The second week of the "micro-store" felt like a blur—two more sales on Monday, one on Wednesday, then nothing.
Li kept the stats on a sticky note inside his notebook:
> "Week 1 total: $7.50 profit."
"Week 2 (so far): $3.00 + one IOU."
It wasn't failure. But it wasn't success either.
Dani still showed up to the lab with her usual chaotic energy, tossing him weird snacks she found or mocking his pricing strategy ("You need a loyalty program. Or at least free hugs"). But she didn't know the numbers. Not really. Not the way Li counted every coin, every calorie, every second.
---
On Thursday, it rained hard.Real hard rain—sheets of silver hammering the pavement, flooding drains, painting the city in mud and reflection. Campus slowed. Classes were half-empty. Students huddled under awnings like flocks of reluctant birds.
Li stood under the old metal roof near the engineering block, clutching his hoodie tighter, backpack soaked. The snack bag was tucked inside, wrapped in two layers of plastic.
No one came.
No one bought.
But that wasn't the worst part.
His shoes—already re-glued twice—finally gave out. The left sole flapped with every step, slapping the wet pavement with a sound that made him want to disappear.
By the time he got back to the dorm, socks drenched, shoulders aching, everything inside him was quiet.
Not calm.
Just… flat.
---
That night, Dani messaged:
> Dani: "U good?"
Li: "Fine. Just tired."
Dani: "Same. I think I broke my toe on my desk corner lol."
Li: "Desk corner wins again."
Dani: "You sure you're okay?"
Li: "Yeah. Just… long day."
He didn't tell her about the shoes.
Or the fact that he skipped lunch and dinner again.
Or that he nearly cried when the vending machine spat out someone else's soda after refusing his coin.
---
Friday was worse.
Dani was late to their usual lab session. Her hoodie was soaked, and she smelled faintly of coffee and exhaustion.
"Sorry," she muttered. "My dumb group project's falling apart. I had to redo the entire report."
Li nodded, sliding her a piece of cheap gum.
She grinned. "Bless you. You're like, the quietest therapist ever."
He wasn't sure how to answer that.
She cracked the gum between her teeth. "How's the hustle?"
He hesitated. "Slow."
Her grin faded a little. "We'll figure something out."
They didn't talk much after that.
---
Later that evening, someone knocked on his dorm room door. Li opened it to find Eric—the guy who'd bought the Mountain Dew—standing with two other students. All three were tall, loud, and smirking.
"Yo," Eric said, "you the guy with the snacks?"
Li blinked. "I… yeah. I guess."
"You still got some?" one of the others asked. "I'm starving, man."
Li grabbed the snack bag and laid it out on the desk: two sodas, four packs of cookies, and a stale chocolate bar.
Eric grabbed the chocolate bar, peeled it halfway open, and sniffed. "This expired?"
Li checked the wrapper. "No. Just looks bad."
The guy shrugged and bit in.
"I'll take the soda," another said, tossing a crumpled note onto the table. Li reached for it—torn, damp, and half-unreadable.
"It's fifty," the guy said. "Chill."
Li said nothing, just nodded and handed the bottle over.
Eric's eyes stayed on him. "Y'know… this little thing you've got here—could be something, bro. Real talk. You should partner with us. We got reach. People trust us."
Li stiffened. "I'm fine doing it solo."
Eric chuckled. "Yeah? You sure?"
Li nodded again.
"Cool, cool," Eric said, backing off. "Just don't say we didn't offer."
They left laughing. The door thudded shut behind them.
Li sank into his chair. The chocolate bar wrapper still lay on the desk, teeth marks and all.
He opened his notebook and scribbled:
> "Exposure isn't always worth the noise."
Then, smaller:
> "I don't trust easy."
---
Saturday morning. 5:47 AM.
Li woke up with a tightness in his chest. Not pain. Just pressure.
He rolled over and saw the bill again. Still behind his phone case. Still untouched.
He wondered what it would take to finally use it.
Not pride. Not hunger. Something else. Something worse.
---
Dani wasn't in the lab that day. She texted around 11:
> Dani: "Sick. Think I've got a fever. Can't move."
Li: "Need anything?"
Dani: "Nah. I'll crawl to the kitchen eventually."
He didn't reply.
He stared at the screen for a long time, then stood. Packed the snack bag. Wrote a note:
> "Hot drink + sugar = the cure. Trust the science."
And added a cheap lemon soda and a chocolate bar.
He left it by her dorm door and knocked once before walking away.
---
Sunday was silent.
Rain again. Dark clouds hanging low.
Li spent the day indoors, fixing his shoes with more glue and borrowed thread. He tried to work on assignments, but the code looked like static. Nothing stuck.
He wanted to message Dani again, but something held him back.
She didn't reply to his soda drop-off either.
---
Monday brought a surprise.
She showed up at the lab wearing a mask, hoodie zipped high.
"I lived," she mumbled. "Barely."
He passed her a sealed pack of crackers. "Welcome back."
She smiled, slow and tired. "Was that you? The soda?"
He shrugged. "I believe in immune support."
She leaned back in her chair, cracking the pack open. "You're a weird dude, Li."
"I know."
"Like… weird weird. But good."
He didn't say anything. But something inside him felt less heavy.
---
Later that evening, he got an email.
Subject: "Regarding Campus Selling"
From: Campus Housing Office
Li froze.
He opened it.
> "Dear Mr. Feng,
It has come to our attention that you may be engaging in unauthorized selling of goods in campus residential buildings. This is a reminder that such activities are prohibited under Section 7.4 of the Campus Conduct Code…"
He stopped reading.
His hands were cold.
He stared at the screen for a full minute before logging out.
Then he opened his notebook.
> "They noticed."
"No profit. No loss. Just risk."
"Back to zero?"
He didn't write anything else for a while.
---
He didn't sleep that night.
He just sat with the bill.
And thought.
About his brother. About pride. About fear disguised as discipline. About hunger.
About what it meant to try—and not quite succeed.
About the people who said "almost" and the people who said "yet."
---
In the morning, Dani found him sitting outside the lab early.
She sat beside him without speaking.
They watched the sunrise break over the campus buildings, turning the rooftops gold.
After a long silence, Li finally said, "I might have to stop."
Dani nodded slowly. "Because of the email?"
"Yeah."
She didn't argue. Just said, "That sucks."
He nodded.
Then she added, "You were onto something, though."
He looked at her. "It didn't work."
"Not yet," she said. "But it felt real. More real than most things here."
He didn't smile. But he didn't look away.
She bumped his shoulder. "We'll find another way. Humans adapt. Isn't that, like, the first AI rule?"
He chuckled, finally. "Technically, that's evolution."
"Same vibe," she said, standing.
He watched her go.
Then reached for his phone.
Opened the Brother thread.
Typed:
> "Almost got in trouble. Still not giving up."
He hit send.
Then stood, stretched, and walked toward the future—
Soles worn thin.
But still holding.