Uh," Greer was speechless for a moment. He quickly put on the short-sleeved shirt he was holding to buy time, his mind racing, thinking of a countermeasure. He had looked at these two identity cards last night as well. Literally, one was a Social Security Card, and the other was a driver's license.
But that was the extent of it. For example, he didn't know what 'class D' on the driver's license meant. Not to mention different countries, even different places within the same country have different names for the same thing. Add in various dialects, and people from all corners of the country chatting in their hometown dialects would be like talking to a chicken about ducks.
In his past life, when he read novels, those transmigrators could immediately chat and laugh with ancient people, people from other worlds, and so on, without any obstacles like dialects or specific vocabulary. He had transmigrated into a modern urban setting, yet a single "ICE" had left him confused.
He genuinely wanted to know how those transmigrators understood these specific terms that were unrelated to context or meaning. It was like DNF or "poisoned milk powder" - people who hadn't heard of them would have no idea what they meant. But the protagonists in novels didn't seem to have such obstacles.
While his thoughts were slipping on a banana peel and running wild, he had already put on the short-sleeved shirt. But Greer still hadn't figured out what to say. As a programmer and a shut-in, his social skills were basically zero, and facing strangers was what he was worst at.
What made Greer feel relieved was that this uncle only asked one question before turning around and motioning for Greer to walk towards the stairwell. As they walked, the uncle was still rambling, "The customs, diet, habits, and all other aspects here are vastly different from back home. Before you get familiar with the rules here, it's best to be cautious in your words and actions, especially if you entered here through illegal means. Many people like to extort undocumented immigrants because they dare not speak up or call the Police. Otherwise, they'll be caught by ICE, oh, that's Immigration and Customs Enforcement. They specifically manage illegal immigrants, and once discovered, they will be forcibly repatriated."
Greer didn't speak, following behind the uncle and listening to his words. Silently, he reached into his pocket, took out the Decade Driver, lifted the hem of his short-sleeved shirt, and then pressed the Decade Driver directly onto his abdomen.
A silent silver metal belt extended, firmly securing the Decade Driver to his abdomen. The Knight Card Box appeared out of thin air, hanging on the left side of the belt. With a thought, Greer opened a narrow slit in the Knight Card Box, and a card popped out, landing in Greer's left palm.
However, Greer didn't insert this card into the Decade Driver. This uncle had maintained a friendly attitude so far, but he couldn't let his guard down. If anything happened, having the card in hand meant he could transform immediately. If he was a kind person, Greer might be able to learn something about the situation here from him, saving himself from being completely clueless.
The uncle walking ahead started going down the stairs, but his mouth was still rambling, "Here, White people enjoy life, Black people are idle, and Asians work themselves to death but are at the bottom of society. If something happens, the Police don't care either. The few blocks in this area are all inhabited by Chinese people, and there are Chinese gangs and associations. Although they collect protection fees, they prevent other gang forces from entering here. For many things, finding them is more effective than finding the Police. At least everyone is a fellow countryman, and there's no discrimination."
While they were talking, the two of them reached the first floor one after another. The uncle opened a wooden door, and an antique-looking restaurant came into Greer's view. It was over twenty square meters in size, with six dining tables covered with red tablecloths. Knives, forks, and chopsticks were placed on the tabletops, but the surrounding walls were hung with red Chinese knots and antique lanterns. It was clear at a glance that it was a Chinese restaurant.
"Sit for a while!" the uncle said, then walked towards the back kitchen, quite confidently leaving Greer alone here. Greer sat at a table by the wall, looking around at the small Chinese restaurant.
The clock hanging on the wall showed it was only seven o'clock. Usually at this time, he would still be lounging in bed, not yet awake, but now...
'Sigh!'
Greer sighed deeply, suppressing the thought. The more he thought about such things at this time, the more depressed he would become. He didn't even have a place to stay now, so he couldn't afford to have negative emotions.
Next to the clock was a business license. The name on it had a very East-meets-West feel: Jimmy Woo. And the short-sleeved shirt he was wearing also had the name Jimmy printed on it. It seemed that the uncle was the owner of this restaurant, Jimmy Woo.
Just as he was thinking, the aroma of food drifted into his nose, making Greer sniff several times involuntarily. Following the scent, he saw Uncle Jimmy walking towards him with a tray. On it were two bowls of fried rice and two pairs of chopsticks.
He hadn't felt hungry originally, but now with the aroma lingering in his nostrils and his eyes on the fried rice, his stomach immediately rumbled, making Greer quite embarrassed. Uncle Jimmy picked up a bowl of fried rice and placed it in front of Greer, saying with a smile, "You're hungry, huh? Eat up. This isn't modified for United States tastes, but pure authentic Chinese fried rice. There are quite a few Chinese restaurants here, but authentic Chinese flavor is rare. I only make it for myself."
"Thank you!" Greer quickly thanked him. He hurriedly picked up the chopsticks but then remembered this was a restaurant. He quickly reached into his pants pocket, conveniently slipped the Knight Card into his pocket, gripped the wallet he had 'robbed the rich and helped the poor' to get, and pulled it out, saying, "How much?"
Uncle Jimmy waved his hand, picked up his chopsticks, and shoveled large mouthfuls of fried rice into his mouth. As he ate, he said, "We're fellow countrymen, don't be a stranger. It's just a bowl of rice. Put the money away. You'll have plenty of places to spend money later. For example, those two fake IDs you have. I don't know who you got them from, but you'd better only use the driver's license."
"Huh!" Greer was startled upon hearing this. Fake? Impossible. These came from the Decade Driver. If such a fantastical Decade Driver was real, how could the identity documents be fake? Isn't that like buying the casket and returning the pearls?
"The card with the photo is a driver's license. In America, it's equivalent to an ID card. In New York, you can apply at sixteen. According to the birth date on it, you turned sixteen two months ago. You might be able to fool an irresponsible Police officer. The other card is a Social Security Card, but it only has your name and Social Security Number. This type of card is only issued to United States citizens and permanent residents. It's very easy to get caught, so it's best not to use it. Don't worry about how much it cost, just consider it tuition fee. Try not to cause trouble if you can."
Uncle Jimmy sighed deeply at this point and said, "Chinese people are bullied here, but illegal immigrants are even lower in status than Chinese people. Their wages are suppressed to the lowest, and even for the simplest rented rooms, they dare to ask for three or four times the rent. They are bullied endlessly and dare not go to the Police. I also struggled for over ten years to finally get this small restaurant. It's not easy to establish yourself here."
His words were full of helplessness and lament, making one feel quite empathetic. If Greer were truly an illegal immigrant, he would probably consider this person 'one of his own' after hearing these words. Unfortunately, he didn't come here voluntarily, and as for being bullied or anything like that, for Greer, who possessed the Diqi Armor, it was probably more likely that he would be the one bullying others. However, according to the uncle, this body is only sixteen years old, which means this year is 2010.
While Uncle Jimmy was sighing, he had been paying attention to Greer's expression. Noticing that Greer's expression hadn't changed much, he lowered his eyelids and stopped saying things that categorized himself as an 'illegal immigrant'. He picked up the remote control nearby and turned on the TV hanging on the wall, continuing to shovel fried rice into his mouth. He said, "Watch the news more, especially the local New York news. It will help you understand this place better. Getting familiar quickly will help you integrate better."
On the TV appeared a blonde, blue-eyed female anchor in a black OL uniform, broadcasting the news in clear, articulate English: "Last night, Tony Stark, who had not appeared in public for seven weeks, attended a fundraising party for the Firefighter Family Foundation held at the Disney Concert Hall. This dispelled rumors that he was mentally ill and bedridden due to kidnapping. However, he did not answer any questions about the future direction of Stark Enterprises after it stopped weapon research and development and disbanded its weapons division. Although the Stark Enterprises board of directors announced the removal of Tony Stark as chairman a week ago and the restart of weapon research, development, and manufacturing, this resolution did not lead to an upward trend in Stark Enterprises' stock price. On the contrary, the stock prices of competitors Hammer Industries and Oscorp are continuously rising..."
Greer could no longer hear what the anchor said next. Two big words echoed in his mind for a long time: 'Marvel?!' This place was actually Marvel!