After dinner, Weng tried to suggest some changes for Mr. Yi,
maybe a move to somewhere more peaceful near his mother, or
ballroom lessons in the park,

or some new business venture. . . .

“That’s the last thing I need,” Mr. Yi said. “More business!”

“But I thought you loved it,” Weng said, “And you’re so good at
making money.”

“You are mistaken,” Mr. Yi said. “I love putting things together.
Making things work. Seeing things come into the world from
nothing—money is just a result of this.”

“Like with Golden Helper II?”

“Exactly,” Mr. Yi said. “Good old blind Mr. Fun.”

“What else can you do, then?” Weng asked, thinking aloud.
“What excited you most as a boy?”

Mr. Yi considered the question carefully.

“When my father used to give me old radios or tractor parts to
take apart, back on the pig farm. I used to love getting my hands
oily and discovering how things worked. But I’m

older now, Fun Weng, and such a long way

from the happiness of childhood.”