Chapter 109: Chapter 85: This Isn’t the Punishment I Had in Mind

Anya would remember this lesson for the rest of her life: never gorge yourself on fatty food and then down a huge, ice-cold milkshake after starving all day. The human stomach, it turns out, has its limits.

She could feel her stomach and throat lodging a serious protest.

So, at that critical moment, Anya forced herself to stop. She shot upright, using every ounce of her willpower to suppress the churning in her gut. Then, after flashing Li Wei a smile, she quickly pushed open the car door.

The cool breeze hit her as she stood by the car, and she felt a little better.

Unfortunately, the mood was already ruined.

’The end-scene music played in Anya’s head. Today’s whole production has been a complete disaster from start to finish, with an unsatisfactory beginning and an even worse end.’

"I... I’m tired," she said, lightly covering her mouth with her hand. "I’m going to head in now."

Li Wei watched, confused, as she ran up the steps. The doorman held the building’s main entrance open for her, and her figure vanished inside.

"I don’t think I have bad breath," he muttered as he started the car. "I really don’t get it..."

After getting out of the elevator, Anya watched Li Wei’s car disappear around a bend, obscured from view by a thick, manicured grove of trees. She sighed.

The ending to their date was nothing like the romantic scenes in the movies she loved. She hadn’t anticipated reality would be so... real. Embarrassingly so.

Even if things couldn’t be as perfect as they were in the movies, real life should at least feel *good*.

"Good evening, Miss Anya," Auntie Kaja said. She had the air of someone who had been waiting for a long time, though her immaculate attire suggested otherwise. "Is the interview over?"

"Yes," Anya mumbled sullenly, heading straight for her room. "I don’t think I have a chance with early admission. I’ll just wait for the regular application deadline in March."

Her stomach seemed to hurt even more now. Back in her room, she dug out two painkillers, twisted open a bottle of water to wash them down, and then threw herself onto her large bed, staring up at the chandelier.

’Today was so unbelievably embarrassing,’ she thought. ’This whole act was a complete flop.’

...

"It went pretty well," Li Wei said. "I think she’s into me. I mean—not in that direct way Americans are, but more... subtle? I can’t really tell, though."

"Who’s asking about that?" Don Quixote said. "I meant, how did the interview go today?"

"Oh, that," Li Wei said, scratching the back of his head. "They ran some tests on my stats, and I guess I got lucky. I tied an NFL record. Then he said I could start picking my major now."

Don Quixote took a deep breath. He felt a dull ache in his chest.

When he’d applied to the University of Chicago for economics, he’d had a 1570+ SAT score and had taken thirteen AP courses. And here was Li Wei, who had only been playing football for two months, and Yale University was already rolling out the red carpet for him, letting him choose any major he wanted.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t accept Li Wei was a genius. It was the feeling of helplessness that came from seeing his own hard-won achievements casually crushed by someone else.

"So, what major do you think I should pick?" Li Wei asked, completely oblivious, twisting the knife. "Finance or law? Which one is better for my future? And for making connections."

But looking at Li Wei’s exceptionally young face, Don Quixote also felt a surge of pride. After all, this was his own flesh and blood, and he had watched him grow up.

"Go with finance," he said irritably. "Being a judge or a lawyer won’t be much help to you. But at least finance will teach you to respect the market. So when you’re making the big bucks, you’ll know how to manage your money and allocate your assets properly, instead of getting ripped off by some financial advisor."

Li Wei thought about it for a moment, then nodded.

"Oh, right," Don Quixote said, as if suddenly remembering something. "Don’t you have a classmate named Michael? I think he lives in that building too."

"Yeah. How’s he doing?" Li Wei asked. "I know he has a younger brother who’s on drugs and in a gang."

"Their lease is up in a month," Don Quixote said, shaking his head. "What else is there to say? The father’s long gone, and it’s a single Black mother raising the kids on her own."

"When I was chatting with his mother, I found out her older son also goes to Franklin High School and is in the 12th-grade AP classes, so I figured you might know each other," he said. "I didn’t raise their rent this month. Call it a favor to you."

"Their family situation seems really complicated..."

Li Wei gave Don Quixote a rough outline of Michael’s situation, including his plan to send his brother to rehab.

"Honestly, that’s a bit naive," Don Quixote sighed. "Putting aside the cost of a private rehab facility, is his brother even willing to go?"

"Probably not," Li Wei said after a moment’s thought. "It’s not easy to leave once you’ve joined a gang."

"Bingo," Don Quixote said with a snap of his fingers. "And if I’m not mistaken, his little brother was probably recruited specifically to be a dealer, selling drugs inside the school."

"Think about it," he sneered. "Franklin High School has thousands of students. Even if only five percent of them use drugs, that’s still hundreds of regular customers. With a business that big, do you really think those gangs will just let Michael take his brother to rehab?"