"A date? Ha!" Don Quixote scoffed. "I'm done wasting my time on women, kid."
"Today is your big day," he continued. "I'm taking you somewhere to see someone."
"Who?"
"An old classmate and former colleague of mine. He owes me a big favor."
Li Wei didn't quite understand why Don Quixote was bringing him along to meet this classmate. But since he had decided to do it, there was surely a deeper reason, so he didn't raise any objections.
As they drove out of Brooklyn and headed toward the city center, the surrounding skyscrapers grew more numerous and the roads narrowed. Li Wei suddenly felt the noise around him growing louder.
Manhattan was a true concrete jungle. The gaps between buildings and cars were narrow, but towering skyscrapers, often over a hundred stories tall, blotted out the sun. The sounds of people, vehicles, and wind whistling through the urban canyons echoed and amplified between the walls, creating an omnipresent noise.
After navigating the surging crowds and traffic, the beat-up Toyota finally stopped in front of a skyscraper on Park Avenue in Midtown Manhattan.
"JPMorgan Chase?" Li Wei looked up in surprise at the steel behemoth before them. "Your classmate is doing pretty well for himself."
"It sounds glamorous, but it's really not all that," Don Quixote said, taking a deep breath and adjusting his slightly worn suit one last time in the rearview mirror. "But he's done well. I hear he's a partner at JPMorgan Chase now."
He took out an exquisite black bag from the back seat, imprinted with the Montblanc logo.
The two of them got out of the car, blended in with the surrounding elites in bespoke suits and hurried gaits, and walked into the lobby of the JPMorgan Chase headquarters.
The elegantly made-up receptionist's eyes lit up slightly when she saw Li Wei's face. Then her gaze drifted down to his clothes, and a look of disappointment immediately crossed her face.
"Hello!" Don Quixote rapped on the counter and said in a booming voice, "I'm here to see Julian Wagner."
The receptionist reluctantly tore her gaze away and put on a professionally sweet smile.
"Do you have an appointment, sir?"
"No," Don Quixote shook his head. "Tell him Don Quixote Cervantes is here. He should see me."
A few minutes later, they were escorted to the 48th floor.
The air was filled with a mixture of coffee, cologne, and money. The afternoon sun streamed through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, dyeing Central Park below a shade of gold. It made the green gem in the heart of New York City look like a small rug at the feet of a financial titan.
In an office that was almost excessively spacious, Li Wei met Julian.
He looked at least ten years younger than Don Quixote, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark blue suit with impeccably styled hair. Although middle-aged, he was extremely well-preserved.
"God!" Julian came out from behind his desk, his gaze lingering on Don Quixote for a few seconds. "Is that really you? How many years has it been? Ten? Or nine?"
"It's been twelve years, Julian," Don Quixote said. "Oh, right... this is a gift for you."
Julian took the bag from Don Quixote, opened it, and saw an exquisitely crafted Montblanc fountain pen.
"Thanks, Don," he said, casually tossing the pen into a holder on his desk, which was already full of various other gold- and diamond-studded models. "Have a seat. What can I get you to drink? I recently bought a collector's grade set of The Macallan single malt whisky from a Christie's auction..."
"No, thanks," Don Quixote waved his hand. "Look at the state I'm in. It'd be a waste for me to drink The Macallan."
"Back when you were still at JPMorgan Chase, we used to go drinking at the bar next door every night," Julian said, sitting down across from Don Quixote. "And this is—"
He turned his gaze to Li Wei, who was sitting next to Don Quixote. He scanned him even more quickly than the receptionist had, showing no expression.
"This is my nephew, Li Wei. I'm his guardian now," Don Quixote mentioned briefly. "Julian, I'd like to ask you for a letter of recommendation."
"A recommendation letter? From me?" Julian looked at Li Wei. "For Li Wei? Where is he applying to school?"
"He wants to go to Yale," said Don Quixote. "I remember you graduated from Yale..."
Li Wei noticed that when Julian heard he also wanted to go to Yale, he sized him up again.
This time, though, a hint of his expression slipped out, reminding Li Wei of the Latino man from earlier in the day.
"Yale, huh?" Julian rubbed his chin. "That's not so easy—"
"For the sake of me taking the fall for you back then, Julian," Don Quixote said. "It's just a recommendation letter. It can't be that hard, can it?"
Seeing that Don Quixote was about to lose his temper, Julian quickly raised his hands. "Alright, alright, I get it, I get it— What I mean is, my letter alone probably isn't enough to get him straight into Yale, right?"
"That's our business, Julian," Don Quixote said stiffly. "I'll figure out the rest."
Li Wei was about to say something but was stopped by a look from Don Quixote.
"Don, I know I owe you, and I've been waiting for you to ask," Julian said. "I just thought you'd be asking me for money or something."
He glanced at Don Quixote's pale face and the arm hidden by his suit. "I heard a little about your situation later on. You sold your blood to buy me this pen, didn't you? Even if he gets into Yale, are you going to pay his tuition? Or have him take out student loans? We both come from a finance background. You know this isn't a good deal."
"I already told you, that's our business," Don Quixote said, rubbing his face. Then he stared intently at Julian. "Fack, Julian, are you going to write it or not?"
"I'll write it, I'll write it. I'll write it today," Julian sighed. "I'll have my assistant mail it to you tomorrow when it's done, okay?"
After giving Julian the address, Don Quixote left the JPMorgan Chase building with Li Wei.
On the way back, Li Wei finally couldn't help but ask, "You sold your blood? Just to buy that pen?"
"Even before you came, I'd sell blood now and then to get by. That's how it is in New York," Don Quixote said, expertly opening a pack of cheap cigarettes with one hand while driving. "Don't think I did it just for you."
"Besides, that wasn't just some ordinary 'that pen,' kid," he said indistinctly, puffing on a crumpled, cheap cigarette. "That was a Montblanc Meisterstück 146. 18-karat gold-plated nib. More than 800 US Dollars a pop."
"You don't have to sacrifice so much for me," Li Wei said. "I already told you, I'll get into Yale through football."
"Yeah, yeah, right," Don Quixote said dismissively, clearly not believing Li Wei could pull it off. "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 that kind of cheesy crap, kid," Don Quixote said, as if predicting Li Wei's next move. He turned to look at Li Wei and said:
"Since you've set your mind on Yale, we'll figure out a way together."
"I'm your elder. I've got your back."