Li Wei's Simple Goal

"$1,000?" he called out tentatively. "I think it's worth far more than just the manufacturing cost."

But to his surprise, Leon jumped in shock the moment he heard that.

"What?!" he shouted. "You're robbing me!"

Seeing that he seemed about to break free from the skill, Li Wei hurriedly said a few nice things to calm Leon down.

In the end, he successfully sold the gold coin, which might originally have only been worth $400 as scrap, for $500, then made his escape before Leon could come to his senses.

It looks like the current limit of this skill is that it can't go too far beyond a person's understanding, Li Wei thought as he walked. Even a skill has to be based on some degree of the other person's knowledge. Getting a greedy miser to pay $1,000 for a gold coin whose value he doesn't understand might be harder than killing him.

Still, with $500 now in hand, his urgent situation had eased somewhat.

[Mission Complete: You successfully exploited a greedy person's weakness]

[Reward Issued: Free Attribute Points +0.1, Gold Coins +1]

As the familiar sensation of weight dropping into his pocket returned, Li Wei knew that he had gained another $500.

However, he had no intention of going back to cash it out again. He wanted to keep it and see whether the skill could level up.

If it really could level up, could he someday twist black into white and make the dead sound alive?

Around noon, Li Wei arrived in Queens, not far from Brooklyn, near the construction site where his uncle Don Quixote worked hauling bricks. He found Don Quixote outside a Chinese takeout restaurant that reeked of cheap frying oil.

Don Quixote was squatting on the curb, holding a serving of chow mein drenched in dark sauce and eating with obvious enjoyment.

"Want some? This is from your part of China, I think. Fuzhou fried noodles, right, if I remember correctly?" Seeing Li Wei approach, he wiped the grease from his mouth. "Only twelve bucks a box, and no tip required."

Chinatown in New York was generally home to more immigrants from Guangdong and Guangxi, while people from Fujian Province tended to gather around 8th Avenue, near where Li Wei currently lived.

"I already ate," Li Wei said casually. "What are we doing next?"

Don Quixote stood, tossed the empty takeout box into a trash can, and brushed the dust from his pants. "Since you sold something today, you're paying for gas. Get in. We've got real business to handle."

Over the next few hours, Don Quixote drove the Toyota that looked ready to fall apart at any moment, taking Li Wei through various offices in Brooklyn to apply for a city ID and a MetroCard. They even picked up free near-expired bread from a few charities.

"Listen, kid. I'm only teaching you this once, got it?" Don Quixote said as he steered one-handed and picked his teeth with a filthy finger. "In New York, being poor is an original sin. Being stupid is worse. See those lunatics in uniform? They're not like the cops back in China, so stay out of their way. If you see an empty subway car, don't get on. Someone might've taken a dump in there, or some lunatic might've gotten so high on hallucinogens that they're out cold."

Li Wei nodded along as the buildings outside the window grew more refined, police cars became more numerous, and Central Park drew closer. He knew that meant they were getting farther and farther from Brooklyn.

"Where are we going now?" He turned to Don Quixote. "This isn't the way back."

"We're going to Manhattan's Upper East Side. It's rare to have an extra pair of hands today," Don Quixote said smugly. "I'll show you how the real upper class of New York lives, and we'll stock up while we're at it."

"Stock up?"

More than half an hour later, the car finally stopped on a quiet street in Manhattan's Upper East Side.

Compared with Brooklyn, this place was practically another world. The streets were so clean they looked licked spotless, every building was a detached mansion, and even the grass on every lawn was cut to the same height. Li Wei rolled down the window and found that the eye-stinging smell of urine and weed from Brooklyn was gone from the air. There was only another strange yet alluring scent.

The smell of money.

[You have arrived at "Noble Courtyard"]

[The Empire's dignitaries and nobles reside here, while guards patrol day and night.]

[No triggerable mission detected.]

"I didn't know you had business here too." Li Wei looked at the rows of brand-new Mercedes-Benzes, Bentleys, Porsches, and other luxury cars parked along the road. "Or does stocking up mean picking a rich person at random and breaking in to steal things?"

"What? Stealing... no, no, no." Don Quixote skillfully parked beside a fire hydrant and casually displayed a fake disabled parking placard. "We're here to clear away their trash for them."

"Throwing things away in New York is a hassle, and selling secondhand stuff poses all kinds of security risks for them." Don Quixote led Li Wei to a roadside trash can and demonstrated on the spot. "And rich people care most about appearances. Would you believe that even planting something on your lawn needs approval from the homeowners' association?"

As he spoke, he leaned half his body into the trash can and rummaged around. Before long, he pulled out a Dyson vacuum cleaner that looked perfectly usable.

"Don't just stand there." He happily carried the vacuum toward the car. "If this thing works, we can sell it for at least $150..."

Li Wei watched Don Quixote's back and was just about to speak when a hoarse woman's voice with an Eastern European accent came from ahead of him.

"Which agency are you a model for? Why haven't I seen you before?"

Li Wei turned sideways and saw that a black Mercedes-Benz G-Wagon had pulled up beside them at some point.

The driver's window rolled down, revealing an elegant middle-aged woman in sunglasses who looked Li Wei up and down.

"Come closer." She curled a finger at him. "Let me get a better look."

Li Wei looked toward Don Quixote, who was struggling in the distance to figure out how to open the jammed trunk. After thinking for a moment, he stepped closer, though he still kept an arm's length from the woman.

"How tall are you?" she suddenly asked. "Six-one? Six-two?"

"Six-two," Li Wei said. "And I'm not a model. I came to New York to study."

"Nine-head proportions, broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a handsome mixed-race face." The middle-aged woman continued, "Do you want to be a model?"

"Can I make a lot of money?" Li Wei asked. "If I can, then yes."

"Modeling itself doesn't pay much," the woman said, amused by his answer. She giggled. "But it's glamorous, isn't it?"

"Then I'm not interested." Li Wei shook his head and pointed at Don Quixote, who was walking over. "I still have to help my uncle."

The middle-aged woman was clearly surprised by his answer, and a trace of regret appeared in her eyes. After a brief pause, she pulled out a bill from the Hermès bag on the passenger seat and handed it to Li Wei through the car door.

"It's hot out. Buy yourself and your uncle a coffee. Think of it as thanks for helping clear out the furniture," she said after some thought. "Also, if you want a part-time job, try Dolores Boutique on the Upper East Side. They should need a handsome male sales assistant like you."

He did not refuse and accepted the money. "Thank you."

The middle-aged woman gave him another once-over, then slowly drove away in the G-Wagon.

Don Quixote had been hiding off to the side. Only after the car left did he hurry over excitedly and ask, "What did she say to you?"

"Nothing much." Li Wei looked at the bill in his hand and replied casually, "She gave me a $100 tip to buy us coffee. She also recommended me for a job."

"$100?!"

Don Quixote let out a shriek like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He snatched the Franklin from Li Wei's hand, repeatedly held it up to the sunlight, and rubbed it with his rough fingers. Once he confirmed it was not counterfeit, he immediately began cursing those damned rich people and this looks-obsessed world with deep anguish.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I haul bricks at a construction site all day, wash dishes all day, and I only make this much," he grumbled as he shoved the money back into Li Wei's hand. Yet his eyes still lingered on the $100 bill for two more seconds. "Just because you're handsome? What a fucked-up world. I'm obviously charming too, so why isn't some rich lady willing to tip me a hundred bucks?"

Li Wei looked at the money Don Quixote had stuffed back into his hand, somewhat surprised.

He looked again at Don Quixote's filthy clothes and mud-spattered pant legs, then slipped the money into his pocket and shrugged. "I'm not just handsome. I'm tall too."

"Fuck!"

Don Quixote flipped Li Wei the middle finger and muttered resentfully as he called to him. "Getting a vacuum cleaner today is enough... Get in! I still have dishes to wash this afternoon. You can sell this later—forget it, I'll do it. You'll definitely get ripped off."

On the way back to Brooklyn, Li Wei sat in the passenger seat and watched the scenery outside shift from the clean, elegant Madison Avenue to Sunset Park, full of graffiti, garbage, and construction barriers.

When his parents were still alive, his family had not been fabulously wealthy, but they had been fairly well-off.

But after his parents' business went bankrupt and they died in a car accident, his life had plummeted overnight.

It was easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go from luxury to frugality—especially after experiencing such sharply divided lives.

"In America, how do you make a lot of money?" He turned to Don Quixote, who was driving. "How can I afford a house there?"

"There? Don't dream," Don Quixote said lazily, waving a hand. "Unless you get into Harvard or Yale, become some big-shot doctor or lawyer, and charge a fucking five grand an hour for fucking consultations. Then you can afford a house there."

"Then I'll apply to Yale." Li Wei nodded, making up his mind. "I don't want to live with you in Brooklyn for the rest of my life."

Don Quixote burst out laughing. "Ha! You think just anyone can get into Yale? Do you have recommendation letters? Do you have money? Can you get into an AP Class? And even with all that, you still might not get into Yale or Harvard."

"I'll find a way to deal with the money," Li Wei said. He was not about to tell him about the system. "But what are recommendation letters and AP Classes?"

"AP Classes are like the top classes back in China. You study college-level courses in advance. These days, if you want to apply to a good university, you have to take AP Classes." Don Quixote snorted. "The top Ivy League schools are all private and require applications. What makes you think someone with your background can get into the Ivy League?"

"Then what do I have to do to get in?" Li Wei did not get angry. Instead, he asked, "Take Yale University, for example. How do I get in?"

"Unless you win some national championship in a sport, get seven or eight As in AP Classes, and secure a recommendation letter from some important person," Don Quixote said casually. "Then you might have a chance."

Li Wei carefully considered Don Quixote's words before suddenly asking, "What about basketball? If I win a national championship, can I make a lot of money?"

He still had 0.1 attribute points from the system left unused.

His parents' sudden deaths had taught him one lesson: nothing would stay with him forever.

Although he still did not know whether the system would remain with him for long, judging by how often it triggered and how quickly it improved him, his physical abilities should be able to rise rapidly in a short time. Combined with his greater familiarity with basketball from back home, basketball was naturally the path he thought of first.

"Basketball? Basketball definitely isn't as good as football." Don Quixote parked the car and sneered. "If you can win a national high school football championship with an Asian face, then you'll be fucking incredible. You'll blow up. You'll slap all those Black and white people right in the face, you know that? Get into an AP Class after that, and you'll definitely get into Yale."

"By then, you won't just get a full scholarship. Cheerleaders will beg you to sign their little asses, and fraternities will beg you to join... Stop dreaming. American football has been around for so many years, and there are barely any Asians in the NCAA... I'm going to wash dishes tonight. Find yourself something to eat."

When Li Wei returned to the basement from the glamorous Upper East Side, Don Quixote's words were still turning over in his mind.

He knew he had no business sense, no ability to predict the future, and no way to foresee stock market trends. If he wanted to turn his life around and make big money in America, football seemed like a promising path.

As long as he could get a full scholarship and enter a good university, the debts before him and his fear of the future seemed as though they could both be resolved.

He triggered another mission.

But this mission seemed somewhat special.

It was a [Class Change Mission] with multiple stages of rewards.

"Path of the Knight?" Li Wei muttered as he gnawed on the free bread he had received from a charity that morning. "That actually looks pretty good."