I'll Introduce You to a Job Selling Your Ass

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" Li Wei shot back. "If you can get in, why not?"

Don Quixote dug another crumpled pack of cigarettes out of his paint-splattered, filthy jacket, lit one, and slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"Actually... I still want to tell you to be realistic."

For a moment, Li Wei noticed that the tension seemed to drain out of him.

"I've seen you going to the gym lately, and every day you're poring over those AP Class books," Don Quixote said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I've been watching you for days."

"The Ivy League, especially Yale, isn't somewhere just anyone can get into," he said. "Even if you get the scores, so what? What good will that do? You think taking a few more AP exams will get you in? Or that a high SAT score will?"

"Hic... You're wrong." He waved a hand. "Completely wrong. Dead wrong."

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

Don Quixote had been living a miserable life, but Li Wei had always seen some hope in him. He seemed to keep fighting to survive, always chasing after something.

But now, he looked as if someone had pulled out his spine. He was utterly dejected, slumped on the sofa and drowning himself in alcohol and cigarettes.

"Are you high?" Li Wei asked. "TikTok says at least half of semi-homeless people like you end up with drug addictions."

"What does Yale want? People who can casually donate a building to the university, save white rhinos on the African savanna, and care about some bullshit like carbon dioxide emissions," Don Quixote rambled on. "And even if you get into the Ivy League, so what? When you're young, you think your potential is limitless. But who knows how your future will turn out?"

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

That left Li Wei stunned.

The University of Chicago's standing in economics was like Jerusalem's to the faithful. The Chicago School of Economics had produced more than thirty Nobel laureates in economics.

And this man in front of him?

"You don't believe me?" Don Quixote gave a self-mocking laugh. "Ha! Even you think it's a joke, huh?"

He took a deep drag, then choked on the smoke and started coughing violently, as if he were about to cough up a lung.

"That's right, kid. That's the first thing I'm telling you from the bottom of my heart! In this fucked-up world, even if you graduate from a top school, all it takes is one wrong step, a little bad luck, or an ex-wife determined to bleed you dry... and you'll end up living like a rat in this goddamn sewer."

Don Quixote ground out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"So," Li Wei said quietly, "this is about your ex-wife?"

Don Quixote didn't answer.

"What did your ex-wife message you about this time?" Li Wei asked. "What's got you whining like a dead dog?"

Don Quixote jerked his head up. A flash of embarrassed anger crossed his cloudy eyes, only to be swallowed by a deep sense of helplessness. He pulled a subpoena from his pocket, crumpled in a ball, and tossed it onto the coffee table.

"Lily wants to go to an equestrian summer camp. The tuition is five thousand dollars," Li Wei read aloud, picking up the paper. "If you can't pay, you'll lose your visitation rights?!"

"Damn," he said, waving the subpoena. "I can understand child support, but you have to pay for extracurricular activities too?"

"America's goddamn standard-of-living rule says that even after a divorce, a child's quality of life can't be allowed to decline." Don Quixote picked up his drink and took another swig. "Honestly, if it weren't for my daughter, I'd probably have overdosed in some basement by now."

"Five thousand dollars..."

He muttered to himself.

"You've never mentioned this cousin of mine before," Li Wei said, raising an eyebrow. "Tell me about her?"

"Of course. Her name's Lily." Don Quixote picked up the bottle and took another swig. "She's like—no, she is an angel."

As he spoke her name, Don Quixote's face, twisted by alcohol and despair, took on an expression that could only be described as "holy."

He took a small photograph from his wallet. It was carefully protected in a plastic sleeve, and he handed it to Li Wei.

Li Wei tried to take the photo, but Don Quixote's fingers clamped down on it, refusing to let go.

He stood and leaned over for a look. The picture showed a little girl, around six or seven, dressed in fine clothes and riding a pony, smiling brightly at the camera.

"I'm out of money, Li Wei. I really am." Don Quixote squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "I haven't seen her in three months. I want to see her, hold her, talk to her, but lately... I'm in no shape to show my face. I often drive around near her house, but I just can't bring myself to stop and go see her. I don't even know how she's doing."

Li Wei looked at the photo, then at the middle-aged man on the verge of breaking down before him.

If he did nothing for Don Quixote now, the man would probably fall apart completely. Losing visitation rights would destroy his only emotional support. Then there'd be endless drinking, drugs, and, in the end, a lonely death on the street.

Li Wei sat across from Don Quixote and waited quietly for a while.

"Why are you looking at me?" Don Quixote noticed Li Wei's gaze. "Go ahead and laugh. That woman's laughed at me enough already..."

That's not it, Li Wei thought. I'm just waiting for a quest to trigger.

After what felt like a century of silence, he had to accept reality: this event didn't seem to trigger a quest.

"How much money do you have right now?" Li Wei asked, unwilling to give up. "How much are you short of the five thousand?"

"More than thirty-two hundred," Don Quixote said. "You're going to help me?"

Li Wei thought it over, went back to his cubicle, then returned with four thousand dollars in assorted bills, leaving Don Quixote staring at him in disbelief.

After considering it carefully, he took five hundred back and set the remaining three thousand five hundred in front of Don Quixote.

"I think this should be enough," Li Wei said. "Go on. And see your daughter while you're at it. Use the remaining three hundred to get some decent clothes, take a shower, and treat her to a nice meal."

"But... where did you get all that money?" Don Quixote gaped at the cash spread across the table. "Did you join a Chinese gang? Can you introduce your dear uncle?"

"Rich people on the Upper East Side are generous with their tips. Clean yourself up, get some plastic surgery, and I'll introduce you to a job selling your ass," Li Wei said.

"Really?" Don Quixote asked excitedly. "Can a guy my age really sell himself?"

Li Wei gave Don Quixote, who was laughing uproariously, the middle finger.

"Thanks, kid." Don Quixote suddenly looked full of life. "Once I get rid of that bitch, win custody, and get back on my feet, I'll pay you back."

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

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