Rise of the Argentine Empire

The next day, I woke up with a slight headache. I splashed my face with cold water, boiled two kettles of water, took a hot shower, got dressed, and drank a glass of cold water, glug, glug.

After washing up, Saint-Hesse, seeing Aragon waiting outside the door, boiled a kettle of water, preparing to brew two cups of mate tea. He casually picked up a cup and took a sip.

“Home tea is still the best,” Saint-Hesse said softly, then paused, staring blankly at the cup in his hand.

“Boss, this tea isn't from our hometown. It's from the locals. I can't get used to it. It's only a little better than drinking cold water. If you ask me, mare's milk tea from our hometown is better.”

“That's because you haven't had anything good. Let me tell you, the legendary tea from New China is the best, black tea, green tea, oolong tea…”

After drinking this cup of mate tea, his mood calmed down a bit, and his headache was gone. He started happily bragging.

“I still can't get used to black coffee. It's imported from the Brazilians, expensive and hard to drink,” Aragon had bought a can of coffee beans some time ago and had been feeling the pinch ever since.

“That's because you haven't had anything good to drink. Let me tell you, cola, soda, milk tea, pineapple beer, bayberry juice, coconut juice, milk tea… I'll get you some to try later.”

“Boss, what are you talking about? I've had American cola. It tastes like medicine and is terribly hard to drink. It costs 200 pesos a bottle, super expensive. If you ask me, a real man should drink tequila. That stuff is good.”

Aragon licked his lips after speaking and peeled off a piece of skin from his lip with his hand. Saint-Hesse couldn't help but close his eyes.

“Okay, maybe the cola isn't good now. It's true that drinking too much cola isn't good. Yeah, it's bad for your health. There are some bad rumors about it.

I still have some tequila stored. You can take it yourself if you want to drink it. I'm planning to drink less alcohol lately,” perhaps influenced by his predecessor, he had a special preference for strong liquors like tequila and had bought a lot of it after earning some money.

“Hehe, Boss, then I'll take it…”

Before he could finish speaking, Aragon quickly ran to the room, even carrying up the remaining box of tequila. Only his bald head could be seen as he prepared to leave.

“Drinking delays things. Don't drink during the day today. By the way, where can I find the nearest farmers market? I want to go to the farmers market to buy some groceries. I'm tired of eating stewed potatoes and meat lately. The kind from last night was okay, but it was a bit too expensive.”

Saint-Hesse asked casually, slumping into the chair. Tequila has a strong after-effect, and he didn't buy any fruit or anything at home to relieve the alcohol.

“Boss, the nearest farmers market is the Durante market.

Whether it's meat, fruits, or vegetables, that's the biggest market near the western district. There are also some local specialties from our Gaucho people.”

Aragon had no choice but to put down the alcohol and speak instead.

“Okay, when you're free later, come with me to the farmers market.”

“Okay, does the captain want to drive?”

“No, let's just walk. Is it far?”

“It's about seven kilometers from here.”

“Oh, then let's take a car.”

“After all, it's not good to waste too much time,” Saint-Hesse added.

“Yes, Captain,” Aragon saluted.

Of course, the posture of this salute, well, how should I put it, it looked a bit awkward, a bit strange.

Aragon's expression immediately brightened up. He was just a seventeen-year-old kid, haha.

Aragon is also a Gaucho, from the same village. He is quite burly and has been following him since he was a child.

He has been following Saint-Hesse for more than half a year now and is the soldier who spends the most time with Saint-Hesse every day.

He doesn't have to go on patrol either. He's just an orderly who helps the captain every day.

With everything ready, Saint-Hesse rode in the three-wheeled motorcycle driven by Aragon, without incident along the way.

Arriving at the Durante Market, unlike the desolation on the road, as soon as they reached the intersection, there was a feeling of a sea of people, full of life, with noisy hawking and many stalls.

It felt a bit like going to a fair in his previous life. Near the entrance were seafood stalls, where all kinds of fish could be seen. The stall owners were skillfully killing fish and hawking, cleanly and efficiently.

Aragon parked the car and followed behind. Saint-Hesse slowly walked towards the farmers market. After passing the fish and meat stalls were other meat stalls, with pork, lamb, beef, and alpaca meat, all in abundance.

Saint-Hesse was not in a hurry to buy vegetables and continued to stroll forward, arriving at the vegetable stalls, where a circle of people was gathered in front, not knowing what they were doing.

Saint-Hesse also walked forward. The stall owner seemed to be a descendant of the Chinese, an old man, which made Saint-Hesse feel a little kinship.

Having lived in Argentina for eighteen years in his previous life, he had almost never encountered descendants of New China. This was the only Chinese face selling vegetables at the stalls here, which made him pay attention.

There were many common vegetables on the old man's stall. In front of the stall were several people with rather flamboyant attire, who seemed to be collecting protection money. The old man looked meek and submissive, and there were also several other old and weak stall owners, but most of them were bowing their heads, and some other white stall owners were watching.

“May your family be rich, young brother, I really have no money, pugai, I don't earn much from setting up a stall for a day,” he then rattled off some Spanish.

The old man's face was pleading, and the words he spoke confirmed the dialect that Saint-Hesse had heard! Saint-Hesse felt his blood rush to his head. He was speaking the hardest words in the most cowardly tone, that's right! He was a fellow villager. Just as he was about to go forward, he suddenly paused and stopped.

The black-clothed man in the lead was slapping the stall owner's face, speaking Spanish mixed with some Italian. Aragon whispered in his ear,

“These people seem to be from the local mafia and are collecting protection money. I heard that our Gauchos are often bullied here. Our Gauchos sell more beef and lamb here, and there is no one in charge of security here now.”

“Boss, should we go up front and take a look? See more clearly,”

Aragon said, seeing that Saint-Hesse seemed a little interested.

It seemed that Aragon was also very interested in watching the excitement, with an eager look, even staring at Aragon's shoulders, his eyes rolling. The onlookers are the same everywhere.

“That's not necessary. I'll ask which person this pugai… little brother is working for. He looks very arrogant,”

Although he said it wasn't necessary, Saint-Hesse walked forward, and Aragon followed.

“Pugai… what does that mean,” Aragon asked, puzzled.

"It's nothing... it's an English word, 'puy,' meaning poor people. By the way, these gang members shouldn't be carrying guns, right?" Saint Hesser explained, a little worried. These teenagers were at an impulsive age, and guns would be troublesome.

"You should learn more English in the future; after all, English is quite powerful," Saint Hesser said, pressing his point.

"Probably not. These 'puy' look pretty young, and in our country, you need a license and an exam to carry a gun, unless it's illegal possession. But we're doing pretty well in that regard, unlike those Brazilians. I heard there are gunfights every day. In our country, it's easy to get caught by the city guards and police for carrying a gun on the street. Handguns are generally expensive, but just in case..." Aragon routinely bashed Brazil, seeming to know some common knowledge.

Saint Hesser relaxed a little. Indeed, he hadn't heard many gunshots in the city recently. The city guards were doing a decent job controlling that aspect. The worst you'd see was some village brawls. On the Pampas grasslands, herders mostly have hunting rifles.

"Alright, I'll go ask and see."

Although Saint Hesser was a little afraid these youngsters would act impulsively and cause trouble, since he said he'd mind his own business, he had to bite the bullet and go forward.

He patted the little thug standing at the back. "Hey, which gang are you from? Why are you collecting protection money here?"

The young man was about to lash out, but looking at the oppressive figure, he patiently replied,

"We're from the Fire Wire Gang. My boss is the one in the black clothes up front. My boss is called Yarabraham Quianda. Brother, are you interested in joining our gang?" He wanted to recruit Saint Hesser.

"Oh? How many people are in your gang? Seems like I haven't heard of it," Saint Hesser seemed unconcerned about the Fire Wire Gang. Weren't they just a bunch of small-time thugs?

"We only have five people, so what? We'll grow quickly, and when we do, we can give you a position," the young man almost got angry, but then looked at Saint Hesser's build. Saint Hesser was a little confused. Did he say something wrong?

"That's okay then. Call your boss over here to chat. I'm the captain of the Ninth Brigade of the City Guards. You're suspected of committing a crime, and this is my ID."

After saying that, he pulled out his officer's ID. Seeing this, Aragon in the back was a bit speechless. He thought his boss was going to show off his power and beat them down.

As if seeing Aragon's thoughts, Saint Hesser turned and waved at him.

Aragon trotted over to Saint Hesser and saluted. The young man was a little dumbfounded. Was this the first time they'd collected protection money and specifically picked on a soft target, only to provoke the City Guards? It seemed their boss hadn't checked the calendar before coming out today.

The young man didn't plan to run anyway. At most, they'd just get a lecture or something. He walked over to the bald guy in front and whispered a few words in his ear.

The bald guy and his little brother were a little dazed. They abandoned the old man in front and turned to walk towards Saint Hesser.

Seeming not to care too much, he was very straightforward and a bit arrogant.

"Officer, is there anything I can help you with?" Yarabraham tapped a toothpick, picking his teeth.

"Help you with? Not really. Do you have time to come with us for a trip?" Saint Hesser flared up and said calmly.

"Officer, we're just having a friendly chat with this stall owner, right, old man?"

The little devil even turned and threatened him. Of course, Saint Hesser was just saying it casually. The Cordoba Police Department wasn't very strong.

But Saint Hesser himself didn't have the authority to enforce the law, so he planned to scare this little brat.

"Alright, don't ask anymore. I'll let you off this time, but if I see you again, I'll have the police take you in directly. My colleague is in charge of this area of the police department. It's easy to pull a few people in."

"Officer, we're great citizens," The little devil still looked indifferent. It seemed his family had some influence. The little thugs behind him were very sensible and whispered a few words in his ear.

Saint Hesser vaguely heard something, probably something about retreating for now.

Based on the idea of not offending anyone unnecessarily, Saint Hesser didn't make things too difficult for these little devils and let them go. When the little devil left, he glared at the surrounding stall owners, slapped the head of the Chinese old man, took a few apples, and left.

He breathed a sigh of relief, but on the surface, he remained calm and collected.

The Chinese old man came over to thank him, speaking broken Spanish, with a somewhat evasive look in his eyes, probably thinking it was better to avoid trouble.

Saint Hesser blurted out, "Lei hou, lei hou, uncle, lei xi na tiao jie de? ..." As soon as he said it, Saint Hesser felt a little embarrassed, and his voice became quieter and quieter.

The Chinese old man seemed to hear this sentence and also became a little excited, "Lei hou, ah sir, my ancestors were from Lingnan Province. I've been here for decades." Saint Hesser was of mixed Indian and white descent, with more than half of his blood being Indian. He really did look a bit like a Chinese, and the old man misunderstood.

Saint Hesser started chatting with the old man. The old man's surname was Chen, and he said that he was already a third-generation immigrant. Although he only looked in his fifties, he was actually in his early sixties.

He grew vegetables on a farm outside of Argentina and sold them. He was threatened by these young men for not paying protection money. These young men were of Italian descent, and it was said that the boss was the son of a small official in the city. Fortunately, Saint Hesser came to the rescue this time.

Saint Hesser also learned that there was a small Chinatown in Cordoba. The stall owner hadn't sold all his vegetables yet, and he was still a bit short. Saint Hesser had Old Man Chen pack up some of the vegetables, saying he wanted to go to Chinatown and take a look. Old Man Chen was a little wary, but Saint Hesser didn't care too much.

Old Man Chen was also a bit curious that Saint Hesser could speak fluent Cantonese and that Saint Hesser seemed to know a lot about Chinese knowledge and customs, including the fact that New China had been established.

Saint Hesser boasted that his ancestors also had some connection with China, and Old Man Chen slowly lowered his guard. Old Man Chen also asked why he spoke Cantonese, and he dodged the question with a vague answer. He couldn't possibly say that he was a New China person in his previous life.

Old Man Chen was also very proud of the establishment of New China last year, and Old Man Chen didn't seem to have a local green card as a Chinese descendant.

Old Man Chen himself said that he was a descendant of Chinese miners who came here during the Qing Dynasty, struggling to survive until now, which was not easy.

However, Saint Hesser also felt a little strange. It seemed that the mining industry in Argentina was not very developed during the Qing Dynasty, and Argentina was also remote, so he just thought about it.

Out of gratitude to Saint Hesser, and because Saint Hesser seemed to be a good person, Old Man Chen politely offered to treat the two to a meal to thank them, or to give some vegetables to the two officers.

Of course, Old Man Chen was just being polite, thinking that these foreigners wouldn't be used to Chinese food anyway. Saint Hesser readily agreed, not paying attention to Old Man Chen's open mouth, and told Aragon to buy some meat and vegetables.

Not for anything else, but mainly because he was a little hungry. He hadn't tasted authentic Chinese food for a long time. He also had Aragon go to other stalls to buy some pork, chicken, fish, and other ingredients. Old Man Chen also closed his stall. Saint Hesser followed Old Man Chen, intending to go to Chinatown in Cordoba to take a look and see the world.