Manhattan, in an exclusive cemetery.
More than half of New York's wealthiest elite had gathered here today for the funeral of Vincent Astor and his wife.
Because the couple left no direct descendants, their fortune, duly notarized, was set to pass entirely to Lauren Jacob Astor—a name previously almost unheard of to the outside world.
Standing before the headstone in tears, Lauren looked like a helpless child.
Several senior figures of the business world stepped forward to console him, murmuring soothing words. After all, no one could have anticipated that Vincent and his wife would suffer such a horrific shooting in Manhattan. It was truly heartbreaking.
Once the funeral ended and the crowd dispersed, Lauren remained by the tombstone. The sorrowful expression on his face gradually melted away, replaced by utter coldness.
Ever since he was a child, nobody had ever pinned any hopes on him, the fat, dull-witted boy.
That was why he had been so desperate to flee the Astor family in the first place. Yet who could have guessed that after the Titanic went down—an event that should have severed the long-sought reunion between father and son—Liu Ren would end up saving his life?
"All my life, Father gave you more love than me, more coddling than me, and more of the inheritance than me. But look at you now, my dear big brother—even the bullet holes in you outnumber mine!"
With a disdainful dab of his handkerchief, Lauren wiped the corners of his eyes, then turned and walked into the distance.
From this day forward, the Astor family belonged to him. Vincent was fit only to rot away here in obscurity.
***
Inside the luxurious Astor estate.
Even knowing that the Astor fortune rivaled the top dynasties in the country, Liu Ren had not expected them to live in such sheer opulence. No wonder a spendthrift like Vincent had been spawned here.
Lauren was not the sole surviving branch of the Astor bloodline; there were still uncles and elders. Naturally, had Lauren not existed, the fortune would have passed to them. But now, they could only watch helplessly as this fat boy was struck by sudden, staggering good fortune.
Treading across the costly carpet, Liu Ren could not help but admire his surroundings. After all, he had never wandered into such an imperial domain before.
Catching Liu Ren's reaction, Lauren spread his arms in excitement. "Buddy, half the credit for all this belongs to you!"
"No, friend, this is yours."
Liu Ren made no claim to the estate. He had not stepped in just for money.
"You've helped me so much, and you don't want anything?" Staring at Liu Ren, Lauren was momentarily taken aback.
Over the past year, he had seen far too many people cozying up to him for cash. Suddenly faced with a friend whose bond had been formed in genuine camaraderie, Lauren was at a loss for how to handle it.
"Whatever I want, I'll earn with my own two hands, not from someone else's charity."
Beaming at Lauren, Liu Ren walked over and sank into a plush sofa.
"All right. If you ever need help, just say the word. In New York, there's nothing the Astor family can't get done!"
Looking relaxed, Lauren snapped his fingers, signaling a maid to open a bottle of red wine.
Watching the glasses fill, Liu Ren raised his and said, "I want to start an arms factory, but I need it registered under the Astor family's name. What do you think?"
"An arms factory? What are you planning to do? That doesn't seem to have anything to do with our businesses!"
Lauren stared at him in utter shock. Anyone would be deeply suspicious upon hearing about an arms factory, and especially coming from Liu Ren. After all, he was Chinese; opening an arms factory in New York was virtually unheard of.
"That's precisely why I need your help, Lauren!"
Liu Ren smiled warmly and raised his glass toward him.
After a long silence, Lauren finally relented. "All right, I'll help you, buddy. I'll find the people to get the arms factory established. But as for running the day-to-day operations, don't expect me to..."
"I'll handle all of that myself!" Liu Ren replied, a bright, confident grin curling the corners of his mouth.
***
Brooklyn.
A black sedan pulled to a gentle halt outside a certain port.
Stepping out of the car, A Chao turned around with a grim expression. "Are you sure the Jewish gang will give up the port to us?"
"Not sure at all, but we'll talk first. If talking doesn't work, we'll see!"
Smiling at A Chao, Liu Ren knew full well they would never simply hand it over. Controlling dock stevedoring operations was, after all, bread and butter for most mob outfits. While He'an had a small pier of its own, it was far too cramped for Liu Ren's ambitions. He needed a proper inlet. In the future, he would not only need to bring goods in, but ship them out as well. Other ports naturally became prime targets.
Seeing Liu Ren, A Chao, and their companions approach, the men guarding the dock immediately stepped forward. "Hey, Chinamen, you don't belong here! You've got the wrong place!"
Holding up a hand to stop Liu Ren, one of the Jewish guards spoke with a stern scowl.
Liu Ren remained all smiles. "I'm looking for Mr. Cohen to discuss leasing the port."
"Leasing?"
Puzzled, the guard glanced at Liu Ren, and hearing that it was business, said, "I'll go check for you."
A few minutes later, a stout, portly Jewish man walked out.
Taking in his appearance, Liu Ren knew instantly that the man was raking in hefty profits here; otherwise, he would never have fattened up to this degree.
"You want to lease my port?" Cohen demanded, looking Liu Ren over.
"That's right, sir. I do want to lease your port—permanently, that is! I hope you and your men will vacate the premises to prevent any friction between us."
Liu Ren regarded Cohen with calm, polite deference. To the Jewish mobsters, however, the words were a blatant provocation.
They had occupied this port for years. Others had tried to snatch food from the tiger's jaws before, and every last one of them had been put in the ground. Yet now, this Chinese man had the audacity to tell them to pack up and leave. It was no longer just a slap in the face; it was spitting right in their eyes.
"Fuck! How dare you talk like that?" Cohen roared in fury.
Hearing the commotion, the rest of the Jewish mobsters swarmed over, their faces dark and menacing.
"Ah Ren? This is what you call talking?" A Chao broke into a cold sweat, staring in disbelief. This wasn't negotiating—it was kicking down their door and smashing their rice bowl!
"No, no, no, Mr. Cohen, please don't misunderstand. I'm merely offering a friendly reminder. This place is of paramount importance to me. If you don't take your men and leave, it will lead to a blood feud—until one side is wiped out completely."
Liu Ren looked at Cohen with an icy gaze, showing not the slightest hint of backing down. The port sat right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, uniquely advantageous for transportation and logistics in every respect. He was determined to have it.
"Then I'll be waiting for you!" Cohen snarled, pointing an enraged finger without giving an inch.
A Chao climbed back into the car, flabbergasted. "My god, brother, what the hell are you doing? We've just brought massive trouble down on our heads! Those Jews stick together tight..."
"They stick together, and we don't?" Liu Ren countered, his face turning solemn. "I've settled things with Lauren. The arms factory is opening right here in Brooklyn. Now, they can either have the good sense to yield the port, or I'll drive them into extinction!"
Chapter 20