Paterson City and Elizabeth City are situated on the north and south sides of Newark, respectively, and are less than 15 kilometers away from it. Several cities, including Jersey City, are nearly interconnected, despite being administratively separate. Economically, many of these cities are considered part of the Greater New York economic circle, which has facilitated Sean's efforts to expand his influence in the region.
Paterson has a population of 140,000, while Elizabeth has 120,000. Together with Jersey City and Newark, Sean has established control over a smuggled alcohol market that serves around 800,000 people, generating over $1.2 million in monthly profits. To outsiders, however, the profits may appear modest, estimated at around $100,000 or less.
Sean's rapid market takeover was largely due to his lower prices compared to the Lucchese family. Currently, no one outside his operation is aware that these drinks are actually blended by Sean himself. Meanwhile, Stephen Keria of the Lucchese family is fully focused on uncovering Sean's smuggling channels, a typical strategy for anyone in his position.
Sean knows that he can't keep the secret of his operation hidden forever. However, before it comes to light, he must accumulate as much capital as possible. His plan includes two main strategies: first, to continue focusing on Newark while expanding into nearby areas like Clifton, Passaic, and New Brunswick; and second, to open a new front centered around Trenton, the capital of New Jersey.
Before diving into these plans, Sean is turning his attention back to his "Sean Fitness Club" after completing renovations on the small building. Phase I of the promotional campaign led by the Xila team has concluded, and preparations for the opening pre-sale are underway. Achieving both cost recovery and profitability at launch hinges significantly on effective negotiations. Sheila is busy recruiting and training staff, and fortunately, with New York as a backdrop, there's no shortage of sales talent.
However, due to industry standards, Sean insists that all recruits, regardless of gender, must be in good shape. He believes that a well-built representative is far more persuasive in promoting fitness than someone who doesn't embody that lifestyle. Thus, the recruits he's looking for are both handsome men and beautiful women, creating an appealing atmosphere. The requirements are high, but the compensation is generous; they will only need to work three days to earn a full month's wage.
To ensure a smooth opening, Sean decided to visit Chinatown in Brooklyn—not for dragon and lion dances, but to consult a Feng Shui master about choosing an auspicious day for the launch. However, upon arriving, Sean found himself irresistibly drawn into the largest Chinese restaurant.
"Today, I'll show you all what food culture is about," he declared to Bill and the others as they sat down.
After glancing at the menu, Sean quickly set it aside and called the waiter. "Don't try to fool me with your foreigner nonsense; bring me the real menu."
The waiter blinked in disbelief, raising an eyebrow at the white man before him. "You're not a foreigner?"
Sean smiled as Xiao En chimed in, "What? Have you never seen a foreigner who speaks Chinese fluently?"
"Sorry! Your Chinese is better than mine!" the waiter admitted, shaking his head in amazement.
"Not only do I speak it well, but my taste is also authentic. Is your specialty Cantonese or Chaozhou cuisine?" Sean asked.
"Everything is good," the waiter replied.
"If that's the case, I trust you to choose the best eight dishes for me," Sean said confidently.
The waiter hesitated, glancing at Bill and the others for confirmation. "Are you sure?"
"As long as there are no dishes made with cats or mice, I'm fine. Do you have Fei Tian wine?" Sean inquired.
To his surprise, the waiter nodded with a smile, "We do!"
"Great! Bring me two bottles," Sean responded, pleased, while Bill and the others exchanged puzzled looks.
Having spent over four months in the U.S., Sean had treated himself to good food, but he found American cuisine monotonous. As soon as he entered Chinatown, his appetite surged uncontrollably.
A cup of tea arrived, followed shortly by an array of dishes: braised squab, sweet and sour pork, roast suckling pig, lion head duck, oyster roast, pomegranate chicken, mandarin duck cream crab, and a classic old fire soup—all served with casserole porridge and beef kway teow soup.
Ignoring Bill and the others, Sean eagerly picked up his chopsticks and began to feast, savoring each bite. "What a delight!" he exclaimed, thoroughly enjoying the meal.
After indulging for a while, he poured himself a small cup of Moutai and offered it to Bill and the others. "Cheers! This is one of
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the best baijiu in China. It's a type of distilled liquor made from grain, not aged in wooden barrels like other spirits, giving it a unique aroma."
Since they started making money off smuggled alcohol, Bill and the others had developed a keen interest in various kinds of liquor. Now, their understanding and appreciation of different spirits had significantly improved—they were no longer just casual drinkers.
As everyone filled their glasses, Sean raised his, "Cheers!"
"Cheers!" echoed Bill and the others.
They gulped down the liquor, but Bill and the others grimaced—the baijiu was much stronger and spicier than the spirits they were used to, like brandy or vodka, which were often mixed with ice or soda.
Sean, however, put down his glass and frowned. He poured himself another drink, but this time he didn't sip it immediately. Instead, he sniffed it carefully.
His frown deepened, and his expression grew serious. He dipped a finger in the baijiu and rubbed it on the back of his hand, then sniffed it again. Gradually, his frown relaxed.
"It's not directly blended with alcohol," Sean muttered to himself.
"Boss, come here!" Sean called out, slamming the white porcelain bottle of Moutai onto the table. Bill and the others jumped, and nearby diners turned to look. They had already been impressed by Sean's fluent Chinese; now, they were curious about the commotion.
The waiter hurried over, lowering his voice, "Sir, what's the matter?"
"You fooled me with fake wine!" Sean pointed at the porcelain bottle, his face stern.
The waiter looked taken aback, "Sir, this is genuine Moutai. There must be some misunderstanding."
Sean's eyes narrowed, "Then explain why it doesn't taste right. I know my liquor, and this isn't the real deal."
The manager, alerted by the altercation, approached the table. "Is there a problem here?"
"Yes," Sean replied coldly. "I ordered Moutai, and this isn't it."
The manager examined the bottle and then turned to the waiter, "Bring another bottle from the back, the special reserve."
A few moments later, the waiter returned with a different bottle. The manager opened it and poured a small amount into Sean's glass. Sean repeated his earlier examination, sniffing and tasting the liquor. This time, he nodded approvingly.
"Now this is Moutai," Sean said, a smile returning to his face. "Apologies for the mix-up."
The manager sighed in relief, "Please accept this bottle on the house, as a gesture of goodwill."
Sean nodded, "Thank you. I appreciate it."
With the situation resolved, Sean and his companions continued their meal, enjoying the authentic Chinese flavors and the genuine Moutai. The brief conflict seemed to enhance their appreciation of the evening, reminding them of the importance of authenticity and trust in their business dealings.