The moment LiWei stepped into the house, the familiar scent of stir-fried greens and soy filled his lungs, wrapping around him like a welcome-home hug. The door clicked shut behind him with a soft thud, but it was loud enough.
His mother peeked from the kitchen doorway, still wearing her apron, a bit of flour dusting the side of her cheek. "LiWei?" she called, worried, tightening her voice like a thread stretched too far.
"Mom," he replied, forcing a casual tone, but he already knew—he was in for questioning.
His father appeared from the living room, a newspaper still in hand, glasses pushed up on his forehead. "Where are you coming from at this time?" His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made LiWei stop halfway through kicking off his sneakers.
LiWei scratched the back of his neck and smiled awkwardly. "Ah... I went to Tao's place. We played some games. You know, the new one came out.
His mother narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. "You sure? You don't sound like you're telling the full truth. You've been acting differently these days, LiWei. Quiet. And now coming back late?"
"I swear," LiWei raised both hands, laughing gently. "It's Tao. You can call him and ask."
His father studied him for a long beat. The silence stretched, taut and loaded.
Then, LiWei took a breath. It was time.
"I actually wanted to tell you something," he said, stepping forward into the warmth of their small living room, the kind of warmth that made him feel safe enough to be vulnerable. "I saw a job today."
His mother blinked. "A job? What kind of job?"
"You don't need to worry," he said quickly, then looked at both of them. His voice softened. "I just… I want you both to rest more. You've been working so hard, carrying everything on your shoulders. I see you, every day. Even if I don't always say it."
His mother's eyes shimmered.
"I just want to help out, you know?" LiWei said quietly, folding his arms, the lump in his throat threatening to rise. "I'm not a kid anymore."
A beat of silence passed.
His father slowly lowered himself onto the couch, the paper now forgotten. His mother came forward and held his arm gently.
"You're our only son," she whispered. "We don't mind working for you. Just… don't do anything reckless."
"I won't," he promised, voice steady.
They had dinner a little while after that, seated around the worn wooden table they'd shared every night for as long as LiWei could remember. The clink of chopsticks, the gentle hum of the electric fan, the homey smell of braised pork belly and tofu—it all felt grounding, normal.
But the air still held a question.
"So," his father finally asked, sipping his soup, "what kind of job did you find?"
His mother's eyes darted to him, nervous.
LiWei paused, chewing slowly before answering.
"It's just teaching," he said, setting down his chopsticks. "English and basketball."
"Teaching?" His father raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," LiWei said. "To a younger girl. She's the sister of someone I… met recently. She needs help with her language and she wants to learn basketball."
His parents exchanged a glance.
"She's just a fan," LiWei added quickly. "And her sister wanted someone trustworthy."
There was another pause.
Then his mother finally smiled. "That's okay, then. But be careful."
His father gave a slow nod. "Don't get involved in something bigger than you understand."
"Promise," LiWei said.
After dinner, he helped wash the dishes. The suds felt warm on his fingers, the rhythm of the plates and cups a calming routine. But in the back of his mind, something else stirred. That odd, almost itching sensation he'd been feeling in his body lately—like energy crawling beneath his skin. It wasn't painful. Just… strange. And growing.
The next morning came with the scent of fresh soy milk and fried dough. He grabbed his backpack, kissed his mom on the cheek, and headed to school.
The walk was uneventful, but something in the air felt off. Like the city was holding its breath. He chalked it up to the weather.
Until he stepped into class.
His steps halted immediately.
There, slouched arrogantly in his seat, was the last person he ever expected to see again—the thug who'd been harassing Ms. Liang.
The same guy he'd humiliated in front of half the school. Xiang Zhiwei
Bruises still colored his jaw faintly, though most had healed. But that smirk—the one that dripped arrogance and poison—was firmly in place.
Their eyes met.
The guy leaned back, resting one ankle on his knee, arms crossed.
"Well, well," he said, loud enough for others to hear. "Look who decided to show up."
Some students glanced up, sensing tension. Others froze, remembering the rumors.
LiWei felt his fingers twitch.
What the hell is he doing here?
"This is my seat," LiWei said calmly.
The thug clicked his tongue. "Assigned seating? Didn't know we were in kindergarten."
The class was unusually quiet. Even the ones who normally joked around were watching.
LiWei took a breath.
He could feel the heat again—that low hum in his chest. But he kept his face calm.
"I'm not here to argue," he said. "Get out of my seat."
The guy laughed under his breath and stood up slowly, eyeing LiWei from head to toe.
"Relax, Captain," he said mockingly. "Just wanted to say hi. Friends, yeah?"
He brushed past LiWei, bumping his shoulder slightly, and sauntered over to the next empty chair.
LiWei didn't respond. He just slid into his seat, setting down his bag.
But inside, his mind was racing.
Why is he here?
Who let him into this class?
And most importantly…
What does he want now?
As the morning bell rang and the teacher walked in, LiWei forced himself to stay focused. But he knew this was only the beginning.
Something wasn't right.
And this time, it wasn't just the weird dreams or growing strength….