"Yeah, what else?" Li Wei shot back. "If I can get in, why wouldn't I go?"
Don Quixote pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his grimy, paint-splattered jacket, lit one for himself, and slowly exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Honestly... I still think you should be more realistic."
For a fleeting moment, Li Wei noticed that the fight seemed to have gone out of him.
"I've seen you going to the gym lately, and poring over those AP class books every day," Don Quixote said, exhaling another cloud of smoke. "I've been watching you for a few days now."
"The Ivy League, especially Yale, isn't a place just anyone can go," he said. "Even if you test well, it's useless. What good will it do? You think acing a few more AP tests will get you in? Or a high SAT score?"
"Hic... you're wrong," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Dead wrong. Completely and utterly wrong."
Li Wei suddenly felt that something was off about Don Quixote today.
Before, even though Don Quixote's life was miserable, Li Wei could still see a glimmer of hope in him—a will to survive, a sense that he was still chasing something.
But now, it was as if his spine had been ripped out. He looked completely defeated, slumped on the sofa, trying to drown himself in alcohol and nicotine.
"Are you high or something?" Li Wei asked. "I saw on TikTok that at least half of you semi-homeless guys are addicted to drugs."
"What kind of people does Yale want? The kind who can donate a building to the school on a whim, save white rhinos on the plains of Africa, or care about some bullshit carbon emissions," Don Quixote said, talking more to himself. "And even if you get into the Ivy League, so what? When you're young, you think your potential is limitless, but who the hell knows what your future will really look like?"
He pointed at himself. "Look at me, Li Wei. Do I look like a graduate of the University of Chicago Department of Economics?"
That floored Li Wei.
The University of Chicago's standing in the field of economics was like Jerusalem to a believer. The "Chicago School" that originated there had produced over thirty Nobel laureates in economics.
And this man before him?
"You don't believe me?" Don Quixote let out a self-deprecating laugh. "HA! Even you think it's a joke, right?"
He took a harsh drag from his cigarette, and the smoke choked him, sending him into a violent coughing fit as if he were trying to hack up a lung.
"That's right, kid. This is the first real piece of advice I'm giving you, straight from the heart! In this fucked-up world, even if you graduate from a top university, all it takes is one wrong step, one little bit of bad luck, or an ex-wife determined to suck the marrow from your bones... and you'll end up living like a rat in a goddamn sewer."
Don Quixote viciously stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
"So," Li Wei said softly, "this is about your ex-wife?"
Don Quixote didn't answer.
"What did your ex-wife send you now?" Li Wei pressed. "Something that made you lie here moaning about the world like a kicked dog."
Don Quixote's head snapped up. A flash of shame and anger at being seen through flickered in his cloudy eyes, only to be swallowed by a profound sense of helplessness. He pulled a crumpled summons from his jacket and tossed it onto the coffee table.
"Lily needs to attend a horsemanship summer camp, tuition is 5,000 USD," Li Wei picked up the paper and read aloud softly. "Failure to pay will result in the loss of visitation rights?!"
"Jeez," he said, waving the summons. "Child support I get, but you have to pay for her extracurriculars, too."
"The United States of America's goddamn 'maintaining the standard of living' principle. Even after a divorce, the child's quality of life can't be lowered," Don Quixote said, taking another swig of alcohol. "Seriously, if it weren't for my daughter, I probably would have overdosed and died in some basement long ago."
"5,000 USD..."
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 is Lily," Don Quixote said, taking another pull from the bottle. "She's like—no, she *is* an angel."
As he spoke her name, a look that could almost be described as "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 held it out to Li Wei.
Li Wei reached for the photo, but found that Don Quixote's fingers were clamped tightly around it, refusing to let go.
He stood up and leaned in for a closer look. The photo showed a well-dressed little girl, about six or seven years old, riding a small pony and smiling brilliantly at the camera.
"I'm out of money, Li Wei. I'm really out of money," Don Quixote said, closing his eyes in anguish. "I haven't seen her in three months. I want to see her, to hold her, to talk to her, but lately... my life's not exactly presentable. I often drive around her neighborhood, but I can't bring myself to stop the car and see her. I don't even know if she's doing okay."
Li Wei looked at the photo, then back at the nearly broken middle-aged man before him.
If he didn't do something for Don Quixote now, the man would most likely fall apart completely. Losing his visitation rights would shatter his only pillar of support. All that would await him was endless drinking and drugs, until he ended up dead in an alley somewhere.
Li Wei sat down across from Don Quixote and waited quietly for a moment.
"What are you looking at me for?" Don Quixote noticed Li Wei's gaze. "If you want to laugh, go ahead. I've been laughed at more than enough by that woman..."
'That's not it,' Li Wei thought to himself. 'I'm just waiting for a quest to trigger.'
After a silence that seemed to stretch for an eternity, he was forced to accept a harsh reality—this event didn't seem to be triggering a quest.
"How much money do you have right now?" Li Wei asked, unwilling to give up. "How much of that 5,000 USD are you short?"
"I'm short a little over 3,200," Don Quixote said. "You're going to help me?"
Li Wei thought for a moment, then went back to his own cubicle. To Don Quixote's utter disbelief, he returned with a scattered pile of cash amounting to 4,000 USD.
Then, after a moment's consideration, he pulled back 500 USD and slapped 3,500 USD down in front of Don Quixote.
"I think this should be enough," Li Wei said. "Go. Go see your daughter. And use the extra 300 to get yourself some decent clothes, take a shower, and treat her to a nice meal."
"But... where did you get all this money?" Don Quixote stared, dumbfounded, at the pile of USD on the table. "Did you join a Chinese Gang? Think you could introduce your dear old uncle?"
"The rich folks on the Upper East Side are generous tippers. If you clean yourself up a bit, maybe get some plastic surgery," Li Wei said, "I can set you up as a male escort."
"Really?" Don Quixote said excitedly. "Do you think anyone would buy at my age?"
Li Wei shot a middle finger at the laughing Don Quixote.
"Thanks, kid," Don Quixote said, his face suddenly radiant. "When I get rid of that bitch, get custody, and make my comeback, I'll definitely pay you back."
"You already said that once," Li Wei said flatly. "Last night."
"Last night?" Don Quixote asked, confused. "Did I say that?"