Manhattan, near Broadway Avenue on 43rd Street.
Tonight's performance of The Man from Earth was set to begin at 7:30 PM. Simon arrived 20 minutes early, first visiting the backstage area to greet the play's lead actress, Alessandra Martinez, before quietly making his way to a private box on the second floor, directly facing the stage.
The theater was modest, with a seating capacity of around 200 people.
As the producer of the show, Simon couldn't help but assess the attendance. In fact, while backstage earlier, the project manager had already briefed him: the play had maintained a steady 90% occupancy rate since opening a week ago, with weekend performances completely sold out.
Compared to The Lion King, which had required massive investments and delivered equally massive returns, The Man from Earth—a dialogue-driven play with limited spectacle—was much less visually engaging. The project had been approached conservatively in terms of budget.
However, the results had exceeded expectations.
The reasons weren't hard to discern.
First, the original movie was already widely known, reducing the need for aggressive promotion. Second, the play's simple yet intriguing storyline made it highly accessible, especially compared to the complexity and grandeur of larger productions. Tickets were also priced more affordably, attracting a broad audience.
In essence, much like films, "popcorn" entertainment tends to have a wider appeal than niche artistic productions.
With the play's success now evident, Danelys Entertainment's stage production division was already planning to form a second cast for a global tour.
As Simon considered these developments, his attention was drawn to a group of four strikingly tall women entering the theater below. Their distinct presence made them easy to spot, and Simon immediately recognized them. He leaned toward one of the bodyguards stationed behind him and gave a quiet instruction.
Downstairs, Jian Xin and Tao Yuelai, along with Roberta Chirko and Annaliese Seubert—two women they had spent the day shopping and dining with—rushed to their seats just as the performance was about to begin.
Moments later, a black-suited man approached them and whispered a few words. Initially wary, Jian Xin glanced upward toward the private box and saw Simon nodding in acknowledgment. Her apprehension quickly melted into excitement. Grabbing Tao Yuelai by the hand, she stood up, hesitated briefly, then gestured for Roberta and Annaliese to join them.
"Simon, I didn't expect to see you here!" Jian Xin greeted him cheerfully in Mandarin as she entered the box. Her tone was effervescent, almost playful. Seeing Simon seated casually, legs crossed, she hesitated for a moment before he reached out a hand. Following his lead, she let herself be guided onto his lap, casting a shy glance at the three women who had followed her in.
Simon's arm encircled Jian Xin's slender waist as her light fragrance drifted toward him. Speaking in Mandarin, he said with a smile, "Xin'er, you've grown even more beautiful."
It wasn't just flattery.
Compared to when he had first met her, Jian Xin had undergone a remarkable transformation. The raw, unpolished aura that had marked her and her companions as outsiders in the Western fashion world had been replaced by an elegant and refined presence. Months of nurturing under Simon's influence had turned them into exquisite lotus flowers emerging from the water.
Jian Xin was surprised by Simon's use of such an intimate term of endearment. Any residual awkwardness from not having seen him for months seemed to dissolve instantly. Remembering the conversational habits of Westerners, she leaned into him slightly and replied, "Thank you, Simon. You're looking… even more handsome."
Simon chuckled, clearly amused. As the other three women approached, he gently lifted Jian Xin off his lap, guiding her to sit on the chair beside him. Then, he reached out for Tao Yuelai.
Unlike the outgoing Jian Xin, Tao Yuelai was far less comfortable with such gestures. She obediently let herself be pulled onto Simon's lap but remained stiff, clutching her handbag tightly and unsure where to rest her gaze.
She had assumed Simon would exchange a few words with her before letting her sit elsewhere, as he had done with Jian Xin. But to her surprise, he instead began conversing with Roberta and Annaliese, motioning for them to take the remaining two chairs opposite him. The box, arranged with two chairs on either side of a central table, left no extra seating. Even the bodyguards stationed in the corners had to stand.
Was she really going to sit on his lap for the entire play?
Simon appeared oblivious to her internal turmoil. He turned to Roberta and greeted her before addressing Annaliese. "Annie, I recall your name being quite long. What's the full spelling again?"
Annaliese Seubert, unable to hide a trace of envy as she glanced at Tao Yuelai perched on Simon's lap, quickly responded. "Anneliese Seubert," she said, her expression lighting up in surprise. "Simon, I didn't expect you to remember my name!"
"Of course. I personally selected every Angel," Simon said with a smile. "And I also know you're from Australia."
"Yes," Annaliese replied eagerly, seizing the opportunity to extend the conversation. "But I was actually born in Germany. My family moved to Australia when I was nine."
"Oh, then you must speak German."
"I still use it often," Annaliese replied, switching to German and giving Simon a playful wink. "Simon, everyone says you're amazing with languages. Is it true you can speak many?"
Simon also switched to German, teasing, "If knowing one or two words counts, then I can speak so many languages I'd run out of fingers to count them on. A true genius."
Annaliese laughed. "Well, you are a genius."
She continued in German, clearly enjoying the exchange and the mild confusion on the faces of the other women.
Roberta, an all-American girl, wasn't about to let herself be sidelined. Just as she opened her mouth to interject, the theater lights dimmed, signaling the start of the play. She reluctantly fell silent.
Annaliese also stopped, aware that the performance was about to begin. Sitting beside Simon, she understood that he would expect her full attention on his work. Most artists—real or perceived—disliked distractions during their creative presentations.
Simon didn't continue the conversation either, turning his gaze toward the stage. Resting his chin lightly on Tao Yuelai's petite shoulder, he felt her body tense again. Smiling to himself, he kissed her neck lightly before saying, "If you're uncomfortable, you can sit with Xin'er instead."
How could she not like this?
The thought surfaced instinctively, and Tao Yuelai was about to deny her discomfort when she felt him lift her slightly. She took the opportunity to rise and move toward Jian Xin. Though she had planned to sit on Jian Xin's lap to avoid returning to Simon, Jian Xin immediately stood up and offered her seat, moving back to Simon without hesitation.
Left with no choice, Tao Yuelai sat alone, pretending not to notice the closeness between Simon and Jian Xin. Her eyes turned toward the stage, but a faint sense of discontent lingered.
The box was spacious enough. Surely, with his status, it wouldn't have been difficult to bring in an extra chair?
Moreover, he had complimented Jian Xin earlier but had yet to say anything about her. Instead, he had shifted his attention to the other two women.
Favoritism!
The stage adaptation of The Man from Earth closely followed the original movie, with only minor adjustments to suit the theater setting. Although Simon was intimately familiar with the story, he thoroughly enjoyed the 90-minute performance, especially with a beautiful woman in his arms.
However, what followed left the four women somewhat disappointed.
Simon had already arranged to spend the night with Alessandra Martinez, the play's lead actress. After the performance, he kept to his plans, bidding the four women goodbye. Still, he extended an invitation for them to visit his Long Island estate the following day, as he intended to take a break.
The four women readily accepted.
And so, Simon's busy yet indulgent weekend quickly came to an end.
A New Week Begins
At a seaside estate in Southampton, the previous day had been packed with activities. Simon had taken the women golfing, shooting, and yachting, followed by a shopping spree at a luxury boutique. Later, they attended an exclusive evening gala before finally retreating to the estate.
When Tao Yuelai awoke the next morning, she found herself on a large bed surrounded by three other stunning women.
To her surprise, she was adapting rather well.
She couldn't decide if this was resignation or simply her innate flexibility. Either way, she couldn't help but think about Simon's seemingly boundless energy. After everything they had done, he had still managed to rise early, leaving her feeling utterly defeated.
Determined to avoid the awkward teasing she had endured after their first night together, she stayed in bed, waiting for the others to wake. But as time passed, it became clear that the other three had no intention of getting up anytime soon. They seemed content to lounge until midday.
But Tao Yuelai had work scheduled for the morning—or at least, she felt she shouldn't slack off.
Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, she grabbed a crumpled dress and tiptoed out of the room.
Downstairs, she was guided by the house staff to freshen up in another room. Afterward, they brought her a rack of designer clothing to choose from. Glancing at the labels, she realized they
were all top luxury brands—distinct from the items they had picked during yesterday's spree. The thought of how much Simon must have spent on them made her head spin.
In less than 24 hours, he had spent a six-figure sum on them.
And not in yuan—dollars.
She did a quick calculation and realized her father, whose income had always been a source of pride among their relatives, hadn't earned even a tenth of that amount in his entire career.
By the time she made her way to the dining room, Simon was already seated at the table, a newspaper in hand. It was just past 7 AM.
Even in the crisp autumn weather, he wore only a shirt, the villa's perfectly regulated temperature making it feel as warm as spring. Tao Yuelai had never imagined living in such a world, where even the smallest comforts were effortlessly provided.
Simon looked up as she entered, taking in her appearance. She had chosen a black Gucci suit—a tailored blazer paired with fitted trousers—that accentuated her tall, slender figure. Nodding in approval, he said, "You look beautiful. But you should try something from Chanel next time. Maybe something more colorful. Karl's designs suit petite, elegant frames like yours."
Finally, a compliment.
Tao Yuelai felt a small sense of satisfaction but also found herself unsure how to respond, especially to his follow-up suggestions.
In truth, she hadn't given much thought to her choice of outfit. She had picked the Gucci suit because it was part of Melisandre's portfolio, hoping Simon might notice the subtle nod. Now, he was suggesting Chanel—completely unrelated to the Westeros Group.
A twinge of inexplicable disappointment crept in.
Not daring to show it, she sat at the table. A tall, model-like housemaid approached to take her breakfast order. Glancing at Simon's plate for inspiration, Tao Yuelai hesitated until Simon spoke for her. "Bring her a fruit salad, some oatmeal, and pancakes."
Before the maid could leave, Tao Yuelai quickly interjected, "No pancakes, please."
"Keep the pancakes," Simon countered lightly. "After yesterday, you'll need the energy."
She didn't argue further, though her cheeks flushed at the memory of just how "tiring" the previous night had been.
After breakfast, Simon informed her that he had already cleared her schedule with Elite, giving her the morning off. Tao Yuelai nodded obediently.
Simon stayed to chat for a while before leaving for Manhattan by helicopter, entrusting Angele Davis with a task: if Roberta and Annaliese were interested, they could formally join his circle.
From Manhattan, Simon headed directly to Kennedy International Airport to return to the West Coast.
Monday Morning: The Mellon Family Situation
Once airborne, A-Girl brought Simon a stack of reports.
First, he checked on the matter he had discussed with Timothy Mellon over the weekend. Today's Pittsburgh Post-Gazette had been published as usual, but the anticipated exposé was notably absent. Clearly, this was the Mellon family's way of resolving the issue with Simon.
Or so they thought.
In truth, Simon considered this response insufficient. The Mellons had made no attempt to broker a truce or extend an olive branch. Their decision to quietly shelve the article suggested they believed Simon wouldn't or couldn't retaliate further.
The Mellon family's storied legacy, dating back even further than the Rockefellers or Morgans, perhaps afforded them such confidence. After all, Richard Mellon Scaife had spent millions digging up dirt on President Clinton, and while it had caused embarrassment, it had failed to deal any lasting damage.
But what worked against Clinton wouldn't necessarily work against Simon.
If the Mellons believed Simon would let this go, they were mistaken.
Through years of study, Simon had come to understand that America's true power lay in the hands of old-money families like the Mellons—dynasties that had controlled capital and influence for over a century. Beyond the Rockefellers and Mellons, countless smaller but equally entrenched families dotted the American landscape, quietly wielding power.
However, these families were not as invincible as they seemed.
At their core, their power stemmed from capital and the interwoven networks of interests it created. Like a sprawling web, this control extended across America. But with the turn of the millennium and the ongoing redistribution of wealth brought by the internet, the landscape was changing. Globalization and the hollowing out of America's manufacturing base were further eroding the influence of old-money families.
Birth, growth, prosperity, decline.
No entity, no matter how powerful, could escape this cycle.
If the Mellons believed Simon was a threat they could ignore, then he would make it his mission to teach them otherwise. Of course, unlike his confrontation with the Hearsts two years prior, this time Simon would not escalate openly. Instead, he planned to "boil the frog slowly."
After listening to A-Girl's report, Simon instructed Alison to gather comprehensive information on the Mellon family, focusing especially on the businesses they currently controlled.
He had no interest in petty scandals or exposés.
To take down a family like the Mellons, you had to strike at their core.
Their financial lifeblood.
With $1.5 trillion in assets versus the Mellon family's combined $7 billion, Simon wondered how long this "frog" could withstand the slow, creeping heat.
And that was assuming the Mellons made no further mistakes in the years to come.
Unfortunately for them, 1997 was just around the corner—a year that would herald global economic turbulence. Financial crises loomed on multiple fronts, threatening to wipe out capital and crush even the most established fortunes.
For the Mellons, the timing couldn't have been worse.
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