American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

The blizzard hadn't stopped, but the cheers inside the stadium were so loud they seemed to knock the falling snowflakes off course.

Some people wept with joy, some sobbed uncontrollably, and some sprayed golden beer high into the air, earning the curses of fans who were drenched to the bone.

Thirty-odd seconds is a fleeting moment, too short for the Commander Team to do a thing.

But it's also an eternity, long enough that their fans will spend years trying to erase the memory.

But regardless, where there are winners, there must be losers.

The final whistle blew. The Giants were 17-0, a perfect regular season.

Following the New England Patriots' 16-game winning streak under Tom Brady in 2007, the New York Giants, led by Li Wei, had now set a new record.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Joe Buck's voice thundered through the blizzard from the speakers of 45 million televisions. "You are witnessing history! The New York Giants have just completed the greatest regular season in the history of North American professional sports—17 wins and 0 losses! And the architect of it all, the man we call our King! The Tyrant! The Yellow-Skinned God! His name is Li—Wei!"

In the center of the field, the blizzard still raged, but Li Wei simply took off his helmet, letting snowflakes fall onto his sweat-dampened black hair.

Black hair, black eyes—a combination almost never seen on an NFL field. This sport, the most sacred, most violent, and most popular in the hearts of North Americans, was now dominated by the young man before them. And like a god, he would lead his team into the playoffs to contend for the Super Bowl.

Li Wei's teammates rushed in from all directions and hoisted him up.

He was held high, a statue at the center of the storm, silhouetted against the swirling blizzard and stadium lights.

82,500 people chanted his name in unison.

"Li Wei! Li Wei! Li Wei!"

The wave of sound pierced the blizzard, pierced the dome of MetLife Stadium, pierced the heavy, leaden cloud cover over New Jersey, and shot straight toward the snow-shrouded night sky.

And before Li Wei's eyes, a translucent system panel quietly appeared:

[You have completed a 17-match undefeated trial. In the adversity of the blizzard, you have crushed all obstacles with absolute strength and set a new record.]

[You have practiced one of the Eight Virtues of a Knight: Valor.]

[You have obtained: Free Attribute Points +0.1]

[Quest Progress Update - Famed (1): Create a new historical record, practice a virtue, and gain recognition (2/5)]

Carried on his teammates' shoulders, Li Wei made a slow lap around the field amidst the blizzard.

Meanwhile, in their suite, Jin Heon watched the scene unfold, so excited she nearly jumped out of her seat.

'Amazing! The boss is so damn cool.'

At first, she thought the boss was having an off day, but as soon as the second half started, Li Wei had been a force of nature, completely steamrolling the opposition.

'He actually made history... Fucking awesome!'

Just as she was watching Li Wei circle the field below, Jin Heon's phone suddenly rang again.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the name!

It was Editor-in-Chief Choi from *Vogue*. Jin Heon had previously prepared a portfolio for Li Wei and given it to her, proudly introducing her boss. At the time, Choi hadn't committed, only saying she would talk to some friends she knew and see if there were any opportunities for collaboration.

Jin Heon had all but given up hope.

But now, she was suddenly calling!

"Editor-in-Chief Choi," she said respectfully. "Good evening."

"Ms. Jin," Editor-in-Chief Choi's voice was as serious as ever. "I've carefully reviewed Mr. Li Wei's portfolio and recommended him to the Vice President of LVMH's North American Region."

Jin Heon's heart leaped into her throat, and her hearing seemed to go fuzzy.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Editor-in-Chief Choi!" Jin Heon immediately bowed to the empty air and said deferentially, "And their response was...?"

"He and I just finished watching Mr. Li Wei's game together," said Editor-in-Chief Choi. "That cup Mr. Li Wei was drinking from during halftime—that's for your upcoming beverage, isn't it? It had a nice look to it."

"Yes, Editor-in-Chief Choi," Jin Heon immediately replied. "We co-designed it with Coca-Cola."

Editor-in-Chief Choi hummed in acknowledgment, seemingly murmuring something to the person beside her.

Jin Heon grew anxious, unable to even hear the sound from the television anymore.

After what felt like an eternity, Editor-in-Chief Choi's voice came through again.

This time, there was a hint of a smile in her voice as she said, "LVMH would like to invite Mr. Li Wei to do a three-way collaboration with LV and a certain designer on a sports water bottle. I wonder if Mr. Li Wei would be interested?"

'Of course! Of course he's interested! Xiaojin, you're amazing!'

Jin Heon never expected Editor-in-Chief Choi to actually give her this opportunity, nor did she imagine that LV would be interested in Li Wei!

Although in the world of luxury goods, LV's position is considered merely the gatekeeper, in the mainstream consumer world, LV is synonymous with luxury. It is the most well-known luxury brand, bar none.

Besides, a collaboration between Li Wei and LV on a sports water bottle would be fifteen million percent helpful to the sales of his sports drink!

"I will inform my boss," Jin Heon said, her voice trembling with an excitement she couldn't quite conceal. "Thank you for the invitation from you and LV."

"Due to the production and design schedule," Editor-in-Chief Choi's tone was uncharacteristically gentle, "we hope to finalize this collaboration next week. Please convey this to Mr. Li Wei, Ms. Jin."

"Absolutely, I will." Jin Heon was all smiles.

After hanging up, Jin Heon was so excited she spun around in the suite several times, nearly flinging her phone across the room.

"Xiaojin, what are you doing?" Don Quixote noticed her strange behavior and asked with concern, "Are you not feeling well? Are you dizzy?"

"I'm fine, Mr. Don Quixote," Jin Heon said, quickly waving her hands. "I have some good news to share with you..."

She then recounted the entire conversation to Don Quixote, her relief palpable now that a real offer was on the table.

"This is wonderful news," Don Quixote said with a smile. "Later, on the way back, make sure to tell him yourself."

Jin Heon nodded eagerly, like a chicken pecking at rice. She tried to sit down, but a few seconds later, she was back on her feet.

She was simply too excited to sit still.

Meanwhile, Li Wei had returned to the locker room.

The moment the door was pushed open, before Li Wei could even step inside, a bucket of ice water descended from above, drenching him to the bone.

"17! 17! 17!"

Led by Dexter Lawrence, a dozen shirtless behemoths, each weighing over 300 pounds, stood in a circle like barbarian warriors, frantically banging on the metal locker doors and creating a deafening racket.

The scene inside the locker room was even more out of control.

Someone had popped open a couple of cases of champagne, and golden foam was spraying everywhere like a fountain.

The wide receivers were flinging their jerseys at the ceiling. The big guys from the offensive line linked hands and did a hideously awkward dance, wiggling their butts. The kickers were spraying champagne with one hand and recording videos with their phones in the other.

Li Wei wiped the ice water from his face. Just as he was about to say something, running back Saquon Barkley threw an arm around him. "Bro," he said, his eyes a little red and his voice hoarse, "thank you."

Li Wei patted him on the back. "You ran for 140 yards today. You should be thanking yourself."

"No," Barkley said, shaking his head. "You don't get it. Before you came, we couldn't even get a sniff of the playoffs." He took a deep breath. "Now we're 17-0. Fack... it's like a fucking dream. 17-0, Fack!"

"17-0!!!" he yelled again, jumping onto a chair.

Everyone else roared along with him.

The celebration in the locker room continued. Head Coach Dabor, breaking from his usual stern and rigid demeanor, walked over, smiling, and shook Li Wei's hand.

"You're a real monster," he said. "It's insane."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Li Wei said with a shrug.

As everyone was cheering and celebrating, John Mara also arrived in the locker room.

He rarely appeared in the locker room immediately after a game. After all, as the owner, he had to maintain a certain distance and air of authority.

But today was different.

When he pushed the door open, the celebrating players froze for a second, then erupted in an even louder cheer.

John Mara walked straight toward Li Wei, who was in the middle of changing.

"Li Wei," he said, an irrepressible smile on his face, "I've run this team for almost 20 years. My father ran it for nearly 30, and my grandfather ran it for even longer."

He paused and glanced around at the players.

"Three generations, almost 100 years, and we... no, the entire NFL has never had a 17-0 regular season."

"On behalf of the Maras, thank you for everything you've done for the Giants," he said, looking around. "And you guys, too, you lucky bastards who are riding on Li Wei's coattails."

He paused again. "The entire 53-man roster will each receive a brand-new Ferrari as a bonus. I'll be paying for it out of my own pocket, and I'll handle the compliance side of things."

The locker room went silent for a moment, then the cheers that followed were so loud they nearly blew the roof off.

But John Mara wasn't finished.

He released his handshake with Li Wei, pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and handed it to him.

"What's this?" Li Wei asked, taking the envelope.

"Your current contract doesn't expire for another year and a half," John Mara said with a smile. "But the Giants don't plan on waiting. This is a letter of intent for an early extension. I will guarantee you it will be the biggest contract in NFL history, even bigger than your last one."

"OOOH!"

"FACK! The biggest contract!"

"King! King! King!"

The players started frantically banging on the lockers again, hooting and hollering.

"Thank you, Mr. Mara," Li Wei said, taking the envelope but not opening it. "Isn't it a bit early to talk about this? How about we discuss the contract after we win the Super Bowl?"

John Mara was taken aback for a moment by the remark, then burst out laughing.

"Excellent! 'After we win the Super Bowl'—I love it!" he said, clapping Li Wei on the shoulder. "Then we'll talk after we win it all."

A player suddenly raised his hand and asked a question:

"Mr. Mara, are the cars for all 53 of us the same model?"

Everyone froze. A moment later, the player was swarmed by several of the big guys from the offensive line in a pile-on.

"You little brat, you new to the NFL?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, wanting the same car as Li Wei? You got a death wish!"

John Mara just chuckled. "If everyone got the same car as our God, I'd probably have to sell my shares in the team."

This indirectly confirmed that Li Wei's car was indeed different from everyone else's. However, this blatant favoritism seemed perfectly reasonable to everyone present.

Because Li Wei was stronger than all of them combined, because Li Wei led them to victory. The strong get more—that's the immutable law of the United States of America.

After the owner left, the celebration in the locker room gradually died down, and the media were allowed in.

In an instant, a forest of cameras and microphones surrounded Li Wei's locker, packing it in tight.

The blonde reporter from Fox once again managed to snag the first question.

She shot a smug glance at her colleagues, who all looked like they'd just eaten shit, and tossed her hair.

After all, being the first to speak with Li Wei was now considered an honor in itself.

"Li Wei! Congratulations on making history!" she said, shoving the microphone in his face. "17-0! What's the biggest thing you're feeling right now?"