The plainclothes officers tailed the Elantra from a distance.
The driver showed some awareness of being followed, but not enough to shake them.
The tail held until the car pulled up to a residence at 4800 El Monte Avenue.
A background check came back quickly—Christian Tran, 29, Vietnamese-American, unemployed, with multiple prior arrests.
He was suspected to be a member of the AsianBoyz gang, a Southeast Asian crew.
Once, Chinese immigrants had formed mutual-aid associations to resist discrimination, exploitation, and violence—regional clans like the Ning Yang and Fujian associations, surname-based family halls like the Tang Clan or the Yang Clan, and numerous lodges descended from the Hongmen society.
On the East Coast, there were the On Leong and Hip Sing Tong in New York; on the West Coast, San Francisco had the Wah Ching—"Chinese Youth Gang"—and Los Angeles had outfits like the Black Dragons.
At their start, these groups did offer some measure of protection for Chinese communities, embodying a spirit of resistance.
But the lure of money turned that purpose inward.
Soon they were shaking down the very people they claimed to protect—running gambling dens, brothels, opium houses, smuggling operations, and trafficking rings.
Fighting white gangs was dangerous and less profitable; preying on fellow Chinese was safer and paid better.
Power struggles between tongs became blood feuds, with innocent bystanders often caught in the crossfire.
They would hire killers to ambush laundry workers, send gunmen into restaurants during dinner rush, stab rival lieutenants in broad daylight, stage street shootouts, or plant bombs at rival halls.
These tong wars lasted decades before exhaustion forced truces—agreements to work together in exploiting the lower rungs of their own communities.
In the boom years of the 1980s and '90s, fighting flared again.
The Fuqing gang muscled into New York, waging war on entrenched Chinatown tongs and seizing territory.
San Francisco's Wah Ching split into the Vietnamese-dominated Viet Ching and the Joe Boys; Wah Ching's resurgence brought bloody battles with the Joe Boys, culminating in the Golden Dragon Massacre, which prompted SFPD to form an Asian Gang Task Force.
The Hong Kong triads 14K and Wo Hop To crossed the Pacific—Wo Hop To even assassinated the Wah Ching boss and lured away members to form the Jackson Street Boys, driving Wah Ching to relocate to Los Angeles.
In New York, ABC second- and third-generation gangs like Ghost Shadows and Flying Dragons fought bloody turf wars.
The Wah Ching set up the American Eagle Association in Taiwan.
The Fuqing gang even clashed with Japan's Yamaguchi-gumi.
It wasn't just Chinese—many Southeast Asians immigrated to the U.S., some joining Chinese gangs, others forming their own.
The AsianBoyz became one of the most notorious, dealing drugs and smuggling weapons.
The funding streams for these groups were as dirty as they came—narcotics trafficking, weapons smuggling, human trafficking, fraud, extortion, contract killings.
In the 21st century, sustained pressure from the FBI and local police pushed these gangs out of the spotlight.
They didn't vanish; they just shifted into quieter but more lucrative rackets—fentanyl trafficking, counterfeit goods, cheap imports.
A one-dollar item from Yiwu could arrive, get rebranded in North America, and sell for sixty-five.
Pure profit.
Another reason for the change—back then, immigrants were mostly the struggling poor, easy prey without connections.
Now, wealthy and powerful Chinese—upper-middle class, tycoons, even billionaires—were moving in.
These people had money and networks; they could carve out influence quickly.
The gangs couldn't touch them—often, they worked for them.
After all, the gangs knew exactly where their drugs and guns really came from.
With the AsianBoyz possibly involved, the complexity and stakes of this case rose sharply.
After discussion, Temple City PD decided to hand the case to the County Bureau.
They had been working low-level street dealers before; this was different.
Gang members weren't like small-time peddlers—tracking one meant there could be many more behind him.
Long-term surveillance and evidence gathering would stretch their manpower thin, and patrol duties couldn't be neglected.
Nailing a trafficking ring was good for the record, but patrol was the core job.
Uncovering the Christian Tran lead was already a win—they'd still be credited when the arrest came, but pushing forward alone risked failure and exposure.
Any smart department would pass it up the chain.
Felix had no objection.
Surveillance wasn't his skill, and with Christian under watch, he couldn't exactly barge in and eliminate him.
He followed orders—go home, take tomorrow off, and return to patrol the day after.
A few seasoned officers with promotion pressure stayed to maintain the tail, waiting for the Major Crimes Asian Gang Unit and the Narcotics Division's Cannabis and Controlled Substances Task Force to take over.
The rest went back to regular shifts or home.
Felix didn't mind—he'd been running all day and was mentally drained.
But when Mark heard they were off duty, he bolted early, leaving Felix stranded.
Felix had been riding in Mark's Corolla all day; with Mark gone and no close ties to other officers, he had to hail a cab home.
Back at his apartment complex, he noticed more people around—it was Friday evening, and residents were winding down for the weekend.
On his way upstairs, several neighbours greeted him.
Felix's cool demeanour didn't keep people away—his looks had a way of drawing them in.
A Chinese-American girl had been watching him from down the hall.
As he reached his door, she hurried over, cheeks flushed.
"Hi, I'm Lucy from 302. There's a 626 Asian Night Market in Arcadia this weekend—want to check it out together?"
"Sorry," Felix said, polite but firm. "I'm staying in tomorrow, and working Sunday. I'll have to pass."
Disappointment flickered in her eyes before she nodded and walked away.
Felix knew full well he could have taken the invitation further.
But he had a rule—never eat the grass near the burrow.
Letting a woman know exactly where he lived—especially one living right next door—was dangerous.
Imagine bringing one woman home, only to feel another's gaze through the crack of the door.
Besides, Lucy was average-looking.
Compared to Rachel, she didn't come close.