At 8 PM that night, the street outside Catch Steak in Manhattan’s Meatpacking District was lined with all kinds of luxury cars.

When Li Wei pulled up in his Porsche 911, Lawrence and the others were already seated in the largest VIP room. The room was the height of luxury, with a massive crystal chandelier hanging over a long oak dining table that could seat twenty.

Attending the dinner, besides a few hot-headed veterans from the defensive team, were several offensive linemen from Li Wei’s own offensive unit and two starting wide receivers.

"Come on, our superstar," Lawrence called out enthusiastically, motioning for Li Wei to sit at the other end of the long table. "Eat your fill tonight. This is the best Wagyu in all of New York."

"Sounds good," Li Wei said with a smile. "Then I won’t hold back."

An offensive lineman next to him couldn’t help but glance at Li Wei, pursing his lips.

The dinner quickly descended into madness. The veterans didn’t even glance at the prices on the menu, rattling off the restaurant’s most expensive items: air-freighted A5 Kobe beef from Japan, enormous Alaskan king crab legs, white truffle caviar...

The food alone would have been expensive enough, but the drinks were even more outrageous. They ordered dozens of bottles of prime vintage Louis Roederer Cristal champagne and The Macallan single malt Scotch. They didn’t even drink most of it; instead, they popped the bottles and sprayed each other like fountains inside the private room.

"Cheers! To the new season! To 200 million USD!" Lawrence raised his glass, laughing with abandon.

The giants on the offensive line watched the debauchery, exchanging uneasy glances. They knew what this meant, and they knew tonight’s bill would be astronomical. One of the guards shot a quiet, sympathetic look at Li Wei.

Li Wei, however, didn’t try to stop the veterans’ wild celebration. He even thoughtfully draped his jacket over the back of his chair as they sprayed champagne, just to keep it from getting stained.

"Hey... hey! Dude, Li Wei," a wide receiver next to him whispered, glancing at the tables overflowing with champagne bottles. He leaned in closer. "When the bill comes, if you’re short, I can spot you some. Lawrence is really going too far with this."

Li Wei was in the middle of cutting a piece of steak and putting it in his mouth. He turned to look at the wide receiver. "Thanks, Jacob. I’m good."

’Wherever there are people, there’s politics.’ This saying was spot on.

’The guys on defense couldn’t stand him, but the offensive line had never worked with a Quarterback as ridiculously good as Li Wei.’

’Forget his tactical genius—his passing, speed, and strength were just fucking insane.’

’He could drop the ball right into their hands from any distance; all the receivers had to do was keep sprinting.’

’And if the pocket protecting him collapsed, he’d unleash a combination of speed and power unmatched in the entire league, breaking through on his own to run it in for a touchdown. It was like fighting a final boss who had just entered its second phase.’

’Stick with Li Wei, and you’d eat well. Whatever play he called, they’d execute it.’

’Jacob was clearly the first one trying to pledge his allegiance.’

Li Wei saw right through it, but he didn’t care. Whether Jacob wanted to be his friend or was just trying to ride his coattails because of his skill, it was all the same to Li Wei. It was to be expected.

Two hours later, the revelry was winding down. The table was a disaster of plates and glasses, littered with empty bottles.

Lawrence let out a drunken burp and snapped his fingers at the waiter behind him. "Check!" he yelled.

A waiter in a crisp vest approached, carrying an elegant leather tray. On it lay a long, printed receipt, rolled up like a small scroll.

Lawrence didn’t even glance at the bill. He just pointed at Li Wei.

"Li Wei, our rookie," Lawrence said, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, his eyes full of mockery and provocation. "Welcome to the NFL. This is your first lesson in becoming part of the team, and it’s the most important one. This meal is on you."

The room fell silent in an instant. All eyes turned to Li Wei.

The faces of the offensive linemen paled slightly. They knew about the tradition, but the extravagance of this meal was clearly way over the top.

Li Wei picked up the receipt, his eyes scanning the number on the final line.

$182,480.00.

With a 15% tip, the total came to $209,852.

A $210,000 bill. For a middle-class family in New York, that could be their entire after-tax income for three full years.

"This is a little much," an offensive line veteran frowned. "Lawrence, I know it’s tradition, but we usually keep a rookie’s first dinner under twenty grand. You really went overboard this time."

"A $210,000 bill might make an ordinary person bleed," Lawrence said slowly, "but this is the first Asian player in NFL history. The first superstar to skip the NCAA and go straight to the NFL. A rookie with a two-year, 200 million USD super-contract. I’d think $210,000 is just pocket change for a superstar like that."

Li Wei set the receipt down, raised his head, and met Lawrence’s challenging gaze.

He slowly pulled a JPMorgan Chase Palladium Card from his wallet and placed it gently on the table.

Seeing this, triumphant smiles spread across the faces of the defensive veterans. They thought Li Wei had caved. They thought they had successfully fleeced the two-hundred-million-dollar rookie, clawing back a measure of the dignity they felt they’d lost over their salaries.