blueteamnovel Chapter 135: On "Reality"
Chapter 135: On "Reality"
Chapter 137 About 'Truth' (5/5) Please subscribe, add to your favorites, and vote with monthly tickets.
It's a Ford F-150, not a Raptor 150.
The Raptor won't be available until 2009.
Roger's F150 is the ninth generation and is one of the mainstream pickup trucks on the market today.
The front grille is a chrome-plated nine-square grid, and the headlight assembly is rectangular, just like the future Raptor F150, which is large, simple, and rugged.
This is also a consistent style of the Ford family.
This car now sells for $1.8 on the market and is Roger's dream car for two years.
After making a fortune from the World Cup, Roger couldn't resist any longer, so he bought a new car and even went to his fifth senior brother Li Lichuan's repair shop to have it modified. The car's performance was extremely powerful, and the interior was more comfortable than Xu Shengjie's King.
Xu Shengjie tried to borrow the car several times.
However, Roger refused all offers, stating that he would not lend out his car or his wife.
Xu Shengjie knew that Tupac rushed over in a hurry because he definitely had something to talk to him about privately.
"Roger, you go pick up Tommy, I'll pick up Frank. We'll meet at the Tan Hua Lou restaurant in a bit."
"OK!"
Roger stuck his hand out of the car window and made an OK sign.
Thirty years from now, if you dare to make that gesture, you'll be a fucking anti-Semite!
Xu Shengjie drove his car and merged into the traffic.
Today is Thanksgiving, and everyone is rushing home.
I don't know what I'm grateful for. Am I grateful for the scalp of the Native Americans?
"Amaru, speak."
"You know I have something to say?"
"Nonsense, it's not Tupac's style to leave Roger's new car and ride in my used car instead."
"Haha, Jeffrey, you know me."
-
As he spoke, he pulled a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket.
"You motherfucker, you dare to throw marijuana in my car? Believe me or not, I'll break your neck."
"Not leaves, not leaves, pure hand-rolled cigar leaves—my friend got them from Cuba, genuine Cuban cigar leaves."
"Are you out of your mind? Why are you smoking these broken leaves instead of a perfectly good cigar?"
Cigar leaves are the scraps used to make cigars. They're quite cheap, and we had them in China back in the day.
However, it was marketed as a cigar, and its appearance was similar to that of a cigarette. It was said to be made from scraps of Cohiba.
This is a bunch of nonsense designed to fool the Chinese people.
The US also has them, but most of them are mixed with DM (direct mail) content to lure young people into using them.
"You know, I just like this style."
Tupac lit a hand-rolled cigarette, and immediately a faint cigar aroma filled the air, mixed with a hint of alcohol.
"Did you mix it with whiskey?"
"Yes."
"Give me one."
This blend of cigar leaves has a unique flavor.
My dad loved this kind of thing in his past life. He even bought a cigar cabinet and kept red wine and whiskey for his children, exuding a bourgeois lifestyle. My mom argued with him a lot about this.
"Actually, I just don't like being controlled by Red."
"What do you mean?"
Xu Shengjie took the cigarette but did not light it immediately.
He was worried that the whiskey blend would affect the flavor of the drink.
After all, we're driving!
However, he opened the car window to let the smoke out.
"How did Reed control you?"
"When Reed approached me, he told me that the most important quality for a rapper is to be real! Real with your friends, real with your life, real with your family—I totally agree. I believe that only by being real can you create good work."
"so what?"
"But I found that what Reed meant by 'real' was what they considered to be 'real'."
It's the "real" they want fans to see, not the authentic, self-absorbed "real." This is very different from my understanding. I want a genuine "real" that comes from the heart, like the real realness between you, me, and Afani.
"Is that why he sent you to vote for Knight?"
He probably wanted me to understand that their authenticity is the true essence of authenticity.
But Knight gave me a lot of freedom. He said I could express myself however I wanted, without any worries, without having to consider the market, I just needed to be myself. I could go shirtless, I could wear a headscarf, I could swear when I wanted, drink when I wanted—basically, everything was up to me.
"That's just flattery to kill!"
"what?"
"Amaru, you are a child who came from the streets and even lived in Baltimore."
You should know perfectly well that this society is never fucking real! Knight saw your talent and wanted you to make money for him. He flattered you, pampered you, indulged you, and let you do whatever you wanted, but is that right?
This society is all fake, you think you're real?
Do you think you're not dying fast enough? Think of the homeless people on the streets of New York back then, think of the corpses in the dark alleys of Baltimore—
I think Red did the right thing. We have to have two faces to live in this society.
Xu Shengjie took out a Lucky Strike cigarette from his pocket.
Made entirely with American craftsmanship, it's awesome!
He's been relying on this thing to stay up all night lately.
The 94 American version of Lucky Strike is much more authentic than the European and Japanese versions.
After all, the European and Japanese versions have been adjusted to suit local tastes. Compared to the American version, which uses a purely blended tobacco processing method, they are less harsh. Just like the Japanese version's femininity and the European version's mellowness, it's like the future of Europe: except for the hard filter, everything else is mellow, mellow, and damn mellow.
One is for external forces, and the other is for internal forces.
Your outward appearance, whether real or rude, is just a protective shell. True sincerity is what you need internally, otherwise you'll suffer greatly.
Tupac has never been one to listen to advice.
At least in the original timeline, he expressed this view.
The results of it?
Shot twice, imprisoned once —
But in this time and space, he is willing to listen to Xu Shengjie.
Perhaps it was because on that rainy night more than a decade ago, Xu Jiadong and his son extended warm hands to him.
What you said seems to make some sense.
"You're not a good-for-nothing, nor are you illiterate. I know you enjoy reading."
Go back and talk to Reed again. I really don't believe Sugar Knight would spend $1.2 million just for your "truth." He's willing to spend $1.2 million because he can get more out of you—maybe $2.4 million, maybe $3.6 million, or even $12 million—Amaru, you need to think this through.
I know his methods all too well.
He'll fawn over you, coax you, and let you slowly lose yourself in his praise until you become his puppet.
Isn't that what capitalists do?
Once you become a puppet, you can only create value according to their wishes. Once you're no longer useful, they'll discard you like trash in a roadside garbage dump—you should know that's always been the case in the entertainment industry.
Tupac fell silent!
He silently smoked his cigarette, watching the scenery flash by outside the car window.
Xu Shengjie stopped talking and just drove silently.
Frank's Chinese name is Chen Qi.
Oh, not Chen Qi from Aunt Bai's book. He is the son of Jimmy Chen of the Dong'an Gang, the Crown Prince of Dong'an, and the future Big Brother of Dong'an.
Dong'an and the Ghost Shadow Gang have an extremely close relationship.
Jimmy Chen, like Kenny Zhang, was once Mr. Yin's right-hand man.
However, even after Mr. Yin was arrested, the Ghost Shadow Gang's foundation remained intact.
The New York Police Department and the FBI still regarded the Ghost Gang as a thorn in their side, and even secretly cooperated with the BTK gang of Vietnamese monkeys and the small group that was gathered on Eighth Avenue, which is Marco Square Street, to besiege the Ghost Gang.
Left with no other choice, Jimmy Chen broke away from the Ghost Shadow Gang, stormed into the East Village, took over Houston Street, and then, with Houston Street as the core, joined forces with the then second-in-command of the Flying Dragon Gang, the same Michael Chen who was shot to death, to storm into Eighth Street, drive out the small-time gang that was entrenched there, and thus establish the current East Ang Gang.
The Ghost Gang also withdrew from neighborhoods like Bowery Street after Jimmy Chen left, and began to shrink its operations.
The New York police then ceased their operation against the Ghost Gang.
New York's Chinatown in the 80s was just that simple and unpretentious.
In fact, the New York Police Department was also aware that the creation of East Ann was a deal between the Ghost Shadow Gang and the Flying Dragon Gang.
However, after that, there were no more large-scale battles between the two sides, which stabilized Chinatown and the entire downtown area.
Police and the FBI then turned their attention to the BTK Vietnamese monkeys.
Xu Shengjie drove to the intersection of Houston Street, stopped on the side of the road, and honked the horn twice.
A bald man walked out of a shop facing the street.
He was physically imposing and had a fierce appearance.
He was wearing jeans, a leather jacket, and a black T-shirt underneath.
With a lollipop dangling from his mouth, he immediately ran over to Xu Shengjie's car as soon as he saw it.
"Jeff, long time no see!"
"Stop talking nonsense, get in the car—Roger and Tommy have probably already arrived at the brothel."
By the way, did you talk to Uncle Jimmy? I don't want to call you out on Thanksgiving, or Uncle Jimmy will come after me.
"
"What does Thanksgiving, the Westerners' holiday, have to do with us?"
Frank smiled, opened the back door, and ducked in.
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