Chapter 7-8

Chapter 7: Alliance

After the speech, Sheila aimed to convey goodwill to the major donors present, seeking to garner more support. Bruce finally had his first face-to-face interaction with the presidential candidate.

"The times call for a new leader," Bruce initiated before Sheila could speak, hinting at the significant title of a new era's leader.

"Good evening, Mrs. Sheila," he said with a sincere and firm tone, shaking hands with a steady grip.

Sheila, initially wearing a courteous smile, instantly felt a distinct attitude from him. She also noticed Bruce's special address to her; most people would call her Mrs. Clinton or Sheila, but Bruce opted for Mrs. Sheila, subtly showing his support.

The long-standing issue of male dominance in human society is hard to resolve. Imagine, upon her election, she would logically be called President Clinton, but that would be confusing with Bill Clinton, so "Sheila" or "President Rodham" would be necessary. Bruce's address clearly showed his firm stance and respect.

"Good evening, Bruce. May I call you that?" Sheila's smile narrowed, her expression turning serious, yet her demeanor was more earnest than at the start.

"Of course, I'm your supporter," Bruce replied with a smile and a nod.

"Having such a handsome supporter, I fear I may receive many women's votes against me," Sheila observed Bruce closely. His tall, striking figure and particularly bright eyes were unforgettable. His presence was undeniable.

"No, Mrs., you are mistaken. They will support you just as I do," Bruce responded not with his usual humility but with a distinctly different answer. "And that's not what matters."

"Oh?" Sheila was genuinely surprised by his response. Bruce contradicted the image she had formed of him, filled with political shrewdness and assertiveness. Despite his lack of outlandish remarks or actions, his manner and expression conveyed a strong message: dominance and confidence.

"You seem very confident in yourself. So, what is important then?" she probed.

"My full support for you is what's most important, isn't it, Mrs. Sheila? Your campaign must be under significant financial pressure," Bruce said with a smile, glancing at Robby Mook behind Sheila. The campaign manager initially seemed indifferent to Bruce's words, likely skeptical of his youth. However, meeting Bruce's gaze, he stiffened, unable to maintain eye contact.

From the start, Bruce conveyed a strong message of unwavering support, promising more substantial backing than Sheila could imagine.

Sheila no longer saw Bruce as just a young man, especially when he straightforwardly mentioned her precarious situation, forcing her to scrutinize him closely. His meaningful words demanded her attention.

Bruce was right. Her situation was worse than the public perceived, primarily due to her opponent—Jeb Bush, the former Governor of Florida and Republican presidential candidate, backed by the formidable Bush family, showing an unimaginable fundraising capability.

The New York Times had predicted Sheila's campaign might need a historic $2.5 billion to elect the first female president to the White House.

Now, with only Jeb Bush as her final and most formidable opponent, the issue of their common vulnerability—background—was no longer a concern. Both their backgrounds were strengths and potential weaknesses, subject to criticism.

Despite the U.S. Constitution stating, "No Title of Nobility shall be granted by the United States," the pursuit of elite political ideals remains an unattainable dream in this nation founded on such aspirations.

As the Democratic National Convention ended, The Washington Post questioned if family politics could exit the historical stage, reflecting the electorate's major concern since both the Clinton and Bush families had dominated the White House for decades.

But as Sheila and Jeb emerged as the final candidates, this concern faded, as the reality of family politics continuing was undeniable. The choice was between the lesser of two evils, as critics put it.

According to Sheila's team, the actual amount needed might be between $1.8 to $2 billion, still staggering for voters. Sheila was aware of this, hiring the former chairman of the Commodity Futures Trading Commission as her campaign's chief financial officer to avoid excessive spending. This new CFO had turned the "once most lax regulatory body into the most proactive and strictest" during his Wall Street oversight.

Yet, this didn't change the reality of a funding shortfall, with Sheila's campaign having raised nearly $800 million, surpassing Obama's 2012 funds but still trailing behind Jeb Bush's over $900 million. This illustrated the Bush family's formidable foundation.

Traditionally, the five industries and organizations most supportive of Sheila's political contributions were the legal profession, retirees, finance and insurance, real estate, and women's rights groups. Now, support from finance and insurance, as well as real estate, was precarious, showing signs of shifting towards Jeb Bush, a troubling indicator.

At a time like this, someone who can support without reservation like Bruce becomes incredibly important. Even though Bruce isn't exactly an American citizen, there's no room for concern about that now.

"Bruce seems quite exceptional," Robby Mook said to Huma Abedin, who had just approached, as he watched Bruce walk away.

"He seems to have a very close relationship with Citibank, and he's someone I've reminded you to pay special attention to. Conservatively, he's provided over 35 million dollars in funding through various channels." Huma Abedin, who had been an assistant to Sheila during her time as Secretary of State, was a true loyal subordinate and clearly very knowledgeable about the specifics of the fundraising.

"Do you trust him?" Robby Mook was a bit taken aback by the figure, which was quite substantial.

"Trust is always ethereal; only mutual interests are key," Huma Abedin exchanged a look with Sheila. Robby is capable, but sometimes he seems a bit naïve; he still needs to be closely supervised and toughened up a bit more.

"Huma, from now on, send Bruce a copy of the latest campaign updates every day. We hope this young ally can bring us more surprises," Sheila slightly relaxed her worried brow and moved on to talk to other magnates.

Following behind her, Huma Abedin and Robby Mook exchanged glances. This wasn't the kind of treatment an ordinary donor would receive, indicating Sheila had high hopes for this Bruce Lee.

Chapter 8: Fine Wine and Beautiful Women

From their conversation, Bruce didn't gather any particularly useful information. However, he didn't mind and didn't return to his own table, instead continuing forward. At a table in the direction he was headed, there sat a beautiful face, Lydia Hearst, who clearly saw Bruce coming but deliberately turned her head away, engaging in intense conversation with the person next to her.

"Good evening, Mr. Hearst," Bruce said with a smile as he approached, standing behind Lydia without speaking to her.

"Oh... Good evening, Mr. Lee."

Patty Hearst turned around, smiling with a bit of surprise in his response. He clearly hadn't expected Bruce to come over to greet him, the father had no idea the approach was actually aimed at his daughter.

"Lydia often mentions you in front of me, I'm finally honored to meet you in person," Bruce said to Patty Hearst with an enthusiastic smile on his face.

"Ah, is that so?" Patty Hearst replied, his face full of surprise as he turned to look at Lydia Hearst beside him. From Bruce's demeanor, it was clear he was very familiar with his daughter, so why hadn't she mentioned it?

Lydia could no longer pretend not to see Bruce and turned her head, her beautiful eyes wide with anger at this audacious liar. Patty Hearst, however, completely believed what Bruce said, amused by his slightly flattering words, and quickly warmed up to him.

This once radical revolutionary, actor, and writer had now mellowed. Although he still enjoyed living it up, he was no longer as prone to stir up trouble as before, and his temperament had become much gentler.

Lydia wanted to argue but didn't know how to start. If looks could kill, Bruce would have died a thousand times under her gaze. After chatting with Patty Hearst for a while, he warmly patted Bruce on the shoulder and went off to greet other acquaintances, possibly creating space for him and Lydia intentionally. But Bruce had no qualms about taking a seat.

"Hmph!"

Lydia was wearing a gold sequined mini dress that complemented her golden hair and fair skin, stunningly beautiful. Yet, this beauty was holding back a storm of anger, giving Bruce a cold look. This rude man dared to lie to her face. When she thought about how Bruce subtly manipulated the conversation to make her father feel they were very close, she felt a headache coming on.

"Dear Lydia, it seems you're a bit afraid of me?" Bruce said, a barely there smile playing at the corners of his mouth. This beautiful woman had not contacted him since their last meeting, seemingly avoiding him on purpose.

"Why should I be afraid of you? Are you a serial killer or something?" Lydia certainly wouldn't admit she was avoiding this detestable man. Her heart had been in turmoil because of Bruce, even dreaming about him twice, those embarrassingly vivid dreams she dared not mention to anyone.

"Hmm?" Bruce frowned slightly, looking at Lydia as if seriously considering how to answer. Just as she began to feel uncomfortable and was about to speak, he asked very seriously, "That's a tough question to answer. How many does it take to be considered a serial killer?"

Lydia couldn't help but burst out laughing at the huge discrepancy between his serious expression and ridiculous words, finally unable to keep a straight face.

"You know, Lydia, you're most beautiful when you laugh," Bruce said, gazing at her with a gentle and focused look.

Lydia's face flushed, feeling somewhat uncomfortable under his gaze. Ever since this man appeared, her heart had been completely swayed by him. Was he really her nemesis? She felt lost.

"I happen to have a bottle of 1971 Romanee Conti. Would I have the honor of inviting the beautiful Lydia to taste it?" Bruce gently placed his palm over Lydia's hand.

Lydia understood the implications of accepting, knowing this man with a magical touch would push for more. Yet, his hand seemed to radiate an endless warmth, making her body weaken, unable to utter a refusal...

The dinner hadn't ended yet when the two of them slipped away early. Bruce's main purpose for coming was Sheila, and having accomplished that, there was no reason to stay longer. As for Lydia, she was just accompanying her father out of boredom, with no necessity to stay. However, when they went to say goodbye, Patty Hearst's meaningful glance at the two made her cheeks burn as if on fire.

At the penthouse of 432 Park Avenue, the butler Elliott and the servants had set up the tables and chairs almost at lightning speed. The pristine tablecloth and exquisite glassware were neatly arranged, and even some subtly romantic candlelight was lit, complementing the romantic rose petals, creating a warm and atmospheric setting under the beautiful lighting.

When Bruce led Lydia to the rooftop garden, the Romanee Conti was just perfectly decanted.

"Your father is quite the character; he seems really eager for us to take our relationship to the next level." Bruce gently swirled his wine glass as Elliott, the butler, poured Lydia some red wine, allowing the aroma to fully develop. He said this in a teasing tone.

This guy has started to talk nonsense again. It seemed he wasn't this slick at the beginning. With butler Elliott standing by, Lydia couldn't retort. All she could do was give Bruce a stern look with her beautiful eyes, signaling him to tone it down a bit.

"Elliott, you can leave us. We'll manage on our own," Bruce said softly after taking a sip of his wine, gesturing to butler Elliott.

"Thank you, Elliott." Despite her spirited nature, Lydia's upbringing did not let her forget to express her gratitude to Elliott for his service.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Hearst, sir." Elliott bowed slightly, leading the other servants downstairs, leaving the vast sky garden to Bruce and Lydia alone—now truly a world of their own.

"Can't you be serious for once? I didn't see through you at the beginning," Lydia said, finally relaxing a bit, half-joking, half-complaining after the butler and servants had left.

"I thought that was what you liked about me," Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise, laughing heartily before Lydia could get angry again. He clearly enjoyed this moment. "Haven't you heard? It's only in the most relaxed state that one can see their true self."

Lydia was utterly charmed by his words, which were more endearing than any sweet nothings. She sipped her wine, letting it swirl around her mouth, savoring the taste.

"It's like a scent of roses on the verge of wilting, captivating and entrancing, almost making one forget the concept of time, like a treasure left by God on earth." She spoke in a tone of awe and intoxication, savoring the precious wine, relishing its indescribable flavor.

What kind of wine would you regret not drinking in your lifetime?

For many wine enthusiasts, the answer is surprisingly consistent—Domaine de la Romanee-Conti's Romanee Conti.

"Once you've gotten used to Burgundy, there's no turning back, and Romanee Conti is definitely the end of the world." Bruce gently held the stem of his wine glass, clinking glasses with Lydia. The crystalline liquid swirled in the glass, faintly reflecting their images.

The overall production of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti is very small, and with high demand, its products are virtually priceless. The bottle of Romanee Conti from 1971 that Bruce had was acquired for $47,000 at a wine auction by Zachys in New York.

No wonder the world's most influential wine critic, Robert Parker, described it as "a millionaire's wine, but only billionaires can afford it!"

"The process of tasting red wine is like a man getting to know a woman, roughly divided into four stages—first, look, with affectionate eyes, appreciate its clear and lustrous charm; then, embrace, gently and slowly swirl to let the wine fully contact the air; next, sniff, bring the glass to the nose, feeling the enchanting fragrance; and finally, taste, sipping gently, savoring its myriad charms."

As he spoke, Bruce also performed these actions, but his gaze remained intently on Lydia.