"The Deal and the Lessons of Independence"
Sitting on the sofa, Charlie Lee looked at the kneeling figure of Phenon, who was on the floor before him. There had been so many events in the past two days that if Aria hadn't called, Charlie might have forgotten about this man entirely.
"Talk," Charlie said, leaning back on the sofa and enjoying the grapes peeled by the little elk.
"Opium, 20g, ground to powder—that's my product," Phenon replied. His eyes were dark, but his mind was sharp. He knew the trouble he was in. His only hope now was to convince the Chinese man in front of him that he had not meant to trouble the white man.
"FK, I haven't touched your goods, and I never touch that kind of thing," Lawrence, who was limping beside him, exclaimed with irritation.
"Who told you it was on him?" Charlie Lee asked, calmly eating another grape.
"Laura," Phenon answered.
"No way. Why would she do that?" Lawrence stood up, looking at Phenon in disbelief.
"You let her steal my goods, you shameless thief," Phenon spat out disdainfully.
Charlie Lee frowned. "This is my house. Don't dirty it." He turned back to Lawrence. "Who is Laura?"
"She's the girl I met outside the hotel," Lawrence said, his voice filled with frustration.
He was still stunned by how easily he'd been fooled, having been caught up in the schemes of a woman he didn't fully understand.
"Have you been duped by a woman?" Charlie asked, an amused smirk on his face.
"Hey, man, we're friends," Lawrence replied weakly.
"So, you were fooled by a woman?" Charlie pressed further.
"FK… Okay, I admit it. I was tricked by that Bitch," Lawrence grumbled, his face turning red with embarrassment. He now realized that he had misinterpreted the situation when he met her outside the hotel, attributing her actions to his charm. He felt like a fool.
Charlie waved his hand dismissively. "Let him go." He ordered his men to untie Phenon and looked at Lawrence, who was still sulking but saying nothing. Charlie couldn't help but respect Lawrence a bit more now.
Charlie wasn't a murderer. Since there seemed to be a reason for the situation and no substantial harm had been done to Lawrence, Charlie felt that the matter had been resolved.
"Find that woman for me, or else I'll hold it against you," Charlie ordered, gesturing toward Phenon, who was quickly escorted away.
"Charlie, I owe you one," Lawrence said weakly as he slumped into his chair. It was a hard pill to swallow for a man like him to be tricked by a woman.
"Next time you want to experience a Chicago night, bring my bodyguard along," Charlie replied, reflecting on how the feminist movements had been stifled during the Great Depression.
In that era, the social status of women in America was still relatively low. Although women had gained the right to vote and had initiated various feminist movements, many still faced discrimination. Women in families were often in vulnerable positions, enduring domestic violence, and had limited access to professional spaces like Wall Street or the New York Stock Exchange.
In such a society, women were typically relegated to housework, and many of those who worked outside the home were employed in factories or farms. As a result, most women who dressed up on the streets were assumed to be dancers or mistresses. Even those who weren't immediately labeled as such often faced suspicion.
The few women who dared to stand up for their rights and voice their opinions were met with some attention. However, the economic downturn of the Great Depression had set back many of their efforts. It wasn't until the 1990s that the third wave of feminism emerged, leading to significant changes in women's status in various fields.
Charlie scoffed at the slogan "equality between men and women," which had once been a call for women to strive for self-improvement, not arrogance. The idea that women could "hold up half the sky" was more about encouraging women to push themselves forward rather than about elevating their position beyond the men who supported them.
He thought of the reports he had seen on social media in his past life, where modern women seemed to demand equality without truly understanding it. Take, for example, women on blind dates, ordering lots of food, and then complaining when the man suggested splitting the bill. The attitude was clear—"A man who doesn't pay for me doesn't love me," or "It's not about the money, but the gesture."
Charlie found it laughable. Women in America often demanded financial independence, and in relationships, they insisted on maintaining their autonomy, even if it meant not allowing their male partners to pay for everything.
"I can make my own money. Why do I need you to spend it on me?" they would say. Some even had separate accounts with their husbands, managing the household finances on equal footing.
But Charlie was skeptical of those who embraced the "independence" narrative yet still enjoyed the benefits of male generosity. These were the same women who, despite preaching independence, expected their male partners to provide for them.
"Charlie, Charlie, hello…" Lawrence's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Huh? What's the matter?" Charlie scratched his ear and asked, still distracted.
"I heard about your plan. It's interesting. Are you interested in cooperation?" Lawrence asked, referring to McDonald's and Subway.
"Do you want to take a stake in the Golden Arch?" Charlie asked, slightly surprised.
"Yes, I saw your kitchen. It's an incredible invention—efficient, transparent, and very well-designed," Lawrence praised.
Charlie was now fully focused, his mind turning over the possibilities. Lawrence's involvement could give McDonald's and Subway the kind of publicity they could only dream of. The Rockefeller name alone carried weight, and if he participated in the media, the connection would bring invaluable exposure.
"How much can you offer?" Charlie asked, ready to discuss the financial terms.
"Uh… Twenty thousand dollars," Lawrence replied, a little embarrassed.
"You're afraid you're the heir of a fake consortium?" Charlie said, narrowing his eyes.
"Although my family has a lot of money, my upbringing was no different from an ordinary person's. I even worked to earn pocket money. Twenty thousand dollars is already a significant sum for me," Lawrence explained.
"Twenty thousand dollars for 5% shares, and I'll invest $2 million into the Golden Arch," Charlie said. He was being generous—if Lawrence weren't his friend, even his Rockefeller name wouldn't have warranted more than a 2% stake.
"Deal," Lawrence said quickly, shaking Charlie's hand. As he handed over the check, he added, "Charlie, you're so rich. Starting a new company with $2 million—it's more than just money."
Later that night, when Charlie gathered all the families for a meeting, most had already selected their store locations. Only a few were still undecided, weighing multiple options.
Charlie suggested a smart approach. "If you're unsure, buy both locations. One of you can run it, the other can rent it out. That way, you ensure your money doesn't lose value. Property tends to appreciate over time."
Several families agreed to this idea and promised to discuss it further. Although it was a large investment, they wanted to make informed decisions.
Charlie didn't insist. The habit of Chinese people to save money was deeply ingrained, and it couldn't be changed overnight.
"Next up, the decoration," he said. With the Golden Arch already established, Charlie only needed to hand over the plans to the construction company for them to complete the work, saving both time and money.
All decoration and equipment would be provided by the headquarters, ensuring quality control. Charlie wasn't interested in kickbacks; for him, food safety was paramount. He had learned the hard way in his previous life, with the widespread use of additives, heavy metals, and waste oils. He would not compromise on quality, no matter how much money was at stake.
Even if franchisees from other states wanted to join in, they would follow these rules. Charlie wouldn't let quality suffer for profit. That's not where McDonald's made its money.