Chapter 125: The Upper Echelons of Society

As darkness fell, Su Mu changed his clothes and headed out.

It was a cold day, and the down jacket he had bought in New York finally came in handy. After nearly eight years, word had recently spread that the San Francisco area might soon see snowfall. People everywhere were debating whether it would actually happen—a prospect more exciting to them than Christmas. The last time it had snowed in the San Francisco region was February 1976, so it was no wonder the locals were so thrilled, with the media jumping on the bandwagon as well.

Menlo Park and Palo Alto, where Stanford University is located, were affluent areas that had emerged over the past decade or so. As enclaves for the wealthy, they boasted high-end infrastructure and premium shops. The Falkland Restaurant was quite famous in the Palo Alto area, and to show his respect, Su Mu had chosen it for tonight’s meeting. Braving the biting wind, he hopped into a taxi, noticing that some houses were already adorned with reindeer lights and Christmas trees.

With Christmas fast approaching, in an era lacking in modern entertainment, both adults and children were filled with anticipation for the holiday. Just as he was leaving, George had asked if Su Mu wanted to join him for a vacation in Hawaii during the break. Su Mu had never been to Hawaii and was very tempted, but considering the business matters that still required his attention, he had to regretfully decline.

James had been in a foul mood lately, and his cold war with Richard Li continued. Living in that house made Su Mu uncomfortable, and he was considering moving out. If the Penguin Company performed well next year, he might even consider buying a place of his own and bringing his family over to live with him. If all went as planned, he figured he would be staying in Silicon Valley for a long time; buying a house would be a sound move. For now, he could only draw funds from the Penguin Company, as the supermarket project required a long period of "compound investment" and wouldn't be paying out dividends anytime soon.

As the year drew to a close, 1984 was slipping away day by day. The first half of the year had been unremarkable, but the second half had been full of significance. Thinking about the substantial money he had earned, Su Mu felt immensely happy.

Unfortunately, his happiness didn't last long. He was stopped at the entrance of the Falkland Restaurant. The waiter, doing his best to mask his disdain, said coldly, "I'm sorry, you cannot enter without a reservation. Even with a reservation, formal attire is required. You might want to try the restaurant across the street."

Su Mu glanced back to see a McDonald's and felt a surge of irritation. He replied, "I booked a table under the name Richard Li. If I recall correctly, he is one of your restaurant’s VIPs."

The waiter remembered the generous Chinese gentleman—after all, it wasn't every day someone tipped two hundred dollars as a matter of course. His expression shifted instantly, replaced by a beaming smile. "Welcome to the Falkland. Mr. Li is a distinguished guest of ours. It seems he hasn't been here in a while. Is there anything you're dissatisfied with?"

Richard Li was, in fact, Li Zekai. After selling his Ferrari, he had poured all his money into his company. Since his investment failed, he had been reduced to eating instant noodles; he had no money for restaurants like this. He was determined to succeed on his own and, in a fit of stubbornness against his father—who shared the same surname—he refused to touch a cent of his money.

"Perhaps he hasn't been here because you turn his friends away. It’s freezing outside; am I not allowed to wear a warm coat? Or is there mud on my soles?" Su Mu retorted with biting sarcasm. Too annoyed to say more, he walked into the restaurant on his own.

The waiter’s face paled, then flushed, but he still followed, begrudgingly leading him to the reserved table.

Sitting near the window, Su Mu watched the cars pass by outside. The thick glass provided excellent soundproofing, leaving only the soft strains of a saxophone and the murmur of conversation.

"I apologize, sir. I see you have a reservation for two. Shall I bring the appetizers now, or wait?" the white waiter asked.

Su Mu looked out the window and replied casually, "Wait a little longer. They’ll be here soon."

"Very well, sir. May I take your coat? We will store it safely for you..."

Hearing the word "sir" made Su Mu suppress a smile as he took off his coat and handed it over.

The air was filled with a pleasant fragrance. Three silver knives and three silver forks were laid out on either side of his plate. Glancing around at the other diners, everyone seemed remarkably composed. Some wore white shirts and ties even while eating; others casually displayed luxury watches, most of which cost at least five figures.

Some guests looked plain, yet their faces were their own business cards. For instance, a middle-aged white man currently discussing business was someone Su Mu recognized: the Chief Financial Officer of Hewlett-Packard. He had been featured in magazines, earned millions of dollars a year, and held shares in the company. Suddenly, the man stopped talking and walked over to greet a young man who was clearly even wealthier—Su Mu remembered his last name was Packard, and his grandfather was one of the co-founders of Hewlett-Packard.

It wasn't something he was afraid to admit: having grown up in the United States, Su Mu had never eaten such a formal Western meal. He didn't even know which of the three knives and three forks were for which course.

Sitting in the restaurant, he felt entirely out of place. This was a restaurant for the wealthy—a place where Su Mu had to grit his teeth just to afford the meal, while for most of the guests, it was a trivial expense. A small restaurant, yet it gave Su Mu such a peculiar feeling, as if he had inadvertently caught a glimpse of the upper crust, opening the door to a new world. Rather than just eating, it felt like an experience.

It was completely different from the Chinatown where he had grown up, where many people ate simply to survive. Earlier in the day, he had been satisfied with his achievements, but now, he felt there was nothing to boast about; he was still a long way from the financial freedom he dreamed of.

His restless thoughts settled into a calm focus. This was a good thing.

Catching sight of someone sitting at the next table, Su Mu looked over and was surprised to find Steve Jobs. He was berating the middle-aged white man sitting across from him over a failure in product positioning. His words were harsh; he was clearly the hot-tempered manager the rumors described. This made Su Mu decide against approaching Mr. Jobs.

IBM's performance had been rising steadily, while Apple's market share continued to slide. Apple, once favored at the beginning of the year, was now in a precarious position. If they didn't develop a hit product soon, they would be pushed out of the market. Jobs’s mental state was clearly poor.

Su Mu hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but he heard him say he hoped to hire a capable senior engineer soon with a monthly salary of over twenty thousand dollars. Unbeknownst to him, that figure no longer stirred any emotion in Su Mu. His mindset had changed drastically over the past month.

Then, a woman walked in—sexy, and both a stranger and a familiar face to Su Mu. Even in a plain coat, her beautiful face and alluring figure turned the heads of every man in the room. Even Jobs stopped speaking, his mind clearly wandering as he stared at Ms. Blake, not blinking once.

She was even more beautiful in person than in her photos. Su Mu suddenly understood why the manager that afternoon had said she had such a competitive edge.

What man would ever want to make such a beautiful woman angry? He’d be mobbed by the rest of the room...