1994: I Became a Literary Master in America

Chapter 12 The Secret of Uncle A-Tu

"Is that not allowed?"

Xu Shengjie had a stubborn expression on his face, like a boy whose talent had been doubted by his elders, and he was a little embarrassed and angry.

"I will not only become a great writer, I will also become a great director."

I will write the most commercially successful works, driving all of America crazy; I will make the best films, like Spielberg, Federico Fellini, Hitchcock, George Lucas, Stanley Kubrick, making the greatest works, so that all Americans will buy my films.

At this moment, Xu Shengjie really seems like a 19-year-old boy.

After all, he has formal training, so even though he has neglected his studies for ten years, he can still do it with ease.

James Huang remained silent this time!

This kid knows Spielberg, George Lucas, and François Coppola, no problem!

It's not surprising that kids who grew up in America know these people.

But who is Federico Fellini?

James Huang really doesn't know...

but……

It seems there's nothing wrong with him. At least he has dreams, which is a good thing.

After he came into contact with the original owner last year, the original owner suddenly became extremely cruel and violent for a period of time.

James Huang was very worried at one point.

I'm worried that this kid is determined to join a gang.

But now...

"That's great, I believe you can do it."

A gentle smile appeared on James Huang's face.

He said softly, "But it's not easy to do that."

For example, you might want to make movies, but I know that making movies isn't easy; the barriers to entry are very high. You need systematic training and to acquire ample connections and resources. I can't provide that for you, but university can!

There will be many like-minded people there…

To sum it up, James Huang still hopes his son will go to college.

Moreover, his idea was correct.

No matter how much those public intellectuals glorify America, it is still a society based on relationships.

It doesn't matter, you can't move an inch.

University, on the other hand, is a place where he can build connections and access more resources.

Do you really think you can learn anything in university? Aside from those dedicated to academic research, over 80% are just wasting time, while the rest are accumulating resources. When they graduate, they'll find that society is far more complex and challenging than they imagined.

This time, Xu Shengjie did not refuse outright.

He shut his mouth, looked out the car window at the flashing neon lights and the bizarre street scene, as if he were thinking about something.

James Huang didn't try to persuade him any further.

……

Kenny Zhang and Zhang Ping'an are both in the morgue.

They didn't interact much with James Huang; it was cold and distant, like complete strangers.

Upon arrival, Xu Shengjie stood directly behind Kenny Zhang.

"A-Tu has no relatives or children."

He passed away peacefully, without much suffering... Jeff, you had the most contact with him, go to his house to help him sort through his belongings, and then set up the funeral hall. Cremation is in three days, burial in seven days, and all expenses will be covered by the community committee.

He lived a lonely life; let him leave this world in a more festive way.

"Okay, I'll be right there."

After everyone left the morgue, members of the Ghost Shadow Gang called for people from the Mock Street Funeral Home to come and collect the bodies.

"James, stop making things difficult for Jeff. He's a good kid and he's already left the gang."

I don't want you police to bother him... You know, Mr. Dennis cares about him and doesn't want him to get into trouble.

James Huang coldly replied, "Then you shouldn't have let him do the work."

Kenny Zhang looked up at James Huang.

After a moment, he said, "It won't happen again!"

"Tell Dennis to behave himself and not think that he can make a comeback just because he's connected with the Gambino family."

"Then go find John Gorty Jr."

"I will!"

There was no tense standoff between the two sides, but their words were full of sarcasm, ridicule, and wariness.

"Kid, think it through, and don't cause any more trouble."

Otherwise, if someone reports you to the police station again, I won't be so lenient.

Xu Shengjie's face was gloomy, and he did not respond.

He got into Zhang Ping'an's car and headed to Uncle A'tu's residence on Canal Street.

"Don't pay attention to what that damn cop said. Chinatown has its own way of surviving. His methods don't work here."

"I don't care what he says, I'm thinking about Uncle A-Tu."

"He died of natural causes, a sudden heart attack, and his passing was very abrupt."

"Nonsense, of course I know he died of natural causes, I was just... I was just thinking about some things from our past."

Zhang Ping'an didn't say anything more and focused on driving.

The two stopped in front of a tenement building on Canal Street.

This tenement building is quite old, reportedly sixty years old.

It seems that the first generation of immigrants migrated from the west to this area because of the Chinese Exclusion Act, and then settled down on Mott Street, gradually developing into the Chinatown we know today. This tenement building was built during that period.

I heard it has been included in the development plan, and perhaps in a few years, a skyscraper will rise from the ground here.

The people living here are mostly Chinese.

Uncle Tu lives in a basement; the rent is cheap...

The community committee is quite humane.

For the average person, renting a place here would cost one or two hundred dollars.

Uncle A-Tu's basement was much larger than Zhou Wenqiong's, and the rent was only fifty dollars, which was incredibly low.

Of course, only Uncle Atu received this treatment.

The others... I'd estimate around two hundred, since this place is very close to the subway station.

The room was cluttered and there was nothing of value inside.

Xu Shengjie and Zhang Pingan quickly helped set up the mourning hall. Zhang Pingan and several of his henchmen who had rushed over were busy outside, while Xu Shengjie began to pack up Uncle A-Tu's belongings: clothes, shoes, socks, many books, and a box of diaries.

In a cabinet in the inner room, there were many letters that had not been mailed.

Some letters were sent to China, while others were sent to cities outside of New York... and the senders weren't just one person, but many. Xu Shengjie recognized a few of the names; they seemed to be former hoodlums from Chinatown.

Yes, they are already dead!

"So many letters?"

When Zhang Ping'an came in, Xu Shengjie was looking through the letters.

"Why doesn't Uncle A-Tu send it out?"

Zhang Ping'an laughed and said, "Take a look inside. How much will the postage cost for those letters that need to be sent back to China?"

How much does Uncle Tu charge for writing a letter? How could he possibly lose money? I heard Uncle Jimmy say that the old man is quite cunning.

"Hey, watch your mouth."

"Sorry, sorry... The mourning hall has been set up, and we need to go back now."

Do you want to come with me?

"I?"

Xu Shengjie thought for a moment and said, "I'll stay here for now. It's so late. I'll keep him company. Otherwise, it'll be too lonely."

I reckon the funeral committee will arrive after dawn, and then I'll go back.

"Okay, thank you for your hard work!"

Xu Shengjie smiled and nodded, then saw Zhang Ping'an and the others out.

The doors were wide open, and candles were lit inside the mourning hall.

Since Uncle Atu left no photos, a temporary memorial tablet was made and placed there.

Xu Shengjie burned some paper money, then sat down to the side, picked up a diary from the box, and casually flipped through it.

I suppose A-Tu-bo is a second-generation immigrant.

His parents came to New York from San Francisco after the Chinese Exclusion Act.

They also experienced the rise and fall of Chinatown and witnessed its development.

A-Tu-Bo was born in 2001, so he's 73 years old this year (1994)...

All that is known about his story is that he arrived in Chinatown in the 1950s, appearing gentle, polite, and knowledgeable. But he soon became addicted to drugs and quickly fell into poverty.

Later, with the help of his neighbors, he kicked his drug addiction.

But his health completely collapsed, so he set up a stall to help people write letters, experiencing the warmth and coldness of human relationships at the subway entrance on Canal Street...

But no one knows about his past before he appeared in Chinatown.

All the stories were recorded in the diary.

Xu Shengjie watched it all night long, his eyes were dry, and he was filled with countless emotions.

……

People from the community committee and the funeral committee arrived at eight o'clock.

Mr. Yin and others also arrived, and they brought breakfast for Xu Shengjie as well.

It was congee and fried dough sticks from HopKee restaurant on Mott Street, along with two baskets of shrimp dumplings and a basket of steamed rice cakes.

"Ah Jie, you've kept watch all night, go back and rest."

We'll handle things here... Cremation is tomorrow, and we've already arranged with the Fuqing Funeral Home for the burial on Thursday. If you're free then, please come and pay your respects. If you don't have time, then you don't need to come."

"good!"

Xu Shengjie glanced at the old books and diaries, as well as the unmailed letters.

"Should I handle these things?"

"good!"

Kenny Zhang didn't care much about those things and casually tossed Xu Shengjie a car key.

"Take my car and go."

"good!"

Xu Shengjie called to Zhang Ping'an and the others to help move the boxes out.

As he was leaving, Mr. Yin suddenly said, "Ah Jie, a week has passed, how's the money preparation going?"