Chapter 25
I'll Protect You
"A date? Ha!" Don Quixote scoffed. "I'm not wasting my time on women anymore, boy."
"Today is your big day," he continued, "I'm going to take you somewhere to meet someone."
"Who?"
"A classmate and former colleague of mine owes me a huge favor."
Although Li Wei didn't quite understand why Don Quixote would bring him along to meet his classmate, he figured Don Quixote must have his reasons for doing so, so he didn't raise any objections.
As they drove out of Brooklyn and headed towards the city center, the number of high-rise buildings increased and the roads became narrower. Li Wei suddenly felt that the surrounding noise was getting louder and louder.
Manhattan is a true steel jungle, with narrow gaps between buildings and cars. Towering pillars, often over a hundred stories high, block out the sun, amplifying the sounds of people, vehicles, and drafts between the walls, ultimately creating an omnipresent noise.
After weaving through the surging crowds and traffic, the beat-up Toyota finally came to a stop in front of a skyscraper on Park Avenue in Midtown Manhattan.
"JPMorgan Chase?" Levi looked up at the steel behemoth in front of him with some surprise. "Your classmate is doing quite well."
"It sounds glamorous here, but it's really just so-so," Don Quixote took a deep breath and gave his somewhat worn suit a final adjustment in the rearview mirror. "But he's doing quite well; I hear he's become a partner at JPMorgan Chase."
He took a neat black bag from the back seat, which was printed with the Montblanc logo.
The two got out of the car and blended into the surrounding elites dressed in custom suits, hurrying about, before entering the lobby of JPMorgan Chase headquarters.
When the receptionist with her exquisite makeup saw Li Wei's face, her eyes lit up slightly. Then, she looked down at Li Wei's clothes and her eyes immediately showed a look of disappointment.
"Hello!" Don Quixote tapped the table and said in a deep voice, "I'm here to see Julian Wagner."
The receptionist reluctantly averted her gaze, replacing it with a professional, sweet smile.
Do you have an appointment?
"No," Don Quixote shook his head, "tell him that Don Quixote Cervantes is visiting, and he should see me."
A few minutes later, they were taken to the 48th floor.
The air was filled with a mixed scent of coffee, cologne, and money. The setting sun shone through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, turning Central Park below into a golden hue, making this green gem in the heart of New York City look like a small carpet under the feet of a financial tycoon.
In an office that was almost too spacious, Li Wei met Julian.
He looked more than 10 years younger than Don Quixote, wearing a perfectly tailored dark blue suit, his hair neatly combed, and although he was middle-aged, he was very well-maintained.
"My God!" Julian emerged from behind his desk, his gaze lingering on Don Quixote for a few seconds. "Is it really you? How many years has it been? Ten years? Or nine?"
"It's been 12 years, Julian," said Don Quixote. "Oh, and this is a gift I brought for you."
Julian took the bag Don Quixote handed him, opened it, and found a finely crafted Montblanc fountain pen.
"Thanks, Tang," he casually stuck the pen into the pen holder on his desk, which was already filled with various other pens of different styles, some adorned with gold and diamonds. "Have a seat, what would you like to drink? I recently bought a collector's item set of Macallan single malt whisky from Christie's..."
"No need," Don Quixote waved his hand. "Look at me now, drinking Macallan would be a waste."
“Back when you hadn’t left JPMorgan Chase, we used to go to the bar next door every night,” Julian said, sitting down opposite Don Quixote. “And this is—”
He turned his gaze to Livy, who was sitting next to Don Quixote, and glanced at him even faster than the receptionist, without revealing any expression.
"This is my nephew, Livy, and I am now his guardian," Don Quixote briefly mentioned. "Julian, I would like to ask you for a letter of recommendation."
"A letter of recommendation? You're asking me?" Julian looked at Levi. "For Levi? Where is he going to school?"
"He wants to go to Yale," Don Quixote said. "I remember you graduated from Yale..."
Levi observed that when Julian heard that he also wanted to go to Yale, he looked at him again.
This time, a slight change in his expression reminded Li Wei of the Latino man from earlier that day.
"Go to Yale?" Julian stroked his chin. "That's not a good idea—"
"For the sake of me taking the blame for you back then, Julian," Don Quixote said, "it's just a letter of recommendation, it can't be that difficult, can it?"
Seeing that Don Quixote was about to have an outburst, Julian quickly raised his hands and said, "Okay, okay, I understand, I understand—what I mean is, my letter of recommendation alone probably won't be enough for him to get into Yale, right?"
"That's our own business, Julian," Don Quixote said curtly. "I'll figure out the rest."
Just as Li Wei was about to say something, Don Quixote stopped him with a look.
“Don, I know I owe you. I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” Julian said. “I just thought you’d ask me for money or something.”
He glanced at Don Quixote's pale face and arms covered by his suit: "I learned a bit about your situation later. The pen you gave me was bought by selling your blood, wasn't it? Even if he gets into Yale, will you pay for his tuition? Or will you make him take out student loans? We both come from finance backgrounds, you know this isn't a good deal."
"I already said this is our own business," Don Quixote rubbed his face, then stared intently at Julian. "Fuck, Julian, are you going to write it or not?"
"I'll write, I'll write, I'll write it today," Julian sighed. "I'll have my assistant mail it to you tomorrow, okay?"
After giving the address to Julian, Don Quixote left the JPMorgan Chase building with Levi.
On the way back, Li Wei finally couldn't help but ask, "You went to sell your blood? Just to buy that pen?"
"When you weren't here, I would occasionally sell my blood to make ends meet. That's how it is in New York," Don Quixote said, expertly opening a pack of cheap cigarettes with one hand as he drove. "Don't think I did this just for you."
"And that's no ordinary 'pen,' kid," he mumbled, puffing on a crumpled, cheap cigarette. "It's a Montblanc Meisterstück 146, with an 18k gold-plated nib, over $800 a pen."
“You don’t need to do so much for me,” Levi said. “I’ve already told you I’ll get into Yale through football.”
"Yes, yes, yes," Don Quixote said somewhat perfunctorily, not believing at all that Livy could do such a thing. "I believe you."
Li Wei looked at Don Quixote's bloodless lips and pale face, opened his mouth, and suddenly wanted to say something.
"I know you want to say thank you, but between us, there's no need for such disgusting, mushy talk, kid," Don Quixote said, turning to look at Li Wei as if he had anticipated his move.
"Since you're determined to go to Yale, let's work together to figure out a way."
"I am your elder, I will protect you."