Chapter 115: Millionaire Su (A Bonus Chapter for Han Pang520, Our Swift-Posting Leader)

In this era, America was filthy, chaotic, and dilapidated everywhere; New York was only somewhat better by comparison.

Times Square had become synonymous with the red-light district. Certain floors of the Empire State Building had been partitioned into small rooms and rented out, relying on its old fame. Now it was up for sale, much like Rockefeller Center—both struggling in a prolonged cold war of decline. Their glory seemed frozen in the 1920s and 1930s.

New York was not as interesting as Sumu had imagined.

The roads were riddled with potholes, and riding in a taxi was a jarring experience that left one’s backside sore. The road conditions were even worse than those in Los Angeles. Except for newly constructed floors, everything else looked aged and rundown. Garbage was visible beneath the thin layer of snow, and the entire city was suffocated by a haze of car exhaust.

Night had already fallen. Snowflakes had been drifting down for several hours, but Sumu had long since lost any sense of novelty. Besides the cold, there was nothing particularly special about it.

During the day, they had taken a boat to the island to see the Statue of Liberty and squeezed in a visit to the World Trade Center’s Twin Towers. They even took a commemorative photo with Li Ping’an. Market research and other tasks were forgotten; they were just like countless other tourists, backpacks on their backs, maps in their hands, wandering and sightseeing.

“Sumu, the bike theft prevention here in New York is really something else. Every kind of pole has a bike chained to it,” Li Ping’an remarked sarcastically as they stood near Central Park.

Not only were the frames chained, but the front and rear wheels were secured as well. Some had even removed their saddles. Sumu laughed heartily and said, “Just by looking at these bikes, you can tell how advanced the theft techniques must be. You should put on your hat; it’s all snow.”

“Hmm.” Li Ping’an pulled on his hat. “I used to hear how amazing and prosperous New York was from locals, but seeing it today, it’s really just so-so. The housing prices are high, that’s true. I don’t understand how anyone can like living here with all this noise.”

“The wealthy districts might be quieter. Where do you want to go next?” Sumu flipped open the New York travel guide and pointed to a page. “I plan to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art tomorrow. It’s closed today, so there aren’t many places left to go. Shall we head back to the hotel?”

“Yeah, let’s go back. My feet hurt from walking. I might even get blisters.”

“Alright, let’s take a taxi. I don’t want to deal with the subway station in this cold weather—full of homeless people and litter everywhere.”

This visit to New York left Sumu with a very poor impression. He had once imagined New York as magnificent, but upon closer inspection, it was no different from other cities, and in terms of the quality of residents, it was even worse than Menlo Park. It just had more famous buildings.

The taxi stands were almost useless—just a wave of the hand and you could hail a cab on the street.

Sumu deliberately asked the driver to take Fifth Avenue. There weren’t many people shopping tonight. The turkeys had suffered a huge blow—millions had died—which made Thanksgiving insignificant for the two of them; eating turkey or not was irrelevant.

After only half a day, they were already a bit bored. Li Ping’an kept complaining that they should have gone to Hawaii instead—warm, fun, and full of beautiful women sunbathing during winter.

Perhaps if he went to Hawaii, he’d have the same complaints. Sumu simply ignored him, knowing well that seeing for oneself beats hearing a hundred times. Now at least he knew what New York was really like.

He didn’t like it here. The air was thick with the stench of money. Business might be good, but during several taxi rides, every driver attempted to overcharge or deliberately take longer routes to earn more. If they hadn’t memorized the map of New York, they would have been completely lost. Pedestrians hurried along the streets, surely exhausted by life.

They couldn’t go to bars or enjoy any adult nightlife. It was barely past eight o’clock, and they were already planning to return to the hotel. Fifth Avenue, even more famous than Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles, had long been synonymous with sky-high rents.

Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, and other luxury brands lined the street, alongside numerous watch stores. When Sumu saw a Rolex boutique, he restrained the urge to step in. If he found a watch he liked, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t impulsively buy it.

Suddenly, the word “alMart” caught his eye. His eyes widened, and he shouted, “Wait! Stop here by the curb!”

The Black driver scowled and complained, “Don’t shout so loud. I’m not deaf.”

Well, that remark cost the driver his tip.

Given the exorbitant rent on Fifth Avenue, running a profitable store was challenging. But the heavy foot traffic turned hanging a sign into a form of advertisement, so companies willingly paid landlords handsomely.

Walmart had only recently opened a store here. Sumu often compared his own Qugo Supermarket to Walmart, so encountering it on Fifth Avenue meant he had to go in and take a look.

With a mindset of learning, he entered the supermarket. It was smaller than he expected, with a modest selection of goods. He spotted more than a dozen employees, which seemed excessive and an unnecessary expense.

The decor was upscale, several levels above Qugo. Products were neatly categorized and displayed. After a walk around, Sumu noticed the best-selling goods were placed in the most prominent spots—a strength he could learn from. The shelves were custom-designed to maximize storage in limited space.

After about ten minutes, he bought a bottle of yogurt and checked out. He simply told Li Ping’an, “It’s not as good as I imagined.” Li Ping’an thought it was sour grapes from someone who couldn’t get the best. Walmart’s market value was nearly two billion dollars, while Qugo only had one store. The difference was clear at a glance.

Their boss Han had chosen to open the second store downtown Los Angeles, on Sunset Boulevard.

Suddenly, Sumu thought about how profitable supermarkets were. Recently, daily revenue had stabilized at about twenty-eight thousand dollars, with profits of over two thousand dollars—net monthly earnings reached tens of thousands. The company itself was becoming valuable.

Thinking this made Sumu happy. Even if Han wanted to invest now, he would need to put in millions of dollars to avoid diluting too much equity. Sumu passively hoped Han would abandon the idea of investing. Higher betrayal costs meant less risk.

Now, Sumu was a wealthy man. He used to earn only a thousand dollars after a whole month of summer work. Since the supermarket’s opening and Penguin Company’s growth, his wealth had exploded to over a million dollars in just a month!

Judging by Qugo Supermarket’s recent performance, its market value was at least two million dollars. A company still forming and one earning around seventy thousand dollars monthly were entirely different concepts.

He had been busy recently and hadn’t considered these matters. Unexpectedly, he realized just how rich he had become. Standing by the roadside on Fifth Avenue, he declared boldly, “Tonight, I’m treating you to steak—real high-end Western cuisine!”

Li Ping’an shook his head disdainfully. “No mood for that. My feet are numb from the cold. If there were a hot pot restaurant nearby, I’d go. Tomorrow you check out the market; I’ll just stay holed up in the room…”