An Offer He Couldn't Refuse

San Francisco, Nob Hill.

A convoy of black Cadillac slowly pulled up in front of an unassuming townhouse. Far from the hustle and bustle of Fisherman's Wharf and the lively atmosphere of Chinatown, the streets were quiet and clean, lined with neatly trimmed plane trees. The townhouse had a simple exterior, with gray and white walls, a dark wooden door, and no signs; it looked like just an ordinary upscale residence.

But after Feng Ya followed Lin Feng through that door, she realized that this place was anything but ordinary.

The interior is understated yet luxurious. The dark walnut floors gleam with a warm luster, and several ink wash landscape paintings hang on the walls, appearing to be genuine. The living room is furnished with several sets of Italy leather sofas, and a set of exquisite purple clay teaware sits on the coffee table. A faint sandalwood scent fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere.

"Please sit down, my dear niece." Lin Feng took off his suit jacket and casually draped it over the armrest of the sofa before taking the seat of honor. He rolled up the cuffs of his white shirt, revealing a section of his muscular forearm, and then began to skillfully arrange the tea set, rinsing, brewing, and filtering the tea with fluid and effortless movements.

Feng Ya sat down awkwardly on the opposite sofa, her hands tightly gripping the real estate agent's folder, her knuckles turning white. She secretly sized up "Uncle Lin," whom she hadn't seen for many years—he looked younger than she remembered, or rather, he had a stronger presence. That calm, composed, and in-control demeanor wasn't feigned; it was ingrained in his very being.

"Have a cup of tea to calm yourself down." Lin Feng pushed a steaming cup of Tieguanyin tea in front of Feng Ya. The tea was clear and bright, with a fragrant aroma. "You don't look well. You've been suffering a lot lately, haven't you?"

This seemingly ordinary expression of concern was like a needle, gently piercing Feng Ya's carefully constructed facade of strength. Her nose stung, her eyes reddened again, and she lowered her head, not daring to look at him, only whispering, "Thank you, Uncle Lin... It's alright, it's just... I ran into a little trouble."

"A little trouble?" Lin Feng picked up his teacup, blew on it gently, took a sip, and spoke as casually as if discussing the weather. "I heard that your restaurant was vandalized, and people were bullied so badly that you're afraid to even leave your house?"

Feng Ya suddenly looked up, staring at Lin Feng in shock! How... how did he know so much?!

Lin Feng put down his teacup, leaned back on the sofa, and calmly met her gaze. There was no pity or sympathy in his eyes, only the look of an elder looking at a younger person, with a hint of scrutiny and understanding.

"Don't be nervous." He smiled, his tone softening. "When your father was alive, he entrusted me to take care of you. Although we haven't been in touch much over the years, I've kept track of your affairs. I know you run a restaurant in San Mateo. I also know you've run into trouble."

Feng Ya could no longer hold back her tears, which silently streamed down her face. So... so her father had been secretly orchestrating all of this? So this mysterious "Uncle Lin" had been watching her all along?

"Uncle Lin..." She choked up, not knowing what to say.

Lin Feng waved his hand, indicating that she didn't need to say anything more. He stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to Feng Ya, and gazed at the San Francisco Bay Area skyline outside the window, remaining silent for a long time.

Then, he turned around, his gentle expression fading slightly, replaced by a more serious and earnest look. He looked at Feng Ya and slowly began to speak:

"My dear niece, I'm not here today just to catch up. I'm here to ask you a question."

Feng Ya wiped away her tears and looked at him nervously.

"What do you plan to do?" Lin Feng asked. "Just let it go like this? Move away with your tail between your legs? Let those bastards think that China people are easy to bully?"

Feng Ya's lips moved, as if she wanted to say, "But what else can I do?" but she swallowed the words back. She truly didn't know what to do. Calling the police was useless, moving was difficult, and the other party was like a leech that she couldn't shake off.

Seeing her hesitation, Lin Feng shook his head and walked back to the sofa to sit down. He poured himself another cup of tea, but this time he didn't rush to drink it. Instead, he held it in his hand, watching the steam rising from the tea, as if he was organizing his thoughts.

After a while, he raised his head, looked at Feng Ya, and said in a very calm and confident tone:

"My dear niece, your father and I have been old friends for many years. He was a good man, honest and upright, and never asked anyone for a favor in his life. Before he passed away, he said to me, ' Little Lin, this is my only daughter. If she ever encounters difficulties in the future, please help her out.'"

Upon hearing this, Feng Ya's tears flowed even more freely.

Lin Feng paused, then continued, "My business has grown quite large over the years, and I have some influence in San Francisco. Logically, I should have intervened in your matter much sooner. But I didn't. Do you know why?"

Feng Ya shook her head blankly.

"Because I wanted to see how long you could hold out." Lin Feng's tone became somewhat meaningful. "Your father's daughter shouldn't be a spineless coward. As it turns out, I wasn't wrong. You held on for a long time, it was very difficult, but you didn't kneel down."

Feng Ya bit her lip, unable to speak.

"However," Lin Feng's tone shifted, turning colder, "Being able to hold on is one thing, whether it's necessary to keep pushing yourself is another. You've already proven your backbone; now, it's time for you to accept help."

He placed the teacup on the coffee table, leaned forward slightly, crossed his hands on his knees, and looked directly into Feng Ya's eyes.

"What were the names of those two bastards you ran into? Deshawn and Malik?" He pronounced the names casually, as if reading two insignificant dishes on a menu. "They have backers, a small gang from the Haight District, who specialize in extortion and protection money. Your restaurant being vandalized and your people being harassed isn't because you're unlucky; it's because they've got their eye on you. You're a foreigner, own a restaurant, and have no connections. In their eyes, you're just a piece of easy prey."

Feng Ya listened, her heart pounding with fear. So... so none of this was a coincidence? She thought she'd just been unlucky enough to run into two scoundrels, but she never imagined there was a much larger force behind it all?

"Then... what should I do?" Her voice trembled.

Lin Feng didn't answer directly. He picked up the teapot, refilled Feng Ya's cup, and poured himself a cup. Then, he raised his teacup slightly to Feng Ya, as if offering a toast.

"My dear niece, I have a question for you."

"Uncle Lin, please say so."

What do you think a friend is?

Feng Ya was taken aback, not expecting him to ask that. She thought for a moment, then hesitated before saying, "A friend... is someone who's willing to help you when you need it?"

Lin Feng smiled, a smile that held a deeper meaning. He shook his head.

"What you say is true, but not entirely." He took a sip of tea and said slowly, "In my opinion, a friend isn't someone who helps you when you need it—that's a kind person, a philanthropist. A true friend is someone who knows what you need before you even ask, and has already prepared it for you."

He put down his teacup, looked at Feng Ya, and his gaze became deep and powerful.

"I came to see you today not to hear you say 'thank you,' nor to hear you say ' Uncle Lin, you're so kind.' I came to see you because I feel you should be my friend."

Feng Ya was stunned, not quite understanding what he meant.

Lin Feng continued, "Your father was my friend, so you're my niece. But this relationship was maintained by your father. Now that he's gone, the relationship has faded. If you want me to truly help you, and not just offer a little pity out of respect for your father's promises—then you, Feng Ya, need to become my friend."

"How... how can I become your friend?" Feng Ya asked, somewhat bewildered.

Lin Feng leaned back on the sofa, his hands outstretched, relaxed, but his words were firm and resolute:

"It's simple. Accept my help, and remember this kindness. Then, one day in the future, when I need you, you can stand by my side without hesitation."

He spoke calmly, even with a hint of a relaxed smile, but Feng Ya felt an invisible pressure bearing down on her. This wasn't a request; it was an invitation, an invitation with stakes. Accepting it meant entering a world she knew nothing about and becoming bound to the man before her.

What if they don't accept it?

Lin Feng seemed to see through her hesitation, smiled slightly, and changed to a more relaxed tone. "Of course, you can also choose not to accept. Then pretend Uncle Lin never came today, go back to looking at your house, find a way to move, and start over in a different city. With your abilities, although it will be tough, you won't starve."

He paused, his gaze softened, and his voice lowered:

"But, my dear niece, have you ever thought about this—even if you move away to a different city, will you be safe? This country is vast, but the Chinese community is small. If you get bullied today and run away with your tail between your legs, are you sure you won't encounter the same trouble in that new city tomorrow? Are you sure you can escape every time?"

These words, like a knife, pierced precisely into Feng Ya's deepest fears. Yes, where could she run to? As long as she remained Chinese, a vulnerable group, without background or support, in this foreign country, she would always be prey in others' eyes.

She remained silent for a long time before finally raising her head to look at Lin Feng. In her eyes, fear and hesitation were still there, but there was now a hint of determination.

"Uncle Lin, what exactly do you mean by 'helping'?"

Lin Feng nodded in satisfaction; he knew that Feng Ya had made her choice.

He didn't answer directly, but stood up, walked to an old-fashioned gramophone in the corner of the living room, and casually placed a vinyl record on it. The melodious Italy folk tune flowed out slowly; it was "Santa Lucia".

He turned around, standing against the light, a godfather-like, benevolent yet unquestionable smile on his face, and slowly uttered that classic line:

"I'll give him a offer he can't refuse."

"As for your matter—don't worry about those bastards, that little gang. Leave it to me."

"Soon, no one will bother you anymore."

Feng Ya stared blankly at him, at his face that appeared particularly somber in the dim light, and a complex mix of emotions welled up within her—gratitude, unease, anticipation, and a faint sense of awe for the unknown future.

She didn't know where accepting this "friendship" would lead her.

But she knew that from this moment on, her life would be completely changed.