Chapter 56-57

Chapter 56: The Charity Dinner

In truth, Bruce was far from having any idle moments. Even without the urgency to network with the tycoons, acquaintances were bound to come over for a chat. The first to approach was Bill Blasio, the Mayor of New York. His presence was significant, yet somewhat overshadowed at this gathering. The event was graced by the cream of the crop: magnates, royals, political figures, and celebrities from around the globe.

"Good to see you again, Bruce. Thanks for your support during Fashion Week," Bill Blasio greeted with his trademark hearty smile, exuding warmth that was hard to resist. One had to admire these American politicians who, regardless of their sincerity, always managed to appear so welcoming.

"Good evening, Bill. Allow me to introduce Wong LiKun, a remarkable actress and a dear friend of mine, here at the invitation of Fashion Week. And this is her assistant, Ms. Syu Lu," Bruce replied with equal warmth, introducing Wong LiKun and Syu Lu to him.

"Lovely ladies, I hope New York hasn't left you with any bad impressions," Bill Blasio praised, courteously kissing the back of their hands.

"New York is a vibrant and beautiful city, Mr. Mayor," Wong LiKun responded amiably, her words genuine and free from mere politeness.

After a brief conversation, Bill Blasio excused himself, his duties as the co-host of the event keeping him busy. The evening's agenda also included a speech from the chairman of Microsoft, Bill Gates, a notable figure who, since 2006, had shifted his focus from the day-to-day operations of Microsoft to concentrate on health, education, and philanthropy. His foundation, the Gates Foundation, co-named with his wife, Melinda, had amassed over $70 billion, partly thanks to a donation from another magnate, Warren Buffett. The foundation was also a major supporter of the National Foundation of Cancer Research.

Bill Gates's speech was succinct but punctuated by applause.

Then came the charity auction. The attendees, seasoned in such settings, bid in a composed manner, their bids quiet but far from modest. From baseball tickets and concert passes to ordinary jewelry, each item fetched a handsome price.

The tycoons bid calmly, securing items that, while not particularly valuable to them, were significant for the cause. Bruce, keeping a low profile, successfully bid on a sports ticket for $170,000.

Despite the subdued atmosphere, Bruce knew well that for many, these charity auctions were more a formality—a means to flaunt wealth in a socially acceptable manner and to optimize tax situations.

As the auction paused, Oscar-winning supporting actress Jennifer Hudson took the stage, her powerful voice lifting the room's energy.

Bruce, younger than most attendees who were prominent figures over forty, mused on the aging, less vigorous crowd, although he himself was much older than he appeared.

At that moment, an elderly man, assisted by his entourage, approached Bruce's table. The way figures like Federal Reserve Chairman Bernanke and Apple CEO Cook greeted him showed his eminent status. He was Lowell Lockheed, director of Citibank Group and chairman of the board of Lockheed Martin.

"Mr. Lee, thank you for accepting my invitation to tonight's charity dinner," Lowell Lockheed said, despite his age and the fatigue it brought.

"Mr. Lockheed, the honor is mine, especially if it can aid those suffering from cancer," Bruce replied, sensing the old age and frailty in Lockheed.

Lowell Lockheed's eyes, though cloudy, fixed on Bruce with a piercing gaze. "You're too modest, Mr. Lee. Your contributions are far-reaching, aren't they?"

Unfazed, Bruce responded with a subtle smile.

After a moment, Lowell Lockheed invited Bruce for a post-dinner chat, hinting at an ulterior motive. Bruce, anticipating this, agreed, curious about the elderly man's intentions.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. It's rare to find such patience in the youth of today," Lockheed said, then turned to politely bid farewell to Wong LiKun and Syu Lu.

As he shuffled away, Wong LiKun, unfamiliar with Lowell Lockheed but recognizing his stature from the reverence he commanded, asked Bruce about his identity.

Bruce, standing up, replied, "He's a director of Citibank Group, chairman of Lockheed Martin, and an honorary director of the National Foundation of Cancer Research. But let's mingle with others," guiding Wong LiKun towards famed director Steven Spielberg's table.

"An admirable man, still devoted to philanthropy at such an age," Wong LiKun remarked, impressed by Lockheed's demeanor.

"The reality isn't always as it appears," Bruce countered, leaving Wong LiKun to ponder as they continued their evening.

The charity dinner, though not lengthy, was eventful with the auction and generous donations. As the evening concluded, Bruce and his companions left the hotel, their minds abuzz with the night

's encounters.

"Thank you, Mr. Lee. Should you visit our country, we'll ensure to return your gracious hospitality," Wong LiKun said gratefully.

As they parted ways, Bruce met Lowell Lockheed's gaze, the old man hinting at a deeper conversation to come.

Wong LiKun, watching Bruce approach Lockheed, felt a whirl of emotions. "The world of the influential is indeed complex," she thought, reflecting on the night's powerful connections. Yet, she quickly recalibrated, ready for the opportunities that might arise.

Chapter 57: The Toll of Age

On the other side, Lowell Lockheed, releasing his support, leaned on his cane and looked at Bruce. "Walk with an old man like me, will you? My days of venturing outside are numbered."

"Mr. Lockheed, your health doesn't seem very robust. Won't this be too much for you?" Bruce observed, noting Lowell's frailty, looking as though a gust of wind could topple him over.

"Yes, sir. You've been on your feet for quite a while today. Perhaps we should continue our conversation in the car?" Lowell's aide, a tall, sharp-eyed African American man, interjected with genuine concern and urgency, evidently worried about Lowell's health.

"No! I can still walk!" Lowell's tone suddenly rose, followed by rapid, labored breathing, taking nearly ten seconds to regain composure.

Despite the brief loss of control, the old man quickly regained his calm demeanor. "It's alright, let Mr. Lee accompany me for a walk, Charles. Oh, and I haven't introduced him yet, this is my assistant, Charles Campbell."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lee," Charles Campbell greeted Bruce with a deep voice before discreetly stepping back.

Lowell tilted his head slightly and then, leaning on his cane, proceeded forward. Although his steps were steady, the slight tremor in his arms betrayed his weakened state.

"Mr. Lockheed, you have an excellent assistant. It's clear he genuinely cares for you," Bruce remarked, noticing Charles Campbell's silent vigilance not far behind them.

"Charles is an orphan, a poor child. I adopted him when he was just five, and over thirty years have passed since. He's like family to me, my knight," Lowell spoke with a hint of pride on his face, evidently pleased with how he had nurtured Charles.

"Please excuse my earlier outburst, Mr. Lee. Know that—facing time and illness, one sometimes feels powerless, and even I am not exempt," he continued, his tone laced with self-mockery.

"Don't worry about it, Mr. Lockheed. Compared to you, a young man like me struggles even more to control his temper," Bruce replied with a fitting smile, carefully avoiding any direct mention of the old man's intentions.

On the brightly lit streets of Manhattan, a tall, handsome young man and an aging figure leaning on a cane walked side by side. A trail of bodyguards, attendants, and a line of luxury cars followed at a distance. This peculiar ensemble attracted many curious gazes. Some recognized Bruce and raised their phones to snap pictures, or attempted to approach past the guards.

"I hope our conversation isn't hindered by this, Mr. Lockheed," Bruce shook his head.

"Before meeting you, I thought you were just another outstanding young man with a penchant for the limelight and fashion. But now, I see differently," Lowell observed Bruce. "You're quite unique, Mr. Lee. Apart from your appearance and voice, it's easy to overlook your age. You possess a maturity that seems to transcend time."

As a Citibank director and the helm of Lockheed Corporation, Lowell was seldom faced with someone who could stand their ground against him. Some would stutter just by meeting his gaze. But he felt an unusual ease around this young man, who seemed utterly relaxed, almost observing him from a position of subtle authority, an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation for Lowell.

"That's quite a compliment, sir. It might be due to my extensive solo experiences," Bruce replied calmly and sincerely, though Lowell didn't entirely buy the explanation.

Despite questioning the reason, Lowell couldn't pinpoint what was off. However, after only a short distance, he was panting heavily, sweat beading on his forehead, his complexion turning pale.

"Are you alright? Maybe we should head back for a rest?" Bruce asked, his voice laced with concern.

"It's nothing, just a bit tired," Lowell paused to catch his breath. "I've heard your lab is working on cancer treatments?"

The moment had come, Bruce thought, smiling inwardly. "Solar Corona's labs are in the early stages of research and development. We haven't made our projects or progress public. It seems you're very well-informed, Mr. Lockheed."

"Mr. Lee, you're applying for a loan from Citibank. It's standard procedure for us to understand your assets. Besides, there's no such thing as a secret in this world, right?"

Bruce didn't believe a word of it. Lowell must have invested considerable effort in his research. After all, Bruce had used profits from Vilda, an erectile dysfunction drug, as collateral for the loan, worth well over a billion dollars. Citibank had no reason to be so familiar with his not-yet-public labs.

Moreover, not every lab was as tightly guarded as Gilbert Gordon's CoBIS1, but they all had strict security measures. All researchers were bound by

confidentiality agreements. It was impossible for such sensitive information to leak through normal channels.

His illness must be severe, and he had no time to wait.

"As an old man, such pain is hard to bear. Mr. Lee, would you be willing to offer some assistance?" Lowell's eyes shone with a strange light. Despite his calm tone, his veins and sallow skin revealed his desperate hope.

He didn't question Bruce's knowledge of his condition. After all, it was hard to conceal, and if Bruce hadn't done his homework, there'd be no point in this meeting.

"The lab's projects are still in development, far from mature treatments. Mr. Lockheed, I'd like to help, but we don't have any successful cases yet. I'm afraid the situation is not as promising as you might hope," Bruce's response was honest. He didn't mention Lisa's Aunt Maria, though he suspected Lowell knew.

"I've heard of a case where the condition was managed?" Lowell, not willing to yield, but desperate for a solution, pressed on.

"That was a unique case. We took certain measures in a critical situation, merely preventing the condition from worsening. Sir, I must caution you, treatments at this stage, without any proven success, are inherently risky. I wouldn't recommend it unless absolutely necessary," Bruce stated gravely.

"Is it a matter of funding? That's not an issue. Your loan will be approved soon, and if needed, I can sponsor your lab," Lowell persisted.

"Funding is not the issue. Scientific research can't be rushed. Mr. Lockheed, I assure you, if there's any progress, you'll be the first to know, alright?" Bruce's tone remained steady, his demeanor sincere yet somehow distant.

Lowell's spark faded almost instantly, his expression turning somber and resigned, aging visibly in moments.

When he heard of a breakthrough in cancer treatment at Solar Corona's obscure lab, his elation knew no bounds.

After exhausting all possible treatments, his kidney cancer remained severe and uncontrollable. Yet, he never ceased seeking effective therapies—despite every doctor telling him the current outcome was exceptional, given the vast sums he'd spent.

Lowell's desire to live was so intense that he overlooked his age, well into his seventies. Like a king clinging to power and glory, unwilling to let go of any lifeline, hoping to extend his life at any cost.

So, one can imagine his disappointment at Bruce's response. But the resilient head of Lockheed quickly composed himself. "If there's any good news, please inform me. Thank you, Bruce. Your loan will be processed soon, hopefully aiding your research."

Bruce was confident that a comprehensive treatment for Lowell could improve his condition. But he wouldn't proceed so easily. If it came too readily, how could its value be appreciated?

With such a powerful figure in urgent need, it was crucial to maximize the benefits. After all, Bruce had time on his side, while Lowell was in a race against it. He was sure a second meeting wasn't far off.

After expressing feigned concern for Lowell's health, Bruce bid farewell. Gus soon brought the car around.

"I want to know the latest progress of Spruill's lab, by any means necessary. Also, find a way to get the research records," Lowell ordered, his earlier affability replaced by a grim determination as he watched Bruce's car fade into the distance.

Charles Campbell, standing stoically behind, nodded silently, stepping forward to support him.

Bruce, sitting in the car, watched the bent figure of the tycoon merge with the ink-black night, almost seeing his pale soul flickering in the wind, ready to vanish at any moment.

Time, indeed, is humanity's greatest adversary.

To defy the laws of nature, one must be prepared to pay a price.