Welcome to America

America, New York, JFK Airport.

As Li Wei arrived in America to seek refuge with his distant uncle, Don Quixote Cervantes, while carrying all his worldly possessions, his initially gloomy heart felt a flicker of excitement.

Li Wei's parents had mentioned this brother to him many times while they were alive. It was said that his behavior had been quite improper in the past, implying he had squandered some money, though he later claimed to have earned some back. He had even tried to invite Li Wei's family to America for a reunion, but Li Wei's father had rejected every attempt.

Li Wei had never met this uncle, only hearing stories about him from his father. Now, after a massive family tragedy, the 17-year-old found himself an orphan, burdened with a huge debt. If he stayed in his home country, he would become a "deadbeat" for failing to pay, and that was something Li Wei refused to do.

Fortunately, according to the legal provisions of both countries, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs had contacted this distant uncle in America for him.

Don Quixote Cervantes. Li Wei chewed on the name while lugging his two suitcases. What a bizarre name.

Suddenly, his phone rang. The SIM card had been provided to him by a kind woman at the domestic foreign affairs department.

"I'm Don Quixote Cervantes," a hoarse, hurried middle-aged male voice said. In the background, the rhythmic clicking of a car's turn signal could be heard. "Listen, I'm not going into the parking lot. Those people are vampires; it costs four dollars an hour. Where are you right now?"

It was fortunate that Li Wei had been immersed in English since childhood, making it practically his second language, or he wouldn't have been able to understand a word his uncle, Don Quixote Cervantes, was saying.

Had he really earned some money? Li Wei couldn't help but feel suspicious. Why else would he be so agitated over a four-dollar-an-hour parking fee?

"I'm Li Wei," he said. "I've just cleared customs."

"Then go to Terminal 4, Area B, Gate 2. Call me when you're five minutes away," Don Quixote said urgently. "Don't call too early, understand? I can't stop for long; the damn traffic police are watching me."

The call ended. Li Wei stood there in a daze, wondering if he should use his credit line to book a flight back home.

Ten minutes later, a dilapidated car covered in mud splashes pulled into the curb, nearly sideswiping a yellow taxi.

It took Li Wei quite a while to recognize, through the thick layers of grime and rust, that this had once been a white Toyota. After the window rolled down, it revealed a gaunt face with prominent cheekbones and stubble, his eyes framed by heavy bags from long-term sleep deprivation.

"Get in!" his eyes darted around, as if searching for a non-existent traffic cop. "Hurry up, don't dawdle."

Li Wei struggled to shove his two heavy suitcases into the trunk, which was filled with dust and empty paint buckets, then pried open the passenger door and squeezed in.

The passenger seat was cluttered with a paint-splattered reflective vest and a half-empty Gatorade bottle. Li Wei tossed them into the back seat with a look of disdain before he could sit down.

"Vroom!"

Don Quixote slammed his foot on the gas. The Toyota let out a pathetic wail, but instead of charging like a knight's steed, it shuddered sluggishly into the traffic.

"Buckle up," he said, turning to look at him. "The passenger side lock is broken. It might pop open when we turn."

Li Wei couldn't help but reach up and grab the overhead handle.

"Li Wei, right?" Don Quixote said. "Listen, about your father... my half-brother, and your mother... I'm sorry. He was a truly smart guy, only to die in some ridiculous car accident... I heard you're also saddled with a huge debt? You ran to America because you couldn't pay it off?"

"I will earn the money to pay back what I owe, and this is none of your business," Li Wei frowned. "This is my own affair. Once I'm of age, I'll find work."

Was this the uncle his father had described as having "earned some money"?

"But when he dumped you on me, he didn't bring a check for a million dollars," Don Quixote sneered. "New York isn't like the Middle Kingdom. Here, money can buy everything, but it also means everything must be bought with money. So, how much do you have in your pocket?"

"About... 600 dollars in my account," Li Wei said. "The rest is just my clothes and some daily necessities."

In truth, he had two cards; the other contained a full 6,000 dollars, but he didn't mention it.

That money was a drop in the bucket for his debts, but for him right now, it was undoubtedly a life-saving sum in a crisis.

Even 600 dollars seemed like a pleasant surprise to this uncle.

"600 bucks? Ha!" He slapped the steering wheel hard. "Fine, at least it's enough to cover this week's gas and my lost wages. Welcome to America, kid."

Throughout the rambling drive, Li Wei didn't even have to ask; Don Quixote spilled his life story as naturally as beans pouring from a bamboo tube.

It started with his small business success, followed by meeting his ex-wife ("She was a pure, stinking bitch, wasn't she? Women are like that, eager to suck the marrow from your bones"), then the divorce, the broken capital chain, and the loan sharks he had to borrow from while paying his ex-wife 2,000 dollars a month in alimony ("Damn American law, letting a pig lie at home and still earn 2,000 dollars a month. If I were ten years younger, I'd have considered selling my ass to make ends meet.").

"So now I have to work two jobs to survive," he lit a cigarette and summarized coldly. "I lay bricks at a construction site during the day and wash dishes in the back of a Spanish restaurant at night. This is America. If you want to live, you have to fight with everything you've got... We're here."

"Where is this?" Li Wei peered through the grease-stained window at the grey concrete building, which looked like a moldy loaf of bread.

This clearly didn't look like Don Quixote's home.

"This is the Administration for Children's Services (ACS) office," Don Quixote said. "For us—mostly for me—this is the land of hope."

He jammed the beat-up Toyota into a spot marked "Official Vehicles Only" and quickly tossed a disabled parking permit onto the dashboard.

Li Wei couldn't help but ask, "Are you disabled?"

"What?" Don Quixote realized what he meant and said triumphantly, "Of course not."

"Listen, Li Wei," he said, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to look at him. "The reason I'm adopting you, becoming your guardian, is because of America's damn laws. As your only guardian, taking in an orphan under 18 means the state government gives us—gives me—a 1,000-dollar check every month. This is what they call a 'kinship foster care subsidy'."

"So I'm just a human check that gets cashed every month?" Li Wei smiled. "I thought it was about family affection."

"If affection or love were useful, I wouldn't have had to sell one of my balls to make rent. Kid, I wish more than anyone that this 'affection' thing actually existed, and it would be even better if it were worth some money," Don Quixote patted Li Wei on the shoulder. "Now, get out."

With that, he spat into his filthy palms and frantically smoothed back his greasy hair, trying to style it into a decent-looking slick back. Then, he pulled a pair of gold-rimmed non-prescription glasses from nowhere and perched them on his nose.

Because all the procedures were legal and legitimate, and Li Wei's handsome face played a pivotal role with the stout Mrs. Debbie, the 1,000-dollar check soon found its way into Don Quixote's pocket.

This made him extremely happy; the excitement hadn't faded by the time he got back to the car.

"Listen, kid," he said, putting away the fake disability permit and starting the engine. "We're grasshoppers on the same rope now, right? These ACS bureaucrats have nothing better to do than make life difficult for poor folks like us. They'll come by every month to see if you're still alive and how you're doing."

"We'll split this money 50-50," he said. "500 dollars for me, the rest for you. If you need to pay for room and board, consider that 500 your living expenses. Then, you handle those idiots at the ACS every month. How about it?"

"850 dollars," Li Wei said. "Otherwise, there's nothing to talk about."

Before arriving, Li Wei had done some research on the cost of living in America. In New York, even if he scavenged for discounted vegetables every day and bought absolutely nothing else, 500 dollars would barely keep him alive.

The cost of living in America was shockingly high; transport and communication fees alone would eat up 200 dollars of his monthly budget. Furthermore, judging by the stench emanating from the dirty shirt Quixote wore, his home certainly lacked a washing machine, meaning Li Wei would have to spend his own money at a laundromat every month.

"Are you robbing me? You little brat!" Quixote shouted. "I haven't even factored in your utilities!"

"But without me, you wouldn't even have this 150 dollars," Li Wei said calmly. "I'll give you another 50—20 percent for you, 80 for me. Otherwise, I'm reporting you to the ACS next month for child abuse."

Quixote turned his head to glare at Li Wei, demanding, "Aren't we family? I am your guardian, your elder!"

"Those were your words," Li Wei shrugged. "This is America, and I don't intend to sell one of my nuts just to put food on the table."

"Very good, you learn quickly," Quixote revealed a mouthful of yellow teeth as he laughed. "That's the spirit. Welcome to America!"

For the next while, Li Wei watched as the beat-up Toyota crawled like a snail along the highway between Brooklyn and Queens. Only when the sky turned a filthy, purplish-gray did Quixote slam on the steering wheel, exit the highway, and dive into the crowded streets of Sunset Park.

Chinese signs became increasingly common here—Fuzhou fish balls, Wenzhou hair salons, Jihui Heavenly Dynasty, immigration services, and more were crammed between mottled red-brick buildings. If not for the occasional Mexican laborer passing by and the distant, mirage-like silhouette of Manhattan's skyscrapers, Li Wei would have thought he had returned to the old town of some third-tier county thirty years ago.

"We're here," Quixote expertly parked the car next to a fire hydrant where parking was forbidden. "The alley next to 8th Avenue."

Li Wei followed him out, dragging his two suitcases as he trailed Quixote into the side of a three-story red-brick building that looked like it could crumble at any moment. There, a rusted, waist-high iron gate led underground.

"Watch your head," Quixote muttered. "Also, walk softly. If the dog upstairs hears you, it'll start barking in the middle of the night."

As the iron gate opened, the smell of mold hit them in the face. Li Wei wrinkled his nose and followed him down into a basement apartment converted from a cluttered cellar.

Only a flat, rectangular window near the ground level let in any light, through which one could see the ankles of passersby and the occasional scurrying rat.

The room was shaped like a long, narrow tube. Aside from a separate bathroom, the living room, bedroom, and dining area were all in the same space, partitioned only by a few cheap blackout curtains.

"I've partitioned off a 'little room' for you too," Quixote said, pointing to a space with a filthy mattress he had seemingly scavenged from somewhere, his expression smug. "How about that? I even got you a mattress."

Even the most optimistic person would sigh upon falling into such a plight.

Li Wei said nothing; he pushed his suitcase into his "room."

"If you need to jerk off, remember to go to the bathroom, or I'll smell it," Quixote said, checking his phone with its cracked screen. "I have to go wash dishes at the restaurant in half an hour. Come out—let's talk about what you're going to do next."

Li Wei pushed aside the curtain and walked out, sitting gingerly on the peeling, rotten sofa.

Feeling something poking his backside, he reached into the gap in the sofa cushions and pulled out a book—a chivalric romance?

"Oh, that's mine," Quixote said, taking the book from his hand. "It's one of the few things I brought from home. I've dreamed of being a knight since I was a child... I have a set of armor I bought earlier in my own cubicle."

"I know you want to make money fast," Quixote said, putting the book back and coughing twice to look serious. "But that won't work, at least not until you're eighteen. Before that, you can only work part-time, and the minimum wage is 15.50 dollars an hour."

"I'm still a year away from being an adult," Li Wei frowned. "What do I do in the meantime?"

"You have to go to school," Quixote pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and extracted one as if it were a treasure. "Even if it's the worst high school, you have to graduate. If you had snuck in, it would be easier, but you entered on a legitimate B-2 visa. There's no way for you to work under the table. New York State law stipulates that if you want to stay in New York, you must switch to an F-1 student visa and wait two years before I, as your guardian, can get you a green card."

"There are too many people like you trying to use student visas to work illegal jobs; the path has already been blocked by those who came before," he added with a hint of schadenfreude. "No matter how anxious you are, you have to wait two years to get your green card first."

Li Wei hadn't expected such complexities. He had assumed, like in TV shows or online, that as long as he stayed in America illegally, he could make thousands of dollars a month just by washing dishes.

"Now that you're abroad, you don't need to worry about your debts back home for the time being," Quixote said, smoking in front of a minor with zero regard for social norms. "As your uncle, I want to give you some advice. If I were you, what you should be worried about next is your school life and what kind of life you want to lead."

"School life?" Li Wei countered. "Do New York high schools have shootings every day?"

"Shootings? Oh, that's one aspect, I suppose, though the mortality rate is relatively low," Quixote said vaguely. "I'm talking about that pretty face of yours."

"If I were you, I'd spend the next month getting into shape," he said, returning to his cubicle to change clothes. "Or carry a small knife or something. You have a pretty mixed-race face, you're an outsider, and you aren't exactly strong. I think you know what I'm talking about... I'm heading out. Sort out your own dinner. If I'm not back by 3:00, it means I've died out there—remember to call the police for me."

As Quixote grabbed a set of keys and headed out, Li Wei let out a long breath and looked out the dim window.

It was already late, and people upstairs were shouting in a language he couldn't understand, accompanied by the thumping sound of footsteps pacing back and forth.

But none of this could overcome Li Wei's exhaustion. The jet lag, the travel, and the weight of the mental letdown suddenly washed over him, causing him to fall asleep in his clothes without a second thought.

Fortunately, it was August in New York; while the basement was damp and chilly, it wasn't cold enough to keep him awake.

In his groggy state, a voice flashed through his mind:

[Welcome to the Middle Ages, Adventurer Li Wei.]

[The Medieval Adventurer System has loaded successfully.]

[This is a world where crisis and opportunity coexist. Good luck.]

However, Li Wei didn't care about any of this and sank into a deep sleep.

Half-dreaming, half-awake, he heard a rustling sound.

At first, he thought it was a rat, but the noise grew louder, accompanied by a clattering sound that made it impossible for him to sleep.

He opened his eyes and pushed aside the curtain to look:

The light from a streetlamp filtered crookedly through the rectangular window, illuminating a figure putting on a suit of armor.

"Uncle Quixote?" Li Wei asked, dazed. "What are you doing? It's only... oh, 3:30 in the morning?"

"Who!" Quixote's tightly shut eyes turned toward him. "Who speaks!"

"It's me," Li Wei said, seeing by the light that Quixote seemed to be sleepwalking. "I'm your nephew, Li Wei."

"What nephew!" Quixote realized suddenly. "I know!"

Even with his eyes closed, he tapped Li Wei's shoulder with precision. "You must be my squire, Li Wei."

He pointed to the boots at his feet: "Squire Li Wei, help me put on my boots!"

Li Wei did not act rashly. He stood in place and observed Don Quixote Cervantes for a moment before the latter put on his boots himself.

Don Quixote then shoved the basement door open.

"Where are you going?" Li Wei had no choice but to throw on a coat and follow behind him. "What are we doing?"

The knight, Don Quixote, let out a huff and spoke in a booming voice, "Have you forgotten? This knight has been commissioned by the village chief today to go and clear out the goblins harassing the village!"

Just then, a voice flashed through Li Wei's mind once more:

[Hero Li Wei, you have encountered the knight Don Quixote Cervantes]

[You have received a quest: Assist the knight in clearing out the goblins]

[Reward: System panel unlocked, attribute points +0.1, random skill *1]