I'm a spy in the film

Daguan Tang suit store.

There is a gorgeous signboard at the entrance of the store, which is as tall as a person. On it, colorful light bulbs form the words "all kinds of men's and women's clothing, suits, cheongsams, Tang suits, and Hanfu". It instantly gives you a feeling of going back to the 1950s and 1960s.

Walking into the store, the walls were covered with all kinds of cheongsams and Hanfu. Many blond, blue-eyed young girls in cool clothes were laughing and frequently moving between the changing rooms and clothes racks. They were not embarrassed by the stares at them, but instead threw several flirtatious glances at Bourne who was looking around the store.

Looking at these girls, some cute and some fit, Bourne fell into deep thought:

Is this the place where the martial arts masters live and retire as Yin Yang said?

What kind of expert would retire in a shop like this, and what kind of skills could he learn with so many girls?

Evil power?

With ridiculous thoughts running through his mind, Bourne walked straight to the counter at the back of the store with a smile on his face and without looking around. There, an old Asian man wearing overalls and a white shirt, who was a little fat, was measuring a roll of cloth in his hand with his head down.

"Hello, is there a Mr. Zhao named Zhao Asheng here?" Bourne said in a gentle tone, not speaking Mandarin.

"Zhao Asheng is my father. He has been dead for many years. Please don't come looking for me anymore. It's useless to look for me!"

The fat old man put down the tape measure in his hand with some impatience, only to find that the person who asked the question earlier was actually a young foreign guy in his early twenties.

After staring at Bourne through his glasses for a while and seeing that he was still smiling, the fat old man felt that Bourne did not seem to be looking for trouble, so he frowned and said in unfamiliar English: "He is dead." Then he ignored him.

Although he didn't know why the old Asian man had such a bad attitude, Bourne still understood some of the Cantonese he just spoke.

Therefore, Bourne held back his condolences and smiled at the fat old man, saying, "Sorry, I heard from others that Master Zhao Asheng is very good at kung fu, so I wanted to learn kung fu from him. Now that the old man is gone, forget it! Goodbye."

After saying that, Bourne turned and left. After he left the store, the fat old man took out his cell phone from under the counter and sent a message to someone unknown. Not long after, a crisp text message sounded. Looking at the screen, there were six simple words: "Got it, be careful."

The fat old man nodded and continued with his work.

On this side, Bourne, who returned to the bureau, did not immediately go to the store in Manhattan's Chinatown. Because of his experience at noon, Bourne no longer had any hope for the other store. In the age of guns and cannons, martial arts are dead.

So, he planned to go check out the situation after get off work in the evening, have a local Chinese meal, and then walk back to the apartment.

To be honest, although both are famous Chinatowns in New York, Bourne prefers Lower Manhattan a little more, because here you can better feel the 5,000 years of cultural accumulation of the Celestial Empire, not only in the old shops that maintain their traditions on this street, but also in the strong Chinese atmosphere on this street.

For example, right now, on the narrow street where Bourne is, a wonderful "competition performance" is taking place:

A dozen people in uniform surrounded a thin old man with gray hair, but the thin old man kicked them and made them roll on the ground like a gourd.

There were two unlucky ones who were grabbed by the wrists by the skinny old man and dragged on the ground. Sometimes they were used as human shields to block the angry counterattacks of their accomplices, and sometimes they were used as human weapons to knock their accomplices who were struggling to get up back to the ground.

After a while, there were no more enemies standing on the ground, including the two makeshift "props" he had just thrown on the ground, except for a middle-aged man standing in front of the crowd of onlookers on the opposite side.

This middle-aged man with a side-parted hair and long front teeth was wearing the same style of Tang suit as the thugs wailing on the ground, but the color was dark red, while the thugs' was blue.

He was no longer as arrogant and domineering as when he first arrived here, and beads of sweat the size of beans covered his forehead.

This is impossible! He exclaimed in his heart.

Isn't this old man seriously ill and dying? How can he fight so hard and drag his two minions for several minutes without blushing or panting? Is he still an 80-year-old man? Batman is not so powerful even when he is 80!

But this is the reality.

At this moment, the thin old man standing in the field has already performed a White Crane Spreads Wings move, and slowly stopped.

Suddenly, loud applause broke out all around, which scared him. It turned out that this remote street was already filled with onlookers, including old neighbors and more tourists and passers-by attracted by the fight. Everyone applauded and cheered loudly. More backpackers took out their mobile phones and pointed them at him. For a while, the flashes of mobile phone cameras lit up frequently in the dim street. Those who didn't know would think this was some kind of press conference!

The thin old man who had just looked like a master shielded his blinded eyes with his hands, pointed at the middle-aged man with a middle-parted hair who was turning around and preparing to sneak away, and said:

"Chen Guofu, if you dare to take another step, I will make you lie on the ground, believe it or not!"

Hearing this, the middle-aged man, who had already turned half of his body, suddenly froze there, not daring to move. He said in a trembling voice: "Yuan, old man Yuan, what do you want to do?"

Not finished filming? Is there any follow-up to this melon?

The originally noisy crowd of onlookers suddenly quieted down. A few people who were slow to react and were still taking pictures put down their phones after being reminded by their companions, but secretly switched the camera mode to video mode.

"I've told you before, although this store bears my name, it belongs to someone else. Don't try to take it, otherwise..."

The thin old man snorted coldly, stomped his foot down, and then lifted it up, leaving a shallow footprint on the bluestone floor.

Deathly silence.

The crowd and the middle-aged man stared at the thin old man in amazement, wondering why he was stamping his feet. The thin old man then realized that it was dark and the street lights were dim, so he couldn't even see the footprints he had just made, let alone the middle-aged man with glasses opposite him.

Well, it's a waste of time for a blind man to light a lamp. He failed to show off and made his feet hurt. The thin old man Yuan Qiang regretted it secretly.

After the competition was over, the thugs lying on the ground supported each other and got up, followed the middle-aged man and left in disgrace, and the crowd of onlookers dispersed in twos and threes.

When leaving, some particularly curious tourists and passers-by looked around as they walked, looking for the non-existent camera, while local old neighbors came forward to chat with the thin old man for a few words before leaving.

Only a few young people were still staying there, discussing while imitating the moves that the thin old man had used to knock down the gangsters. However, their eyes were always on the thin old man who was standing in front of the store, wearing a white double-breasted cardigan, black loose training pants, and a small bun on his head.

Among them, there are Asians with black hair and black eyes, Oparos with blond hair and blue eyes, and even big and thick black people. At this moment, they are all fans of the thin old man.

After seeing off the last neighbor, fatigue returned to his face. The thin old man was about to go back to the store to see how the pot of medicine he had prepared was doing, but he was surrounded by a group of young people speaking different languages, with different accents, and with different skin colors and appearances.

"Master, master!"

"Master, Master!"

"Ma?tre, Ma?tre!"

"Maestro, Maestro!"

……

Bourne was also one of the young people, but he stood on the periphery and smiled unkindly as he saw the thin old man being caught off guard by this sudden enthusiasm.

Yuan Qiang.

This should be the name of the thin old man. He is the only person Bourne has been able to find among the information given by Yin Yang. It is said that the old man is best at leg techniques. He was famous for his 12-way Tan leg technique. Later, he was retaliated by his enemies and his whole family was wiped out. He fled to Shanghai alone and there was no news of him until more than ten years ago, when someone saw him in Chinatown, New York.

However, from the fight just now, Bourne did not see the old man kick. Perhaps he arrived too late. After all, those thugs lying on the ground might have been kicked down? It couldn't be that they slipped by themselves!

"Stop, stop, STOP!" The thin old man could no longer bear the enthusiasm of the crowd, and shouted to stop the noise, saying: "I run a pharmacy, although I also teach kung fu, but..."

Before he could finish, several young men who knew a little Mandarin became excited when they heard the words "teach Kung Fu". They even enthusiastically translated for their companions who didn't understand. Now, the mood of the crowd became even more enthusiastic.

Looking at these young faces, the thin old man Yuan Qiang felt his head starting to hurt again!