American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

In her 22 years of life, she’d had to be frugal with even a thousand or two USD. She normally wouldn’t even splurge on Starbucks, opting to buy the cheapest coffee beans and brew her own.

"Aigoo, I’m really rich now."

Jin Heon covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, but there was no hiding the way her eyes curved into smiling crescents.

She immediately opened her phone and screenshotted the sterile text message from Chase Bank. She carefully pixelated her account information, leaving only the intoxicating string of numbers in the middle visible.

’First, I’ll send it to Mom!’

Heon: Mom! Look! I got paid!!! Don’t cook this weekend. I’m taking you to that super expensive Korean barbecue place in K-Town! If you have time, tell Dad to come too. That is, if he isn’t drunk.

After sending the text, she posted the screenshot to all her alternate accounts on Instagram, WhatsApp, Reels, TikTok, Twitter, and more, captioning it with what looked like a complaint about the Internal Revenue Service’s taxes but was actually a humblebrag.

She then quickly closed her social media apps, opened Sephora and a few luxury brand websites, and began frantically adding high-end cosmetics to her cart—the kind she normally only dared to look at.

Meanwhile, in the office just a wall away.

Don Quixote stared at his account balance. After being skinned alive by taxes, he was left with just over two hundred thousand USD. His heart was bleeding.

By his calculations, since taking this job, he had already paid nearly a million USD in taxes to the Internal Revenue Service.

"No, absolutely not." Don Quixote stood up and paced back and forth in his office.

In addition to finding a way to shelter the 14.4 million USD Li Wei had just received, he also had to plan a tax avoidance strategy for himself.

When Li Wei started making the big bucks next year—tens of millions of USD in endorsements—at Don Quixote Cervantes’s current tax rate, the Internal Revenue Service alone would probably take several million USD.

That evening, Don Quixote brought the matter up with Li Wei.

"That 14.4 million USD you just got—if you don’t spend it before the end of this calendar year, which is in the next month and a half," he said, "you’ll have to hand over half of it when you file your taxes next April. The same logic we used for the Cullinan."

Li Wei stopped flipping through the playbook in his hands and looked up. "Do you have any good suggestions? I can’t just donate all 14.4 million to the foundation. That’s a long-term game of moving money from one pocket to the other; it doesn’t solve the immediate problem."

"Buy commercial real estate," Don Quixote said. "To be precise, buy a top-tier villa or estate in the company’s name."

Li Wei raised an eyebrow. "A villa counts as commercial real estate?"

"As long as you frame it correctly and find a top lawyer who’s an expert in real estate law," Don Quixote leaned forward, "we buy a mansion and then, in the compliance documents, designate 70% of its square footage for commercial and office use."

"For example, the huge living room can be declared a ’business conference room.’ The basement pool and gym can be declared an ’exclusive recuperation and rehabilitation facility for professional athletes.’ Even the entertainment room with the big-screen TV can be framed as a ’tactical analysis and esports room.’ As long as the logic is airtight, it’s a legitimate business expense."

"SMACK!" He clapped his hands. "Then 70% of the villa’s depreciation, property taxes, utilities, maintenance, and even security can all be deducted as company operating costs before taxes."

The logic was clear. The benefits, maximized.

Li Wei’s mind raced. The plan was nearly perfect, but its only weak point was the level of finesse required for its execution.

New York’s real estate compliance reviews were notoriously strict. Trying to pull a 70% commercial deduction on a residential property was playing with fire; the slightest misstep would trigger a full audit from the Internal Revenue Service.

He needed a top-tier real estate lawyer, one who was an expert in New York City’s municipal planning, land zoning, and extreme tax avoidance strategies.

A name instantly surfaced in Li Wei’s mind.

Arthur, the mole man. The former top lawyer who lived in the sewer pipes beneath Riverfront Park.

"Good idea. I’ll find someone after the game," Li Wei nodded. "I need to go consult an expert."

「Time flew by, and the weekend arrived.」

Today, the Giants were playing a home game at MetLife Stadium against the Philadelphia Eagles.

Although the Eagles’ offense was formidable, their defense was nothing more than a plucked turkey in front of Li Wei.

Li Wei once again demonstrated his absolute, overwhelming dominance. For every offensive drive of the game, he gave the Eagles’ defensive line no room to breathe.

With precision-guided long passes and powerful, bulldozer-like runs, Li Wei was like a cold, precise war machine, ruthlessly crushing the pride of the Philadelphia fans.

When the final whistle blew, the scoreboard froze on a decisive score.

An 11-game winning streak!

[You have led the Knight Legion to an overwhelming victory in the raptor’s nest. Facing the ferocious birds of prey, you did not flinch, conquering your opponent with absolute strength and skill.]

[You have once again embodied one of the Eight Knightly Virtues: Valor.]

[Free Attribute Points +0.1]

Li Wei hummed a little tune, glanced at his 1.1 free attribute points, and turned toward the player tunnel.

With the playoffs drawing closer, he could farm at least another ten 0.1 increments of free attribute points from the remaining games this year.

However, just as he finished showering and was changing, ready to leave the locker room and convince Arthur to come out of retirement, a man in a dark suit stopped him.

"Mr. Li Wei," the man said with a polite bow. Li Wei recognized him as one of owner John Mara’s personal assistants. "Mr. Mara is waiting for you in the VIP owner’s box on the top level. He would like to have a private word with you, if you can spare ten minutes."

Li Wei frowned slightly. The game had just ended, and the team had secured a playoff spot. Normally, the owner would be in the locker room popping champagne to celebrate. Calling him up to the owner’s box alone clearly wasn’t for a simple commendation, and it was even less likely that he was about to get a bonus.

Last time, Uncle Don Quixote had essentially pried an annual private jet membership, worth over a million USD, from his grasp. As a result, John Mara now looked at Don Quixote with utter disdain.

"Lead the way," Li Wei said, grabbing his duffel bag.

Inside the top-floor VIP box, soundproof glass completely sealed out the roar of the 80,000 fans in the stadium.

John Mara was staring out the window, his expression grave. He only managed to crack a faint smile when Li Wei pushed the door open and entered.

"Have a seat, Li Wei. Can I get you something to drink?" Mara asked. "Water? Alcohol? Coffee?"

"Ice water is fine. I’m not 21 yet," Li Wei said casually. "Mr. Mara, I take it you didn’t call me up here just to talk about the playoffs."

"No," Mara said, shaking his head. "But it’s related."

He then looked Li Wei straight in the eye. "Li Wei, we’ve already secured a playoff spot. We’ve surpassed all expectations for the season. For the next few regular season games, winning or losing will have a negligible impact on our seeding."

Li Wei took the ice water from the assistant. After hearing that, he took a sip and looked at John Mara, who was sitting opposite him.

"So?" Li Wei asked. "What are you trying to say, Mr. Mara?"

"So, a significant number of people—including other team owners, broadcasters, and even executives at the NFL," Mara said, staring at Li Wei, "they want the Giants to make the games a little more competitive. Ideally, they want us to lose at least five of the upcoming regular season games."

"But we only have six games left," Li Wei noted, raising an eyebrow.

"That’s right. Lose five. I haven’t agreed to it," John Mara said, rubbing his temples. "So, I wanted to ask you... what do you think?"