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Chapter 45 - Chapter 45: Encountering the Hong Brotherhood Again

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, with the construction of the U.S. Pacific Railroad and the discovery of gold mines in the Western regions, a large number of Chinese laborers from East Asia were brought to the United States as cheap labor. California became the initial settlement for many of these immigrants.

Although George frequently traveled across the United States, he had never truly taken the time to explore the country. After concluding his business at Wells Fargo Bank, he impulsively decided to take a closer look at San Francisco.

San Francisco was a well-known city in his past life, one deeply tied to the struggles and resilience of the Chinese people. As he gazed out of the car window at the now modern metropolis, memories stirred. Just over a year ago, he had left his small town in a horse-drawn carriage. The contrast gave him a sense of déjà vu, as if time had skipped a beat.

At noon, following George's request, the car pulled into San Francisco's Chinatown—one of the earliest Chinatowns in America.

Seeing streets filled with people with black hair and yellow skin speaking the language of the Heavenly Dynasty, a wave of familiarity washed over him. As he stepped out and strolled down the street, the occasional passing Westerner was the only thing reminding him that he had not transmigrated again.

George had come specifically to eat real, authentic Chinese cuisine. He entered a restaurant boasting Cantonese dim sum.

The moment he stepped inside, he was embraced by a lively, bustling atmosphere. The restaurant was large and open, with enough tables and chairs to seat at least two hundred guests.

A waiter who had been cleaning noticed George and his companions and greeted them cheerfully: "Welcome! Please come in!"

He then approached George and added, "This way, please," before leading them to an empty table.

"Is this your first time here? You look unfamiliar," the waiter said in English.

"Haha, yes, it's our first time. Do you have any recommendations?" George replied fluently in the language of the Heavenly Dynasty.

The waiter's eyes lit up. "Your Chinese is excellent, sir. I used to be a chef in Guangzhou and only came to the United States two years ago."

The waiter, confident and friendly, continued chatting with George in their shared tongue.

Paul and Harry could only look on, completely lost in the conversation.

"Really? That's great—it makes me look forward to the food even more," George said with a laugh.

The waiter handed over the menu, and George, following his suggestions, ordered a generous spread: phoenix claws, beef rice rolls, lava buns, and seafood porridge.

"Customer, that should be plenty. Our portions are quite generous. Best not to over-order and waste food."

"Don't worry—we won't leave anything behind. We've got big appetites," George replied.

"Alright then. Please wait a moment. I'll have the chef start right away."

"Boss, you've been chatting with them in Chinese for quite a while. Is the food really that good?" Paul asked.

"It should be. Just look at the crowd in here. Harry, take note: for a bank, customers are everything. There are many chinses people in the U.S. We should hire some of them and set up a branch at a key intersection in Chinatown, you know what we should start looking at other such communities like blacks too. With their strong community ties, they will attract many clients. Plus, we can work with utility companies—water, electricity, gas—to handle fee collection. That'll grow our customer base, too."

"Understood, Boss. I'll start working on it immediately," Harry said.

"Paul, notify all our companies that all accounts should now go through our bank. It'll streamline settlements."

"Got it. I'll take care of it."

As they chatted, the waiter returned with the food.

"Gentlemen, everything you ordered is here. Please enjoy."

"Thank you," George replied.

"If you need anything else, just call me," the waiter said before heading off.

"Come on, Paul, Harry, give it a try. You might not be used to chicken feet, but these rice rolls should suit you."

The rice rolls looked glossy and tender, releasing a rich aroma of rice, egg, and beef. The savory-sweet sauce enhanced their appeal. George picked up a fluffy lava bun, took a bite, and warm, molten yolk burst into his mouth—rich, buttery, and salty-sweet.

By his standards, it was quite good. He had once considered opening a restaurant chain to showcase his cooking skills, but with this year's rapid expansion, that idea would have to wait.

Paul and Harry, following George's lead, began to eat as well.

As they were enjoying their meal, a voice called out in English, "Benfector Sir!"

Startled, George looked up. Given that everyone around him was Chinese, hearing the word "Benefactor" in English caught his attention.

He spotted two familiar faces among a nearby group: Chen Shu and Fu Chuanxue from the Hong Brotherhood, who had previously traveled to Reno City for the Texas Hold'em tournament.

Fu Chuanxue stepped forward excitedly. "Haha, it is you, Benefactor Sir!"

"It's you! Don't call me Benefactor. I'm a few years older—just call me George. My name is George Orwell," George said, rising to greet them.

"Haha, alright then, Sir George!"

Chen Shu also stepped forward. "We're so grateful you saved our lives."

He clasped his hands in greeting and said, "We left in a hurry last time and didn't get your contact information. When we searched later, we heard you'd won the championship and already left. Our Gang Leader was quite concerned about it. Now that we've met again, please let us treat you to a meal."

"Haha, Chen Shu, you're being too formal. It was just a small favor, and no, don't call me Sir George, also, just George is fine. I'm here on business, but I'll visit you when I have time."

He had helped them out on spur of moment and a little bit of kinship, not expecting anything in return. With business matters at hand, he wasn't planning a detour to Los Angeles.

"George, my father is here too. Won't you come say hello? He's often scolded me for not getting your contact details."

"Yes, George, our Boss is upstairs. Please give us this honor."

Seeing how earnest they were, George nodded. "Well, alright, since Boss Fu is already here, it would be good to visit him now."

He told Paul and Harry to wait at the table—they couldn't understand the conversation anyway—then followed Fu Chuanxue and the others to a private room on the second floor...

"Haha, no family roots that I know of—I was raised in the States, and my parents didn't talk much about heritage. But I've always found Chinese culture fascinating. I've read a lot, and studying the language was part of that interest."

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