Chapter 269 - 167: I’m Doing Great
For the Italian Gambino Family and the Russian Mafia of Brighton Beach, who were constantly monitoring Li Wei’s every move, this was an unmistakable signal.
This was only the fifth day since Chen Haisheng had officially taken the wheel of the Cadillac Escalade.
In the back room of the Fujian Business Association in Manhattan Chinatown.
A tall, white Russian man with deep-set eyes sat formally in the guest’s seat, playing with a pair of smooth, well-worn walnuts in his hands.
If not for his stereotypically Slavic face, one might mistake him for an authentic northern old-timer just from the sound of his voice.
"Chairman Lin, let’s not beat around the bush," the Russian man said in fluent, almost Beijing-accented Chinese, smiling at Lin Daohang, who was seated in a rosewood armchair. "We really had no choice before. We had to factor in the risks of cross-district transport and being targeted by the New York City Police Department, so we added a twenty-percent risk premium. The price was indeed high, but I know you understand. The Vietnamese and the Koreans paid the same."
Lin Daohang took a sip of his now-cold Tieguanyin tea and glanced at the Russian man before him.
"Old Wei, from the sound of it," he said, "things have changed?"
"Heh, you could say that. We tested a new route last month," Old Wei said, slapping his thigh. "We’ve smoothed things over. Starting next month, for the sake of our friendship, I’ll knock off ten percent for you. What do you say?"
"For Brighton Beach to make such a big concession, I’m truly flattered," Lin Daohang said with a smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Old Wei."
"Chairman Lin," Old Wei said, standing up, his tone meaningful. "I hope we can stay in touch. If there’s an opportunity in the future, I hope you’ll put in a good word for us."
Lin Daohang escorted Ivan all the way to the main gate of the hall, watching the bulletproof Mercedes G-Wagen disappear around the corner before the polite smile on his face slowly faded.
He turned and went back to the second floor. A man in a suit, holding several thick ledgers, emerged from the shadows.
"You heard that, didn’t you?" Lin Daohang said, shaking his head with emotion. "I never thought I’d see the day those Russkies from Brighton Beach would show us so much respect."
"They always charged us, the Vietnamese, and the Koreans a twenty-percent premium, but only ten percent for the Italians and the local gangs," he snorted. "Now they’re proactively bumping us up a level."
"It’s not just the Russians, Chairman Lin," Supervisor Rong said in a low voice, standing behind him with the ledgers. "The Italians sent someone, too."
"What do they want now?"
"The Gambino Family, one of the Five Families, sent a middleman over. They want to invite you for a meal in Little Italy. They also let it slip that for those fresh seafood smuggling channels they were blocking, they’ve already had a word with the dock supervisor..."
"Oh?" A flash of delight appeared in Lin Daohang’s eyes, but he continued, "Did they mention those few containers of ours they’ve been holding onto?"
"They did," Supervisor Rong’s voice was filled with irrepressible excitement. "I already received the customs clearance notice today. I just did a quick calculation..."
"Just from the Italians opening up the seafood routes, saving us on clearance fees and spoilage rates, plus the Russians waiving the premium on the weapons channel, the association will save at least 100,000 USD a month! That’s 1.2 million in pure profit a year!"
Lin Daohang sucked in a sharp breath.
For their Fujian Business Association, while 1.2 million USD wasn’t a figure that would make or break them, it was by no means a small sum.
But it had only been five days!
Hai Sheng had only been Li Wei’s sister’s driver for five days, and their Chinatown had already received such tangible benefits.
Li Wei hadn’t even said a word himself, yet this bunch of Mafiosi had already filled in the blanks, surrendering the profits they had made from bullying Chinatown, all just to silently give Li Wei some face.
"Go," Lin Daohang said, standing up abruptly. "Pack up that pair of bear paws we got last month, and the fish maw from the East Sea. I’m going to pay Mr. Li Wei a personal visit."
That evening, just as the New York sky began to darken, Lin Daohang arrived at Li Wei’s front door in Battery City Park, carrying two insulated containers.
He pressed the doorbell. A few seconds later, the heavy, armored door swung inward.
The one who opened the door wasn’t Li Wei, but Lily, dressed in light gray loungewear.
"Uncle Lin?" Lily had met Lin Daohang a few times before and greeted him politely. "Are you here to see my brother or my father?"
"Miss Lily," Lin Daohang greeted her in return. "I’ve come to deliver some fresh ingredients for Mr. Li Wei. Is he not here?"
"My brother went to New Heaven," Lily said, shaking her head. "My father is upstairs. You can talk to him if you need something."
"Then I won’t disturb Mr. Don Quixote’s rest. I’ll just put these things down and be on my way," Lin Daohang said, placing the ingredients on a cabinet in the foyer. "Also, Miss Lily, has Hai Sheng been any trouble lately? Where is he now? If he’s here, I’d like to take the opportunity to remind him of a few rules."
"Brother Chen hasn’t been any trouble," Lily said. "After he dropped me off... hmm... if he hasn’t left, he should still be in the garage." She pointed toward the elevator, her tone unfriendly as she looked at Lin Daohang. "Also, if you can, please let him rest. He was injured before but still insisted on taking me to school. Isn’t that asking a little too much of him?"
Lin Daohang looked at Lily’s stern face, stunned for a moment, then could only manage a wry smile and agree.
"Of course, Miss Lily. Thank you for your concern. I’ll go down and speak with him in a bit." He nodded repeatedly, then respectfully took his leave.
He took the elevator down to the building’s exclusive garage on the third basement level.
The spacious VIP parking area was brightly lit. Two full-size Cadillac Escalades and a Porsche 911 were parked in the designated spots.
Lin Daohang walked along the driveway. Just as he rounded a load-bearing pillar, the scene before him made him stop in his tracks.
Chen Haisheng was kneeling on the ground, a towel in hand, scrubbing the metal running board of the Cadillac Escalade.
He had taken Lily to her equestrian lesson today. Perhaps his shoes had gotten muddy, leaving the running board covered in grime.
Chen Haisheng scrubbed with intense concentration, so focused that he didn’t even hear the footsteps behind him.
And Lin Daohang stood behind the pillar, silently watching the young man he considered his successor and godson, who should be in the prime of his fiery youth, now kneeling on the ground to scrub a running board for someone else.
He didn’t say a word.
"Hiss..." Chen Haisheng grimaced as the pull of his muscles caused a sharp pain. He rubbed his shoulder, the movement of his clothes revealing a bruise on his waist. ’That should be good enough now.’
He struggled to his feet and suddenly sensed something behind him.
He glanced back, but saw nothing.
"Crazy," he muttered to himself. "Time to clock out."
After 10:00 PM, Chinatown was still brightly lit.
Chen Haisheng parked his second-hand Ford in the alley behind the association’s hall. He stretched his still-sore shoulder and took the back stairs to the second floor.
The moment he pushed open the door to the hallway, he ran right into the accounting supervisor, who was holding a stack of new ledgers, his face beaming.
"Hai Sheng! You’re back!" Upon seeing him, the supervisor looked as if he’d seen the God of Wealth himself, and grabbed his arm.
"Hiss!" Chen Haisheng instinctively frowned and pulled his arm back. "Uncle Rong, that hurts—"
"Oh, oh, sorry, sorry," Supervisor Rong said, his lowered voice unable to hide his excitement. "Good news! Huge news! You driving for Mr. Li’s sister—it’s worked like a miracle!"
Chen Haisheng was taken aback. "What miracle?"
Supervisor Rong quickly recounted the events of the afternoon—how the Russians and Italians had successively made gestures of goodwill, surrendering profits and smuggling channels. He finished by patting Chen Haisheng on the shoulder. "An extra 100,000 USD in net profit every month, for free! You’ve really done a great service for the association this time, kid!"
Chen Haisheng stood there, processing the enormous amount of information.
He looked down at the bit of grime still left under his fingernails—a remnant from scrubbing the Cadillac Escalade earlier.
The lingering trace of humiliation from lowering himself to serve others instantly transformed into a bitter pill to swallow in the face of these tangible, enormous benefits.
He looked at the dirt under his fingernails, clenched his fist, then relaxed it.
’If bending my knees can earn real money and breathing room for the association and my countrymen, then it’s worth it.’
A sense of relief, even a hint of irrepressible joy, washed over him. He strode toward Lin Daohang’s office at the end of the hall.
Pushing open the heavy, soundproof wooden door, he saw that the main lights were off. Only a desk lamp cast a dim, yellow glow.
Lin Daohang sat alone in his large chair. In front of him was a more-than-half-empty bottle of aged Maotai and a small serving pitcher. He was pouring cup after cup down his throat, and the strong smell of alcohol filled the room.
Chen Haisheng walked over, saw Lin Daohang’s slightly flushed face, and started to joke, "Uncle Lin, what’s the good news today? Drinking so happily? The supervisor told me everything. Why didn’t you call the brothers to celebrate together?"
Hearing Chen Haisheng’s voice, Lin Daohang’s hand, holding his cup, froze in mid-air.
He watched this child, who had grown up brawling on the streets, who would rather take a knife than cry out in pain, grow bit by bit into an upstanding young man of the association.
"If Li Wei can become a hero to the Americans through football, then so can I!"
"I’m going to be the next Bruce Lee! I’ll make those white politicians come to me for a handshake, make those black street thugs take the long way around when they see me, and make it so you... never have to bow and scrape in front of a kid like Li Wei again!" (Chapter 134)
Chen Haisheng had said that a few months ago.
Back then, he was dazzling, his gaze as sharp as a knife.
But what he couldn’t get out of his head was the image from two hours ago in the garage: the humble figure kneeling on the concrete floor, using his fingers to painstakingly scrub the mud from the car’s running board. That, and the scene where he had half-forced a desperate-looking Hai Sheng to kneel and kowtow to Li Wei.
’It’s strange. Why do these two figures look the same, but he just can’t reconcile them?’
"Hap... happy?" he said, his voice trembling. "There’s... something to be happy about today?"
Chen Haisheng didn’t notice anything amiss. He nonchalantly pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Lin Daohang. He casually grabbed a clean cup, poured himself some baijiu, and downed it in one go. The fiery liquid burned its way down his esophagus.
"Yeah, of course there’s something to be happy about," Chen Haisheng said, setting down his cup. His tone was frank, as if a great weight had been lifted. "The Russians are cutting us a deal, the Italians are giving us the green light. Things are finally looking up for Chinatown. Isn’t that good news?"
"Indeed," Lin Daohang said, carefully mulling over Chen Haisheng’s words. "Right, how are things going over at Mr. Li’s place? Have you been wronged in any way?"
He had an impulse—an urge that if Chen Haisheng said even half a word of complaint, he would tell him to come back.
’I, Lin Daohang, am not dead yet. I can still fight. At worst, I’ll just have to endure a little more humiliation, beg a few more people—’
Chen Haisheng paused at his words, then said with a smile:
"I’m doing great."
"Mr. Li often comes to the boxing gym to train me," he said, tilting his head back and draining his cup. "I feel like I’m improving a lot. And driving isn’t much work, either. It’s pretty relaxed. They’re a good family."
Lin Daohang stared at Chen Haisheng’s relaxed face, his eyes instantly turning red-rimmed, his lips trembling.
"Is that so..." he said, holding his empty cup. His voice choked with emotion, and tears streamed from his eyes without warning. "That’s good... That’s a good thing."
He continued to pour himself cup after cup, weeping, tears streaming down his old face.