Chapter 75: First Encounter with Gates

In the blink of an eye, it was Stanford University's anniversary day.

On the morning of October 1st, 1984, Su Mu put his father, Su Dingcai, on the Greyhound bus back to Los Angeles. Then he hopped on his bicycle, ready to visit Stanford University.

Nearly a month had passed since Su Mu started attending Menlo Park Private School in the Silicon Valley area. He hadn’t gone home during this time—the round trip alone would take about twelve hours. If he left on Friday, he’d have to rush back by Sunday morning; it was simply too much trouble.

Old Su was worried about his grandson, afraid he’d be bullied at school, or that he wouldn’t make friends. Since he had to work and Su Mu’s mother got carsick and couldn’t take the long bus ride, the task of visiting Su Mu fell to Su Dingcai.

The family’s small restaurant in Chinatown hadn’t opened for business these past two days. The day before yesterday, Su Dingcai came up, bringing a large bag of various foods—Su Mu’s mother was worried her son wasn’t eating well, so she bought plenty of prepared dishes for her husband to deliver.

Su Mu had been informed in advance, and after his father got off the bus in Menlo Park, he somewhat dazedly followed his son into a “luxurious to the point of being terrifying” villa—his own words—and camped on the floor for two days.

Having never enjoyed much comfort in his life, spending a couple of nights in a house worth several hundred thousand dollars, and even riding in a Ferrari worth over a hundred thousand, left Su Dingcai feeling inflated. Li Zhekai, who needed to go near Menlo Park High School for more community service, gave him a lift in the Ferrari.

As a result, before heading home today, Su Dingcai stood by the roadside, staring at the villa where his son lived for quite a while, probably thinking his own house was too shabby. He sighed deeply before finally leaving.

Being used to poverty, then suddenly experiencing the good life, only to return to the old routine made it hard to keep a balanced mindset...

When he first arrived, and heard the rent was five hundred dollars a month, this honest and unassuming father only blamed Su Mu for not telling the family, worried his son would scrimp on food and go hungry. He told Su Mu not to work part-time for now, to wait until college.

When he boarded the bus home, Su Dingcai carried only ten dollars for travel expenses, giving the remaining nine hundred or so to his son, telling him to come home once a month for rent and living expenses.

Though he’d spent most of his life at the bottom in Chinatown, Su Dingcai, for all his honesty, wasn’t foolish.

He believed that living among Stanford students, his son could learn from their strengths. Besides, if Su Mu could forge a good relationship with Li Zhekai, it might not be hard to make a living in the future, maybe even profit a bit from the connection. What father doesn’t wish his son a better life? Su Dingcai knew his own prospects were limited; he hoped Su Mu could be shrewd and, just last night, told him to pay attention to networking.

Su Mu felt both amused and helpless. They were just housemates, after all—he hadn’t considered currying favor. Besides, Li Zhekai lived almost like a pauper, eating instant noodles daily and seldom driving his Ferrari lately, likely because he couldn’t afford the maintenance.

The car’s engine sounded dull and muted; even with little knowledge of cars, Su Mu could tell something was wrong. Considering Li Zhekai’s sour mood lately, it was easy to guess he was short on cash. To help, Su Mu had even bought him a pizza as a “relief aid.”

Still, his father had spoken earnestly, so Su Mu had nodded along last night, taking the advice as passing words. As for cozying up to someone for gain, he couldn’t bring himself to do it—even if it meant brighter prospects, he simply wasn’t willing.

His classmates found the curriculum quite challenging, but Su Mu didn’t think so.

In just over half a month, he had finished the tenth and eleventh-grade coursework. The school was duller than expected; with little else to do, he buried himself in books, preparing to buy used twelfth-grade textbooks from upperclassmen and try for the college entrance exams soon.

The school had known since admissions that Su Mu was exceptionally bright. When he told his teachers of his plan, they supported him preparing early for the ACT or SAT.

A score above twenty on the ACT would get him into an average private university in the US. His teacher suggested he wait until he could score twenty-eight before applying, as that was roughly the threshold for Stanford. Given Su Mu’s young age, he’d be even more competitive than others.

Private high school tuition was already steep; elite universities were even costlier. Stanford, for instance, charged around twenty thousand dollars a year. Competing for scholarships was a tremendous burden—this was Su Mu’s main concern.

The idea of entering university early had taken root and wouldn’t leave his mind. Continuing to study material he already understood felt like a waste of time.

More than half a month ago, Su Mu had browsed through the textbooks left behind by Stanford students in their rooms. He’d more or less grasped how computers worked. He’d yet to actually use one, but felt that writing a few simple programs was no longer a challenge for him.

For those who understand, nothing is difficult; for those who don’t, everything is. He’d just scratched the surface and hadn’t mastered everything, especially since there weren’t many programming books available yet and technology was progressing rapidly. Su Mu was eager to enter Stanford. The reason was simple: in this era, no other university’s computer science program could compare—not even Harvard, Cambridge, or MIT.

If he wanted to attend Stanford, he ought to visit the campus. Despite living in Menlo Park for over half a month, he still hadn’t been to the university. Most of his teachers, even the principal, were Stanford graduates. Today was a school holiday, so he finally had the chance.

His dwindling funds weighed on his mind. Stories of entrepreneurs succeeding in Silicon Valley with just a few hundred or a few thousand dollars had become common in recent years. People often spoke of new millionaires and multimillionaires, but there were plenty struggling too—like Steve Jobs. Ever since IBM started selling personal computers, Apple’s prices weren’t competitive, market share kept dropping, and Jobs was now fighting with the board.

After understanding why the founder was at risk of being ousted, Su Mu learned a lesson: to own a company, one must never be careless with equity.

Computer and internet development had hit a bottleneck in recent years. The general mood in Silicon Valley was pessimistic; many believed computers weren’t essential. Su Mu disagreed—his only worry was that his funds were too scarce for bold investments.

The good news was that Qugo Supermarket’s renovation was nearly complete. If it weren’t for the rainy season in Los Angeles, everything would have finished last week. They should open by November.

As he pedaled his bicycle, cars continually passed him by.

At that moment, near Stanford University, Su Mu unexpectedly spotted a face he’d seen in the newspapers. The man’s hair was a light brown, and he was stooping, searching for something in the grass by the roadside.

“Bill Gates.” Su Mu remembered the name clearly.

At twenty-nine, Gates was already a success, yet now he seemed more like a cool, rebellious youth...