American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

It was late at night in early December, on a road leading out of New York toward New Jersey.

The windows of the Cadillac Escalade were fogged over, a testament to the powerful heating inside. Li Wei leaned back in one of the plush rear seats, idly scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing out the window.

"We should be there in about fifteen minutes," Chen Haisheng said from the driver’s seat, his eyes occasionally flicking to the rearview mirror. "The man in charge said he’ll be waiting for you at the entrance."

Li Wei grunted in acknowledgment, then suddenly asked,

"They signed NDAs, didn’t they?" he asked, looking at Chen Haisheng. "Did the lawyers look them over?"

"Yes, they’ve signed," Chen Haisheng answered cautiously. "I had Mr. Don Quixote look at them. He said the lawyers confirmed there were no issues."

"Good." Li Wei’s gaze drifted to the view of Lower Manhattan outside. They passed a Chinese restaurant, still open despite the late hour. "How’s Chinatown these days?" he asked casually. "I don’t think you’ve mentioned it in a while."

Chen Haisheng paused. At the mention of this topic, his brow unfurrowed slightly. The tension on his face, born from being alone with Li Wei, eased, and even the corners of his mouth curved into a faint smile.

’He never felt this way with Don Quixote. But for some reason, being alone with Li Wei was incredibly stressful. He was terrified of making a mistake, of saying the wrong thing.’

’He never got that feeling from Don Quixote. Don Quixote was more like a senior, an elder, not his boss.’

"It’s the same as always, Boss," he said. "The traditional archways are still there, the clan associations still have their rules, and most of the folks are still hustling from dawn till dusk just to make a few extra bucks."

"But life has definitely gotten a little better for everyone," he continued, glancing at Li Wei, who was still looking out the window. "Back in the day, if you were running a business in Flushing or Chinatown, you weren’t most afraid of the gangs. You were afraid of the ones in uniform."

"The New York Police Department, the Health Department, the Fire Department... they’d show up every other day with some new ’surprise inspection’," he said, shaking his head. "They’d find the slightest little thing wrong and slap you with a huge fine, or just shut you down completely. All you could do was bow your head, force a smile, and slip them some cash. But now? Now, at least no one dares to come around and cause trouble for no reason. The captain of that precinct even sent someone over to put in a good word for the neighborhood."

As Chen Haisheng spoke, his gaze drifted unconsciously upward to a metal object hanging next to the Cadillac Escalade’s rearview mirror.

It was a shield-shaped badge made of solid copper—a token of privilege for donors to the New York City Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association.

Just like the "Winter Family Days" private schools use for their fundraising, the police had their own, perfectly legitimate ways of shaking people down.

Donate a certain amount—usually upwards of 50,000 USD—and the Patrolmen’s Benevolent Association would "gift" you one of these tokens.

Hang this shield from your rearview mirror, and for minor offenses like speeding, improper lane changes, or illegal parking, a patrol officer would take one look, pretend nothing happened, and maybe even offer a friendly reminder to drive safe.

Hang it in a conspicuous spot in your shop, and surprise inspections from the Fire Department and nitpicky fines from the Health Department would miraculously take a detour around your block.

Every one of Li Wei’s cars had one of these tokens. And he hadn’t paid a dime for them.

Once, one of the New York City Police Department’s deputy commissioners invited him to a private dinner. In exchange for a single team-signed football, Li Wei received ten of these tokens. He still had five of them sitting in a drawer at home, saved for future vehicles.

Chen Haisheng knew perfectly well that life in Chinatown hadn’t gotten better because New York’s bureaucracy had a sudden change of heart. It was because the young man in the back seat had become a major figure—the kind of man the governor would actively seek out for a photo, the kind of man minor officials had to book an appointment just to treat to dinner.

When the umbrella of power tilted, even just a little, the shadow it cast was enough to shelter people like them, the ones at the bottom, from the wind and rain.

Hearing Chen Haisheng’s account, Li Wei simply nodded, saying nothing more.

Fifteen minutes later, the Cadillac Escalade turned off the main road and onto a private drive flanked by fences topped with anti-climb wire.

Ahead, a low, greyish-white building came into view. It looked like an unremarkable industrial warehouse, but the high-level security surrounding it hinted that it was something special.

The car pulled to a smooth stop at the main entrance of the laboratory.

A middle-aged white man in a lab coat with a down jacket thrown over it had clearly been waiting for some time, rubbing his hands together in the cold wind.

Li Wei pushed open the car door. The moment he stepped out, a frigid wind whipped at his overcoat, but to someone with his current constitution, it felt like little more than a gentle breeze.

Despite the late hour, his vision was as sharp as ever. He keenly noted that the indicator lights on the high-definition cameras above the main gate and along the perimeter, which should have been blinking, were all dark.

Two had even been physically swiveled to face the wall, as if in timeout.

’Looks like that two million USD was well spent,’ he thought. ’At least they’re airtight when it comes to privacy.’

"Good evening." The man in charge didn’t ask why Li Wei had arrived so late, but immediately hurried to greet him. "New York winters are brutally cold, aren’t they? Let’s talk inside."

He made a welcoming gesture and, while leading Li Wei through a heavy airlock door, began to report, "Please rest assured, Mr. Li Wei. As of an hour ago, all surveillance in non-core areas has been disabled. We have experience with this; we’ve handled data analysis and synthesis projects for many well-known corporations."