Chapter 89: Watch Out or My Mother Will Deal With You

The Chinatown district of Los Angeles is one of the most notorious slums on the West Coast. Very few white people settle in the area, and Jews are even scarcer. When people think of Jews, the word "wealthy" often comes to mind. It’s undeniable that Jews are shrewd in business, especially those who have come to America. Once they form a community here, their influence is formidable. Nowadays, people often say, "America is a country run by Jews," a testament to their formidable clout.

This fellow, often nicknamed "Mr. Money" by his classmates, is an example of a Jew who has not fared well at all. His father was a drunkard, addicted to alcohol for decades without ever managing to quit. One winter, Sumu even saw his father sleeping by the roadside—more accurately, passed out drunk by the curb—lying there the entire night without being discovered. His vitality was like a blade of grass in spring; even after abusing his body so, nothing seemed to go wrong. Yet by the afternoon, he was back at the bar, drinking again.

When he was young, Ken Helberg’s fondest wish was that the U.S. government would reinstate Prohibition, so his father could never buy alcohol again. To love such an unhealthy home would indeed be strange. His mother had died early, and by now Helberg was an adult. He had earned admission to the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania with outstanding grades, far away on the East Coast in Philadelphia. Sumu and Li Ping’an had not seen him for over a year. They had occasionally played together as children, but their views and values differed, so their friendship never ran deep.

“Still the same as ever. What about you—why did you come back?” Sumu shot back. Helberg had all but severed ties with his father. Since starting college, he rarely returned, and even when he did come to Chinatown, he usually stayed with relatives on his mother’s side.

“My father died. The funeral was just yesterday. Only a handful of people attended,” Helberg replied, his tone completely indifferent, as if the death were that of a stranger. He continued, “Someone called me over to settle the inheritance. Do you guys know where I can find a real estate agency?”

Sumu couldn’t bring himself to criticize. The state of affairs between father and son was entirely the result of old Helberg’s own making. This young man had been left to fend for himself since childhood, often beaten. As a child, Ken Helberg was in and out of the hospital every few days. Eventually, even the police intervened, nearly stripping his father of custody.

Sumu pointed the way: “I remember there’s one next to Sunshine Hardware, just over there. They should still be open on Saturdays.”

“Thanks. I plan to sell the house. I’ll probably come back even less in the future. It was nice seeing you guys…” With breakfast in hand, Ken Helberg gave a brief smile and walked away. Out early to find an agent, he truly seemed eager to leave.

“I remember how mischievous he was as a kid. He used to drag us off to sneak a peek at those dirty magazines. Now, it’s like he’s a different person,” Sumu remarked.

Li Ping’an chimed in, “That’s how it is for kids from poor families. When I was little, he even tricked me out of a chicken leg. I was furious back then, but now I guess it was because he had nothing to eat and his father didn’t care. My dad would beat me for not studying, for my own good. But his father hit him just for fun, sometimes didn’t even remember doing it. As far as I recall, his father was never sober.”

Sumu looked at Li Ping’an in surprise and teased, “Well, well, my dear Ping’an has grown up.”

“Get lost! Don’t act like you’re my dad, or my mom will skin you alive.”

The two of them walked to find Duzhong. Neither of them was old enough to drive yet, and it wasn’t far, so they got there quickly on foot.

Passing the entrance of Funmart Supermarket again, they saw several large trucks parked by the curb, workers unloading crates full of goods. A new batch of stock had arrived, so it looked like the supermarket really would open in a couple of weeks.

“What exactly is a supermarket?” Li Ping’an mused. “They’ve plastered opening posters all over our school gate, and if you show a student ID you get a free pen. Are they selling school supplies or what?” Sumu had kept the project secret, not even telling his close friends. They couldn’t keep secrets for long, and if he told them, the news would surely reach his father’s ears.

Before Sumu could answer, Li Ping’an pressed on, “If I really go with you to San Francisco, will I have anywhere to stay? I could probably scrounge some money from my mom, but my dad would never give me any. These days, the sight of me makes him want to hit me. I’m honestly scared of him. My cash won’t last long in a motel.”

“To be honest, I’m planning to start a small business with someone else. We’ll probably rent a small warehouse. You could sleep there. I’m renting a place myself, so you…”

He hadn’t finished when Li Ping’an cut in, “No worries, I’ll bunk with you. I’m not picky!”

“But I’m picky,” Sumu retorted, rolling his eyes. “Remember our school trip? You snore, grind your teeth, talk in your sleep—and worst of all, you farted! I swore then and there I’d never share a room with you again.”

“Come on, I’ll sleep in the warehouse. As long as there’s a bed and a TV, and, you know, power—I’m afraid of the dark. But wait, what kind of business are you starting?”

“The one I mentioned before—selling computers. I’ll explain more once you come with me. If business goes well, you can work for me. If not, sign up for a technical class. There are plenty near Stanford University. Learn a skill and you’ll never be out of work, and I’m sure your parents would support that.”

Right now, Sumu could barely keep his own head above water. He seemed to be dabbling in several industries, but hadn’t made a cent—quite the opposite, he’d invested a lot already. Just a few computers had cost over seven thousand dollars, and he’d put even more into the supermarket venture.

He was rational by nature and didn’t brag in front of Li Ping’an. He was still keeping the lottery win a secret, planning to reveal it when the time was right. And when would that be? Most likely when the supermarket turned a profit. If all his ventures failed, he intended to keep the lottery prize a secret for life, as if it had never happened.

They arrived at Duzhong’s house. It was Saturday—a precious chance to sleep in—but Li Ping’an had dragged him out of bed at dawn, leaving Duzhong on the verge of exploding, stubbornly refusing to get up.

After a word with him and getting his consent, Sumu turned on the Apple computer in Duzhong’s room. Last time, he hadn’t even known what a mouse was, but now, just two months later, he’d learned some basic programming.

Compared to other operating systems, including Microsoft’s, Apple’s desktop OS was definitely more comfortable to use. Other systems required command-line input, while Apple relied on clicking icons with a mouse—a real leap forward. Unfortunately, most people didn’t own a computer, and those who did were used to command lines. Moreover, Apple’s system was too closed, so sales kept dropping.

After fiddling for a while, Sumu studied the operating system carefully. The computer wasn’t connected to the internet, making it little more than a display piece. Suddenly, he asked Duzhong, “You mentioned wanting to sell this computer before. Do you still want to? I can offer you seventy percent of the original price—I’ll need it for something at the school…”