chsdbacks Page 171
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"That's not fair! Black people don't need fathers!"
"Stand up and say it! Does being mixed-race necessarily mean you need a father? Our people can go out and do these things too!"
Victor was being shameless: "With stable jobs, secure housing, and subsidies, are those white and Latina women out of their minds to want to sleep with those kinds of people?"
The meeting lasted for two hours, and the debate was heated.
Most leaders still oppose the plan, believing it to be impractical and too radical.
Viktor did not insist on an immediate decision and announced that the meeting would continue the following day.
That night, Victor, Frankie, and Old Joe secretly met with several wavering leaders, offering them various "incentives"—some were business partnerships, some were promises of funding for their organizations, and some were more direct monetary transactions.
At the same time, Victor adopted a different strategy towards those leaders who strongly opposed him.
Mr. Wang received a call from his relative in China, who subtly suggested that he support Victor's plan;
Chairman Lee received copies of some "evidence" unfavorable to his company, implying that cooperation was a wise move.
When the meeting resumed the next day, the atmosphere was noticeably different.
Mr. Wang and Chairman Li did not attend, as both appeared to be ill, and their organization sent new, more supportive representatives of Viktor.
Other leaders who had initially opposed the move also suddenly changed their attitude.
"After careful consideration, we believe that Mr. Victor's plan, though bold, is indeed visionary."
Ms. Chen from the Chamber of Commerce spoke on behalf of the majority, saying, "We are willing to support this plan and encourage community members to participate."
Only a few leaders looked confused, not understanding what had happened overnight, but seeing that the situation was hopeless, they no longer objected.
But a new problem has arisen: "What about the new immigrants?"
Viktor pondered for a moment: "We're willing to accept those who came honestly, but if they're risk-averse, we'll take them! They all have huge sums of money of dubious origin, which could be of help to us!"
Victor concluded by announcing, "Skywind City Group will dedicate 80% of its profits to support this program. Couples where one spouse is of Chinese descent will be eligible for maternity benefits and support services."
After the meeting, Victor remained alone in the conference room, gazing at the rooftops of Chicago's Chinatown.
The incentive policy that was discussed is actually quite simple:
Chinese Americans aged 20 must have children and be related by blood, and Chinese Americans aged 22 must start a family; otherwise, Skyline will stop all subsidies and assistance.
For each child born, a cash reward of $5,000 worth of goods will be given out over a year, and all goods will be sold at a 50% discount;
People who are unwilling to go out to work will be organized to take care of children, such as the elderly, while those who are unwilling to work will be excluded from community assistance programs.
He knew he had taken harsh, even unethical, measures, but firmly believed they were necessary.
Increasing the Chinese population is only the first step; he has a longer-term plan—to secretly instigate gang conflicts among other ethnic groups through the Skycity Group, while simultaneously helping Chinese Americans acquire land resources around Chicago.
Outside the window, the setting sun painted the horizon golden.
Victor imagined Chicago twenty years from now, a future where the Chinese population had greatly increased and their political and economic influence was now unparalleled.
As for living space?
Then we'll just have to make do with the Black people and the white people!
The black gangs under his control will disrupt their business environment due to immense survival pressure, and Sky Finance will drive those in the lower and middle classes out of Chicago by issuing loans... Victor doesn't care how much profit the company makes; he wants a company that can become a source of power.
This vision was so strong that he was willing to pay any price for it—if someone who works out can be governor, why can't someone with a Chicago typewriter?
The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.
It was MP Ubelman who invited him to another social event.
Viktor agreed, his face once again displaying the smile required for social occasions.
He needs to continue playing this game to accumulate more power and resources.
Chapter 145 The Frenzy Begins in Chicago
In the winter of 1986, the air in Chicago was filled with the smell of snowflakes and coal smoke.
Victor Lee stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of his apartment, his fingertips lightly tracing the cold surface of the WBA gold belt.
Outside the window, the city lights glittered, but inside, beneath the glitz and glamour, undercurrents surged.
The first upscale Chinese restaurant is about to open—Victor doesn't believe that upscale Chinese restaurants can't succeed in America.
The cheers and champagne feast brought by his own achievements and the fact that he became the first Asian world heavyweight boxing champion have not yet completely subsided.
But challenges were already pouring in like snowflakes.
Lidick Bowe's team sent an official letter, saying that this big guy wanted to challenge Victor;
In a television interview, Holyfield subtly expressed his desire for the championship match, something this 'friend' who had once helped Victor desperately wanted;
Lennox Lewis's agent probed his availability by phone; the boxing champion, who had been Mike Tyson's sparring partner, desperately needed a fight to prove himself.
Vitali Klitschko's invitation was strongly worded, while José Libarta's team focused more on negotiating commercial terms.
All of this was within Viktor's expectations.
Professional boxing is never just a battle in the ring; it's also an extension of the arena of fame and fortune—a way to rake in money from the audience.
His agent, Lowell, has been working through the night for a week straight, dealing with a flood of collaboration requests with a calculator and a cigar.
“Victor, you need to take a look at this.”
Lowell's voice was unusually tense.
He handed me a Betamax videotape with Mickey Green's arrogant signature on the cover.
The videotape footage was shaky and rough.
Mickey Green stood shirtless in a makeshift gym converted from his garage, with the American flag hanging behind him.
He first spat towards the camera, then pointed at it with his tattooed arm:
"Listen up, you Chink! No, you Yellow Pig! Did you find your gold belt in the toilet?"
I bet you and your faggot agent spend your nights counting money in the same bed!
The foul language lasted for seven minutes, and included insults against Victor's mother and Lowell's sexual orientation.
Viktor watched in silence, then pressed the stop button.
The television screen shrank to a single white dot and vanished into darkness.
"It was published in both the New York Post and the Daily News,"
Lowell handed him the newspaper; the front page headline was sensational: "New Boxing King Racially Insulted: Marketing Ploy or Hate Crime?"
“Green also held a press conference in Brooklyn, repeating these nonsense.”
Victor's fist clenched and unclenched again: "This guy isn't worth the appearance fee."
"And this too,"
Lowell then handed over another fax, “From the team of ‘Widowmaker’ Andrzej Golota. The Poles say they’re going to ‘tear apart your Asian skeleton’.”
Viktor finally smiled.
That wasn't a cheerful smile, but the arc of a predator watching its prey leap into a trap: "Even this egg-dismantling expert dares to provoke me? Lowell, what's your opinion?"
"Convening a press conference,"
Lowell suggested: "Tomorrow afternoon at three o'clock, at the Plaza Hotel ballroom. Send invitations to all the major media outlets—the sports section, the social section, even the entertainment section. We need to turn this farce into an epic."
"What do you mean?"
Victor was puzzled: "How many large sports centers can afford my appearance fee?"
"Viktor, you're the world boxing champion now, you should set your sights on the world!"
Lowell suggested: "Manchester Arena, Melbourne Marvel Stadium, Kegels Bank Arena, Mexico City Arena, Alamo Dome, Two Nations Arena... are all willing to pay an appearance fee of less than ten million US dollars."
Why is Valuev's appearance fee only six million US dollars?
"Because many people dislike Russia."
······
Six hours before the press conference, the core members of Victor's team gathered in a hotel suite.
Outside the window, the trees in Central Park are covered with icicles, like a crystal forest.
Lowell, dressed in a custom-made Savile Row three-piece suit, frowned. "Victor, I understand your anger. But naming seven top challengers at once? That's insane. The boxing council will think we're defying the rules!"
Victor took a sip of Longjing tea. "The rule is that whoever brings in the box office makes the rules."
His English had a heavy Chicago accent, but his word choice was as precise as a scalpel.
Financial advisor Martha Chen quickly tapped on her calculator: "A $12 million appearance fee plus 40% PPV revenue share? Green and Golota alone aren't worth that price. Holyfield and Lewis might be, but their teams will definitely have to negotiate..."
"Let's not talk about it. I have no problem with the boxing champion and me getting the same thing, but what about the others?"
Victor put down his teacup. "Either accept the terms or get out. I want them to know this isn't begging for a match; it's the king collecting tribute."
Marketing Director Tom Willis waved his pen excitedly: “My God, this is marketing genius! Racism, homophobia, a seven-way battle—the media will go crazy! But Victor, can you really beat all of these people in a year? Physically…”
"I am responsible for my own body."
Victor unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his well-defined chest and abdominal muscles: "They think Asians are weak? I will polish my throne with their blood."
Lowell took a deep drag of his cigar: "Mickey Green will ruin your image. Many mainstream brands are watching closely, and the racist remarks have already made some sponsors nervous..."
“It’s alright. As long as Green leaves Brooklyn, Franky will persuade his men.”
Victor's eyes sharpened. "And what we need aren't those wavering, spineless sponsors. We need gamblers who dare to bet on the true kings."
The meeting lasted three hours.
As Lowell finally nodded, snow began to fall again outside the window.
Victor walked to the mirror and put on a dark red tie—there was still no word from Max.
······
The Hyatt Hotel's banquet hall was packed with over three hundred people.
Cameras with long lenses and short lenses were set up in the back row, and reporters crowded in the aisle.
The air was thick with the scents of cologne, leather, and greed.