American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

Chapter 250: Chapter 155: Medical-Industrial Complex

However, Li Wei’s next move froze the smiles on everyone’s faces.

"Excuse me, I need you to split this bill."

He pointed to the five offensive linemen and two wide receivers sitting beside him.

"These seven gentlemen, plus myself—the eight of us—our food and drinks go on this card," Li Wei said. "As for the other dozen or so gentlemen... they can pay for themselves."

Li Wei wasn’t a pushover. Since it was tradition, he’d originally planned to just play along to a reasonable extent. After all, they were still teammates. He had set his own budget for the evening at 20,000 USD. An average of 1,000 USD per person was more than enough, even if everyone got a respectable bottle of champagne.

But he hadn’t expected Lawrence to be so insatiably greedy. If that was the case, Lawrence couldn’t blame him for making things ugly.

The moment he spoke, the air in the room went ice-cold.

"Fack! What the fuck are you saying?!" a hot-tempered defensive tackle shot to his feet, roaring, "This is the rookie dinner! The rookie pays, that’s the rule across the whole league! You dare break the rules?!"

"My rule is that I only pay for the brothers who I believe are on my side," Li Wei said, looking at Lawrence. "You losers couldn’t even touch the hem of my jersey in training camp, resorting to these cheap, off-field tactics to make yourselves feel better. You really think you’re worthy of my money?"

Lawrence’s face went purple with rage. He slammed a hand on the table, his massive frame rising as he stared daggers at Li Wei like an enraged beast.

"You’re asking for it, rookie."

A smile spread across Li Wei’s face. "Are you going to make a move?"

The private room was a tinderbox, the tension stretched to the breaking point. Seeing the situation, the offensive linemen also stood up, subtly positioning themselves around Li Wei.

Seeing this, the waiter quickly put down his tray and slipped out of the room.

In the end, no fight broke out. Lawrence and the dozen or so defensive players reluctantly paid their own way. They had each ordered at least 10,000 USD worth of food and drinks on average, while the total Li Wei paid for his group of eight came to just over 30,000 USD.

「Early one morning, a few days later.」

The top-floor office of the New York Giants headquarters in East Rutherford, New Jersey.

Defensive end Dexter Lawrence and two other core veterans from the defense sat on a leather sofa, their faces filled with indignation.

Standing behind the desk were team owner John Mara and, sitting to one side with a furrowed brow, head coach Brian Daboll.

Daboll glanced at the expressionless Mara, then slammed a newspaper down hard on the desk.

THWACK! With a dull thud, Lawrence’s eye twitched. His gaze fell upon the sports section headline of the *New York Post*.

The bold, black headline was glaring:

"Refusing to Be Bullied! The $200 Million Man Rips Up Astronomical Bill, Humiliating Giants Veterans!"

Beside it was a photo, surreptitiously taken by someone on their phone. Though blurry, it clearly showed Li Wei calmly taking out his credit card while, at the other end of the long table, Lawrence and the others had ashen, furious expressions.

"Look at the fine mess you’ve made, gentlemen." Daboll braced his hands on the desk, his gaze sweeping over each of them like a blade. "Is this the ’locker room rule’ you’re all so proud of? Not only did you fail to put him in his place, you’ve made yourselves the laughingstock of all of New York, and even the entire United States of America!"

"Mr. Mara, Coach Daboll, this isn’t about the money! This is about his attitude! It’s about the rules of the locker room!" Lawrence exclaimed, waving his thick arms. "That rookie Quarterback, Li Wei, is arrogant beyond belief! He openly defied the rookie dinner tradition and even pointed his finger in our faces and cussed us out in the restaurant. If we let him get away with this, what’s left of this team’s unity? He’s completely ruined the locker room culture!"

John Mara, holding a cup of black coffee, slowly blew the steam from its surface and did not immediately respond.

Daboll glanced at Mara and cleared his throat. "Mr. Lawrence, since you’re so committed to rules and culture, let me ask you: can you bring a Super Bowl to the Giants?"

Lawrence froze, his dark face flushing red as if he’d been choked by the words. "Coach, that’s not what I meant..."

"No, that’s exactly what you meant," Daboll cut him off. "In professional sports, winning is the only culture that matters. Li Wei’s numbers in training camp broke the franchise’s Quarterback records for the last twenty years. His ability to handle pressure in the pocket, his field vision, and the raw power he displays on the field—*that* is the Giants’ rule now."

"But he’s destroying the unity between the offense and the defense..." another veteran tried to argue.

"Enough. I didn’t spend 200 million USD to sign a Boy Scout who lives by your rules," Mara said, setting down his cup. "The preseason starts in three weeks, Mr. Lawrence. Do you know what the expected audience is for our first preseason game against the Seattle Seahawks?"

Lawrence shook his head blankly.

"Well," Mara said mildly, "6.8 million online viewers. Do you know what that means?"

Again, Lawrence shook his head, completely at a loss.

"It means more than three times the average viewership for a preseason game in previous years. Here in the United States of America, the audience for this single preseason game will be larger than the audience for the NBA’s Christmas Day games,"

John Mara tapped his fingers on the desk.

"And that is the impact Li Wei brings to the table. If you, or anyone else on the defense, finds their pride can’t take being on the same starting roster as a rookie who doesn’t understand your ’rules,’ then I’m sure Coach Daboll’s bench is quite spacious. You can go have a seat there for a while and cool your head."