Jose looked at the wad of bills stuffed into his hand. His lips trembled for a moment, but he eventually took the money with some hesitation.
"Thanks," he said solemnly. "This money... I'll find a way to pay you back."
"What, were you planning on skipping out on the debt?" Don Quixote let out a drunken hiccup and prompted him to raise his glass. "You owe me money now," he teased. "You'd better live long enough to pay me back."
The two raised their glasses and clinked them together.
As night fell and the bar began to fill up, Don Quixote and the others called it a night.
"Fuck, even before I lost my job, I thought this whole tipping thing was so stupid."
On the way back, Don Quixote rambled on and on, ranting to Li Wei about the tipping culture in the United States of America.
"Did you see that waiter's attitude!" he babbled on. "Fuck! He had a sour look on his face the whole time he was bringing us our drinks and snacks, and then when it was time to pay, he asks for a minimum 20% tip!"
"Eighth Avenue is still better," he said, grinding his teeth. "I know a Chinese-owned bar that doesn't take tips. The prices are a little higher than here, but when you look at it this way, it's actually a better deal to just go to Eighth Avenue."
Li Wei wanted to laugh just thinking about it.
This bar's drinks were cheap, but its tips were in the highest bracket in New York.
When it was time to pay, the machine only gave three tip options: 20%, 22%, and 25%. No matter how much Don Quixote argued his case, in the end, he could only pay the 20% tip with great anguish.
Adding the 8.75% tax, the bill that was originally just over 200 USD before tax ended up costing Don Quixote 265 USD before they would let him leave.
If Don Quixote hadn't just received a month's salary in advance from Susan, he probably wouldn't have even been able to afford the drinks.
Li Wei patted Don Quixote's shoulder comfortingly. "Relax. You'll be starting a whole new life tomorrow, won't you?"
Thinking of this, Don Quixote slapped his forehead, only just now realizing. "Oh, right! We were supposed to move this afternoon!"
But everything was already packed, so the two of them had no choice but to go back, open up the cardboard boxes, and take out their toiletries and sleeping things again to make do for one more night.
At 8:00 AM the next day, Li Wei and Don Quixote moved their things out of the basement and onto the roadside to wait for the moving company's truck.
Instead of using U-Haul, the moving company you see everywhere in New York, Don Quixote, being a local who knew his way around, found a cheaper and more convenient Chinese moving company.
The movers helped the two of them load their few belongings onto the truck. Then, Don Quixote started up his beat-up Toyota that looked like it was about to fall apart, and they drove all the way from Eighth Avenue to Bay Ridge.
When they arrived in Bay Ridge, Li Wei felt that everything there was a clear step up from Eighth Avenue.
Compared to Eighth Avenue, which felt more like a labor plaza, Bay Ridge was more like a community that fit his perception of the United States of America—although it was still a far cry from a true middle-class neighborhood.
But at least the sounds and smells here were much better than on Eighth Avenue. There were noticeably fewer car horns, and the non-stop, round-the-clock clamor of Eighth Avenue was greatly reduced.
Even though it was closer to the sea, Bay Ridge didn't have the fishy smell of seafood or the stench of mystery garbage that Eighth Avenue had.
The moving truck finally stopped in front of an unremarkable two-story building made of reddish-brown brick.
"This is really nice," Li Wei said casually as he got out of the Toyota's passenger seat. "Your boss is really good to you."
"Right?" Don Quixote scratched his head. "I was also wondering why she would rent this place to me. She said that after converting it from a three-bedroom to a two-bedroom, it was actually harder to rent out. If she priced it high, no one was interested, and she didn't want to rent it out for cheap, so she might as well rent it to us."
"Hmm," Li Wei didn't say much more, nonchalantly carrying a large suitcase in one hand as he walked through the door. "Indeed."
The living room alone was much more spacious than their basement apartment. There wasn't much furniture, but all the basic necessities were there. It even had a sofa.
In the United States of America, 90% of long-term rentals don't come with beds, sofas, or tables and chairs. Some places don't even provide ceiling lights, just the sockets, forcing tenants to buy and install their own lamps.
But the house Susan provided was clearly much more comfortable.
Light slanted in from the side of the living room, passing through the half-open blinds and cutting clear shadows across the wooden floor.
The floor wasn't new and it creaked slightly when stepped on, but this gave Li Wei a comforting sense of stability. The living room was rectangular, with a full row of windows along the street-facing side. Outside the windows were neatly trimmed roadside trees.
"At least we won't be looking at people's dress shoes from the window at night anymore," Li Wei said, turning his head to Don Quixote. "It should be pretty quiet here at night."
"So that's what you were thinking," Don Quixote said, walking in while carrying the box with his armor. "I thought you were peeking through that slit of a window every day trying to look up the skirts of women passing by."
"Fuck!" Li Wei flipped him the middle finger. "Don't project your own thoughts onto me."
Don Quixote roared with laughter.
Li Wei dragged two suitcases up to the second floor and took a quick look at the layout.
Originally, the house should have had one master bedroom on the first floor and two smaller secondary bedrooms on the second.
But after Susan took over, she knocked down the wall between the two secondary bedrooms, combining them into one large bedroom no smaller than the master on the first floor. Next to it was the second-floor bathroom.
"Perfect, now I won't have to listen to you snore at night," Li Wei said to Don Quixote after going down to the basement. "Are you taking the first floor or the second?"
Don Quixote's eyes were lit up, staring at the washer and dryer against the basement wall. Now they would finally be free from having to use the laundromat.
"I'll take the first floor," he said after a moment's thought. "Let my knees live a few more years."
The house also came with a small garden out the back door.
Pushing the door open, a draft blew through. The garden wasn't large. The ground was paved with flagstones, and a few untidy bushes grew along the edges. Although no one had meticulously cared for it, it hadn't been completely neglected either.
The movers brought in the last few pieces of luggage, and the house fell quiet.
But their work wasn't over yet. Don Quixote hadn't lived in a normal house for several years. It took him a while to realize that the house didn't even have any toilet paper.
He and Li Wei went to a nearby supermarket and bought daily necessities like trash bags, paper towels, and laundry detergent. On the way back, they also picked up two boxes of pizza from Papa John's.
After dinner, Li Wei took a shower in the old but clean second-floor bathroom, then threw himself onto the bed in his room and rolled around comfortably.
Even though it was only a little past 9:00 PM, Li Wei could already faintly hear that Don Quixote was fast asleep.
A faint snoring sound penetrated the first-floor ceiling, but it was more than 50 decibels quieter than back in the basement.
Li Wei's high physique and high Spirit meant he didn't need that much sleep. He sat down at the desk in his bedroom, pulled up a Russian conversation video, and began studying it carefully.
Until—
A rustling sound came from downstairs.
Li Wei paused the video on his phone and pricked up his ears to listen.
It was the sound of Don Quixote putting on his armor.