Chapter 122: Chapter 90: Work at the Mellon Art Exhibition Hall

Just then, the door was thrown open. A blast of cold wind rushed in, carrying an angry roar.

"Kevin! Get away from him!"

Michael stood in the doorway, his chest heaving.

He rushed forward, slapped the tinfoil packet out of Kevin’s hand, and gave him a hard shove, pushing him back onto the sofa.

"How many times have I told you!" he roared. "Don’t bring this stuff home, and especially don’t pull it out in front of my friends!"

"Well, well, look who’s back," Kevin sneered. "Isn’t it the pride of our family, the apple of Mom’s eye? Always talking about working, but you never bring a single penny home. All that studying’s gotten you nowhere."

Michael opened his mouth, but in the end, he swallowed the words about the money he was saving.

"Li Wei... thanks for bringing me the books," he said. "Things are a little messy here. I need to talk with my brother."

Li Wei nodded and prepared to leave.

As he closed the door, he could still hear Michael and Kevin arguing:

"I’m the one bringing money home every day to support the family, to make sure this house can still afford your education... When Mom gets back, she’ll be on my side..."

...

An hour later, Kevin stormed out of the house.

He headed straight for an abandoned basketball court two blocks away.

Boards and scrap paper burned in several rusty oil drums. Five or six young black men in baggy down jackets, their hands tucked into their sleeves, were gathered around the fire for warmth. A pungent smell hung in the air.

Kevin walked over to the fire and held his hands out to the flames.

"Look who it is! My best Brother Ni," one of them, the largest and oldest of the group, said theatrically when he saw Kevin. "Kevin! Franklin High School’s number one distributor! How’s business been lately?"

"The Italians disappeared recently, for some reason," one guy said. "My product is selling pretty damn well. I made over 12,000 USD in one month."

"Same here," Kevin grumbled. "A few students from Queens used to get their supply from Gambino, but they can’t get in touch with them lately, so they’re buying from me like crazy. I’ve been cutting it with wall ash and pepper, selling it for 20 USD a bag, and no one even tries to haggle."

As they were chatting, someone nudged their leader, Scarface. "Hey, boss, check out that car."

Everyone’s eyes followed his finger—Li Wei was slowly driving by in a Cadillac Escalade.

"That guy’s been cruising around here a lot lately," he said, licking his lips. "It’s a nice car, over 100,000 USD, brand new. He’s alone. We should hit him."

"I’m in!"

"Me too!"

"What do you think, Kevin?" Scarface turned to him. "You haven’t said anything."

"I say we forget it," Kevin said in a low, muffled voice after a glance. "That’s a friend of that loser Michael. Besides, he’s getting pretty famous in the football world lately. Robbing him would be trouble."

"So that’s him!" one of them said. "I knew he looked familiar. He’s that high school football prodigy who’s been blowing up lately—"

"Even a prodigy can’t save the Giants."

"Whatever, I’m a Kansas Chiefs fan—"

"Alright, enough about football," Scarface cut in. "Back to business. The Italians pulled out. What are we going to do?"

Although Scarface was just the leader of this small crew, stories about him circulated on the streets.

Legend had it that he got the scar on his face after being captured by a rival gang during a street fight. They had pressed a red-hot iron against his face, branding him. But even then, he never gave in, preserving his original crew’s honor. That’s why he was so respected on the street.

When you were running the streets, nothing was more important than face and respect.

Seeing their boss had spoken, the group returned to the topic of how to carve up this juicy piece of territory.

All the drug dealers on this entire street had recently fled, but the addicts would keep using. How to take over this user base, and who would do it, had become a question the surrounding small-time gangs were all watching, but didn’t dare to act on.

They discussed it for a long time without reaching a conclusion, but everyone could see that Scarface didn’t seem to have any intention of making a power play to seize this share of the market first.

Kevin actually agreed with Scarface’s assessment. ’Making a move now is a bit risky.’ But deep down, he was also a little dissatisfied.

Just as he had told Li Wei, he’d been in this game for three years and followed two bosses. On this street, he was already considered a veteran.

He wanted to be respected on this street, just like Scarface.

Meanwhile, after returning home, Li Wei received his second scholarship payment.

He also received a notice about a community service project that weekend. The location, coincidentally, was none other than the Mellon Art Exhibition Hall.

This meant he would have to see that Elizabeth Mellon again.

...

「Nine o’clock on Saturday morning, at the Mellon Art Exhibition Hall in Brooklyn.」

He thought he would be the first to arrive, but when he got to the side hall, he found more than a dozen students already waiting there.

Most of them had earned their scholarships through academic excellence, but the atmosphere now was somewhat tense and subdued.

This was because of a rumor, from who knows where, that the person who opened this art exhibition hall was the same age as them. It was even said that the Mellon Family had spent millions of USD on a long-term lease for this factory building and converted it into an art gallery, all just to pad her resume for college.

And here they were, unable to even scrape together their college tuition, likely to be saddled with a huge amount of student debt.

The disparity in their worlds was like a great chasm.

In contrast, Li Wei, who was waiting for his acceptance letter and financial aid from Yale University on one hand, and to finalize his contract with the Giants on the other, seemed exceptionally relaxed.

Just then, the doors to the side hall were pushed open, followed by the crisp CLACK of high heels on the marble floor.

Elizabeth Mellon walked out, surrounded by a group of staff members.

She wore a sharply tailored, dark gray cashmere coat, with a string of lustrous, yet understated, pearls around her neck.

She spoke to the staff and the photographers and reporters with their long-lens cameras: "Please help us take some photos to assist with our promotional and presentation work."

"Good morning, everyone," she said. "I am Elizabeth Mellon. It’s a pleasure to see you all here. The Mellon Foundation is dedicated to helping outstanding and promising elites like yourselves. I hope that during your 20 hours of practical work this semester, you will be able to appreciate the Mellon Family’s contribution to this great nation, the United States of America. Today’s tasks will mainly involve helping the staff clean the art catalogues and then sorting and archiving them."

Her tone was gentle and polite, and with a smile on her face, she looked absolutely beautiful.

Seeing the stunning beauty before them smile, the already nervous students lowered their heads even further.

However, when Elizabeth’s gaze swept over the edge of the crowd, her eyes froze.

This was the first time Li Wei had seen her lose her composure.

He was certain Elizabeth had no idea beforehand that he had actually received a Mellon Foundation scholarship. Her momentary shock didn’t look like an act.

"Li Wei? What are you doing here?" she blurted out his name, then hesitated. "You... you come with me. I have a separate work assignment for you."