Chapter 537 - 346: Don’t Talk About Me, Are You Not at Fault?

Chapter 537: Chapter 346: Don’t Talk About Me, Are You Not at Fault?

Signing the papers, inspecting the car, and checking the insurance documents—the whole process was done in twenty minutes.

"This is the car Mr. Li Wei had air-freighted from New York," the staff member said. "There are also two brand-new Cadillac Escalade ESVs, one four-seater and one seven-seater version. Please follow me."

He led Jason Miller to the showroom.

At first, Jason Miller thought he was looking at a landed alien fighter jet.

A Koenigsegg wasn’t a car you saw every day, even in Hollywood.

Jason Miller walked a circle around it, feeling a bit hesitant to even reach out and touch it.

"Sir, here are the keys and the storage voucher," the staff member said, handing over an envelope. "Mr. Li Wei prepaid for six months of storage and maintenance. The receipt is inside as well."

Jason Miller took the envelope, glanced at the Koenigsegg, and turned to leave the showroom.

He got back into his Camry and drove to a nearby coffee shop, where he parked.

Inside the coffee shop, a middle-aged man in a suit with impeccably styled hair saw him and trotted over.

"Daniel Brody," Jason said, bumping fists with him. "The West Coast’s best real estate agent. Are you ready?"

"Jason Miller, Hollywood’s man who knows everyone," Daniel replied. "I’m ready."

The Camry headed west along Sunset Boulevard, arriving at the circular driveway of the Hotel Bel-Air in less than twenty minutes.

Jason and a wide-eyed Daniel passed through security and entered the villa area, where they met Li Wei, Don Quixote, and Chen Haisheng, who had just returned from his honeymoon.

"Mr. Li Wei," Jason said, stepping forward and handing him the envelope. "The cars have been stored. All three are in the same location. Here are the address and the claim vouchers."

"Good work," Li Wei said, taking the envelope and glancing at it before handing it to Chen Haisheng. "Is this the ’West Coast’s best real estate agent’ you were talking about?"

"Daniel Brody," Jason said, stepping aside to introduce him. "My college classmate. He’s been working in Bel Air and Pacific Palisades for ten years. A lot of producers and directors in Hollywood go to him."

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Li Wei. It’s an honor to be of service," Daniel said, stepping forward. "Jason gave me a general idea of your needs. I’ve already pre-selected a few properties and can show them to you anytime."

Li Wei nodded. He was going to be staying here for a long time, and living in a hotel wasn’t a long-term solution. After all, it wasn’t as comfortable as being at home.

Besides, he needed someone to keep an eye on his business affairs here. The money wasn’t the main issue; the key was not to slow down his progress.

"Mr. Miller," he said, looking at Jason Miller, who was standing to the side. "What about you? Are you interested in coming to work for me?"

Jason was taken aback by Li Wei’s offer.

"My business in Los Angeles is growing," Li Wei said. "You’re someone who knows the ropes. If you’re thinking about a change of scenery, how about coming to work for me?"

After a moment of silence, Jason cautiously shook his head. "Mr. Li Wei, I really appreciate your trust, but I don’t think I can accept your offer right now."

"Are you worried about compensation?" Li Wei asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, of course not," Jason said with a wry smile, shaking his head. "It’s just that my tenth anniversary at my job is in a few days. I have a feeling I might be due for a promotion."

Colleagues, connections, status, social security, healthcare... all these things were the deep roots of the great tree called NBC. For a man in his thirties with a wife and kids, even though Li Wei might offer a high salary, he still needed time to process it all.

Li Wei looked at him, then glanced at the [Trim Your Sails (Bronze)] skill, which was still on cooldown after he’d used it on Johnny Depp the day before yesterday, and nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Let me know when you’ve made up your mind. There’s no rush."

"Understood," Jason Miller nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Li Wei."

Li Wei smiled and had Daniel take him to see the houses.

「A few more days passed in the blink of an eye.」

April arrived, and the Los Angeles sun began to feel scorching.

With the five production lines in Monterey, Mexico, running day and night, LW Beverage finally began its true large-scale distribution.

The LW Beverage website, which had constantly shown "out of stock," was finally no longer sold out moments after restocking each week.

Yesterday, while riding in the Cadillac Escalade, Li Wei even saw a Whole Foods on Sunset Boulevard with a display for LW Beverage.

Jin Heon mentioned in the weekly briefing that shipments in the first week of April had already reached 7.8 million bottles and were still climbing.

Tax season had officially arrived. The boutique accounting firm Don Quixote had recommended was indeed professional. They started preparing the documents back in late February, and by the time April rolled around, the filing materials for Li Wei personally and his various entities were basically complete.

Unlike Johnny Depp, Li Wei had Don Quixote keeping an eye on things for him. The amount of tax owed was close to their previous estimates, and they had successfully written off the purchases of his real estate and luxury cars.

The film crew was still busy with preparations, and it was estimated they would need at least another week before filming could officially begin.

But this morning, after Don Quixote hung up the phone, he didn’t look too pleased.

"We have a situation," he said, walking over to Li Wei. "The firm says Depp’s documents still haven’t arrived."

"What do you mean?" Li Wei asked, putting down his PS5 controller.

"The firm has followed up three times," Don Quixote said with a frown, "but Johnny Depp’s accountant, Gray Brown, has yet to prepare the financial documents that need to be handed over."

"They haven’t been submitted after three requests?" Li Wei asked. "Isn’t the deadline approaching?"

"Yes," Don Quixote said. "The firm says if they aren’t submitted soon, his tax filing could be overdue. Given his current cash flow, he probably won’t be able to play the role of the King after paying the penalties."

’It’s not just that,’ Li Wei thought, standing up. ’What about my 0.3 attribute points!’

"Let’s go," he said. "To his house. We’ll ask him what’s going on."

Chen Haisheng drove the Cadillac Escalade, taking Li Wei and Don Quixote to the Hollywood Hills.

Just as the car passed through the gates of the Depp Villa, Li Wei’s ears twitched. He could hear Depp’s furious shouting.

He glanced at Don Quixote and Chen Haisheng. They had clearly heard it too. This time, Johnny Depp’s voice was incredibly loud.

"Gray, I’m asking you one more time!" he roared. "When the hell are you going to submit the documents?! The Internal Revenue Service even called me!"

"I’ve been doing your taxes for thirty years!" a man’s booming voice, louder than Johnny Depp’s with a megaphone, shot back. "Why would you hand over your tax affairs to an outsider?!"

"Precisely because it’s been thirty years, Gray!" Depp’s voice faded in and out, as if he were pacing. "I want someone else to take a look. It’ll lighten your workload, too."

"Fack you!" Gray cursed. "You just don’t trust me!"

"I don’t distrust you! But your actions are making it impossible for me not to!" Depp roared. "You’re not submitting the documents, you’re not answering your phone—what the hell are you hiding from?"

"Thanks for getting the door for us, Stephen."

At the villa’s entrance, Li Wei nodded to Johnny Depp’s assistant. "I take it Johnny Depp and his accountant, Gray Brown, are both inside?"

He gestured toward the door.

Stephen nodded. "You’ve come at the perfect time, Mr. Li Wei." A look of relief flashed across his face.

Li Wei smiled and walked into the living room.

Johnny Depp was standing by the fireplace, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his face ashen.

He was clearly furious, because he hadn’t taken a single sip of the wine in his glass. His anger had suppressed his craving for alcohol.

And on the sofa sat a bald white man of about sixty, wearing a light gray suit with a laptop and a folder in front of him.

[You have discovered the Captain’s parasite.]

’So that’s him,’ Li Wei thought, nodding to himself.

"What’s all this?" he asked with a smile, taking a seat. "What’s going on?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Gray Brown said impatiently. "How did you get in here."

"He’s Li Wei," Johnny Depp said coldly. "He’s the one who suggested I hand over my tax work to an outside firm."

"Oh!" Gray Brown rubbed his bald head, his eyes darting between Li Wei and Depp, as if trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

"Fine, let’s not talk about the fact I’ve been your accountant for thirty years," he said, slamming his hand on the table. "Are you telling me you’re completely blameless in this?"