I've Got Your Back

"A date? Ha!" Don Quixote Cervantes scoffed. "I'm not wasting any more energy on women, kid."

"Today is a big day for you," he added immediately. "I'm taking you somewhere to meet someone."

"Who?"

"A former classmate and 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 the man had already decided, he figured there must be a deeper reason and didn't raise any objections.

As they drove out of Brooklyn and toward the city center, the surrounding skyscrapers grew denser and the roads narrower. Li Wei suddenly felt the ambient noise intensifying.

Manhattan was a steel jungle in the truest sense. The gaps between buildings and the distance between cars were tight, but the towering giants—each over a hundred stories tall—blocked out the sun. The sounds of people, vehicles, and wind whistling through the canyons echoed and amplified against the walls, eventually coalescing into an omnipresent roar.

After navigating the surging crowds and traffic, the beat-up Toyota finally pulled up in front of a skyscraper on Park Avenue in Midtown Manhattan.

"JPMorgan Chase?" Li Wei looked up at the steel behemoth in surprise. "Your classmate is doing pretty well for himself."

"It sounds glamorous, but it's really just what it is," Don Quixote took a deep breath and used the rearview mirror to straighten his slightly worn suit one last time. "He is doing well, though. Word is he's already made partner at JPMorgan Chase."

He pulled a delicate black gift bag from the backseat, the Montblanc logo printed on the side.

The two stepped out of the car, blending into the crowd of hurried elites in tailored suits, and walked into the lobby of the JPMorgan Chase headquarters.

The receptionist, her makeup exquisite, caught sight of Li Wei's face and her eyes brightened for a moment. Then, her gaze drifted downward to inspect his attire, and a look of disappointment immediately crossed her face.

"Hello!" Don Quixote tapped on the counter and said in a muffled voice, "I'm here to see Julian Wagner."

The receptionist reluctantly pulled her gaze away and put on a professional, sweet smile.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No," Don Quixote shook his head. "Just tell him Don Quixote Cervantes is here to see him. He should be willing to meet me."

A few minutes later, they were escorted to the 48th floor.

The air was thick with a blend of coffee, cologne, and money. The sunset light streamed through massive floor-to-ceiling windows, painting Central Park below in gold and making the green jewel of New York City look like a tiny rug at the feet of a financial titan.

In an office that was 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 his hair groomed meticulously. Though middle-aged, he was exceptionally well-maintained.

"My God!" Julian walked out 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? Nine?"

"Twelve years, Julian," Don Quixote said. "Oh, right... this is a gift for you."

Julian took the bag Don Quixote handed him, opened it, and saw a finely crafted Montblanc fountain pen.

"Thanks, Don," he said, casually sticking the pen into a holder on his desk already crowded with various gold-inlaid and diamond-studded pens. "Sit down, sit down. What can I get you to drink? I recently picked up a collection-grade bottle of The Macallan single malt from Christie's..."

"No need," Don Quixote waved a hand. "Look at me right now. Drinking The Macallan would be a waste."

"Back when you hadn't left JPMorgan Chase, we used to go to the bar next door every single 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, and scanned him even faster than the receptionist had, his expression unreadable.

"This is my nephew, Li Wei. I'm his guardian now," Don Quixote said briefly. "Julian, I'm hoping to ask you for a letter of recommendation."

"A letter of recommendation? From me?" Julian looked at Li Wei. "For Li Wei? Where is he trying to go to school?"

"He wants to go to Yale," Don Quixote said. "I remember you graduated from Yale..."

Li Wei observed that when Julian heard he wanted to go to Yale, he gave him another look.

This time, a flicker of an expression crossed his face that reminded Li Wei of the Latino man from earlier that day.

"Yale, huh?" Julian rubbed his chin. "That's going to be tough—"

"Considering the time I took the fall for you, Julian," Don Quixote said, "it's just a letter of recommendation. It can't be that hard, can it?"

Seeing that Don Quixote was on the verge of losing his temper, Julian quickly raised his hands. "Alright, alright, I get it, I get it—I just meant that my recommendation alone probably won't get him directly into Yale, right?"

"That's our problem to deal with, Julian," Don Quixote said stiffly. "I'll figure out the rest."

Li Wei started to say something, but 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 be asking to borrow money or something."

He glanced at Don Quixote's pale complexion and the arm hidden beneath his suit jacket. "I've heard a bit about your situation. You sold blood to buy me this pen, didn't you? Even if he gets into Yale, are you going to pay the tuition? Or are you going to let him take out student loans? We're both in finance; you know this isn't a sound investment."

"I already told you, that's our business," Don Quixote rubbed his face and stared unblinkingly at Julian. "Fuck, 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, okay?"

After Don Quixote gave Julian the address, he took Li Wei and left the JPMorgan Chase building.

On the way back, Li Wei finally couldn't help but ask, "You sold blood? Just to buy that pen?"

"I sell blood occasionally when you aren't around to make ends meet. That's just 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."

"And that wasn't just some 'fountain pen,' kid," he said, his voice muffled as he puffed on a crumpled, low-quality cigarette. "That's a Montblanc Meisterstück 146, with an 18k gold-plated nib. It costs over eight hundred dollars."

"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, yeah," 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, we don't need that kind of mushy, nauseating talk, kid," Don Quixote said, as if predicting Li Wei's move, turning his head to look at him.

"Since you've set your mind on Yale, let's figure it out together."

"I'm your guardian. I've got your back."