang Lee glanced westward, towards the Hudson River, where he could vaguely see lights moving on the river's surface.

That place is nice. He wants to find a quiet place to eat something as soon as possible, and then find a place to stay.

"Let's go," Li An called to Lao Bai, "Let's go eat."

They walked for about ten minutes, crossing several streets, when suddenly the view opened up.

Ang Lee's stomach growled, a protest from his digestive system. The little bit of food he'd eaten in the fantasy world had long since been digested. He had over two thousand US dollars in cash in his pocket, more than enough for a meal.

He passed a KFC, and the image of the white-bearded old man smiled at him from the lightbox. He stopped and looked through the window to see how many people were there. Just as he was about to push the door open, a smell wafted over from across the street.

The aroma was rich and complex, with the spiciness of black pepper, the sweetness of cheese and onions slightly charred in hot oil, and a smoky note, like spices roasted over a slow fire.

The smell traveled through the street and entered his nostrils, piquing Ang Lee's interest.

Following the direction of the smell, Ang Lee looked up and saw a small shop across the street.

The small shop is sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a general store, its window spotlessly clean. The signboard is dark green with white and gold lettering that reads:

"Los Pollos Hermanos (Fried Chicken Brothers)". The small print below reads: "Family recipe, New Mexico flavor".

The glass door of the fried chicken shop has a "GG" sticker on it, and a warm yellow light shines on a white enamel pot, from which you can vaguely see a few golden chicken legs.

The shop window was sparkling clean, and inside there were several tables with many customers sitting down, each table laden with fried chicken and cola.

Ang Lee glanced at the KFC door, then at the green sign across the street.

Hmm... how about we try something new? I've eaten at KFC before, so why not give this place a try?

He told Lao Bai to stay in the alley near the fried chicken shop, wrapped in a tent cloth, leaning against the brick wall, facing the street, so that he would look like a homeless person taking a rest.

"Stand here and don't move," he whispered, but Old Bai didn't respond.

As Ang Lee pushed open the shop door, a wave of heat carrying the aroma of fried chicken wafted towards him.

The store was much cleaner than he had imagined; the floor was covered in dark gray tiles, and the walls were covered in white tiles, so clean they shone.

The restaurant's lights were warm-toned, casting soft halos around the tables. A television was hanging from the ceiling, playing an American television show.

There are seven or eight tables in the shop, spaced far enough apart, with plastic flowers on the tables, arranged in transparent glass vases.

A menu board hangs on the wall behind the cashier, with the words in the lightbox clearly visible.

Ang Lee walked to the cashier. A Latina girl with a ponytail smiled at him: "Welcome, what would you like to order?"

He glanced at the menu. The prices were a little cheaper than KFC. A family bucket cost 14.99 yuan, with 12 pieces of fried chicken, two servings of fries, and two Cokes.

"Family bucket, eat here." Li An pointed to the table against the wall next to him, where he could still clearly see the TV program, which he hadn't watched in more than ten years.

"Do you need any sauce? We have ranch sauce, honey mustard, and hot sauce."

"Two servings of ranch sauce, please."

He pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his robe and handed it over. After receiving the change, he folded the bill, put it back in his pocket, and then sat down quietly in the spot against the wall to wait.

Ten minutes later, the girl came over carrying a tray with a paper bucket piled high with golden fried chicken legs, steam rising from the bucket.

The fries were in two small cardboard boxes, and condensation formed on the walls of the Coke cups. Two containers of ranch sauce sat on the edge of the tray.

Ang Lee picked up a chicken leg and took a bite. The skin was crispy, and his teeth made an enticing crunch as they cut into it.

The chicken was tender and juicy, with a savory base flavor and a unique blend of spices: black pepper, garlic powder, smoked chili powder, and something else he couldn't quite place.

The richness of the fat and the sweetness of the chicken blend together in the mouth, while the aftertaste of the spices rises back from the mouth with a slightly spicy and smoky flavor.

The fries were coarsely cut and spiraled like a staircase. The box read "New! Twisty Fries!" They were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, sprinkled with coarse salt and paprika. He dipped the fries in ranch sauce, ate them quickly with a bite of fried chicken and a sip of Coke.

Ang Lee picked up the Coke cup and shook it. The ice cubes made a crisp sound as they hit the cup. The dark brown liquid swirled in the white paper cup, and a layer of water droplets condensed on the outside of the cup.

He raised his glass and took a sip.

The moment the cola entered his mouth, the cool liquid with its carbonation made Ang Lee feel incredibly comfortable. The bubbles burst on his tongue, creating a tingling, refreshing sensation. After drinking it, he even burped, and a cool sensation, carrying the sweet taste of cola, rose up in his stomach.

"Phew—" Li An leaned back in his chair and exhaled. It had been many years since he had drunk iced cola and eaten fried chicken in such large gulps.

Ang Lee took another sip, this time not swallowing immediately, but holding it in his mouth to let the bubbles sizzle on his tongue for a while. He then leaned back in his chair and comfortably swallowed the small sip of cola slowly.

Just as he was about to pick up the sixth piece of fried chicken, a man walked out from the direction of the kitchen.

The man was wearing a dark gray suit jacket, a light blue shirt, a clean tie, a slightly open collar, crisp trousers, and polished leather shoes.

His hair was dark brown, neatly combed, with a touch of gray at the temples. He had deep-set features, high cheekbones, and tightly pursed lips.

His eyes were dark brown, and his gaze was steady, giving people a feeling of being scrutinized when he looked at them.

He walked to Ang Lee's table and gave a slight bow.

"Good evening, sir." His voice was deep, with a slight accent, and he pronounced each word clearly.

"My name is Gustavo Flynn, and I'm the manager here. May I ask if you enjoyed tonight's meal?"

Ang Lee glanced at him. The man possessed a restrained politeness, neither servile nor arrogant, as if he were receiving a distinguished guest.

His gaze lingered on Li An's Taoist robe, then he quickly glanced elsewhere out of the corner of his eye.

Ang Lee noticed that Gustavo was actually looking at the cell phone on the table. The bald black man's Apple phone was currently face down on the table, near the tissue box.

Although the manager only glanced at the phone out of the corner of his eye before naturally looking away, Ang Lee still noticed his gaze.

"It's delicious," Li An said, picking up a chicken wing to show it off. "The flavor is very unique. Better than KFC's."

A smile appeared on the manager's face, and he gave a slight bow. "Thank you for your recognition. Our recipe comes from my hometown and has been adjusted slightly."

He paused for a moment, then took a small, dark green card from his inside suit pocket, placed it on the table, and pushed it towards Ang Lee. The card read "Fried Chicken Brothers" and a membership number.

"New customers get a discount on their first meal; today's bill has already been reduced by 10%. If you'd like to register as a member, you'll earn points on every future purchase."

His tone was unhurried, each word carefully chosen before being spoken. "This is your first time here. I hope you will do me the honor of visiting again in the future."

Ang Lee took the card, glanced at it, and placed it on the table.

"No need. I don't come to this area often." He finished the last piece of chicken leg and wiped his fingers with a napkin.

The manager nodded slowly, without asking any further questions. "I completely understand. You are welcome whenever you come."

He gave a slight bow again. "Have a pleasant evening."

Then the manager turned and walked back to the kitchen. His steps were steady, and his body moved with very little undulation. The shoulders of his suit were straight and without a single wrinkle.

Ang Lee watched his figure disappear behind the kitchen door, then glanced down at the phone on the table.