Another Mail

Dragging himself back to his feet, he shuffled toward the door, cracking it open just enough to see a young mail courier standing there in a bright red uniform, a bored expression plastered on his face.

"Delivery for Zhao Wei," the courier announced, holding out a small stack of mail.

Zhao Wei sighed, taking the pile. "Thanks." He didn't bother waiting for a response before closing the door and heading back inside. Tossing the mail onto the tiny coffee table, he collapsed onto the couch again. He stared at the stack for a moment, debating whether to open them or just ignore them altogether. Eventually, he sighed and grabbed the first envelope. Might as well get it over with.

Just as he was about to tear it open, the familiar sound of yelling erupted from across the hall.

"Not again," Zhao muttered, clenching his jaw. He could barely make out what the argument was about this time—something about someone spending too much money—but it didn't matter. It was always the same: loud voices, slamming doors, and the occasional crash of something being thrown.

His patience snapped. Without thinking, he stormed over to the door, yanked it open, and shouted across the hallway, "CAN YOU JUST FUCKING SHUT IT!"

The sudden outburst worked better than expected. Silence fell instantly, and Zhao Wei stood there for a moment, caught off guard by how quickly they complied. He muttered a quieter, "Fuck," and closed the door again.

Returning to the couch, he opened the first envelope. His eyes scanned the paper, and he immediately groaned when he saw the words "Monthly Rent Due" printed in bold at the top.

Great.

Just what he needed—a reminder that he was broke and had bills piling up faster than he could count. Without a second thought, he crumpled the letter and tossed it onto the floor, already mentally preparing himself for another month of ramen and instant noodles.

He noticed there was still one envelope left. Unlike the others, this one didn't look like a bill. The paper was thicker, the envelope stamped with a logo he vaguely recognized. He frowned, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. Then he remembered—this was from Jinrong Corporation, one of the largest financial firms in Shanghai. He had applied there about a month ago, not expecting anything to come of it. The company was huge, prestigious, and notoriously selective. Zhao Wei had figured they would taken one look at his resume and tossed it straight into the trash.

His fingers hesitated over the seal. He had gotten so used to rejection letters that opening another one felt almost pointless. With a deep breath, he tore the envelope open and pulled out the neatly folded letter inside. His eyes skimmed over the first line.

"We are pleased to inform you…"

He stopped, blinked, then read the line again to make sure he hadn't misread it. No, it definitely said pleased to inform, not we regret to inform. His heart started pounding in his chest as he kept reading.

"…that after careful consideration, you have been selected for the position of Financial Analyst at Jinrong Corporation. Please find enclosed the details of your employment package…"

Zhao Wei stared at the letter, his mind struggling to process the words in front of him. He had actually gotten the job. After two years of endless rejections, someone had finally said yes. And not just any company—Jinrong Corporation. A job here wasn't just a job; it was a career. A way out of the cycle he had been stuck in for so long.

For a moment, he just sat there, stunned.

Then a wide grin slowly spread across his face. "Holy shit," he whispered, still not quite believing it. He stood up, pacing around the room as the reality of it sank in.

He had done it.

He had actually done it.

Grabbing the letter again, Zhao Wei scanned the rest of the details. The salary was better than he'd hoped for, and there were benefits—actual benefits. Health insurance, paid leave, the whole package. He was supposed to start in two weeks, and there was an orientation meeting scheduled at their headquarters downtown.

"Guess I won't have to live off instant noodles anymore," he muttered with a laugh.

Things were finally looking up. Sure, he had just gotten dumped, and he still had rent to worry about, but right now, none of that seemed to matter. He had a job—a real job, at a real company—and that was more than he'd had yesterday.

For a few minutes, Zhao Wei just sat there, rereading the letter, savoring every word like it was a gourmet meal after years of eating scraps.

He had gotten the job.

Him.

Zhao Wei, the guy who'd been tossed aside more times than he could count, was finally someone worth hiring. He laughed quietly to himself, the sound weirdly foreign in the empty apartment.

"Guess things aren't so shitty after all," he muttered, tossing the letter onto the coffee table.

It wasn't like he had anyone to call and share the news with. No family—not the kind who'd care, anyway—and no real friends left in the city. Most of them had either moved away or drifted apart over the years. It was just him now, and honestly, he was used to it. So, instead of calling someone to celebrate, he figured he would make do with what he had.

He walked over to the fridge, yanked it open, and stared at the near-empty shelves. There wasn't much in there—some leftovers he didn't even remember putting in, a half-empty bottle of soy sauce, and one lonely can of beer sitting on the bottom shelf. He grabbed the beer, popped the tab, and took a long swig. It was warm, stale, and probably the worst thing he had ever tasted, but right now, it might as well have been champagne.

"Cheers," he said to himself, raising the can slightly before finishing it off in one go. He let out a loud belch, grinning afterward. "Damn, that felt good."

Things were finally looking up. Sure, his life wasn't perfect—far from it—but at least now he had something to look forward to. He could finally get out of this dump of an apartment, maybe move somewhere nicer. Somewhere where the neighbors didn't argue every night, and the plumbing didn't sound like it was on its last legs.

Feeling lighter than he had in months, Zhao Wei grabbed his pack of cigarettes from the counter. He tapped one out, stuck it between his lips, and lit it with a flick of his lighter. He took a long drag, savoring the familiar burn as the smoke filled his lungs. This was his moment, his little slice of peace after two years of chaos.

Unfortunately, his sweet little moment didn't last long.

The smoke alarm went off, blaring loudly enough to make him jump. He cursed under his breath, waving his hand in front of the alarm in a futile attempt to make it stop. "Seriously? Again?"

He had forgotten about the damn thing. This wasn't the first time it had gone off because of his smoking, and it wouldn't be the last if he kept this habit up.

Groaning, he snatched the cigarette out of his mouth, stomped over to the window, and opened it wide. The cold morning air rushed in, carrying away the smoke, but the alarm kept ringing.

"Damn it," he muttered, glaring at the device like it had personally offended him.

After a few more seconds of ear-piercing noise, the alarm finally shut off, leaving behind an annoying ringing in his ears. Zhao Wei sighed, tossing the cigarette into the sink. He didn't want to deal with the hassle of setting off the alarm again, so he decided to head up to the roof to finish his smoke. It was quieter up there anyway, and he could use a bit of fresh air.

Grabbing his lighter and another cigarette, he made his way out of the apartment. The hallway was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the usual shouting matches from his neighbors. He half-expected someone to come out and complain about the noise he had caused, but no one did. Maybe they'd finally learned to mind their own fucking business.

He climbed the stairs to the roof, his footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell. By the time he reached the top, the cool breeze had already helped clear his head. He stepped out onto the roof, taking in the view of the city below. It wasn't exactly a postcard-worthy sight, but it had its own kind of charm.

Zhao Wei lit his cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling slowly as he leaned against the railing. "This isn't so bad," he muttered to himself, taking another drag.