"Is Miss Mellon’s influence really that great?" Li Wei asked. "She can even get me a meal with the richest man in the world?"

"Please, call me Elizabeth. We’re friends now, aren’t we?" Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the ’richest man in the world’. "I wouldn’t say I’m personally that close with Mr. Gates. It’s just that the Mellon Family has always been deeply involved in the art world."

Li Wei knew she was being modest. The Mellon Family’s connection to the art world was far from being just ’deeply involved’.

The National Gallery of the United States was founded by none other than the Mellon Family’s patriarch, Andrew W. Mellon. A hundred years ago, he had already used Mellon Bank to control the United States Aluminum Company, Gulf Oil Corporation, and five steel enterprises, establishing what was then the largest industrial and commercial financial empire in the United States.

He himself had served as the Secretary of the Treasury under three consecutive administrations—Harding, Coolidge, and Hoover—and had even single-handedly orchestrated the post-war reforms of the American tax system.

And that was what the Mellon Family had accomplished a hundred years ago. It was a no-brainer for Li Wei; he couldn’t believe they would have simply stagnated over the past century, failing to continue putting down deeper roots as the United States grew.

As they were talking, a waiter approached with a large platter of fried rice.

It seemed head chef Matsuhisa had personally prepared this fried rice. A5 Wagyu, diced uniformly, provided the fat and aroma of the beef. It was mixed with fresh, sweet Matsutake Crab meat and rice that had been intentionally cooled before being recooked, all coated in a golden egg wash. This one-two punch of premium ingredients and expert technique released a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

As Li Wei was digging in, a middle-aged man at a nearby table stared at them in disbelief.

"What’s he doing here?" Julian, dressed in a suit, muttered to himself. ’This can’t be right. How long has it even been?’

"Who are you talking about, honey?" the blonde woman across from him asked, annoyed. "And did you even watch that TikTok video I sent you this morning?"

"You mean the video of the eight kittens lining up to fall in the water? Of course I watched it," Julian replied dismissively. "You also mentioned you’re in your luteal phase, which has put you in a bad mood lately. That’s why I brought you out for this fancy dinner that costs 500 USD a head."

He was reluctant to believe that the poor kid he’d seen just two months ago could show up in such a high-end restaurant, but he had to admit that Li Wei’s face was too distinct and memorable to be mistaken.

However, the person dining with him was cleverly obscured by a screen, making it impossible for him to see who it was.

’They must be someone important,’ he thought. ’An ordinary person wouldn’t be important enough for the head chef at Nobu to come out and greet them personally.’

"What are you looking at?" the woman asked, puzzled. She glanced back toward Li Wei, and her eyes lit up. "Is he a celebrity or something? Do you two know each other?"

"He’s not a celebrity, honey," Julian said. "But I do know him."

He made a mental note of it, deciding he would ask around about Li Wei and Don Quixote’s current situation when he got back.

After watching Elizabeth get into her remarkably understated Range Rover SV, Li Wei suddenly got a call from Don Quixote.

"It’s a done deal," he said. "Come back and pack your things. We’re moving."

"So soon?" Li Wei asked. "I thought we were still looking."

"Lily has a lot of stuff," Don Quixote said. "She needs her own room."

...

「One day later. Dyker Heights.」

Although it wasn’t far from Bei Ling Ridge, the atmosphere here was completely different.

If Bei Ling Ridge was filled with the lively clamor of working-class Irish and Italian families, Dyker Heights felt more like a quintessential, affluent, middle-class neighborhood.

The streets were lined with tall oak trees and neat rows of red-brick townhouses, each with a meticulously manicured lawn. The area was famous nationwide for its ridiculously over-the-top Christmas light displays, and Don Quixote’s decision to move here might have been partly influenced by the idea of getting on the good side of the local homeowners’ association.

Don Quixote had rented an entire townhouse near 82nd Street for 6,000 USD a month.

Even though it was a rental, the house came with a private, semi-underground garage, a small but elegant backyard, and four separate bedrooms.

Lily stood at the door of the south-facing bedroom on the second floor. Seeing the walls covered in pink wallpaper and her toys brought from home, she let out a cheer and dove onto the bed.

Li Wei went to his own bedroom and watched the sunlight filter through the blinds, casting an even pattern on the floor. Looking out the window, he could even see the distant spires of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.

As Christmas drew closer day by day, good things seemed to happen one after another.

The day after they moved in, an express package was delivered to their new home in Dyker Heights.

Li Wei, just back from his morning run and carrying a ciabatta from the nearby Italian bakery, found an envelope in the mailbox. It was stamped with a dark blue logo and a famous university crest.

Tearing open the envelope, he found not a single thin sheet of paper, but a thick packet of documents. On top was an acceptance letter printed in gold foil lettering, along with a detailed financial aid statement.

"Oh, dear," Li Wei said, feigning confusion. "My eyes seem to be a little blurry. I can’t quite make out what it says. Uncle Don Quixote, would you mind taking a look for me?"

"You little rascal," Don Quixote muttered. "Lily, why don’t you read what it says for Li Wei?"

Lily took the thick packet of documents, cleared her throat with mock seriousness, and read aloud in her childish voice:

"Dear Mr. Li Wei... Congratulations! The Yale University Office of Undergraduate Admissions is pleased to inform you that you have been admitted as a first-year student to the Department of Finance... In light of your... umm, I don’t know this word... and your... don’t know this one either... the university has decided to award you a full... uhh, I don’t know..."

"Never mind, just give it here," Don Quixote said, taking the papers. "Full financial aid, including full tuition, room, board, and the maximum living stipend?"

"Mhm," Li Wei nodded. "That’s it."

"So it’s all settled then?" Don Quixote asked. "Is it time to open the champagne?"

"We should wait a little longer," Li Wei explained. "I haven’t signed with the NFL yet. If John Mara can’t make the NFL deal happen, I’ll have to go the NCAA route. If that happens, Yale will have to revoke my scholarship and just give me a small stipend at best."

"Don’t worry about it." Don Quixote waved his hand dismissively. "If Yale doesn’t give you the scholarship, I’ll sell my shares in that building in the Bronx. That’ll cover at least three years of your tuition. It’s no problem. You’re going!"

Li Wei’s phone suddenly rang. It was Tony, the head coach from Yale University.

"Good morning, Li Wei. Hope I’m not disturbing you," Tony said. "I’m just calling to let you know that your full-ride offer has been mailed to your new address."

"I just got it," Li Wei said, thanking him. "Thanks for letting me know."

"However, about what we discussed before—you wanting your girlfriend, Miss Anna, to enroll with you—that’s proving a bit difficult," Tony said. "Miss Anna wasn’t particularly well-prepared during the early application phase. On top of that, her father, Mr. Sergey, is a somewhat sensitive case due to his nationality and international reputation. Because of that, the Yale Board of Trustees was initially unwilling to accept her application."

"But?" Li Wei picked up on Tony’s phrasing. "But she got in... because of me?"