Dragon Clan: Starting with the Azure Dragon Fruit

Chu Zihang glanced at the escalating commotion around him and suggested, "This strike is affecting a wide area. Accommodation in the city and surrounding areas will soon be sold out. We need to find a place to stay first."

After saying that, he turned to Lin Yuan and said, "I'll pay for your accommodation first, and we can talk about it after you get your scholarship at school. Do you need two single rooms?"

He knew exactly how to handle the nuances of interpersonal relationships. His words were perfectly arranged, not only changing "treating" to "paying in advance" to take care of the high school student's potentially fragile self-esteem, but also considering the boundaries of maintaining personal space.

Unfortunately, this delicate sentiment was completely wasted, because Lin Yuan didn't care at all.

He yawned lazily and decisively rejected Young Master Chu's meticulous plan: "What are you two grown men doing? Just open one room, so we don't have to keep knocking on the door if something happens."

Chu Zihang was slightly taken aback, then nodded without saying anything more, and turned to walk out of the station with Lin Yuan.

As soon as you step out of the glass door, a wave of heat and the cacophony of car horns hit you.

The taxi queue stretched for hundreds of meters, with no end in sight.

The crowd was scorched by the blazing sun, sweating profusely. Impatient passengers wiped their sweat under the scorching sun and grumbled as they stared at the empty roadway.

Chu Zihang's gaze lingered on the long, despairing dragon for a second before he decisively abandoned his plan to join the fray.

He took a half step back, stopped under the shady eaves, pulled out a frosted Centurion black card from his wallet, and dialed the butler service hotline printed on the back.

After a brief negotiation, the other party's response confirmed his prediction.

Nearby chain hotels and budget hotels rated three stars or below have been fully booked by tour groups and individual travelers who have cancelled their trains within the past hour.

"Only a few executive suites in the five-star hotels around Huanya Plaza have available beds, but the prices have increased significantly." Chu Zihang hung up the phone and turned to relay the information to Lin Yuan.

Lin Yuan pursed his lips: "How much has it risen?"

"It costs $800 a night, plus a 14% city residence tax."

This price is practically robbery, even for native Americans who earn and spend dollars.

When faced with the misfortune of a major strike, the average middle-class person's first thought is to go to the bus company or union to demand cheap subsidy vouchers. Few would turn around and spend thousands of dollars to stay in a five-star hotel just to wait for a train.

But Chu Zihang is different; efficiency is his primary concern.

The two bypassed the ridiculously long line of taxis and flagged down a low-profile black minivan at the street corner.

These business vehicles, specifically designed for high-end travel, have meters that tick much faster than those of ordinary yellow taxis on the market.

Once the car doors closed, the soundproof glass instantly shut out the protests and car horns from outside. Cool air trickled out from the vents beneath the leather seats, and the world fell silent in an instant.

Half an hour later, the black van stopped in front of a luxury hotel with a rather dated appearance.

The doorman in uniform jogged forward and opened the car door.

Chu Zihang took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it over. The doorman, who had received the tip, immediately took the luggage and respectfully led the two of them toward the elevator.

With the privileges granted by his black card, Chu Zihang bypassed the queue of individual customers at the front desk, swiped his card, signed, and obtained the key to the top-floor executive suite in less than two minutes.

Chapter 29 Capitalism is Cannibalistic (Please continue reading)

After entering the room, Lin Yuan looked around the suite, his gaze sweeping over the spacious living room and precisely locking onto the marble bar counter on the side.

There were several exquisitely packaged pastries there, with gold-stamped foreign lettering on the surface. They were clearly gifts specially prepared for VIP guests.

He strode over, casually picked up a box and tossed it a couple of times in his palm, then turned to look at Chu Zihang, who was unbuttoning his cuffs: "Was this included in the room rate?"

Chu Zihang hung his coat in the closet with methodical movements: "It's all free. Even if you have to pay extra, it's fine. Eat whatever you want."

With Mr. Chu's words as a foundation, Lin Yuan tore open the packaging without any psychological burden.

After flying for fourteen hours straight, the exquisite cold dishes and Western pastries in business class, though beautifully presented, were pitifully small in portion size. They were barely enough to fill a tooth gap for him, and he was already starving.

Lin Yuan unwrapped the foil and stuffed several pieces of dark chocolate studded with nut pieces into his mouth.

He didn't bother to politely ask Chu Zihang if he was hungry. Knowing this expressionless young master as he did, he knew that as soon as Chu Zihang saw him wolfing down his food, the first thing Chu Zihang would do was "find a restaurant".

The biggest advantage of traveling with such a reliable person is that it saves you a lot of trouble.

As expected. While Lin Yuan was munching on chocolate, Chu Zihang had already pulled out a panoramic street map of Chicago printed by the hotel from a leather folder on the table and laid it out, clearly already planning the next leg of their trip.

Before he could even circle the target on the map, both of their Nokia N95 phones vibrated simultaneously in their pockets.

It was a mass notification from Kassel College's super central computer, "Norma": Due to force majeure caused by the labor strike at Chicago Union Station, the CC1000 express train, which was scheduled to depart for the campus today, has been suspended and is expected to resume service in 72 hours.

At the very end of the notification was a unique financial reimbursement authorization code.

Norma explained that, due to force majeure, the college would fully reimburse all expenses incurred during her stay in Chicago.

"The college sent out a notice, it seems there's no budget limit," Chu Zihang suggested as he walked out of the bathroom and looked at Lin Yuan, who was also reading a text message.

"The front desk should still be able to change the room type. Since the college is fully reimbursing the expenses, should I call and book another room next door?"

"Forget it, moving to a new place means carrying my bag around all the time, it's too much trouble." Lin Yuan patted the crumbs off his hands and slumped onto the large sofa.

"This bed is so wide you could roll around in it; it's so convenient to share one bed with someone."

Chu Zihang nodded and didn't try to persuade him any further. Since the other party didn't care, he simply moved on from the story.

His gaze returned to the unfolded street map, and his fingertip lightly tapped an area in the southern direction: "How about having lunch in Chinatown?"

Lin Yuan leaned over and glanced at it.

On the map, there are at least a dozen streets between their current location in the five-star hotel in the city center and Chinatown to the south.

Given Young Master Chu's efficient nature, he would never choose the more distant option without a valid reason.

Lin Yuan crossed his arms and leaned back on the sofa, waiting with great interest for what would happen next.

“Before I left, I checked the Kassel College’s official website. The head chef is a native German.” Chu Zihang looked up, his handsome face expressionless.

Lin Yuan was puzzled. What kind of reason was that? "So what? What's wrong with the German chef?"

"Germans can make the best kitchen utensils in the world, and then use those utensils to make the worst-tasting food in the world."

If Lu Mingfei were to say this, it would be nothing more than a common, meaningless remark.

But when Chu Zihang, a man with a stoic expression who never smiles, said it so seriously, the impact was doubled, making Lin Yuan laugh.

Chu Zihang clearly didn't find the remark funny at all, and maintained his serious expression as he continued to add to his travel plans: "The school is located deep in the mountains and is under closed management, so it will probably be difficult to eat Chinese food there."

"After having lunch in Chinatown, I'll stop by the Chinese supermarket to buy a few bottles of Lao Gan Ma chili sauce and hot pot base. That way, if the food in the cafeteria doesn't suit my taste, I can figure out how to make do."

"Okay."

Lin Yuan used one hand to support himself on the sofa and leaped up.

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go."

......

When I got out of the taxi, it was just past noon, and the lively atmosphere of Chinatown was immediately apparent.

Gambling brochures in both Chinese and English are scattered along the street, and the old red-brick buildings on both sides are slightly mottled from the erosion of wind and rain. In the very center of the street stands a giant archway inscribed with the words "The world belongs to all".

This place felt like a completely different world from the Michigan Avenue they had left half an hour earlier, which was lined with high-end boutiques.

The surrounding area was filled with the smoky aroma of roast meat from the roast meat shop, the bitter smell of herbs being simmered in the traditional Chinese medicine shop, and a hint of stale leftover rice from the sewer.

They were all mixed together in the sweltering air.

Once inside, the street was much narrower than outside, with signs layered upon each other on both sides. Neon signs with a distinctly 1990s style hung on the walls, and shop names intertwined in Chinese and English, making it dazzling to look at.

"Guangyuantang Herbal Medicine Shop", "Shunfenglong Hair Salon", "Dasanyuan Restaurant".

Among the crowds passing by on the street were Asian residents speaking Cantonese or Hokkien.

Occasionally, a few white tourists with cameras would walk through the area, looking around curiously.

“This street is mostly lined with Chinese restaurants, let’s find somewhere to eat first,” Chu Zihang suggested, glancing at the map on the street.

The two walked along the main street, intending to choose a Chinese restaurant to have lunch first.

As Lin Yuan passed a cement utility pole at the intersection, he noticed a missing person notice posted on it.

The paper on top was a bit blurry from being exposed to the sun and rain, but you could still make out that it belonged to a girl in her early twenties.

The photo was captioned in both Chinese and English: "Missing Person: Li Xiujuan, female, 24 years old, went missing in this area in early August. Her family is extremely anxious. We hope anyone with information will come forward. A generous reward will be given." A phone number was also provided below.

There was another missing person notice next to it, which seemed to be older. The name was hard to read, but you could see that it was a rough-looking Asian man with eyes that showed the numbness of years of hard work.

The days of their disappearances all seem to have fallen within the last month.

Lin Yuan stared at the two missing person posters for a while, then pointed at the telephone pole and said, "Is the security here in America really that bad?"

"Using such primitive methods to find someone, what are the police doing?"

Chu Zihang looked in the direction Lin Yuan was pointing, pondered for a moment, and explained, "The police funding for various police departments in the United States mainly comes from the property taxes of residents in the communities they are in charge of."

"The wealthier the area, the more tax revenue it generates, and the better the security."

He glanced at the black garbage bag in the corner of the red brick wall and continued, "Places like Chinatown are home to a large number of laborers who lack legal residency permits. When people go missing, it's just like ghosts that don't exist in the local household registration system have disappeared. These people don't contribute any taxes, and investigating them would not only waste limited police resources but also lower the crime-solving rate."

"So these people are usually just closed as if they moved to other states."

Lin Yuan listened without showing any surprise.

After all, his upbringing taught him that capitalism is cannibalistic, and now he sees that it's true.

Chapter 30 Something's Wrong

The two did not linger there. They walked a short distance further and chose a small restaurant that looked fairly clean.

Pushing open the door, the restaurant was dimly lit, with six or seven square tables, New Year pictures of the God of Wealth on the walls, and a statue of Guan Gong behind the cashier. It looked exactly like a Chinese restaurant in China.

The waiter who came to serve us was a young man, no more than twenty years old, wearing a faded uniform with an apron stained with oil.

Her face still had a touch of childishness, but the dark circles under her eyes were very heavy, mostly caused by long-term staying up late.

He led the two to a seat by the window, then handed them a menu with pictures. Seeing that Lin Yuan and Chu Zihang both had Chinese faces, he spoke in Mandarin with a Minnan accent:

"What would you two like to eat?"

Chu Zihang took the menu, didn't look at it closely, and ordered two of the largest portions of the signature dishes, as well as a large bucket of rice.

After the waiter finished taking down the bill, he took out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it over discreetly.

"Hard."

The waiter was taken aback.

These days, giving a twenty-dollar tip for a meal is considered a very generous gesture.

"Thank you... thank you, boss!" He quickly gathered the tray into his arms, deftly stuffed the money into the pocket of his apron, and then, with a rag in hand, vigorously wiped the already clean tabletop twice more.

"Please have a seat, I'll go and hurry up with your order."

Less than ten minutes later, the waiter came out quickly carrying two dishes.

The two signature dishes, General Tso's Chicken and Crispy Beef with Orange Peel, looked quite appealing, and the portions were very generous. They were served with a bucket of white rice, which filled the entire table.

Lin Yuan was already hungry, so he picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of beef, and put it in his mouth.

The next second, his brows furrowed together.

The beef was coated so tightly in a thick layer of sweet syrup that you couldn't taste any of its own flavor.

He picked up another piece of General Tso's chicken. The thick, fried sauce was soaked in a sweet and sour syrup similar to orange soda, making it cloyingly sweet.

"Damn it, give me something good to eat! What the hell is this?! Is it General Tso's Chicken or General Tso's Syrup?"

Lin Yuan swallowed the food in his mouth with difficulty and then picked up the teacup and took two big gulps.

The waiter, who had just received a tip, noticed Lin Yuan's state and quickly whispered a reminder: "You two are new here, aren't you? The dishes here have been modified for those foreigners, and the sugar content is lethal. If you don't like it, I'll go to the kitchen and get you some chili oil and raw garlic."

Upon hearing this, Lin Yuan immediately picked up his chopsticks and said, "That's great! Americans must be living such miserable lives, yet they eat so sweetly."

The waiter was amused by his words, and his tired face finally showed some of the vigor that a young person should have.

He hurried into the kitchen and returned in less than half a minute with a porcelain plate containing chili oil and a few peeled garlic cloves.

The waiter gently placed the porcelain plate next to Lin Yuan, glanced around and saw that things weren't too busy at the moment, then leaned back in an empty chair next to him, intending to take a break.

Because he had received a generous tip, and seeing that the two were around his age, he started chatting casually while refilling their tea.

"You two have just arrived in the United States, haven't you? Are you here for tourism? Or...?"

"Go to school." Lin Yuan picked up a piece of garlic with his chopsticks and stuffed it directly into his mouth.

"Going to school is good, going to school is good." Upon hearing this, the waiter's face showed a hint of relief for them.

"I thought you guys were here to try your luck and make some money too."