Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

Chapter 146 A Chance Encounter in Chinatown at the Hotel in the Early Morning

Chapter 149: An Unexpected Encounter with Chinatown at the Hotel in the Early Morning

The Cadillac slowly drove into the driveway near Union Square in San Francisco. Lin Yan turned his head and said, "Xiao Qi, be good. You need to go back to your space for a while later. The rules here are a little different from Philadelphia. Dogs aren't allowed in the hotels."

The image of Little Seven's protesting voice immediately echoed in its mind, accompanied by a plaintive whimper: "Why, brother? We were allowed to go into that big house (the Vallac Hotel in Philadelphia) last time, weren't we? We even danced inside!" It still remembered the joy of spinning around in the bar.

Lin Yan patiently explained, a helpless smile playing on his lips, "Last time, I hid you well with my coat, so no one saw you. Today I'm not wearing a coat, so I can't use the same trick." He paused, then offered a compromise: "How about I put an invisibility talisman on you? You can quietly follow me around, I promise I won't make a sound, okay?"

"Okay, okay!" Xiao Qi immediately cheered up. As long as she wasn't separated from her brother, she was fine with anything.

Lin Yan flicked his fingertips, and an invisibility talisman silently landed on Xiao Qi, causing the little guy to vanish from the back seat instantly. A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of the magnificent Palace Hotel in San Francisco. A doorman in a crisp uniform quickly stepped forward and opened the car door.

Lin Yan straightened his clothes and got out of the car with Lin Gang. Lin Gang skillfully handled the luggage handover, while Lin Yan, seemingly alone but actually with an invisible little beast perched on his shoulder, stepped into the hotel lobby.

Upon entering the lobby, even Lin Yan, a man of many worldly experience, couldn't help but show a fleeting, almost imperceptible, admiration. Built in 1875 and rebuilt after the devastating earthquake of 1906, this hotel was now radiating the final splendor of its golden age. The enormous glass dome (Garden Court's skylight) streamed in the bright California sunlight, illuminating the gleaming marble floors and massive marble columns. Beneath the dome, layers of crystal chandeliers cascaded like an inverted, dazzling galaxy. The air was thick with the rich aroma of cigars, perfumes, and flowers; elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies conversed in hushed tones, while waiters carried silver platters, creating a scene of refined luxury.

Lin Yan's memories surged, the scene before him overlapping and separating with his past life, his memories of staying here in 2025 for a business conference on Wall Street. The 21st-century Palace Hotel was still luxurious, but it possessed more of a meticulously maintained sense of historical heritage, with modern facilities cleverly integrated, attracting more tourists than true aristocrats. But here in 1959, everything here exuded the vibrancy and confidence of the present, a lavish and undisguised luxury and self-assurance from the Gilded Age that was difficult for later generations to replicate. Perhaps the biggest difference was the atmosphere: in the lobby now, the conversations were soft, yet filled with anticipation for the future; while in the future he remembered, this place was more about nostalgia and tourism.

He walked straight to the front desk and said to the manager, who was dressed in a sharp suit and had his hair neatly combed, "Please book me the best suites, two rooms, for three days."

"Yes, sir." The manager was well-trained and showed no disrespect to Lin Yan's young, Asian face, quickly processing his check-in. The key was a heavy brass key, engraved with exquisite patterns.

Lin Yan took the key and, with the "invisible" Xiao Qi and Lin Gang in tow, headed towards the elevator under the guidance of the bellhop. Although Xiao Qi was invisible, the sensation of its little paws clinging to Lin Yan's shoulder, and the mental fluctuations of its curious, wandering gaze, made Lin Yan smile slightly.

Lin Yan, leading the concealed Xiao Qi and Lin Gang, entered a suite on the eighth floor of the San Francisco Palace Hotel, guided by a waiter. After closing the heavy door, he lightly brushed his fingertips across Xiao Qi's back fur, and the invisibility talisman was quietly deactivated. The little guy immediately reappeared, running around curiously in the spacious living room, sniffing around with his little nose.

Lin Yan walked to the window and drew back the heavy velvet curtains. The night view of Market Street unfolded before her eyes like a flowing scroll of light—streetcars trailed long, electric beams of light as they crisscrossed the streets, the headlights of vintage cars formed a flowing galaxy, and in the distance, the Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill shone with warm light in the night, while further on, the inky black San Francisco Bay stretched out. Compared to Market Street in 2025, filled with skyscrapers and even more dazzling neon lights, it lacked some of the futuristic austerity and gained more of the warmth and everyday life of a golden age.

"Dinner's ready." Lin Yan took out the food box that Wang Yuling had prepared in advance from his spatial storage. As soon as the lid was opened, the food was still steaming hot, as if it had just come out of the pot. Braised spirit chicken, steamed silver threadfin fish, jade bok choy, and a small pot of spirit rice filled the room with aroma. Xiao Qi immediately pounced on its food bowl and buried itself in its food, its tail wagging happily as it ate. Lin Yan also enjoyed his meal, finding it even more palatable than the hotel restaurant.

After a hearty meal, Lin Yan took Xiao Qi to the bathroom for a hot bath to wash away the dust of the journey before tucking the tired little one into a soft bed.

The next morning, Lin Yan was indeed woken up again by Xiao Qi's wet tongue. He smiled, brushed the white furball aside, and got up to wash. Then, he prepared a large bowl of fragrant spirit beast milk for Xiao Qi, as well as a bowl of sumptuous breakfast mixed with spirit beast meat and spirit rice. He took out a steak for himself and had a glass of milk.

Sunlight streamed through the window. Lin Yan ate while admiring the view outside. The market street was already bustling in the early morning, but unlike its nighttime vibrancy, it possessed a vibrant energy. Just then, Lin Gang knocked on the door. Xiao Qi's ears perked up, and with an excited "Awoo!" it leaped off the chair, precisely pouncing on the doorknob and using its weight to push down—"Click!" The door opened. Lin Gang looked at Xiao Qi opening the door and couldn't help but smile. Lin Yan invited him in and brought him breakfast. The two of them and the beast ate quietly.

At 8:00 a.m. sharp, everything was ready. Lin Yan, carrying Xiao Qi and accompanied by Lin Gang, set off for their important destination – Chinatown.

Leaving the hotel, a short walk brought us to the entrance of Chinatown. At this time, the giant archway that would later become a landmark, designed by Rick Clayton and others and inscribed with "All Under Heaven Belongs to the People," had not yet been completed (the archway was built in 1970), but the area where Bush Street and Grant Avenue intersected was already the starting point of a vibrant Chinese community.

Stepping onto Grant Avenue feels like instantly transporting you to your homeland across the ocean. The buildings lining both sides of the street are densely packed, mostly two- or three-story brick and wood structures, their exteriors cleverly blending Chinese and Western elements: the walls are Western-style, but the roofs often feature green glazed tiles or traditional upturned eaves, some adorned with exquisite carvings and paintings. The shops facing the street often have facades painted striking red or gold, displaying large signs with traditional Chinese characters; established businesses such as "Shengchang Company" and "Shengfa Company" still exist. Many shops also have large red lanterns hanging outside, creating a festive atmosphere even during the day.

The streets were bustling with pedestrians, a cacophony of voices. The vast majority spoke Cantonese, especially the Siyi dialect, which was the primary lingua franca in Chinatown at the time. One could also hear Taishan dialect and other Cantonese dialects, occasionally punctuated by broken English bargaining. The air was filled with the aromas of Chinese medicinal herbs, the savory scent of roasted meats, the salty tang of seafood, and a faint hint of sandalwood, creating Chinatown's unique atmosphere.

People's clothing bore a distinct mark of the era. Many older men still habitually wore Tang suits with front or side lapels, mostly in dark blue or gray. Some more traditional elderly men even sported long, graying braids. Middle-aged and some younger men, on the other hand, were more often dressed in suits, shirts, and trousers, though the cuts might be slightly looser, in line with the fashion of the time. Women's clothing was more diverse, ranging from plain-colored blouses to brightly colored, embroidered cheongsams. Young women, in particular, looked striking in their cheongsams, which accentuated their curves. There were also some modern women in Western-style dresses and permed hair, showcasing a fusion of Chinese and Western styles.

Customers and residents alike appeared generally positive and busy. Shop owners and their assistants opened early, enthusiastically calling out to attract customers, their faces reflecting anticipation for the day's livelihood. An elderly woman carrying a basket of daily necessities skillfully selected vegetables and dried goods; the teahouse was already quite full, with people drinking morning tea, eating snacks, reading Chinese newspapers, and loudly discussing news from their hometown or the community. Some young men in work clothes could also be seen hurrying to work. Although life was not easy, most people's eyes revealed a tenacious vitality and hope for the future. Near Portsmouth Square, elderly people were already leisurely practicing Tai Chi, or gathering to play chess and chat, beginning their regular day in their later years.

Lin Yan, holding Xiao Qi, strolled with Lin Gang through the familiar streets and alleys. The familiar accents filled his ears, and the scenery of his hometown greeted him. A complex yet warm feeling quietly flowed through his heart. Xiao Qi, with its big, bright eyes, also opened wide, curiously observing this vibrant world, so different from Beverly Hills and Malibu Beach.

Little Qi squirmed restlessly in Lin Yan's arms, a warm, fluffy ball like a playful little furball. This little guy had grown independent now and wasn't so keen on always being a decoration in his arms; he preferred to run and play on the ground wherever he went. Lin Yan let it be, only sending a wisp of his divine consciousness like a thread to bind it, protecting it without interfering with its freedom. Little Qi was intelligent and knew its limits, never truly daring to wander off.

As soon as Xiaoqi was free, it darted out like a small white cannonball, its target a few gray pigeons leisurely pecking at food in the open space ahead. Its little nose twitched incessantly, tracking the unfamiliar scents in the air, its four short legs moving swiftly, completely immersed in its own world of adventure.

This scene unfolded right in front of a thriving tofu shop in Chinatown. The air was filled with the rich aroma of soybeans and the warmth of steam.

Just then, a woman dressed in a plain-colored cheongsam walked out of the shop carrying a simple cloth bag. Inside the bag was a piece of fresh tofu, still warm and wrapped in oil paper, which she had just bought, along with a few light side dishes. She seemed lost in thought, her eyes lowered, her demeanor somewhat distant and weary, and she walked absentmindedly.

Fate's coincidences often happen in a moment of carelessness. In his excitement to chase a pigeon that suddenly flapped its wings and took flight, Xiaoqi made a sharp turn, and his nimble body tripped right at the lady's feet.

"oops!"

A soft cry, tinged with surprise and a hint of pain, rang out. The woman stumbled, losing her balance, and the cloth bag in her hand flew out. With a crisp "crack," the soft, fresh tofu hit the cold ground, shattering into pieces, the white tofu pudding splattering out like a flower suddenly withering.

Lin Yan's heart tightened, and he immediately jogged forward, reaching out to firmly support the woman's arm as she was about to fall. His tone was filled with utmost sincerity and apology: "Madam, I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching it properly. Are you alright? Did you twist your ankle?"

Almost simultaneously, he gave it a look, and Xiaoqi, who had been about to chase after the pigeons, immediately stopped in its tracks, realizing it had caused trouble. Its fluffy ears drooped instantly, and it made a pitiful "woof woof" sound in its throat. It obediently rubbed back to the lady's feet, gently nuzzling her trouser leg with its snow-white head. Its obsidian-like eyes were filled with guilt, as if it were silently begging for forgiveness.

The woman raised her head angrily, her brows furrowed, ready to lash out—anyone who had been unexpectedly knocked out of their possession would inevitably feel a surge of anger. However, when her face came into full view of Lin Yan, he couldn't help but pause in surprise.

It was a face that, while not stunningly beautiful, was extremely pleasing to the eye. Her skin was fair, her features clear and well-proportioned, possessing a unique charm that blended classical elegance. Most striking were her eyes; even in anger, they held a calm and detached insight into human nature, as if she were looking at the world through a thin mist.

A flicker of doubt crossed Lin Yan's mind: This face looks so familiar. Where have I seen it before? His photographic memory flashed through his mind, but he couldn't immediately connect this face, so full of stories, to any specific name or scene. This sudden sense of familiarity made him hesitate, his words caught in his throat as he was about to apologize again.