Chapter 9

The bright lights of New York.

You can love it, or you can hate it, but you can't forget it.

In the morning, father and son set off from the mountain ranch. This was the longest journey the old Ferrari had taken in seven years, and it was the first time Han Xuan had left Montana.

The trip made him very excited, finally returning to the city and the crowds.

They arrived at Billings Airport in the afternoon, and after a two-hour flight, they reached LaGuardia Airport just as the streetlights were turning on. People streamed by in a constant flow, the noise of the airplanes was deafening, and the neon signs added a particularly retro atmosphere compared to the future.

Grandpa Han, whether out of excitement or the need for his business, had specially come to pick up his grandson in an Aston Martin DB5, which he had collected with great effort.

This model, featured in the 1964 film "007: Goldfinger" driven by James Bond, was well-known worldwide. As they walked out of LaGuardia Airport, people would look at it with amazement or admiration.

Han Xuan was no exception. As he was being led forward by Han Qianshan, he was wondering why his grandfather hadn't come to pick him up when he saw an old man in a suit waving at him. When Han Xuan looked over, the old man patted the car beside him.

Grandpa Han hadn't forgotten how his grandson had pestered his grandfather for a Ferrari a few years ago, which had annoyed him for a long time.

Seeing Han Xuan's expression, the old man was very satisfied. He proudly picked up his grandson and kissed him, much to Han Xuan's dismay. Han Xuan wiped the saliva off his face with his sleeve and waited for his father to put the luggage in the car before they set off.

The space inside the Aston Martin DB5 wasn't very spacious. With Han Qianshan as the driver, the old man naturally wouldn't drive himself. It was much more comfortable to sit in the passenger seat and hold his grandson.

They drove west from LaGuardia Airport along Route 278, crossing the East River, passing through First Avenue and Central Park. The road was very busy, and what would normally take twenty minutes took over an hour due to traffic.

The old man introduced various buildings and their history to his grandson along the way. Although they mostly lived in California, the old man still knew a lot about New York's landmarks.

The six-story old house was in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, with Broadway to the west and Central Park to the east, a prime location.

The broad sycamore trees on both sides of the road were just beginning to bud, looking somewhat desolate, but the surroundings were a different scene. Tall buildings stood in a colorful array, and fashionable women and successful people walked along the streets, a place where poverty was never seen.

Because it was the center of America, New York, and the center of New York, the Upper West Side of Manhattan.

This was the first time Han Xuan had come here in this life and his previous one. Although the elders often called him and visited him, he didn't know until today that his family had a house here.

Grandma was already waiting at the door, "Oh, my grandson, you've grown taller! Come let Grandma see you."

Han Xuan heard the old lady's voice as soon as he came out of the garage. He ran up and hugged her, sweetly saying, "Grandma, you look younger too."

"Ha ha, it's all because of seeing you. Where's your mom?"

"She got airsick, and there's someone at home who needs to take care of her. She'll come next time. Mom asked me to say hello to Grandpa and Grandma."

"Good, good. Come in, let's talk inside. Grandma made you some good food!"

She led her grandson into the house and closed the door. Han Xuan walked a dozen steps before realizing, "Eh? Where's Dad!?"

Grandma: "..."

Outside, father and son were disheveled in the night wind.

The house was over 300 square meters, and the decoration looked a bit old. There were several large oil paintings hanging on the walls, both landscapes and portraits.

Chinese Qing Dynasty famille-rose vases were placed on the living room shelves, along with many other antiques. It seemed that Grandpa Han was a collector. The ink paintings of horses were very lifelike, and upon closer inspection, they turned out to be Xu Beihong's horse paintings.

At that time, the collection of Chinese antiques hadn't yet become popular, and the prices weren't high. The old man had bought quite a few things over the years as a way to remember his hometown.

"Wait, the pattern on the vase looks familiar. It's so similar to something in the Shanghai Museum."

"Hey? Isn't this the large Yuan Dynasty blue-and-white porcelain jar with the 'Ghosts Leaving the Valley' design?" Han Xuan exclaimed, looking at the shelves with a mix of surprise and speechlessness, as it was being used as a vase.

Grandpa Han stumbled, turned around, and laughed, "This is a Yuan Dynasty blue-and-white porcelain jar? I bought it for $2000 at a flea market in the Netherlands..."

Most Americans didn't understand blue-and-white porcelain, and the amateur collector Grandpa Han naturally knew about it. He hadn't thought much of it before, but after hearing his grandson's words, he went over to examine it closely. It was genuine, and the more he looked, the more it seemed to be the real thing. He was delighted, "Hey! It really does look like it. How did you know, kid?"

"It was written in a book, I forget which one," Han Xuan evaded.

"Let's eat first, and in a few days, we'll take it to someone to look at," the old man said. In this era, even if it was genuine, the price wouldn't be too high, so he didn't pay much attention.

Han Xuan knew that it would later be auctioned for over 10 million pounds. He carefully examined it and walked into the living room, secretly marveling at the old man's luck. As the only grandson of the Han family, it would eventually end up in his hands...

The large house felt cold and empty with just the two old people living in it. Fortunately, they rarely stayed here, as they had many old friends in California, so they didn't feel lonely.

There were two servants who helped manage the house. Han Xuan was concerned about the safety of the treasures and was relieved to learn that they had been working there for over thirty years and had a clean record.

After sending the mischievous son away, the two elders personally cooked authentic home-style dishes to treat their grandson, with the son just getting a taste.

Han Qianshan was a bit jealous of his son, pinching his ear and scolding him with a smile, "Now I'm just an extra, you little rascal."

"I'm your biological son," Han Xuan, the baby, complained.

"Of course, if I hadn't sired you, how could you be so smart?"

"Where does your confidence come from?"

"......I'll beat you to death."

Father and son chatted on the sofa, and the food was soon ready.

The tradition of chatting at the Chinese dining table, from ancient times to the present, had never changed. The old man was very happy being entertained by his grandson. Near the end of the meal, the old man finally revealed the reason for calling his grandson: "There's nothing much, I just missed you and didn't want to come all the way. I asked you to bring him here for me to see."

"I came all this way just to be seen?" Han Qianshan stared at his father.

"......Alright, if there's something, there's a charity auction in a few days. I can take my grandson there. It's not good to stay at the ranch all the time. What if he grows up like you? Don't let him get sick from boredom."

Grandpa Han seemed to be explaining, but he might not have cared, as he was used to it......

They chatted about family matters, and time passed quickly. The night was uneventful.

The first rays of morning sunlight rose from the eastern street, passing through the tall buildings and shining into the second-floor window.

The city, which had been silent, began to buzz again.

Han Xuan was a bit jet-lagged and didn't sleep well, even though the bed was very comfortable.

He got up at around seven, and his father was already gone. The toiletries were all prepared, and he slowly went downstairs. The three of them were sitting around the table for breakfast, and the fried dough sticks in the plate surprised the baby. He hadn't had them for years.

Grandpa Han chuckled, "Grandson, you've never seen this before. This is called a fried dough stick, and we Chinese have had it since the Song Dynasty! I ran two streets this morning to buy it for you to try. The soy milk is still hot, come and eat."

Fortunately, Han Xuan's mind was quick. He was about to nod and say he had eaten it before but remembered he wasn't in his previous life. He pretended to be curious and picked up a fried dough stick to eat.

"Still the same formula, still the familiar taste," Han Xuan silently thought.

After finishing his meal, the old man left for work. The company was quite busy, and the chain of medium and large convenience stores had already opened over 200 stores, all directly operated. The name was "The-convenience-store-on-Sunday," meaning Sunday Convenience Store, with the sign being the letters "sos." The headquarters was in Los Angeles.

The business model was similar to Walmart, but it wasn't listed. When the great-grandfather passed away, he divided the shares among his children and their spouses, who were Han Xuan's grandparents. Starting with only seven stores, it had grown to its current large scale over several decades, thanks to the old man's hard work.

He had planned to take Han Xuan to see the branch offices, but he had to deal with some urgent matters, so he left his wife and son to take him out.

They rented a car from a rental company and began to explore the city.

The World Trade Center, which had been in use for just a few years, was not far away. Han Xuan insisted on taking a photo with the buildings from the other side of the river, even posing like an airplane. His father, puzzled, took a few photos, secretly marveling at his son's childlike fun, though who knew the truth.

They had lunch and shopped on First Avenue and then headed straight for Liberty Island in the afternoon. They rested when they were tired, and the old grandmother was in high spirits, happily watching her children and grandchildren play.

In the evening in Brooklyn, various artists displayed their works or performed, making it very lively.

Han Xuan, with a full stomach from the pizza, was being led by his father, who was looking around. The new house, which hadn't been decorated yet, needed some ornaments. Grandma didn't come along; she was waiting for them at a café at home.

A violin was playing merrily, and faint cat meows could be heard from a nearby alley. Han Xuan turned to look, clearly sensing its weak life force. He pulled his father to go inside.

Han Qianshan was confused; it wasn't safe here at night.

They didn't walk far when they saw a girl of about seven or eight years old, carrying a drawing board, squatting in front of a cat. She heard the footsteps behind her and turned around, her big eyes filled with tears.

"Dad, her eyes are purple?" Han Xuan was surprised, and his father was also stunned.

With the faint cat meows, the girl's choked voice came, "Brother, can you save it? It's going to die..."