Chapter 1: The Treasure Chest

March 19, 1992, as night slowly descended upon New York City.

In Manhattan, dazzling neon lights pierced the darkness, towering skyscrapers stood like steel giants, and rivers of headlights flowed endlessly along the streets.

Outside Madison Square Garden, a massive curved wall bore a giant promotional poster of the Knicks basketball team.

Tang Bei walked aimlessly along the curb, carrying a large black travel bag.

His eyes wandered blankly over the bustling night scene. Though he had only left home two days earlier, a profound homesickness filled his heart.

Standing two meters one tall, with a sturdy frame matched by well-toned muscles, his physique was like a moving mountain, radiating overwhelming presence.

Each step he took was like trudging through mud—steady and powerful with the distinctive calm and strength of a martial artist. Though seemingly heavy-footed, his movement was as light and nimble as a cat.

His eyes sparkled with a bulb-like glow, exuding an unspoken authority that made others reluctant to meet his gaze.

His neat crew cut framed a sharply chiseled square jaw, rugged and fierce, infusing him with an aggressive masculine aura. Even dressed plainly, he drew many second glances.

The blue cotton jacket he wore was handmade by his mother overnight before his departure, each stitch imbued with deep affection.

His brand-new handmade cloth shoes were now covered in dust, standing out awkwardly against the fashionable and lavish surroundings of New York.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Tang Bei’s voice was heavy with frustration, helplessness, anxiety, and confusion.

A true Tianjing native, he had been obsessed with martial arts since childhood, gifted with exceptional talent and deep knowledge of various fighting styles.

Yet the phrase “poor in literature, rich in martial arts” described him perfectly.

He didn’t practice showy routines; as an adult, he trained with massive Tai Chi balls weighing hundreds of pounds and swung vats over a thousand kilograms, exhausting himself physically to the extreme. Daily, he would eat twenty to thirty steamed buns and a pound or two of meat.

His enormous appetite left no savings for his family, who toiled hard to support his martial arts training. Instead of improving their lives, they sank deeper into debt.

Despite his solid skills, in the current environment, his martial arts prowess could not be converted into a means of livelihood.

As reforms progressed, society’s values shifted dramatically. No matter the profession, if one couldn’t make money, they were scorned. Consequently, Tang Bei became a laughingstock known as “Tang the Glutton” throughout the neighboring villages; even matchmakers refused to approach him.

Three months ago, a fellow countryman, Chen Bingchu, who had immigrated to the United States years earlier and ran a martial arts school in New York’s Chinatown, returned home for a visit. After hearing Tang Bei’s plight, he extended an invitation to teach martial arts in America, promising room and board plus a monthly salary of six hundred dollars.

At the time, the highest monthly wage in Tianjing barely exceeded two hundred yuan. At an exchange rate of 5.7, six hundred dollars equaled about 3,500 yuan.

This opportunity was too good to miss. After much effort, his family scraped together the three thousand yuan needed for the plane ticket, and Tang Bei embarked on his journey to America full of hope.

But reality struck him hard. Upon landing and rushing to Chinatown, he was met with devastating news—Chen Bingchu had recently died in a car accident, and the martial arts school had closed.

With no job prospects, Tang Bei found himself trapped in a dilemma.

He now had only thirty-five dollars, not enough to buy even a one-way ticket home, which cost over five hundred dollars.

After much thought, he realized returning was impossible; his only choice was to stay in New York.

But without any special skills, and no knowledge of English, how could he survive in this strange foreign city?

Thinking of his family back home eagerly awaiting his success in America to support them, Tang Bei smiled bitterly and shook his head, feeling a deep ache in his heart.

At that moment, his stomach rumbled loudly, a fierce hunger overtaking him.

“Looks like I really am a big glutton.”

Having gone nearly twenty hours without food, he felt as if he could swallow an entire cow in one bite.

“Damn it, Chen Bingchu really screwed me over.”

Exhausted and starving, Tang Bei slumped onto the curb, resembling the countless homeless people scattered across New York’s streets—only his posture remained more upright.

Suddenly, two shapely legs clad in sexy stockings and high heels passed in front of him. But too hungry to care, Tang Bei barely glanced at them. When starving, the only thing on his mind was food.

He instinctively touched his chest, where he kept an H-1B work visa.

It had been arranged by Chen Bingchu before his death. Valid for three years, it could be extended for another three, granting a total of six years of legal work in the States.

“If I can’t go back, then I have to find a way to make money here. I’m a grown man—I’m not going to die just because I’m stuck, right?”

As a martial artist, a stubborn, unyielding spirit burned deep within him.

The fog of confusion in Tang Bei’s mind slowly lifted, replaced by firm resolve. A fighting spirit reignited in his eyes.

“Better head back to Chinatown. There are more Chinese there; it’ll be easier to find work.”

After sitting on the curb for a few minutes, Tang Bei stood up decisively.

His gaze happened to fall on a hamburger joint nearby. The enormous burgers displayed in the window held his attention; his mouth watered, and his stomach growled louder.

Tianjing had similar fast-food places called McDonald’s, but their burgers weren’t this big and were pricey. He could rarely afford one.

“I wonder how much these cost in America.”

Starving, Tang Bei strode toward the burger shop. At the entrance, the overweight white owner eyed him warily.

“Hey, kid, what do you want?”

Faced with Tang Bei’s imposing figure, the man’s hand subtly moved toward a rifle beneath the counter.

Tang Bei understood only a few basic English phrases like “my name is” and “thank you.”

Helpless, he dropped his travel bag at his feet, pulled out a five-dollar bill from his pocket, pointed at the giant burger, and held up one finger, signaling he wanted to buy one.

Seeing the money, the man relaxed his guard.

He took the five dollars, returned two one-dollar coins as change, then handed over a 12-inch beef burger wrapped in a paper bag.

Tang Bei eagerly took the burger and bit into it fiercely. The aroma of bread and beef exploded in his mouth.

He devoured it greedily, temporarily easing his hunger, then took another big bite.

Only then did he glance at the change. Each coin bore a clear “1,” meaning the burger cost three dollars.

“This stuff’s really damn expensive!”

Three dollars equaled about seventeen yuan—enough to buy this burger after two or three days’ wages in Tianjing. Had he not been starving, he wouldn’t have dared to spend so much.

He still had thirty-two dollars left, enough for about ten more burgers at this price.

Just then, a shadow darted out from the roadside darkness, grabbing his travel bag and trying to run.

Tang Bei took another bite of his burger, then tripped the black homeless man, who fell with a scream. Tang Bei quickly caught up and stomped firmly on the man’s lower back.

“Shit! Let me go!”

The man struggled and cursed but couldn’t break free. Tang Bei paid no mind, continuing to eat his burger while pressing down harder with his foot. The pain silenced the man’s curses.

“Get lost!”

After finishing the burger, Tang Bei kicked the man away. The beaten, gasping homeless man fled hurriedly, tumbling and crawling.

A nearly one-kilogram burger was just a snack for Tang Bei’s enormous appetite, but he couldn’t afford another.

As he prepared to leave for Chinatown, a burst of enthusiastic cheers echoed from the street corner.

Curious, he followed the sound and saw a group of young people fiercely competing on an outdoor basketball court.

The thudding bounce of the ball, players’ shouts, and crowd cheers combined into a vibrant, energetic wave.

Tang Bei had played basketball in his spare time but never trained seriously. Back home, his natural talent made him unbeatable in the neighboring villages.

Due to the national Olympic system and limited local funding, county sports schools prioritized weightlifting and other sports that yielded medals easily, cutting costly team sports like basketball and soccer. Otherwise, he might have joined the basketball team at his sports school.

“Bang!”

On the court, a nimble black player made a smooth crossover, evading his defender easily, then leapt high and slammed the ball forcefully into the hoop.

“WOW!”

The player jumped and shouted excitedly after scoring.

“Clap, clap, clap...”

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