Chapter 33: Daily Life (Please Keep Reading)

According to this newspaper report, the El Monte City Planning Committee recently approved the use of the former furniture factory at 4400 Temple City Boulevard, an area of approximately 71,700 square feet, as a medical marijuana cultivation and distribution center. This decision has sparked heated debate among El Monte residents, with opinions sharply divided. Moreover, because the facility is located very close to the Chinese residential neighborhoods of Temple City, some residents from Temple City have come to protest at the site of the future marijuana facility, with hundreds of demonstrators gathering in front of El Monte City Hall, holding signs in protest.

Temple City's Mayor Wen Shangcheng, Councilmember Yu Yingzhang, and other city officials were present to oppose the plan for constructing the marijuana base. Some Chinese protestors and organizations have announced plans to organize a petition demanding a referendum to halt the establishment of the marijuana factory. They warned that if the El Monte City Council insists on approving the project, they will take the city government to court and demand the recall of the current mayor and councilmembers. Our newspaper will continue to follow and report on the developments.

As Ao Xi brushed his teeth, he listened to the radio, feeling at a loss. Just yesterday, he was arresting marijuana dealers; today he hears the city government wants to cultivate and sell marijuana itself. It was surreal, almost absurd.

After finishing his morning routine, Ao Xi prepared to go out for a stroll and do some shopping. Before leaving, he peeked to see if apartment 302 was open. Finding the door tightly shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. He suddenly felt that he was being overly conscientious—he had merely refused someone’s overture, yet it felt as though he had wronged them. It was unnecessary, really.

Once outside the apartment building, Ao Xi realized his car was still parked at UCLA. Weighing whether to contact Zhuo Ning to retrieve it or simply walk, he decisively chose to walk to the supermarket. Though the apartment complex had a small market, he disliked it—too expensive, and the food wasn’t to his taste.

On Saturday, the streets were bustling; clearly, everyone was engaged in weekend activities. The downside, however, was the abundance of illegally parked cars. Ao Xi’s professional instincts nearly took over; he was tempted to pull out a ticket pad and start issuing fines.

Suddenly, a car horn blared urgently. Ao Xi looked over to see a blue car repeatedly accelerating and braking, blocking the white sedan behind it. A Chinese woman leaned out her window, calling, “Hey, what are you doing? This is dangerous.” Her words were met with a hand emerging from the blue car’s window, which hurled a beer bottle onto her hood, startling her into a scream.

Ao Xi rushed over, pointing at the blue car's driver. With one hand, he lifted his shirt to reveal his badge, showing it to the blue car's owner, while his other hand rested on his gun’s grip. “Get out of the car! You’ve deliberately attacked someone—this is a crime. I’m ordering you to turn off the engine and get out now!”

The badge could be clipped to his belt; as long as it was near his holstered gun, he could easily lift his shirt and grip his weapon at the same time. In China, police officers can enforce the law regardless of whether they are on duty, but in America, theoretically, they lose their authority when off the clock.

Nevertheless, in practice, when a police officer reveals their badge, they can exercise limited enforcement powers, though not make arrests—meaning no handcuffing. Besides, if a cop identifies themselves and orders you out of your car with a hand on their gun, you can’t really know if they’re on duty or not; the question is whether you’ll comply.

The blue car owner was not keen to find out if Ao Xi would actually fire. He obediently exited the vehicle, instinctively clasped his hands behind his head, and leaned against the car. The marker above his head was gray, indicating he wasn't particularly bad—just the lingering scent of marijuana suggested he’d used it, though not excessively.

Ao Xi kept an eye on him and said to the Chinese woman, “Please call the Temple City Police Department, ma’am.” She hadn’t expected to encounter law enforcement so quickly on the street. At Ao Xi’s prompting, she hurriedly dialed the police.

“Thank you, sir. If not for you, I dread to think what might have happened next,” she said gratefully.

“You’re welcome. We Chinese should help each other. Why did he attack you? Did you have a dispute?”

She glanced at the blue car owner, shook her head. “I don’t know him at all. I’m a volunteer for a Chinese community group, trying to collect signatures against El Monte’s plan to build a marijuana cultivation base. When I tried to leave, he followed me and threw a beer bottle at my car, insulting me in the street.”

Ao Xi was speechless. The events featured in the news had materialized in reality so quickly—it was almost unbelievable.

The Chinese woman enthusiastically pulled out a petition sheet, hoping Ao Xi would sign. He agreed, promising to sign after the man was handed over to the police.

When the officers arrived, Ao Xi recognized Rick, a familiar face from earlier chapters, a senior patrolman. After exchanging greetings, Rick cuffed the blue car owner, who now faced charges for simple assault—attacking, obstructing, and damaging property. If the Chinese woman pressed for more serious charges—aggravated assault, stalking, harassment, or making threats—it was possible, depending on the judge’s stance.

After Ao Xi signed the petition, the woman thanked him and followed the police car in her own vehicle. The blue car would be towed to a designated lot by city staff, and the owner would pay a hefty fine for his misdeeds.

Shaking his head, Ao Xi continued to the supermarket, only to find Chinese volunteers handing out flyers and gathering signatures outside Yong Long Market.

A volunteer approached, asking if Ao Xi would support the petition. Upon learning he had already signed, the volunteer sincerely thanked him and gifted him a small Chinese knot.

As a stranger in a foreign land, Ao Xi felt genuinely moved holding the little knot.

After thanking the volunteer, he entered the supermarket, loading up on snacks—Wuhan spicy duck neck, Panpan shrimp sticks, “Are you okay?” dried plums, Courage to Conquer the World beer, and other specialty items. Chinese supermarkets carried many domestic products otherwise hard to find.

He paid for his snacks and, as he left, heard commotion at the entrance.

Ao Xi walked over to find several Black men grabbing the Chinese volunteers, chattering loudly, spittle flying.

“Hey, let go! I’m a Los Angeles County Sheriff—what are you doing?” Ao Xi shouted.

The men, seeing he was a Chinese officer, exchanged glances and reluctantly released their hold.

One said, “Officer, they were discriminating against us, calling us the N-word.”

“We didn’t! They’re deliberately provoking us!” the volunteer protested.

Ao Xi gestured for calm. “Is that so? Discrimination is serious. None of you leave. I’ll call a patrol car, and we’ll go to the station to sort it out.”

The young men’s faces changed; on the streets, few could withstand police scrutiny, let alone a trip to the station.

“No need, just remember—if you discriminate against Black people again, you’ll regret it!” they muttered obscenities as they slowly backed away, then ran off.

Ao Xi didn’t pursue, instead asking the volunteers, “Are you all right?”

“We’re fine, thank you, officer. They were just trying to stop us from collecting signatures, not intending harm,” one replied.

“That’s good. If this happens again, call the police immediately.”

Ao Xi didn’t even bother to ask about discrimination; though the young men were causing trouble, whether the Chinese volunteers had discriminated was obvious enough.

Carrying his groceries home, Ao Xi reflected on how contentious the marijuana cultivation issue had become. Listening to the radio hadn’t conveyed the full impact, but now, seeing the street-level conflict, he realized how deep the divisions ran.

Before he could ponder further, his phone rang. It was Susan.

“Hello, Susan, this is Ao Xi. What’s the matter?” he answered.

“Ao Xi, your schedule needs to be changed. You’ll be on night shifts from tonight onward. Mark ended up in the hospital after eating bad food at the 626 Asian Night Market with his girlfriend, so you’ll need to cover his overnight shifts until he’s back.”