Li Wei barreled up to the crosswalk and just about wiped out right into a hot dumpling cart, wheels screeching and vendor howling a string of colorful insults—inventive ones, honestly, a nice bit of morning entertainment. Dude waved his ladle like he was gonna declare war. Li Wei just shot him that big crooked grin—classic—then juked sideways between cars with half a prayer and two working shoelaces. Honestly, his heart had been slamming even before the accidental stunt show. He was always running these days, but today he felt it more, like something waiting around the next corner.
Over by a battered telephone pole (probably older than either of them), Zhang Jie held court, lounging like he owned the sidewalk and biting into a bao with so much gusto you'd think it was a rare steak. His hair looked like he'd used static electricity for styling gel, his school shirt trailing untucked and rebellious. Kid spotted Li Wei and put on this whole welcome-home-from-the-army routine, waving his bun like a victory flag.
"Li Wei! Late again, you degenerate?" Zhang Jie managed, absolutely garbling it because half the bun was still crammed in his mouth. Looked adorable, in a very rodent-mascot sort of way.
Li Wei jogged his last few steps, nearly doubling over for breath but not about to let his best friend see him sweat. "Morning, Jie. Don't even start, man. You should check your own watch."
Zhang Jie puffed out his cheeks like, what, you wanna fight me on punctuality now? "Bro, I was waiting for your sorry butt. If I walk in solo, teachers pounce—skip class blame, you know how it is. But if I stroll in with you? Suddenly it's all about loyalty. That's branding, my dude. Remember the name Zhang Jie when you're loaded and the whole city's chanting for you."
Li Wei laughed, the kind that snags in your throat and pulls your whole face up. "Me, famous? What's my superpower? Free shoes?"
Zhang smirked and elbowed him, wriggling his eyebrows like he was plotting something diabolical. "Basketball legend, maybe. Or gold-digging specialist—gonna marry rich, have people serve you grapes on a platter. Don't forget your roots, yeah? Sometimes geniuses come from shady alleys."
Li Wei fired back, "Don't worry, I'll hire you as my professional shoe shiner. Exposure only, no wages."
And that's the thing with these two—they laughed loud and easy, like nothing could crack their bubble, at least not before the first bell. Still, Li Wei could see the faith in Zhang's eyes, peeking out between all the silliness. Even a joke's got truth mixed in, or whatever grown-ups say.
Suddenly they're off, arguments ping-ponging around. Latest school gossip, the so-called new teacher (rumor said she'd make prison wardens cry), and Zhang Jie's delusions of being voted class monitor—him, charming all the girls and bribing the guys with snack money. Honestly, the kid should go into politics.
"Yeah, right," Li Wei interrupts, dry. "You charm teachers into doubling your detention, that's all you're angling for."
Closer to school, though, reality sets in. That knot near your stomach—tight. A cluster of students parks itself in front of the gate, all spiffy uniforms and shoes reflecting sunlight so sharp it could blind a god. There, right in the middle—Chen Guang. Tall, smug, and leading his flunkies like an emperor at roll call, flanked by hyenas.
Li Wei mutters for Zhang's ears only, "Seriously? Can't get one normal day?"
Chen Guang zeroes in. He's got that predator vibe, like a housecat who thinks he's a lion. "Hey, neighborhood stray! Didn't realize today was bring-your-pet-to-school day."
Zhang Jie bristles, but he doesn't budge; Li Wei just grinds forward, sneakers singing on the pavement, face set. When he finally answers, every word is dipped in sarcasm. "Morning, Young Master Chen. You counting pebbles again out front or you waiting for your butler to bring the chariot?"
Snickers ripple through the crowd, some surprised, some just happy to see Chen get dunked on. Chen's eyes scan Li Wei, itching for weaknesses. Scuffs on shoes. Wrinkles in the shirt. Poverty as a punch line—predictable, but still stings.
"You honestly still wearing those?" Chen says, voice all velvet and vinegar. "Your mom give you pocket change, or do you panhandle in the alleyway after school?"
Yeah, that hurt. Li Wei pretends it's nothing, though. He tips his chin up, soft voice sharpened to a blade. "Hey, at least my two feet get me places, even if I gotta earn every step. Some people need their old man's wallet just to cross the street. Watch your step, Chen, or you'll trip on all that family pride."
That lands—oof, even the air shifts. Laughter, whispers, maybe a low whistle. Zhang Jie slaps a hand over his mouth, bug-eyed: Did my boy really just say that?
For a hot second, Chen's got fire in his eyes. Like he might swing, except there's teachers lurking, so instead he just spits, "Enjoy your little jokes, Li Wei. Won't save you forever."
Li Wei shrugs it off, breezing past. "I'll save some jokes for you. Wouldn't want you feeling left out."
They melt into the main courtyard, heads up—it's survival but not the world-ending kind. Students buzz behind them, muttering, half in awe, half in terror. For Li Wei, this is the daily grind: not fists, exactly. Just wit, guts, and stubborn pride.
Once inside, Zhang Jie finally lets out his breath—loud, dramatic. "Bro, you trying to get us kicked out or just roughed up? Chen Guang's gonna snap one of these days. I don't want my obituary to read sidekick dies bravely."
Li Wei grins, nerves still jittery. "Better to go out laughing than kneeling, right?"
Zhang groans, but his eyes kind of sparkle. "Your big mouth is writing checks I hope you can cash. 'Cause when the drama hits, I'm gone. Ninja vanish."
Li Wei throws an arm around him, squeezes his shoulder. "No faith. I'll drag your sorry butt through whatever comes, even if you're screaming all the way. That's my promise."
And seriously, there's something golden in that moment. The world outside might be rough and unforgiving, but in this little bubble of talk and laughter and ragged sneakers, nothing can touch them yet. They head into the day together, clueless about the chaos the universe probably has lined up for them—good or bad—but at least they're facing it side-by-side. That's real friendship for you. The messy, weird, indestructible kind.