That alarm clock? Straight-up menace. It didn't just buzz—nah, it shrieked like a mosquito in your ear, except this mosquito had the audacity to leap off the nightstand and face-plant on the floor. Classic Monday disrespect. Li Wei, wrapped up like a sad burrito, groaned and basically tried to fold himself into his thin blanket. If hiding from real life was an Olympic sport, he'd be snatching gold medals every morning.
But, you know, real life—especially the parental kind—has no snooze button. His bed groaned under his weight, making its own opinion very clear: Get up, or we're both suffering. Li Wei half-heartedly reached an arm out, hunting for that runaway clock, but, nah, gave up after a second. Turns out motivation doesn't sprout pre-breakfast.
Cue the Mom Siren: "Li Wei!" She was down in the kitchen, voice slicing through dreams like a chef through overcooked noodles—just this mix of anxiety and "I can't believe I have to say this again…" If you've ever met an Asian mom, you know, nobody delivers a guilt trip quite like that. "You think time waits for you? Crawl outta bed or you'll be late again!" That familiar blend of threat and affection, all in Dolby surround sound.
Li Wei winced. He finally peeled himself upright like a day-old sticker on glass, sunlight barely making it through the cracks in that janky window. The room? Aw, man. You've seen bigger closets. His whole kingdom was basically a desk loaded with textbooks, doodle-stained paper everywhere, a relic of a basketball poster that looked ready to file for early retirement any day now.
"Just five minutes, ma!" he shouted, voice thick from sleep. Dream on, kid.
"Five minutes? That's about how long it'll take me to chuck this pot your way!" She punctuated her words with a metallic symphony—clanging pans, all business.
In theory, he could win this standoff. In reality, his mom played the long game. He shuffled out to the bathroom. Cold water in the face—instant reboot, like nature's slap. His reflection? Not exactly confidence inspiring: that half-smile of a guy who knows he's late and, honestly, can't bring himself to care as much as he should. That cracked mirror didn't lie.
Back in the kitchen, she was standing with her faded apron, hair twisted up, practically radiating the smell of love and congee. Don't underestimate congee. It's healing, embarrassing, and delicious all at once. Li Wei scarfed it down so fast you'd think he was training for a noodle-eating contest.
And like clockwork, the dad subject dropped—her favorite card to play in the Parental Worry Poker. "You're gonna end up floating through life just like your father if you keep this up." There was always this dance: Her worry, his pushback, dad's shadow over everything. The dude was long gone, left behind a weird collection of keepsakes and confusion.
Li Wei, mouth half-full, tried to jab back. "I'm not him. I'll be fine, seriously." He said it, but he could feel her doubt, probably because it matched the sliver of doubt he kept hidden away. Sometimes it stung, sometimes it just made him want to run. Other mornings, like now, he just made a face and tried to look brave.
His mom shook her head with the world-weary sigh of someone who's watched way too many second chances get wasted. "Fine, huh? Tell that to your future when you're working two jobs and still can't buy a decent pair of sneakers…" She kept talking but her eyes softened, just for a second. "Study hard, that's all I ask. I don't want to see you laughed at forever."
That one always got to him. He hated how right she was.
But come on, vulnerability isn't cool. Li Wei grinned, crooked and lopsided. "Hey, I'm fast with words, if not my feet. Maybe I'll talk my way into free lunches and good grades."
"Smart mouth won't fill your stomach!" She said it, but he caught the tiny smile at the edge of her lips.
"Bet I could negotiate my way to dinner, at least." He jammed his feet into battered sneakers, shoes so old the laces barely had the decency to stay tied. "Don't hold your breath for any glory. See ya later!"
He bolted before she could add another line to the morning lecture.
Now, the outside world—yeah, the alleys weren't pretty but they were his. Cracked bricks and people shouting good mornings across laundry lines. He dodged a stray cat (pretty sure that cat was plotting against him) and nearly tripped over a vendor's bucket. Street was alive with breakfast smells—soy milk, fried dough, everything he loved and wished he had more pocket change for.
"Li Wei, late again?" Uncle Hu, king of the corner shop, tossed him crap with a grin.
Li Wei flashed a peace sign. "Uncle, running is character building! Can't be lazy, right?" Inside joke, since that's exactly what Uncle accused him of every day.
This is where it hit Li Wei, every single morning: Sure, home was cramped and a little rough around the edges, but it had character. Yeah, there were stains on the walls and everyone knew his business, but that's what made it real. The place knew him, flaws and all.
He skirted by a group of kids in crisp uniforms when he reached school territory. His shirt? Yeah, it was clean, but about as wrinkled as his social life. He loosened his beat-up tie and gave his hair a half-hearted pat down. Kids gave him those patented rich kid glances—so polite you'd almost miss the sneer behind it. If you grew up broke, you know that look.
But hey, it takes more than a mean stare to break Li Wei. He shot them a grin like he was in on the joke and let his mind drift a little—thinking about his mom, his dad, all the ways he refused to let history repeat itself. Sure, he messed up, but quitting was not on the menu.
And just like that, with a mental drumroll, he sprinted those last few meters to the school gate. Place looked like a castle if you squinted, or a battlefield if you knew what was up. Either way, Li Wei was ready—ready to take on another round, ready to see if maybe today's the day something goes right.
So yeah, life wasn't really handing out second chances here, but Li Wei? He was gonna make his own.