American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

New York, MetLife Stadium.

January 25th, the Divisional Championship game. The New York Giants from the East District versus the Green Bay Packers from the North District.

Two hours before the game began, wind and snow descended without warning.

The temperature plummeted to 14 degrees below zero, and the frozen turf was as hard as slate.

At the pre-game press conference, the head coach of the Green Bay Packers seemed quite optimistic, telling reporters that he believed the weather was fair for both sides because "God treats everyone equally."

"He’s full of shit," Head Coach Dabor said bluntly. "They’re the Green Bay Packers, a team from the North. For them to say the cold weather treats both sides equally, I suggest they first ask the Miami Dolphins if they agree."

Meanwhile, the scene in the Giants’ locker room was completely different.

"I fucking hate playing in the cold," a tackle said, rubbing his hands together. "When my hands get numb, my knuckles ache from the cold."

"I heard the wind chill is twenty below today," another person said. "The running backs are all huddled by the space heater and won’t come out."

In the player tunnel, a camera showed Li Wei leaning against the wall, idly playing on his phone.

To him, the weather didn’t really matter. Hot was fine, and cold was fine too.

What made him even happier was that he no longer had to abide by his previous restrictions during the playoffs.

The playoffs were single-elimination. Lose, and you go home.

"Are you ready?" The offensive coordinator walked over and patted his shoulder pads. "Three minutes until we take the field."

"Of course," Li Wei said, taking off his headphones. "Let’s send them straight home."

Meanwhile, in the broadcast booth, the lights seemed at least a hundred degrees warmer than the frigid stadium.

Joe Buck and Troy Aikman had been sitting at the broadcast desk for nearly four hours, their mouths barely stopping as they covered everything from the pre-game warm-ups and matchup analysis to player interviews.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Divisional Championship night," Joe Buck said to the camera, a brilliant smile on his face. "Tonight, MetLife Stadium has completely transformed into an erupting volcano—82,500 fans are ready to blow the roof off this place at any moment."

He was in a fantastic mood. Ever since he’d bet 1,000 USD on Li Wei and won a whopping 45,000 USD, he’d had a gut feeling that Li Wei could go undefeated all the way to the Super Bowl, achieving something unprecedented and likely never to be repeated.

"Troy, how do you think today’s atmosphere compares to the last game of the regular season?"

"It’s different, Joe. Completely different," Troy said, shaking his head with a serious expression. "On the last day of the regular season, the fans were witnessing history. But today, they’re defending that history. If they lose today, that 17-game winning streak becomes a joke—just like the 2007 New England Patriots. All that glory will turn into an even greater mockery."

"You’re right, the pressure is on a whole different level," Joe Buck said, pausing before suddenly laughing. "But I have to say, the fans’ ways of dealing with the pressure are also very creative. Troy, did you see who the camera just caught?"

The director cooperatively cut to a human-interest shot.

An elderly white couple, both wearing Li Wei’s No. 1 jersey, appeared on screen. The old woman was holding a homemade sign that read, "I’m 93 years old, and I don’t plan on dying until I see Li Wei win the Super Bowl."

The old man next to her held another sign with just one line: "She’s the boss."

"Hahaha!" Joe Buck couldn’t help but laugh out loud. "Troy, what are your thoughts?"

"I completely understand him, Joe," Troy laughed as well. "My ex-wife used to manage me the same way."

"Is that why she’s your *ex*-wife?" Joe Buck steered the conversation back on topic. "Alright, let’s get back to the game itself. Troy, what do you think is the key for the Giants to defeat the Green Bay Packers?"

"Mentality, mentality, and more mentality," Troy said decisively. "A secondary factor is probably the weather. Don’t forget, they play in this kind of extreme cold every year at Lambeau Field. Even though the Packers’ head coach said it’s the same for everyone, the Giants are not as accustomed to the cold as they are."

As the two commentators analyzed the situation, the head referee’s whistle pierced the night air over the Divisional Championship game.

The game began.

"Kickoff!"

And as the game raged on at the stadium in New Jersey, a different kind of fervor was spreading across the river in New York City.

In Greenwich Village in Lower Manhattan, an Irish pub was packed to the gills. Six large screens were simultaneously broadcasting the game, and every time Li Wei completed a pass, the entire bar shook as if from an earthquake.

The same scene was playing out in various places—not just Greenwich Village, but also Brooklyn, the Upper West Side, the East District...

According to post-game data released by the New York City Department of Entertainment and Alcohol Licensing, 1,800 licensed bars across New York simultaneously broadcast the game that night, breaking a record that had stood since 2012.

And on an unremarkable street in Astoria, Queens, in a small tavern called "The Shamrock," the atmosphere was just as fervent, though on a much smaller scale.

The tavern could probably only fit about 40 people, but a glance around today showed at least 70 packed tightly inside. There were people standing, leaning, and even sitting on the bar itself.

Noah Brennan was sitting in the seat at the very corner of the bar.

He was a regular here.

In front of him was a glass of cheap whiskey, more than half-gone. His metal prosthetic limb had been temporarily detached and placed to the side.

There was an empty space around him, not because people disliked him, but because the last time he’d had too much to drink, he had accidentally kicked the person next to him with his prosthetic leg, swelling the man’s ankle.

"Another super beautiful long pass!" A burly white man in a beanie next to him slammed his hand on the bar. "Go, Li Wei!"

Noah didn’t say anything, just lifted his glass and took a sip.

On the TV, just as the pocket was collapsing, Li Wei once again flung out a precise long pass. The wide receiver made a stable catch, gaining nearly 35 yards.

"Shit! I told you! He doesn’t need a pocket!" the man in the beanie continued to roar. "He doesn’t need protection! He’s enough all by himself!"

Noah watched the figure in the number one jersey on the screen, his own phantom limb faintly aching. ’When I was young, I was number one in the physical fitness test for the entire New York Police Department. I wasn’t any slower than him.’

The Giants led the Green Bay Packers 21-10 at halftime. Li Wei had already completed two touchdown passes before the end of the first quarter, completely extinguishing their opponent’s fighting spirit.

The second half was a one-sided slaughter.

Li Wei was like Hannibal with his mask completely off, precisely carving up the opposing defensive line one slice at a time. Every offensive drive was bleeding the Green Bay Packers dry.

When the final whistle blew, the score was frozen at 42-17.

The tavern had already erupted.

"Giants! Giants! Giants!"

More than 70 people were jumping and shouting in a space meant for 40, and the pendant light on the ceiling swayed back and forth to their rhythm.

The bartender shouted angrily, "Stop jumping! The people downstairs are going to call again!"

But no one was listening to him.

A bald man jumped up onto the bar from out of the crowd, roaring that this round was on him.

An even bigger cheer erupted in the tavern.

The bald man patted Noah, who was in the corner.

"Hey! Noah," he said, clapping Noah on the back with enough force that Noah thought he must have offended the man in the past and this was his payback. "You have one too!"

"Thanks, Ernie," Noah said, raising his empty glass.

The bartender refilled his glass with bourbon on the spot, and Ernie ordered him a fish and chips.

"Did you see it? Did you see that 60-yard long pass from Li Wei in the third quarter?" Ernie’s face was red with excitement. "That guy is insane."

"I saw it," Noah said with a smile, taking a bite of fried fish. ’What am I smiling about? Am I laughing because he can run faster and throw more accurately than I can? If a drug dealer hadn’t shattered my lower leg with a 12-gauge shotgun blast, maybe I’d be able to play a little football myself now and then.’

He looked up at the post-game broadcast on the TV screen.

Li Wei was mobbed by his teammates as he walked toward the sideline, with a throng of reporters and their cameras following close behind.

The director cut to a close-up.

Li Wei once again picked up that dark, frosted bottle of sports drink from the bench and took a big gulp.

This was the second time Li Wei had drunk from that bottle in front of tens of millions of viewers, and everyone was curious about what exactly it was.

...

Meanwhile, inside a family suite at Metropolitan Stadium.

Jin Heon stared at the screen, watching Li Wei drink the beverage, while simultaneously scrolling through social media, a brilliant smile once again spreading across her face.

Public curiosity about the drink was soaring. This had really saved them millions in advertising costs.

She was calculating the right time to go downstairs and meet up with Don Quixote and the others, but just as she stepped out of the elevator, she got a call from Li Wei.

"Xiaojin," Li Wei said, "there’s something I need you to do."

"What is it?" Jin Heon said immediately. "I’ll get on it right away."

"Haha, no need to be in such a hurry," Li Wei said with a laugh. "I have a little inside info from a source at Coca-Cola."

Jin Heon’s ears perked up.

"There was an accident at Gatorade’s warehouse in New Jersey," Li Wei said, his tone casual. "I hear a pipe burst and millions of bottles of their drinks were ruined. The FDA is getting involved with their contamination protocols. Shouldn’t we do something about that?"

As for Gatorade’s scorched-earth tactic of copying him, Li Wei had no intention of letting them off just by destroying their inventory.

He had to make them pay a price that would make them afraid.

Jin Heon’s mind raced—an incident for Gatorade meant their distribution capacity, public reputation, and stock price would all be affected during the Super Bowl period. And with Gatorade too busy to fend for itself, it was undoubtedly a massive boon for them.

"Boss, I’ll do it right now," Jin Heon said. "I’ll find a few bloggers or people in finance circles and let this news circulate naturally."

"Mm, go ahead," Li Wei said, then added, "Take care of yourself. Don’t get too tired."

Jin Heon probably only heard the first part and not the second.

At 2:00 AM, just as Li Wei was listening to the noises from downstairs and wondering if Uncle Don Quixote would go sleepwalking tonight, a message came from Jin Heon.

She said she had already leaked the news through three completely independent information chains. The FDA’s inspections are public, and the latest updates on the inspection of the New Jersey warehouse could corroborate the story.

"Looks like I need to give you a raise," Li Wei replied jokingly. "Working 16 hours a day for a base salary of only 5,000 USD seems a bit low, doesn’t it?"