Chapter 41 Godfather

Chen Zikun didn't believe what Uncle Chi said. Chinese people have a very low social status in the United States, and their range of activities is limited to Chinatown. Many people even don't even speak English for their entire lives. Moreover, Uncle Chi's style is very similar to being a gangster. Such people can deal with senators, but they don't believe it.

If it were an ordinary person, he would have politely declined, but Chen Zikun was born to be a person who likes to take risks. He was interested and wanted to see how powerful Uncle Ji was.

"So, how much does it cost to get me into West Point Military Academy in one stop? " he asked leisurely.

Uncle Chicken picked up the bong, roasted opium paste on the smoke lamp as weak as beans, and said slowly: "If I offer you a price now, that's nonsense. This kind of thing depends not only on money, but also on favors. It may cost tens of thousands of dollars to handle it, and maybe a few hundred is enough. I have to explore the way first."

Chen Zikun said: "So, what do you need?"

Uncle Ji said, "Nothing is needed, just go back and wait for news."

Chen Zikun said goodbye and left, and went on the street in a Chinese restaurant. He bought a takeout for fried Niuhe and Yangzhou fried rice, and bought a pack of tea. On the way back, someone came over and asked him secretly if he wanted wine.

Chen Zikun paused: "How much does it cost?"

The visitor looked around and lit up the square glass bottle hidden in his arms, with transparent liquid shaking inside, "One dollar."

Chen Zikun paid a dollar to buy this bottle of wine. He returned to the hotel and Jianbing to start eating. He opened the bottle and smelled it and said he was fooled. It turned out that this was a bottle of alcohol and water, with only a pungent ethanol smell and no mellow smell of white wine. He was about to take it out and throw it away when a Russian living next door saw it. His eyes were staring like cow eggs and his breathing became rapid. Chen Zikun was a little funny and handed him the bottle. The man was not polite, so he took it and tilted his neck and fucked it.

The two of them started talking. It turned out that the Russian was an exiled nobleman. After spending all his money in New York, he lived in this small hotel. The Russians were already good at drinking wine. In addition, in the cold weather, it was really uncomfortable not to drink a few sips. After learning that the bottle of wine was bought by Chen Zikun for one dollar, the Russians actually said that the price was quite fair.

Chen Zikun gradually understood that it has been a year since the 18th Amendment to the US Constitution was introduced. The wine brewed before has been consumed almost the same amount. For those who are addicted to alcohol, it is a very happy thing to drink a sip of strong wine. Who cares about the quality and price of the wine?

Making private wine is a good business, he thought so.

In the following days, Chen Zikun traveled between the consulate and the telegraph office. It was unreliable to rely on Chinatown gangs to help. He still had to rely on formal channels to solve the problem of studying abroad, but after a few days, the prospects became increasingly unclear.

The expensive trans-ocean telegrams have sent countless letters, including Gu Weijun, Wu Peifu, Beijing Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and Washington State Department. However, those who are willing to help are powerless and those who are capable of helping do not take this matter seriously. The bureaucracy in China and the United States meets together, and Chen Zikun's major study abroad is about to be ruined.

Chen Zikun came out of the Telegraph Office with disappointment again and walked back along the snow. There was a small vegetable market in front of him, and there was a nearby settlement of Jews and Italians. Vegetables and Florida fruits transported from Mexico were sold here. Thinking of Jianbing's favorite fruits, Chen Zikun squeezed up to pick up a few apples and took them back.

In front of him was a short and chunky Italian old man wearing a tweed hat and a long coat, kind-hearted and holding a paper bag in his hand, filled with big red apples.

When he turned around clumsyly and saw Chen Zikun standing in front of him, the old man politely touched his finger on the brim of his hat and greeted him. Chen Zikun also smiled politely, and then squeezed in front to select apples.

As soon as I picked up half a paper bag of apples, I suddenly heard a sharp sound of car tires rubbing against the ground behind me. Then the gunshots rang out, and two loud bangs, and everyone screamed in fear.

Chen Zikun reacted the fastest, and when the gunshot sounded, he squatted on the ground. When he turned around, he saw that the short and fat old man had already fallen in the snow. Blood slowly oozed out from behind, dyeing the white snow into bright red. The apple rolled out of the paper bag and threw it everywhere.

A black Chevrolet sedan was crossing the road, and two men in top hats and long windbreakers were coming out of the car, holding black pistols in their hands. Judging from the posture, they were trying to re-energize the old man.

Chen Zikun had quick eyes and quick hands. He picked up the knife that cuts apples from the fruit stall and shouted: "Look at the knife!" His wrist trembled, and the flying knife had already shot out where the cold light flashed.

An assassin was attracted by his shouts. As soon as he turned his head, the flying knife had already reached the door. He was caught off guard and was shot in the eye with a knife. He immediately screamed and covered his face. The other person quickly turned the gun. Chen Zikun moved much faster than him. Then a big apple flew out and hit the man's head.

Although it was just an apple, Chen Zikun was full of strength and it felt uncomfortable to hit his face. Three apples followed closely behind, making him dizzy and dizzy.

The sudden attack made the assassin mess up. He didn't even have time to re-shot the target, so he got into the car and fled in a panic and left. While asking the fruit stall owner to call the police, Chen Zikun ran towards the old man who was shot. He tried his pulse and was still alive. He checked the wound again. Both shots hit his body. The injuries were extremely serious. He was already dying, but his eyes were still open.

"Stand it." Chen Zikun pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it on the wound. It was soon soaked in blood. He took off his scarf and pressed it on the wound. It was still ineffective. The old man raised his hand and pointed to the side of the road. Chen Zikun looked at the opposite side he pointed, and a Ford was parked on the side of the road.

Chen Zikun searched the old man and found a car key, and also found a short-tube revolver under his armpit.

After hesitating for a moment, he still picked up the gun in his hand, picked up the old man and put it in the car, and started the car and headed straight for the hospital.

Chen Zikun had a habit of finding out wherever he lives, where he would always find out where he could hide and where he was dead. He knew places like the clinic, police station, and barracks. He drove all the way and soon arrived at the nearest hospital and sent the injured to the operating room.

The old man's coat was thrown in the corridor. Chen Zikun found a wallet in his pocket, which contained the old man's business card, and the title was Anthony Pacino, an olive oil importer, with an address and phone number behind it.

Chen Zikun found a coin-operated phone number, called it according to the number on the business card, and told them that Mr. Pacino was shot. Now that he was a hospital for emergency treatment, the other party was a woman answering the phone. He immediately cried and said something in a mess in Italian in an incoherent manner. Chen Zikun couldn't understand it, so he had to hang up the phone.

Ten minutes later, a large number of cars roared, and dozens of gun-carved men with top hats and windbreakers flocked to the hospital, guarding various intersections, and several young men and women accompanied a short and fat old lady in crying.

Chen Zikun had a conspiracy in his mind. It turned out to be a revenge killer in the world. It seemed that this kind-hearted old man was not an ordinary person. The injured person was hit by two bombs, and his life and death were uncertain. He was stained with blood on his body. He even took the old man's pistol. He couldn't explain it clearly, but it was troublesome. Thinking of this, he left quietly.

When he returned to the hotel, Jian Bing saw that he was covered in blood, he was so scared that he was so scared: "What's wrong with you?"

Chen Zikun said: "It's okay, it's someone else's blood. It's a fire on the streets."

Jian Bing said in panic: "I heard that New York's security is very chaotic and the mafia is rampant. Why don't we move somewhere else?"

Chen Zikun said: "The telegrams were sent to this address. What should I do if I move out? Wait a little longer."

After waiting for two more days, I still had no idea about studying abroad. There has been a lot of progress in Chinatown. The old woman in the laundry shop took Chen Zikun to Uncle Ji's place. Uncle Ji took out an old kraft paper bag, opened it and took out a document for Chen Zikun to read.

It is a birth certificate issued by St. Mary's Hospital in San Francisco. It was dated September 28, 1898. The birth was a Chinese-born baby boy, with blue foot marks and doctor's signatures at that time. The baby boy's parents' registration column was filled with the names of Chen Jinshan and Chen Li.

Uncle Ji said proudly: "This is real American birth paper. With this, you are an American."

Chen Zikun picked up the birth paper and looked carefully. The paper appeared a dark yellow color that had been left for a long time, with a bit crispy look, and the ink handwriting was also very dull, and it didn't look fake. I have to admit that Uncle Ji and the others are indeed very good at hand.

Over the past period of time, Chen Zikun has also conducted some research on the American system. The United States does not have a household registration system, nor does it have a household registration book or a baojia system. People can move freely without any identity proof. Theoretically, as long as they hold this birth paper, they are genuine Americans.

"This piece of paper is worth one thousand dollars." Uncle Chi carefully collected the birth paper and added: "Of course, one thousand dollars is just a fee for lent to you, and the original cannot be given to you."

Chen Zikun said: "Okay, I'll admit it for one thousand yuan, so where is the recommendation book at the MP level? How much does this cost? If it exceeds my ability to bear it, then forget it."

Uncle Ji said: "Our Fulong Gang has always been safe to do things. If it cannot be done, it will not be paid for the money. But it will take a few days. After all, this matter is extraordinary and there are so many links that need to be handled."

Chen Zikun had no choice but to say, "Okay, I'll wait a few more days."

A few days later, Uncle Ji sent someone to find Chen Zikun and said that the matter was already obvious and asked him to go over and talk about the price and other things.

Chen Zikun agreed happily, but Jian Bing was extremely worried and said, "Why do you have to do this? Although the Ministry of Foreign Affairs has a good job, it can always do this. If you commit fraud and be exposed, it will be unsightly."

Chen Zikun said: "With the efficiency of those officials in China, I'm afraid there will be no further information until next year. Anyway, I'm idle, so why not try my luck. I don't believe it. Can the Fulong Gang sell me?"

When I arrived in Chinatown, Uncle Chicken wore a very regular dress today, with a long jacket, a melon-skin hat, and a Chinese big shot. Several of his subordinates also changed into new dresses and called a taxi. When Chen Zikun arrived, he drove away from Chinatown. Along the way, Uncle Chicken repeatedly told Chen Zikun that the person who was going to visit now was a wealthy businessman with a very high status in New York. When he saw me at the place, he would not talk nonsense.

The destination is a quiet villa located by the sea. The environment is extremely clean and it is obvious that it is a place where people from the upper class live. The villa is tightly guarded, two large cars are parked at the intersection, and bodyguards with toppers and windbreakers are everywhere.

The group was searched and confirmed that they were not carrying weapons. They were put in. Waiting in the hall, the house was full of heating. I saw a few tough foreign men wearing shirts, rolled up their sleeves and exposed their arms. They were wearing leather pistol holsters and bullet clips under their armpits. The metal buckle was unbuttoned, and the butt stock of the big-eyed thrust was trembling slightly, so they could be pulled out to shoot at any time.

Uncle Ji and others sat upright, not daring to make noise. After waiting for twenty minutes, a bald fat businessman came down the stairs, and a tall young man followed him to see the fat businessman away. The young man waved his head at Uncle Ji: "It's your turn, Chinese guy."

Uncle Ji smiled into a chrysanthemum with an old face, signaling Chen Zikun to follow him, go upstairs, stop in front of a bedroom, and the young man knocked on the door and said, "Old man, the people from the Fulong Gang are here."
Chapter completed!