My absurd experiences in North America over the years

Li Fu saw a scene that he had rarely seen even in American TV shows in his previous life.

In the center of the nightclub's dance floor was a circular platform, where two women with excellent figures, wearing thongs, were spinning around a steel pole.

Their movements were very professional, if you ignored the fact that their clothes consisted of only two ounces of fabric.

Those rare inverted, spinning, and split-like movements drew cheers from a group of men in the audience who raised their glasses.

This is probably what is meant by a "wine pool and meat forest".

Lucy seemed to have never seen anything like this before. She gripped Li Fu's hand tightly, her nails almost digging into his flesh.

Her gaze quickly shifted away from the center of the dance floor, her expression slightly embarrassed.

"Hurry up," she squeezed out the two words through gritted teeth, pulling Li Fu across the dance floor as if they were navigating a minefield.

In a corner of the nightclub, there was a semi-circular red velvet sofa where several people were sitting.

One of the white girls, who was wearing heavy makeup, saw Lucy and immediately waved and called out, "Little cake, over here."

Lucy pulled Li Fu over and plopped down on the sofa, moving as quickly as if she had found a refuge.

She released Li Fu's hand and pretended to fix her hair, but Li Fu noticed that she was fixing the hair around her ears, as if she wanted to cover her burning red ears.

"Are you alright?" Li Fu bent down and asked, half-jokingly.

"Shut up," Lucy glared at him, her voice low as if afraid someone would hear.

However, to outsiders, it seems somewhat like coquettishness.

There were three other men and two women sitting on the sofa.

A young man with slicked-back hair and an Omega watch leaned back on the sofa armrest, twirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. His gaze swept lazily over, "Little Cake, who's this?"

The slick-back-haired man's gaze passed over Lucy's head and landed on Li Fu.

Li Fu was very familiar with that kind of gaze. In his previous life, during company team building activities, the leaders from headquarters looked at the outsourced teams with the same kind of gaze.

Looking down from above, with a hint of scrutinizing curiosity.

Lucy quietly reached out and pinched Li Fu's fingers, as if signaling him to cooperate.

"My new boyfriend." Lucy tilted her head, a sweet smile curving her lips, her tone soft and coquettish, a stark contrast to the girl who had poked his chest with her finger at the door.

Li Fu almost had a back injury from that tone.

The slick-back-haired man looked him up and down, his gaze moving from his face to his shoulders, from his shoulders to his arms, and from his arms to the fourteen-dollar Henry shirt.

"Looks like you've started work already? Which company?"

Clearly, this guy didn't quite believe Li Fu's identity.

"He's a martial artist from China," Lucy answered before Li Fu could, placing a hand on his arm and leaning slightly closer, their posture intimate as if they had rehearsed together.

However, Li Fu could still feel that her fingers were trembling slightly. After all, the relationship wasn't real, and she might be feeling guilty.

"It's real kung fu, not the fancy moves in movies," she said with certainty, as if stating an undeniable fact.

Li Fu's mouth twitched slightly.

These titles are really used casually by Americans; singers or actors are lavishly called artists.

If we follow this logic, given that he has practiced martial arts since childhood and has an incredibly solid foundation in Bajiquan, and considering that his ancestors were a family of martial arts masters, it is not unreasonable to call him a martial artist.

He just wasn't used to being called that.

It's important to know that in the country, unless someone is a grandmaster, it's unlikely they'll be called a martial artist.

"A martial artist?" The slick-back man's expression changed, from condescending to skeptical.

His gaze returned to Li Fu's shoulders, this time focusing on their width and thickness. He then looked at Li Fu's forearms, where the muscle definition was indeed unlike that of an ordinary person.

"Really? You mean... a skill that can send someone flying?"

"Of course," Lucy replied affirmatively. She had seen Li Fu's video, in which he knocked a 195cm tall, muscular man far away.

The man with the slicked-back hair changed his gaze, not out of fear, but out of a reassessment that "this guy seems to have some skill."

A girl with dyed red hair leaned over, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Li Fu. "You really know kung fu? Can you demonstrate?"

These rich kids love novelty.

"This isn't a good place," Lucy interjected again, her tone carrying a hint of smugness, like someone who thinks their boyfriend's appearance fee is very high. "A true martial artist doesn't just make a move casually."

Li Fu was clearly taken aback by such a thoughtful "girlfriend," and he barely managed to suppress his laughter.

The man with the slicked-back hair tactfully changed the subject and started talking to the person next to him about the recent performance of the Los Angeles Lakers.

Lucy leaned back on the sofa, crossed her legs, and moved her fingers off Li Fu's arm, instead gripping his sleeve.

"You did a good job," she said in a low voice, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I'm a professional," Li Fu reiterated, "but if I absolutely have to show off my skills, I need to..."

"What do you need?" Lucy frowned slightly.

"You need to pay extra!"

"Besides asking for more money, what else can you say?" Lucy rolled her eyes, loosening her grip on his sleeve a little.

Amidst the deafening music, their conversation was completely inaudible to outsiders. From an outsider's perspective, they truly resembled a young couple whispering sweet nothings to each other.

For the rest of the time, Li Fu stood beside the sofa, watching Lucy navigate among the group of people.

He couldn't understand what game they were playing; he just watched as these people indulged in the decadent atmosphere of the nightclub, drinking and laughing, making gestures that he didn't quite understand.

It's so good to be rich. You don't have to worry about work or making a living, and you can indulge in wine and women without any problem.

Anyway, my family has already paved the way for my future.

Around midnight, Lucy had drunk an unknown number of drinks. Her face was flushed with an unnatural redness, her eyes were starting to glaze over, and her speech was noticeably less clear.

She leaned back on the sofa, one hand covering her forehead, the other still clutching Li Fu's sleeve.

"I need to go to the restroom," she mumbled.

Then she tried to stand up, but her legs gave way and she swayed.

"Let me help you," Li Fu said, taking her arm in his. Her body was very light, and the weight of her leaning on his arm was like a not-too-heavy bag of rice.

This metaphor, though not romantic, is quite accurate.

"No need... I can do it myself..." She tried to shake off his hand, but she stumbled as soon as she took a step and almost bumped into the table next to her.

Li Fu reacted quickly, slipping his arm under her armpit and lifting her up.

Her head rested on his shoulder, her blonde hair brushing against his chin, and the scent of peach-scented shampoo mixed with a strong smell of alcohol filled his nostrils.

"You have trouble even walking in a straight line," Li Fu said expressionlessly. "Don't push yourself."

Lucy didn't answer, but mumbled something indistinctly, probably cursing him.

The restroom is at the end of the corridor.

Li Fu helped her across the dance floor, avoiding the swaying crowds and waiters holding wine glasses along the way.

The corridor lights were brighter than the dance floor, the walls were covered with dark wallpaper, and in addition to the smell of cigarettes and alcohol, there was also the scent of air freshener in the air.

In this era, LGBT was not so popular, and nightclubs only had separate restrooms for men and women.

The door to the women's restroom was closed, but the door to the men's restroom next door was half open.

Li Fu had no intention of looking inside; he had no curiosity about the men's restroom.

But Lucy suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She stopped in front of the half-open door, frozen in place.

Li Fu followed her gaze and, through the half-open toilet door, could see a black man supporting a white woman on the sink.

The woman's skirt was lifted up to her waist, and the man's hands roamed up and down her chest and back. Their lips met, and they made sucking sounds that made one blush.

The toes of the red high heels pointed towards the ceiling, swaying rhythmically.

The scene was obvious without needing to think too much about it.

Americans are too lenient in this regard; the two parties involved clearly don't think it's necessary to close the door.

They don't care whether anyone sees them or not.

Lucy's face went from flushed to bright red.

That kind of red couldn't be explained by alcohol; it was a flush that started from the base of the ears and went all the way down to the neck, affecting even the collarbone.

The immense impact froze her in place as if she had been frozen in place, her fingers gripping Li Fu's arm tightening suddenly, her nails digging into his muscles through Henry's shirt.

"Hurry up..."

She suddenly squeezed out two words from her throat, her voice hoarse as if someone were choking her.

Li Fu reacted even faster than her. He had never seen anything like this before. He put one hand on Lucy's arm and used the other hand to block her eyes, his palm instinctively covering her eyes.

When his fingers touched Lucy's forehead, the skin was burning hot, as if she had a high fever.

The two walked through the corridor again and found the restroom at the other end.

The door was closed this time. He knocked on the door and, after confirming that no one was inside, helped her inside.

Lucy leaned over the sink and splashed cold water on her face. The sound of the running tap drowned out the music coming from afar.

After a long while, she finally looked up, and her face in the mirror was still as red as an apple.

"Are you alright?" Li Fu's voice came from outside the door.

"I..." Lucy's voice trembled slightly. "I'm fine, it's just... I never expected... to run into something like that..."

Li Fu's tone was much calmer. "I didn't expect that either."

Then, they were both silent for a few seconds.

Lucy suddenly burst out laughing.

"The way you blocked my eyes just now," her voice was incoherent, but with a laugh and a drunken tone, "was like how my dad blocked my eyes when I was a kid to watch horror movies."

A smile appeared on Li Fu's lips. He really hadn't expected that there were relatively conservative girls in America.

When Lucy came out after washing her face, the blush on her face had faded a bit, but she was still a little unsteady on her feet and didn't seem much more awake than before.

Her hand naturally reached out and rested on his forearm. "Let's go! It's time to go back."

Li Fu checked the time; it was almost 1 a.m.

Lucy said goodbye to her friends, who clearly didn't intend to go back so soon.

The red-haired girl tried to persuade Lucy to play a little longer.

The man with the slicked-back hair, however, was quite gentlemanly. "It's a great honor for us, Little Cake, to come to the gathering. If you're drunk, please go home and rest!"

He even personally escorted Lucy and Lee out of the nightclub, his attentiveness almost excessive.

Li Fu didn't know whether he should advise Lucy to be wary of him. He knew what a man was thinking.

However, after thinking about his position, he realized that he was not "qualified" to say such things, so he simply kept quiet.

In the late hours of the night in Los Angeles, the bustling areas are still very lively.

For example, at the entrance of nightclubs, countless young men and women come and go, some in pairs, some alone, and many taxi drivers park around, waiting for passengers who need to go to hotels.

Dark places are pitch black, and the area around nightclubs is one of them.

Many vehicles that are not taxis also park here.

The car owners weren't nightclub patrons, or not entirely; they were waiting there for drunk, lonely girls.

Then... "picking up the corpse".

In movies and TV dramas, picking up corpses is usually just for the purpose of drugging and raping them for a quick thrill.

The reality is much darker. If it's just a moment of pleasure, those who get taken advantage of are considered "lucky."

The scale of human trafficking and the underground industry in North America is terrifying. Every year, countless girls disappear from the doorsteps of nightclubs and are never found again.

Li Fu understood this situation, so he was extra cautious when he brought Lucy out.

Of course, he wouldn't concern himself with anything else.

Even the FBI isn't investigating, so he won't bother with things that don't concern him.

Paying a few hundred yuan a day, why risk your life?

He quickly drove away with Lucy to the upscale apartment complex. On the way back, Lucy, sitting in the passenger seat, was restless.

"Aren't you tired after standing for so long today?" she asked, tugging at his sleeve.

Li Fu glanced at her sideways. Perhaps because she was drunk, her face was flushed and her blue eyes were hazy.

"Not tired," he replied casually.

"Were you ever in the military?" Lucy asked, turning her head to look at him.

This question made Li Fu raise an eyebrow slightly. "You seem to know me very well."

"Of course, they must have investigated you before hiring you," Lucy pouted. "That private investigator said you were a mercenary in South America."

She made no attempt to hide this fact.

"The investigation was spot on," Li Fu almost laughed out loud.

The private investigator probably said that because he saw the gunshot wound on his body.

It's quite normal for a private investigator to suspect a mercenary if an undocumented immigrant has gunshot wounds.

"Also, your posture is very much like a soldier's," Lucy gestured with her fingers. "Feet apart, weight evenly distributed between both feet, neither leaning to the left nor the right, hands in front of your body, left hand holding right wrist. My dad's bodyguards often stand like this too."

"Your dad's bodyguard?" Li Fu guessed that Lucy was probably from a powerful family, and at this moment he was indeed a little curious about her father's identity.

"Hmm, your posture is similar to his, but he's with the Secret Service, and he costs the government two thousand dollars a day," Lucy said casually.

Perhaps she didn't even know what she was saying at that moment.

"Then you hired me for six hundred dollars, you made a fortune," Li Fu said half-jokingly.

"Haha...that's true..." Lucy wanted to laugh out loud, but the sound came out very softly.

Li Fu glanced at her again.

She was talking and dozing off at the same time, as if she had a lot to say, but the alcohol and drowsiness quickly made her consciousness blurry.

Her voice sounded more like a murmur.