Chapter 73: Save Wherever Possible

Arriving at the villa on Oak Avenue with the house number "24B," Leon Su once again spotted the familiar red Ferrari 512BBi, parked stylishly by the roadside. It was quite the coincidence. Perhaps it was because the population in the area was so sparse; the land near Stanford University commanded a high price, while in most parts of Silicon Valley, land was still dirt cheap—the kind of place where companies were gifted plots to start their business. In recent years, the mad rush of tech firms had been drawn in by tax exemptions and subsidies, fueling a boom.

The villa itself was two stories, painted in white and red. A broad lawn stretched across the entrance, flowerbeds lined the windows, bursting with unknown purple blooms. A tall chimney stood sentinel, though California’s winters were warm enough that it served only as decoration.

As a child, Leon had dreamed of living in such a house: clean, beautiful, spacious. Chinatown was overcrowded, noisy, and dirty. His family’s home was kept tidy, but it could never be called beautiful.

Six hundred dollars in monthly rent was a fortune for him. His usual allowance was about a hundred and fifty dollars a month, factoring in meals. In Chinatown, a small room could be had for a hundred dollars, or even less.

But this was an affluent neighborhood, never meant for people like Leon. The rise of Silicon Valley’s wealthy had triggered a gold rush; people flooded in, housing was scarce, and prices soared, especially near Stanford, where rents reached absurd heights.

At six hundred dollars per month, divided among four roommates, the total rent came to about twenty-four hundred dollars—a figure similar to what he’d seen at real estate agencies, fairly reasonable.

Leon hadn’t even seen the room yet, but his parents only planned to give him four hundred dollars a month for living expenses. If he stayed here, he’d have to subsidize part of the cost himself, which made him uneasy.

Before this summer, he’d never have considered such extravagance. But now, his bank account was flush, he had several thousand dollars in cash, and the Fun Buy Supermarket looked poised to deliver some profit.

He decided to check the room before making up his mind. That morning, at the school gate, he’d unexpectedly gained some money from a certain Wang’s prodigal son. His pockets were no longer empty, and he didn’t have to panic as he once did...

“We hire housekeeping twice a month to clean the rooms—once at the start, once mid-month. They just came by a couple days ago; it’s very comfortable. You and my cousin are at the same school, right? It’s not far from here. My friend and I will be living here for a while—we’ve found jobs nearby. We’re used to the place and don’t want to move, so we’re staying on,” James explained.

His hair, like Daniel’s, was golden, and his eyes a striking blue. He seemed easy-going as he pushed open the door for Leon.

Leon surveyed the interior. It was lavish, more beautiful than the Du family’s house. The living room lay to the left of the entrance, near the fireplace, with a large television set and empty beer cans scattered on the table.

Anyone who could afford such a house wouldn’t skimp on the decor. Hardwood floors covered the ground, the staircase railings were wooden, the sunset filtered through the windows, and an air conditioner hung on the wall.

James had already explained on the way that utilities would be split evenly—not a big expense. Leon nodded, “The house is beautiful. I can help with the cleaning. May I ask where the room for rent is?”

“Upstairs, I’ll show you now,” James smiled. “If you help us clean, you can pay a hundred dollars less in rent. We’d normally pay the housekeeper anyway. Twice a month is a bit long between cleanings, mostly just taking out the trash. Dirty clothes can go to the nearby dry cleaner. The Mexican housekeeper we hired is a bit lazy—not worth three hundred dollars a month.”

That three hundred dollars, Leon would have to share—dozens of dollars, plus rent. By cleaning himself, he could save a hundred and seventy-five dollars. He agreed readily, “I’ll take care of the cleaning, then. I like household chores, but you’ll have to tidy your own rooms—unless you don’t mind me going in.”

It was a classic poor man’s mentality: willing to work harder to save money. The Su family had struggled for so long—ever since Leon was born, right up until he won the lottery. His spending habits wouldn’t change overnight; six hundred felt expensive, but five hundred seemed much more reasonable. He was already showing interest in sharing the house.

“I don’t mind, and George should be fine with it too,” James said, pointing to a young man descending the stairs. It was, as Leon expected, someone he’d already met—apparently now employed at IBM.

George recognized Leon and asked, “We saw each other on the bus this morning, right? You were sitting in front of us? I’m George. I just heard someone was coming to rent a room—I didn’t expect you to be so young.”

“Probably saw you before, you look familiar,” Leon replied vaguely. He hadn’t introduced himself directly to James before and wasn’t sure how to tell George he knew them. He said, “Leon Su. You can call me Leon, or Su—either is fine.”

Most American college students were already adults. Their parents paid tuition, while high-achieving students earned scholarships. Living expenses were generally up to the students themselves.

It was an unspoken rule, meant to foster independence, unrelated to family wealth. Most moved out and earned their own living after coming of age; relying on parents was considered laughable.

After children turned eighteen, most parents gave them a car as a coming-of-age gift. What happened after that was up to the kids themselves.

So, upon hearing from James that they could save on housekeeping fees, George seemed pleased and welcomed Leon’s help with cleaning, promising to pitch in as well.

Upstairs, Leon saw the room for rent. Most belongings had been removed, except for some dirty clothes; the bed sheets were stained and would need replacing. The window overlooked sycamores and the street. There was a desk, bed, wardrobe, lamp, and fan, plus a stack of computer-related books. The previous tenant, a Stanford student, must have been in the same department as George and James.

The room was spacious—about twenty square meters—with its own bathroom, complete with a shower. Hardwood floors made it far superior to Leon’s old room.

James glanced at the mess and scratched his head, “It’s messy, right? Just clean it up. He left his stuff behind. If you can sell them, you might make three hundred dollars or so, though the secondhand bookstore doesn’t pay much. That guy was rich and couldn’t be bothered to take them.”

New textbooks were expensive, so many opted for secondhand. Leon looked them over and thought he could read them first, then sell them. He said, “I’ll rent this room. If I sell the books, how about I treat you all to dinner? Or use the money for utilities—they aren’t mine, after all…”