Chapter 24: Two Fools

After countless incidents involving racial disputes, major corporations have long since steered clear of the term "racial discrimination." For an individual, being involved in such a case is troublesome enough; for a well-known multinational company, the consequences for its reputation can be even more severe. That is why this manager would rather lose a client than risk being branded as someone who shelters racists. In America, many things can be thought but not spoken aloud—racial discrimination being a prime example. What the William Hill manager truly thought could only be known to himself, but for the benefit of other people of color, it was necessary to take a firm stand.

“Well done!” a Black man called out to Su Mu, his face alight with pleasure, seemingly unconcerned that the Italian who had been asked to leave was still present. No group is more passionate about the pursuit of fairness than Black Americans, and they detest racists with all their hearts.

He was not alone; the others present began to support Su Mu as well. His words had been eloquent—he hadn’t uttered a single vulgarity, yet had left his opponent speechless. The Italian man could find no retort; he opened his mouth, then closed it again, and in a fit of anger finally shouted, “Damn it! I’ll never bet at your William Hill again!”

“As you wish,” the manager replied calmly. Compared to the many customers he served, he truly did not care about losing just one.

Su Mu was still angry, but his happiness was plain to see. He had won dignity for himself, and for his compatriots as well. He’d learned from a young age that endless tolerance only led to further bullying. Now, not only he, but many Chinese people were waking up, striving for the rights and status that were rightfully theirs.

Seeing the Italian gesture rudely at him, Su Mu returned the gesture with equal disdain, making a mental note to be cautious when he left—after all, that man’s tattooed arms suggested he wasn’t someone to be trifled with.

A minor farce drew to a close.

At that moment, the manager seemed to have an idea. He looked at Su Mu with a suddenly peculiar expression.

This manager, David, was in charge of the William Hill betting shop in Los Angeles and held some sway in California. Recently, the parent company had instructed each branch to come up with their own promotional strategies, hoping to profit from the Olympic Games. David planned to turn this incident into a story—demonstrating the company’s anti-discrimination stance while also garnering publicity. Two birds with one stone.

Smiling, he said to Su Mu, “I’m very sorry you had to experience this. It’s our fault. From appearances alone, it’s impossible to tell who is a racist—otherwise, we’d keep them out. My former neighbors were Chinese, and I got along with them very well. I love dumplings, you know.”

Since it was the Italian who had insulted him, Su Mu had no reason to show the manager any hostility. He smiled in return. “My family runs a restaurant. My mother’s dumplings are excellent as well. But it’s all right—people like that are everywhere. It’s not your fault.”

“Is that so? Then I must drop by and try them sometime,” David replied out of politeness. He hadn’t even asked where the restaurant was; it was clear that he had no intention of actually going. He continued, “You mentioned earlier that you’re here today to help your father buy a lottery ticket, is that right? As compensation, on behalf of our company, I’d like to offer you a free bet—how does five hundred dollars sound? You can ask your father what kind of ticket he’d like. At William Hill, we are committed to providing our customers with the perfect experience.”

David’s gesture was not out of concern for Su Mu; he simply didn’t want the eventual media coverage to omit any mention of compensation. Five hundred dollars was a trivial matter—it might well be lost in the betting, and with his authority, it was easy enough to arrange. Even if his superiors found out, they would only be pleased. Their company, after all, was a “dragon crossing the river”—a European giant seeking entry into the American market. And what better way to do so than to win over people of color?

Most lottery buyers were not wealthy; the Chinese were a key demographic for gambling. He was thrilled by this kind of incident—one that required little investment but had the potential for great publicity.

Su Mu, unaware of these intricacies, saw things from a different vantage point on the social pyramid. People often say that the mind shapes one’s position, but the reverse is just as true. Right now, he was only thinking about the five hundred dollars. He wanted to ask if the manager could give him cash instead—it was half a month’s wages, after all. But David was already instructing his secretary to handle the betting procedures and having someone come to take photos, so Su Mu kept his question to himself.

Du Zhong had just come out of the restroom, and seeing Su Mu leaving with the manager, he assumed Su Mu had been turned away for being underage and lamented the wasted trip. He hurried after them and asked in Chinese, “What happened?”

“Wait a bit and I’ll tell you. What started as a bad thing has turned into a good one,” Su Mu replied, leaving Du Zhong even more puzzled, though he relaxed, knowing the outcome was favorable.

Su Dingcai hadn’t come today, so Su Mu made up an excuse. The five hundred dollars were split into two two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bets: one on Xu Haifeng to win first place, and one on China to rank fourth in total gold medals. Not knowing much about the athletes, he picked these options on a whim. The odds for Xu Haifeng to win first were thirty-one to one, and for China to place fourth on the gold medal table, forty-one to one.

It wasn’t meant to trick Su Mu—the newspaper had stated odds of one to one hundred and fifty. With the Olympics just a week away and betting amounts increasing, the company had adjusted the odds to mitigate risk; only a fool would keep them that high. The odds fluctuated constantly—just a sneeze from an athlete could change the calculations for an entire event.

Having come by the money so easily, he didn’t mind spending it. He bought a ticket for Boss Han as well; the odds for China to place first in total medals were still three hundred to one, while second place was at one hundred and one.

He carefully tucked the tickets into his pocket—winnings would be paid to whoever held the ticket, not to a name. After leaving, he wandered the streets and stopped by a mall to buy his mother a dress with his own earnings—it felt different to spend money he’d made himself. As for his grandfather and father, he bought them razors, spending more than four hundred dollars in total. He was frugal with himself, but generous with gifts for his elders.

He took a cab to the subway station, then rode the subway home. Back in Chinatown, Du Zhong gave him a ride on his bicycle to the arcade. Su Mu hadn’t planned to go, but since Du Zhong had accompanied him all day, he felt he should let his friend enjoy himself before heading home.

In summer, the days linger long into the evening. When he returned home at dusk, dinner was just ready. The family’s little orange cat, named Lucky, came bounding joyfully toward Su Mu…