Rise of the Argentine Empire

Besides having Aragon buy meat, vegetables, and fruit, he also had him go to the store to buy two bottles of wine. While tequila was delicious and a high-end gift, it could only be bought in the city center, which was a bit too far, and there wasn't enough time.

The two of them followed behind Old Chen, carrying large and small bags, while Old Chen pulled his cart, walking very quickly. Old Chen looked to be only in his fifties.

He hadn't told the whole truth before. In reality, Old Chen was from Peru, and his ancestors were from the Southern Guangdong province of China. He had even fought for the Peruvian army. He lived a decent life in Peru, but he was a bit restless. Plus, he had quite a few sons and even more grandchildren, so he wanted to earn more money to supplement his family income.

To save on travel expenses, five years ago, he completed the feat of crossing the Andes Mountains from Peru with a group of Native Americans, arriving in Bolivia. But Bolivia was even poorer than Peru, so he came to Argentina.

The fact that he could cross mountains with altitudes of five or six thousand meters at such an old age, this spirit of not fearing death to make money, filled San Martin with awe. The Andes Mountains are also the sacred mountains of the gauchos. The remote areas there are inhabited by Native American tribes who haven't been completely exterminated and are relatively simple and honest.

Old Chen had a lot of dealings with Native Americans, the Native American tribes in Bolivia, some Native American tribes on the Argentine border, and he even knew some simple Spanish.

Most of these Native American tribes no longer have their own languages. Old Chen's Spanish is a bit clumsy, but it's because Old Chen's ancestors told him not to forget his roots, meaning, 'I'd rather sell ancestral fields than forget ancestral words.'

He would never admit that it was because he didn't study hard when he was young and hung around in Chinatown.

Old Chen's family was a small-to-medium-sized vegetable farming family. They had over twenty acres of vegetable fields in Lima, Peru, but after the five sons divided the family property, it wasn't enough.

There are very few Chinese people in Cordoba, only a dozen families, forming a small gathering place.

The formation of a Chinatown was due to a man named Li Sanye, but we won't go into that.

Don't underestimate this vegetable stall. It can actually earn two or three thousand pesos a month," Old Chen said with some pride, also because San Martin looked somewhat like his eldest grandson, and he genuinely didn't seem to have any malicious intentions.

"? ? ?"

I didn't expect him to be a big shot. This Old Chen is quite capable. A man in his fifties, still venturing out into the world, amazing! San Martin couldn't help but give him a thumbs up.

Also, San Martin believed that he looked kind and good-hearted, but after all, he wasn't the same as Old Chen, a fellow countryman. It was normal to be a bit wary at first. If he wasn't wary, it would be abnormal. He would have been scammed on the road long ago and wouldn't have made it to Cordoba.

Old Chen saw that this young man was indeed a junior officer and seemed quite decent. He looked honest and reliable, with a good face. As they chatted, he opened up a bit more.

Old Chen is older and has managed to travel through several countries without incident, so he must have some skills, able to use some ancient physiognomy techniques to see if a person is reliable or not.

His business has been booming in the past two years, and he has saved hundreds of thousands of pesos to send back to his sons, planning to rent dozens of acres of land in a few months, around December or January, during the summer.

He plans to bring his fourth and fifth sons over by boat. After all, the business is getting bigger and bigger, and he needs more people. Although Peru is relatively comfortable, there isn't much money to be made after dividing the family property, and the competition is more intense. There are still quite a few people in Peru.

Moreover, with more people, they can do bigger things. The locals are relatively lazy and not as hardworking as the Chinese. The opportunity is rare, so they will also need to find a larger house to rent.

San Martin couldn't help but admire Old Chen. If it were in his previous life, he wouldn't have had this kind of courage, to go to a foreign country alone, struggling to survive, trying to survive in the cracks, and still being bullied.

It's somewhat similar to the situation of the gauchos, but of course, it's not comparable. The gauchos originally wandered for the sake of wandering.

Old Chen's house wasn't too far away, but the continuous 3 kilometers still left San Martin a bit dazed. Looking at Old Chen's brisk pace, San Martin fell into deep self-doubt, but he quickly recovered. This was a man who had crossed the Andes Mountains, the modern-day San Martin, awesome.

The Durant Market was already considered relatively far from the city center, and Old Chen lived even further away.

After Old Chen said 'almost there' for the nineteenth time, San Martin remembered his fear of climbing mountains in his previous life. If he had known, he would have had Aragon ride the three-wheeled motorcycle over. Looking at Aragon next to him, carrying things, he also looked a bit weak. Aragon and the others lacked exercise. Their foundation was not bad, San Martin himself was fine, his physical fitness was much stronger, and he had been consciously exercising recently.

It seems that he needs to give the people in the company a bit more training. Life is a bit too comfortable, need to add some spice.

Along the way, San Martin and Old Chen chatted constantly, from New China to Peru, from mining to growing vegetables, from fighting wars to playing soccer. Old Chen was also very surprised by San Martin's fluent Cantonese. Except for Aragon, who didn't know what the two were saying in code, Aragon didn't say much and silently followed two steps behind.

Old Chen lived in a three-story building, with two bedrooms and one living room. There was also a small courtyard downstairs for parking. Sure enough, San Martin met several familiar Chinese faces here. The so-called 'seeing fellow countrymen, tears welling up in their eyes,' San Martin was also a bit excited.

The so-called Chinatown here was just a small alley. There weren't many Chinese people in Cordoba. Old Chen was quite familiar with them, which made San Martin a bit disappointed. He thought that Old Chen's bragging was quite good, and he almost believed it. He thought there was really a street full of people.

San Martin followed Old Chen up to the second floor, opened the door, and found it clean and tidy, very well swept.

"Hey, although this place is a bit remote, the rent is cheap, only 180 pesos a month. When I first arrived at the central train station from the border, I lived in a small single room that was only 100 pesos," Old Chen said. He recalled coming to Argentina alone and finding this small settlement, where he met some fellow Chinese.

The cleanliness of the house made San Jose a little embarrassed, as it was different from the bachelor life he had imagined. The furnishings in the room had a strong Chinatown feel: a wok, a traditional Chinese dining table, long benches, soy sauce, chili sauce, some leftovers on the table, and a thermos. The scene was truly nostalgic, and tears almost welled up in his eyes.

"These old things were left to me by someone else. His name was Third Master Li. He stayed in Argentina for a long time. Last year, he went to Buenos Aires with his son to enjoy life," Old Chen said, rambling about things in the room.

"Cohen, you came without telling me, and you even brought things!" He then took the meat and vegetables, put on an apron, and started cooking.

"Hehe, I'll help wash the vegetables," San Jose said nimbly, taking out the greens, potatoes, green beans, asparagus, chickpeas, scallions, green beans, and tomatoes, and washing them clean. Old Chen saw that San Jose was quick and efficient, so he asked San Jose to rinse the rice.

Old Chen told San Jose to cook a little more. San Jose used a cup to measure out enough rice for five people and rinsed it clean.

San Jose saw Aragon sitting idly in a chair.

"Aragon, go get the car later. I'll help prepare things here. We'll have delicious Chinese food later," San Jose said, pushing him out the door, leaving Aragon speechless.

He picked and washed the vegetables one by one, then prepared to slice the pork. He also washed a few apples and cleaned and sliced the lamb chops, beef, and fish.

Old Chen was in charge of cooking, looking at the familiar stove and stir-frying.

Old Chen also took out some unique local herbs from the room and used them to stew a pot of chicken soup. He made several hearty dishes: preserved vegetable with pork belly, poached chicken, braised pork, steamed bass, chickpea stew with beef, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, stewed lamb chops, and several plates of green vegetables, each with a perfect color, aroma, and taste, making San Jose swallow his saliva, almost unable to resist stealing a bite.

The two of them worked for almost two hours, and it was already evening. Aragon had already returned and prepared the bowls and chopsticks. The three of them were ready to eat.

The doorbell rang at this moment.

"What a bloodhound!" Old Chen frowned, but a smile appeared on his lips, and he got up to open the door.

A young man stood outside the door.

"Old Chen, look what I brought!" The young man was carrying half a roast duck. When he saw San Jose and Aragon, his expression became wary.

"Oh, Old Chen, you have guests at home. Should I come back tomorrow?" He said, putting down the roast duck and preparing to leave.

"Hey, young man, what's your name? Sit down and eat together. There's plenty of food," San Jose stood up and invited the young man to sit down.

Old Chen also didn't let the young man leave and introduced the two of them. San Jose went to the kitchen to get a new set of bowls and chopsticks, scalded them with boiling water, and served chicken soup. The young man sat down a little cautiously.

"You can also speak Mandarin. My name is Li Qingyun. Just call me Little Li," The young man named Li Qingyun seemed a little excited. In Argentina, it was the first time he had met a foreigner who could speak Chinese.

San Jose shook hands with Li Qingyun.

"I'm San Jose Cohen. You can also call me Cohen," He said and sat down to drink the soup. The taste was perfect.

His stomach was a little uncomfortable from drinking last night, and a bowl of chicken soup was just right. He hadn't eaten much all day, and the food on the table was extremely delicious, completely different from what he had eaten recently. It was the taste of home, so delicious.

Aragon was also eating Chinese food for the first time, but he didn't know how to use chopsticks, so he used a spoon and ate with gusto.

After a whirlwind, more than half of the food was eaten. San Jose burped with satisfaction, feeling a little embarrassed, but it was so good. He didn't expect to be able to eat the taste of home so soon.

At the end of the meal, everyone chatted. He learned that Li Qingyun worked as a waiter in the city, and the salary was low and he wasn't happy.

"You can work in my factory making canned goods. If you do well, I'll make you a production supervisor. Earning a few thousand pesos a month is not a problem," San Jose said.

After chatting, he felt that Li Qingyun was quite reliable. The people in the cannery were a bit lazy and not very capable. San Jose didn't quite trust them. The dog-fart supervisor had even stolen canned goods these past two days, so San Jose fired him and hired a new German guy as supervisor, who was doing a good job.

"Really? I'm so frustrated working as a waiter. The salary is less than five hundred pesos, and they deduct this and that. There's no technical content either," Li Qingyun stood up excitedly, looking at San Jose.

"Come to 16 Saint Clara Street outside the West City Barracks. I'll have Aragon take you there," San Jose said casually after drinking some wine.

It felt like a dinner with good friends from his previous life, making San Jose very relaxed. He was very lonely in this world and didn't have many friends. He didn't know who to talk to about many things. Meeting Old Chen was a big surprise today.

The three of them kept bragging and chatting. Except for Aragon, who didn't know what they were talking about, they occasionally spoke Spanish, allowing Aragon to participate in the conversation. The meal lasted from dusk until after nine in the evening. Aragon had a big appetite and devoured more than a third of the food.

The group went downstairs, leaving the washing of the dishes to Old Chen. Haha, San Jose could cook, but he wouldn't wash dishes.

Aragon was driving and didn't drink. San Jose also switched back to Spanish mode.

"Boss, tonight's food was really delicious. Why aren't there any Chinese restaurants in the city? I'll go eat there every day."

That's right, he had been in Cordoba for more than half a month, and there weren't any Chinese restaurants. Old Chen's cooking skills were good. Maybe he could talk to Old Chen about having his children come and open a Chinese restaurant, which would definitely be a hit.

He missed Chinese hot pot, barbecue, skewers, and the like. When it got bigger, he could create a food street or something.

The two returned to their residence and fell asleep. He remembered that he had to give a speech tomorrow and have his men strengthen their training. They were eating too well and had little bellies, which wouldn't do.