「United States of America. New York. Kennedy Airport.」
When Li Wei, carrying all his worldly possessions, arrived in the United States of America to seek refuge with his distant uncle, Don Quixote, his otherwise gloomy heart felt a flicker of excitement.
Li Wei's parents had mentioned this brother to him many times before they passed away. Apparently, his conduct had been improper back in the day—he had squandered some money. But later, he claimed to have made a bit of a fortune and even tried to invite Li Wei's family to the United States for a get-together, though Li Wei's father had always refused.
Li Wei had never met this uncle, only hearing stories about him from his father. Now, his family had been struck by disaster. At seventeen, his parents were both dead, and he was saddled with a massive debt. If he stayed in his home country, he'd become a deadbeat for being unable to pay it back, and Li Wei didn't want that.
Fortunately, in accordance with the legal agreements between the two countries, the foreign affairs department had managed to contact this distant uncle of his in the United States of America.
Don Quixote. Li Wei mulled over the name as he carried his two suitcases. 'What a strange name.'
Suddenly, his phone rang. The SIM card had been arranged for him by a kind woman from the foreign affairs department back home.
"This is Don Quixote Cervantes," a raspy, hurried middle-aged man's voice said. The CLICK-CLACK of a car's turn signal could be heard in the background. "Listen, I'm not going into the parking garage. It's run by vampires. The parking fee is four USD an hour. Where are you now?"
It was a good thing Li Wei had grown up immersed in English, making it practically a second native language for him. Otherwise, he would have never been able to clearly understand what this uncle of his, Don Quixote Cervantes, was saying.
'Did he really make some money?' Li Wei couldn't help but feel skeptical. Why else would he be so agitated over a four-USD-an-hour parking fee?
"This is Li Wei," he said. "I just got through customs."
"Okay, go to Terminal 4, Area B, outside Gate 2. Call me when you're five minutes away," Don Quixote's voice was extremely rushed. "Don't call too early, you get me? I can't stop for long. The damn traffic cops are watching me."
The call ended. Li Wei stood there in a daze, wondering if he should use his credit to buy a plane ticket back home.
Ten minutes later, a dilapidated little car, its side skirts splattered with mud, pulled into a lane by the curb, nearly hitting a yellow taxi.
It took Li Wei a considerable effort to recognize the car as a once-white Toyota through the thick layers of grime and rust. The window rolled down, revealing a gaunt face with prominent cheekbones and a stubbled chin. Dark bags, born from chronic sleep deprivation, hung under his eyes.
"Get in!" His eyes darted around as if searching for a non-existent traffic cop. "Hurry up, don't dawdle."
With some effort, Li Wei heaved his two dead-heavy suitcases into the trunk, which was filled with dust and empty paint cans. He then pried open the passenger-side door and climbed in.
A reflective vest covered in paint spots and a half-empty Gatorade bottle were tossed on the passenger seat. Li Wei tossed them into the back with a look of disgust before he could sit down.
"WHINE!"
Don Quixote slammed his foot on the gas. The Toyota let out a pitiful cry. Instead of charging forward like a Knight's steed, it shuddered and slowly squeezed into the flow of traffic.
"Buckle up," he said, turning to Li Wei. "The passenger door lock is broken. It might pop open on a turn."
Li Wei instinctively raised a hand to grab the handle above his head.
"Li Wei, right?" Don Quixote said. "Listen, about your father... my half-brother, and your mother's passing... I'm sorry. He was a real smart guy, only to die in some ridiculous car accident... Heard you had to pay out a ton of money, too. Couldn't afford it, so you ran off to the United States?"
"I'll earn the money to pay back what I owe, and it's none of your business," Li Wei said with a frown. "This is my problem. I'll get a job and make money once I'm an adult."
'This is the uncle who Dad said had "made a bit of a fortune"?'
"But when he dumped you on me, he didn't exactly pack a million-USD check with you," Don Quixote sneered. "New York isn't like the Celestial Dynasty. Money can buy you anything here, but that also means you have to buy everything with money. So, how much cash you got on you?"
"About... 600 USD on my card," Li Wei said. "The rest is just my clothes and some daily necessities."
In truth, he had two cards. The other one had a full 6,000 USD on it, but he didn't mention it.
That amount was a drop in the bucket for paying off his debt, but for him right now, it was undoubtedly a life-saving sum for a critical moment.
But even 600 USD seemed to be a pleasant surprise for his uncle.
"600 bucks? Ha!" He slapped the steering wheel. "Alright, at least that's enough to cover this week's gas and my lost wages. Welcome to the United States of America! Kid."
Throughout the rambling drive, Li Wei didn't have to say a word. Don Quixote just naturally poured out his life story.
His story began with making a small fortune in business, then meeting his ex-wife ("A real, purebred bitch, wasn't she? That's women for you—they want to suck the very marrow from your bones"). After their divorce, his cash flow dried up and his business went under. He was forced to take a high-interest loan from the mob, all while having to pay his ex-wife 2,000 USD a month in alimony ("Damn American laws. Lets a pig lie around at home and still make 2,000 USD a month. If this was ten years ago, I'd have sold my ass in a heartbeat to make money.").