The Xong household settled into a quiet calm after Lila's performance and their dinner.
The living room, a small square space with paper-panel sliding doors, glowed under a single lightbulb.
Shadows stretched across the worn wooden floor. A low table sat in the center, covered in empty teacups and a bowl of plum candies.
Kai picked at the crinkly wrappers, fingers tapping out his leftover energy.
The old holo-TV flickered in the corner, struggling to stream a romantic comedy.
Tinny voices came through the speakers, barely louder than the rain falling on the courtyard and louder were the drops landing on the koi pond outside.
The plum tree in the centre courtyard swayed gently, scattering soft pink petals onto the stone benches.
A faint glow from the city slipped through the bamboo fence, mixing modern neon with the quiet charm of their home.
Vice sat slouched on a faded floor cushion, his sneakers left near the entrance.
He curled his toes into the woven mat, trying to relax. Lila was sprawled next to him, scrolling through her phone, still buzzing from her big day.
Kai grinned at something on his tablet, while Han and Mei shared a cushion, Han's arm casually around her shoulders.
The room smelled like the last bits of Mei's custard pie and the ever-present scent of sawdust from Han's workshop.
It was warm and crowded, but it felt like home. Still, everyone was tired. The movie wasn't even halfway through before the yawns started.
Lila left first, mumbling about needing to stretch. Kai followed soon after, clutching his tablet. Han grunted a goodnight, Mei blew playful kisses, and Vice finally got up, the floor creaking under his feet as he headed to his room.
His bedroom was simple. Just a mattress on the floor, a desk and shelf cluttered with medical notes and textbooks, and a window looking out over the pond.
He planned to check the system after a quick shower, but the bathroom was freezing and the water only half worked, Han's idea of "fixed" plumbing.
Before he could settle down, Kai called him for a quick match of Call of Duty Mobile.
Vice was terrible at it. His thumbs fumbled on the screen while Kai's device lagged so badly the game looked like a slideshow.
"Bro, you're a war crime," Kai laughed after sniping him for the tenth time.
Vice laughed too, even though he kept losing. It was frustrating, but fun.
They played until Vice's eyes couldn't stay open anymore.
The long days, the hospital work, the excitement, the chaos of the week, finally caught up with him.
He didn't even remember lying down. One second he was holding his phone, the next he was asleep, the system still unchecked and the game still running.
***
"Vice! Up!"
Mei's voice cut through the early morning silence like a tennis whistle—sharp, no-nonsense, and impossible to ignore. Vice jolted upright in bed, heart racing, the chill of 4:30 a.m. settling over his small room like a cold blanket.
Everything was gray and still, touched by the pale, pre-dawn light sneaking in through the window.
Mei stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, her short bob already clipped back and not a hair out of place.
She was dressed for battle, or chores, which in her eyes were the same thing.
"You're not sleeping through chores," she said. "Doctor or not."
Vice groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Mom, the sun isn't even up yet."
"Morning waits for no one," she replied, tossing a towel at his chest before disappearing down the hall, her footsteps already retreating toward the kitchen.
The bathroom was filled with damp air and flickering light.
Steam clung to the cracked tiles as Vice stepped into a quick shower, the hot water sputtering inconsistently through the old pipes. Han's "repairs" had done more harm than good, but Vice didn't have time to complain.
Once dressed—same worn jeans, same beaten sneakers—he stepped out into the courtyard, towel slung around his shoulders.
The air outside was crisp, damp from the night's rain, and carried a faint salty tang from Feng Mo's coast. The koi pond shimmered faintly, disturbed by the occasional ripple. Somewhere nearby, a bird let out a sleepy chirp, like it, too, disapproved of waking up this early.
Han was already crouched by their aging SUV, a bucket of soapy water beside him and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He scrubbed the hood with slow, careful motions, his breath misting faintly in the air.
The vehicle looked tired under the dim morning light. Its bumper sagged like it had given up.
"Sleep okay?" Han asked, not looking up. His voice was rough around the edges but warmer than usual.
"Yeah. You?" Vice grabbed a sponge and started working on the passenger door, the cold seeping through his sleeves as the soapy water trickled down his arms.
Han nodded slowly. "Fine. The workshop's keeping me up. Orders are coming in faster than I can finish them." He paused to wipe his glasses clean. "How's the hospital been? You've been... quieter lately."
Vice hesitated. The question landed a little heavier than expected. He focused on a stubborn streak of dirt clinging to the doorframe.
"It's intense," he admitted. "But I'm managing."
He thought about the system—the hidden edge that kept him afloat through sleepless nights and stressful shifts—but didn't say a word about it. Some things were easier kept to yourself.
Han grunted thoughtfully and handed Vice a rag. "Just don't let it eat you alive."
There was a short silence as they worked, broken only by the scrape of sponges and the soft rush of water.
"Also... Lisa called yesterday," Han added, casually. "Said you're being mean to her at work."
Vice snorted, imagining Lisa's collection of glittery pens, loud accessories, and endless teasing. "She's fine. Just being Lisa. Thinks I'm her personal punching bag."
Han's mouth twitched, almost a smile. "She's family, kid. Bear with her."
They stepped back from the car, now only slightly less sad-looking than before. Han eyed it critically.
"This thing's on its last legs. You see that van passed by the street last night?"
Vice nodded, recalling the gleam of chrome and the clean hum of an engine that actually worked. "Yeah. Looked nice."
"Too nice for us," Han said, though something in his tone lingered—half-joking, half-wishing.
Vice tucked that away. The thought of gifting such a van from his next paycheck crossed his mind, but with Kai attending SengPeng Maxo University, their budget was already stretched thin.
SengPeng wasn't just any school. It was the university—top-ranked in the country, and even the world. Located in the capital, it was a place of bright futures and crushing tuition fees.
Kai's scholarship covered a chunk, but not enough to ease the weight it put on the family.
They moved to the center of the yard next, where lily petals were scattered across the ground like confetti from a forgotten celebration.
Vice swept them up while Han leaned over the koi pond, sprinkling feed into the water. The koi darted upward in flashes of orange and white, eager for breakfast.
The bamboo fence rattled softly in the morning breeze, and Mei's voice floated from the kitchen window. She was humming a Hansang folk tune, the kind she always used when she was in a good mood.
Han spoke again, his voice quieter now.
"Your mother's worried, you know. Says you're getting too thin. Says you're always alone."
Vice leaned on the broom, sighing. "She's always worried."
"She's your mom. It's what they do." Han dusted his hands off and straightened up. "She means well."
"I know," Vice replied.
Han checked the sky, now tinged with hints of gold. "Better get moving. You'll miss your cab."
Vice gave the yard one last glance—the soft rustle of the trees, the warm light spilling from the kitchen, the scent of something frying on the stove—and nodded.
"Yeah. I'm going."
'It's also time to finally get those skills, and also find out what awaits me in the application skills menu.'