Li Wei slept on an empty stomach that night, curled up on the rough floor of the small house. His ribs showed faintly under his thin shirt, each breath shallow and quiet. The ache in his belly twisted and turned, but worse than the hunger was the heavy emptiness in his heart.
Earlier that day, Mr. Huang had given him a suspension from the docks. Too slow, too weak, too distracted, the man had said. Now, Li Wei had no steady work, no place to return to with even a handful of coins.
He tried not to think too hard. Thinking only deepened the pain. So instead, he lay still and let the darkness wash over him, drifting into sleep like a man falling into a cold river.
At dawn, he woke up with only water to quiet the gnawing hunger clawing at his insides. He drank slowly, trying to trick his body into feeling full. Then he stood up, shoulders heavy, eyes dull but determined.
"Life is hard," he whispered to himself, almost like a prayer. "But surviving… surviving is winning."
He took the rusty can he had borrowed the day before and stepped out into the early morning streets. His legs felt weak, but he forced them to move, one foot in front of the other.
Li Wei knocked on doors, asking if he could collect rubbish or sweep courtyards. Some ignored him completely, others shoved him away. At one house, a man slapped him across the face, calling him worthless, a stray dog. The sting on his cheek felt hot, tears burned at the edge of his eyes — but he swallowed them down and kept moving.
With each rejection, his spirit frayed a little more, but he refused to stop. He kept repeating inside his mind: For Ma. For Ying.
By afternoon, the sun burned overhead. His shirt clung to his thin back, sweat dripping down his spine. His stomach howled, but he pushed on, scraping together small coins here and there.
Near dusk, he stumbled upon a pile of buns about to be thrown away. Without a second thought, he grabbed them, brushing the dirt off before shoving them into his mouth. They were dry and tough, but to him, they tasted like a feast.
When he finally counted what he'd earned that day, his heart thumped with a fragile kind of joy. It wasn't much, but it was more than he had dared to hope for. Enough to help Ma, enough to keep her medicine coming for one more day.
Before heading home, he used part of the money to buy three oranges. Bright, round, sweet ; treasures in his eyes.
On the way back, he found himself staring at the large, kind house where he once received food from.The thought struck him like a soft knock on his chest: Maybe they'd let me work there. Even if it's just cleaning, or collecting garbage. Even if it's just for food.
Reaching the clinic, he handed the money to the innkeeper with trembling hands. His mother's face looked different today ; there was more color in her cheeks, her eyes brighter. She could even speak clearer now, each word a small miracle.
"Li Wei… you… came back," she whispered, her voice weak but full of life.He nodded quickly, eyes shining. "Ma, I got you oranges. You'll like them."
For a few heartbeats, all his pain disappeared. The hunger, the blows, the harsh words ; all vanished in that single smile from his mother.
Back at home, he sat down quietly, cradling the last orange in his palms. He had already eaten some buns earlier, so he saved this orange like a small sun in his hands.As he peeled it slowly, he thought again of that big house, of tomorrow's chance.
"Tomorrow… I'll try," he murmured to himself, his voice nearly breaking. "Even if it's just for a scrap of food, I'll try."
Tonight, the orange felt warm against his skin, a soft promise that maybe ; just maybe–he could keep going a little longer.
And in that moment, with the orange in his hands and his mother's hopeful face still in his mind, Li Wei decided: as long as he could move, he would fight.No matter how hard the world tried to break him.
"Yh, Tomorrow I try my luck"....