I Suggest You Go Sell Your Ass

"Right, what else would it be?" Li Wei asked back, "If I can get in, why wouldn't I?"

Don Quixote pulled another crumpled pack of cigarettes from his grimy, paint-stained jacket, lit one for himself, and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Actually... I still want to advise you to be a bit more realistic."

For a fleeting moment, Li Wei observed that the tension in his body seemed to deflate.

"I've seen you going to the gym lately, and every day you're buried in those AP Class books," Don Quixote said, exhaling another puff of smoke, "I've been watching for several days now."

"The Ivy League, especially Yale, that's not a place just anyone can go," he said, "Even if you pass the exams, it's useless. What's the point? Do you think you can get in just by taking a few extra AP exams? Or that a high SAT score will get you in?"

"Hic... you're wrong," he waved his hand, "Dead wrong, dead wrong."

Li Wei suddenly felt that Don Quixote was acting a bit strange today.

It was worth noting that although Don Quixote had been living a miserable life, Li Wei could always see a glimmer of hope in him; he seemed to be struggling to survive, chasing after something.

But at this moment, he looked as if his spine had been pulled out, appearing utterly decadent, slumped on the sofa, drowning himself in alcohol and cigarettes.

"Are you high?" Li Wei asked, "I saw on TikTok that at least half of the semi-homeless people like you are addicted to drugs."

"What does Yale want? They want the kind of people who can donate a building to the school at the drop of a hat, save white rhinos on the African savanna, or care about some bullshit carbon emissions," Don Quixote said to himself, "And even if you do get into the Ivy League, so what? When you're young, you always feel like you have infinite potential, but who knows what your future will actually be?"

He pointed at himself, "Look at me, Li Wei. Do you think I look like a graduate of the University of Chicago's economics department?"

This caught Li Wei off guard.

The status of the University of Chicago in the field of economics was like Jerusalem to a believer; the "Chicago School of Economics" born there had produced over 30 Nobel laureates in economics.

And this man in front of him?

"You don't believe it?" Don Quixote laughed self-deprecatingly, "Ha! Even you think it's a joke, right?"

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, the smoke making him cough violently, as if he were trying to cough up his lungs.

"That's right, kid, that's the first honest thing I've told you! In this fucked-up world, even if you graduate from a top-tier university, as long as you take one wrong step, as long as your luck is just a little bit off, or you meet an ex-wife who is determined to bleed you dry... you can only live like a rat in this shitty sewer."

Don Quixote crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray with force.

"So," Li Wei said softly, "it has to do with your ex-wife?"

Don Quixote didn't answer.

"What did your ex-wife send you this time?" Li Wei said, "To make you whine and complain like a dying dog."

Don Quixote jerked his head up, a flash of shame and annoyance at being exposed crossing his murky eyes, only to be immediately drowned by a deep sense of powerlessness. He pulled a crumpled subpoena from his jacket and threw it onto the coffee table.

"Lily wants to go to a horseback riding summer camp, and it costs 5,000 dollars in tuition," Li Wei picked up the note and read softly, "If you can't pay, you'll lose visitation rights?!"

"Good grief," he waved the subpoena, "I can understand living expenses, but you're still expected to pay for extracurricular classes?"

"America's goddamn standard-of-living principle—even after a divorce, you can't lower the child's quality of life," Don Quixote took another swig of alcohol, "Honestly, if it weren't for my daughter, I probably would have overdosed in the basement a long time ago."

"5,000 dollars..."

He muttered to himself.

"I've never heard you mention this cousin of mine before," Li Wei raised an eyebrow, "Tell me about her?"

"Of course, her name is Lily," Don Quixote took another hit from the bottle, "She is like—no, she is an angel."

When he spoke her name, a look that could almost be called "holy" appeared on Don Quixote's face, which was otherwise twisted by alcohol and despair.

He pulled a carefully laminated photo from his wallet and handed it to Li Wei.

Li Wei tried to take the photo, but noticed Don Quixote's fingers were gripping it tightly, refusing to let go.

He stood up and leaned in to look; the photo showed a little girl, about six or seven years old, dressed exquisitely and riding a pony, smiling brightly at the camera.

"I'm out of money, Li Wei. I really have no money left," Don Quixote closed his eyes in pain, "I haven't seen her in three months. I want to see her, hold her, talk to her, but lately... I haven't been living very decently. I often drive around her neighborhood, but I'm too afraid to stop the car to see her, and I don't even know if she's doing well."

Li Wei looked at the photo, then at the middle-aged man who was on the verge of a breakdown.

If he didn't help Don Quixote now, this man would likely collapse completely. Losing visitation rights would shatter his only pillar of support, leaving him with nothing but endless alcoholism, drugs, and eventually, a lonely death on the street.

Li Wei sat opposite Don Quixote, waiting quietly for a while.

"Why are you looking at me?" Don Quixote noticed Li Wei's gaze, "If you want to mock me, go ahead. I've been mocked enough by that woman..."

That wasn't it, Li Wei thought to himself, I was just waiting for a quest to trigger.

After a silence that felt like a century, he had to accept the reality—this event didn't seem to trigger a quest.

"How much money do you have now?" Li Wei asked, unwilling to give up, "How much of this 5,000 dollars are you still short?"

"Still short about 3,200," Don Quixote said, "Are you going to help me?"

Li Wei thought for a moment, went back to his cubicle, and then, to Don Quixote's utter disbelief, pulled out 4,000 dollars in scattered bills.

After thinking carefully, he took back 500 dollars and placed 3,500 dollars in front of Don Quixote.

"I think this should be enough," Li Wei said, "Go, see your daughter while you're at it. Use the remaining 300 dollars to buy some nice clothes, take a shower, and take her out for a good meal."

"But... where did you get so much money?" Don Quixote stared at the pile of cash on the table, dumbfounded, "Did you join a Chinese gang? Can you introduce your dear uncle?"

"The rich people in the Upper East Side are very generous with tips. You clean yourself up, maybe get some plastic surgery," Li Wei said, "I suggest you go sell your ass."

"Really?" Don Quixote said excitedly, "Can I really sell it at my age?"

Li Wei gave Don Quixote, who was laughing heartily, a fierce middle finger.

"Thank you, kid," Don Quixote suddenly looked radiant, "When I get rid of that awful woman, get custody, and make my comeback, I will definitely repay you."

"You've already said that once," Li Wei said flatly, "Last night."

"Last night?" Don Quixote asked, puzzled, "Did I say that?"