Eli's alarm buzzed at 6:30 AM, a low drone he'd long stopped finding annoying. He reached out, smacked the screen until silence returned, and groaned into the thin pillow. The fan above him clicked with its usual offbeat rhythm. Outside, the morning noise of Henxhi was already warming up—vendors dragging carts, distant horns, the bark of stray dogs.
He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his face, and did a quick stretch that popped more bones than it should have. The old apartment's cold tile sent a shock through his bare feet. He shuffled to the sink, brushed his teeth, splashed water on his face, and checked his phone.
He then signed in
His thumb hovered over one of his apps which is his personal bank account.
He opened the bank app first.
Balance: 104,000 yuan
Better than he feared, worse than he hoped. Between the store investment, his mom's hospital bills, Jin's school registration, and now a potential move—he was balancing on a tightrope.
From the other room, Jin emerged in a t-shirt three sizes too big and socks that didn't match. His hair was a mess. "We have eggs?"
"Nope. But we have dreams and ambition."
Jin snorted. "Lame."
Eli made the calls early. The landlords were surprisingly responsive, professional, helpful, and almost suspiciously eager to show off the units. Viewing slots were lined up: Wenxi Flats at 10 AM, Blue Fern at noon, and Bridgecrest Tower mid-afternoon.
After setting up the times, he made one more call—this one to Mr. Duan.
"Morning, Mr Duan. Just a heads up ,Jin and I won't be around today. We're touring apartments in Briggon. Trying to get closer to the school and the store."
There was a pause, then the familiar rasp of Mr. Duan's voice: "Ah. Good. About time. Don't rush the decision. Take the full day if you need to."
Eli smiled faintly. "Thanks. I'll keep you posted."
He hung up and glanced at the time. They'd need to leave soon if they wanted to beat the mid-morning traffic. Jin was still finishing breakfast, fiddling with a cracked phone case and quietly singing to himself.
Today wasn't just about finding a place to live.
It was about finding a place to start over.
Wenxi Flats (754 square meters) – Noon
The sun beat down gently as they walked into the entryway of Wenxi Flats. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old books. Mrs. Elma greeted them in a flower-print blouse and leather sandals , holding a tray of still-warm almond cookies.
"Second floor," she said cheerfully. "No elevator, but it builds character."
Mrs Elma then introduced the apartment to Eli
Mrs. Elma smiled warmly as she led Eli and Jin up the narrow staircase. Each step groaned underfoot, but the walls were painted in a warm sunset yellow paint and watercolor landscapes, old calligraphy pieces, and a photo of the building from what looked like forty years ago.
"Most tenants stay for years," she said, turning on the landing. "Some even leave and come back. It's that kind of place."
She unlocked the door to the unit and stepped aside with a small flourish. "Here we are. Unit 2."
The apartment opened into a modest living room bathed in soft afternoon light. The wooden floors, though a little scuffed, gleamed under the sun. Lace curtains framed the windows, swaying slightly with the breeze that carried in faint city sounds and the scent of roses from the florist downstairs.
"This is the living area," Mrs. Elma said. "Plenty of sunlight, as you can see. Windows face south, so it stays bright most of the day."
To the left was a small dining nook, just big enough for a two-person table. Past that, a kitchen that looked like something out of a storybook, the kitchen included ceramic tile counters, a vintage gas stove, and shelves lined with tiny jars of herbs and spices, most labeled in neat cursive. A kettle whistled softly on the back burner of the stove, which she turned off with practiced ease.
"It's not new, but it's honest," she said. "You won't find touchscreens or fancy fridges, but the oven bakes evenly and the tap water runs clean."
She led them down a short hallway. On the right was the smaller bedroom, already painted a soft green, with a window overlooking the back alley and a surprisingly large closet.
"Perfect for a student," she said, nodding at Jin.
Across the hall was the main bedroom—just enough space for a queen bed, a dresser, and a narrow bookshelf. The window looked out onto the street, and a tiny balcony offered a view of the florist's rooftop garden. A cat stretched lazily in the sun across the way.
"And the bathroom," she added, opening a sliding door. Inside, the fixtures were old but well-kept. a vintage looking tub, white tiling, and a mirror that showed the slightest bit of age around the edges.
"It's cozy," Eli said, hands in his pockets.
"It's lived in," she corrected gently. "This place has stories. You add yours to it."
Eli glanced at Jin, who was already checking the water pressure in the sink and peeking into cabinets.
"It's kind of nice," Jin said. "Smells like books and cookies."
Mrs. Elma beamed. "That's because I bake and read a lot."
She handed them each a cookie as they stepped back into the living room. Almond, warm, soft in the center.
Eli chewed thoughtfully. The space wasn't fancy. But it felt… kind.
"I'll give you two a moment," Mrs. Elma said, retreating to the hallway to give them privacy.
Eli looked around again, heart tugged somewhere soft. Maybe it wasn't perfect. But there was a quiet peace here. And maybe that counted more than polished marble or LED lights.
"What do you think about this place, Think you could live here?" he asked Jin.
Jin shrugged, then nodded. "I think it's real."
Eli smiled faintly.
That was one down. Two more to go.
2. Blue Fern Apartments – 2 PM
The turquoise paint was chipped, and the metal gate clanged behind them. But inside, Blue Fern Apartments had a curious energy. The walls were freshly cleaned, the hall glossy if a little cracked, and a soft hum of life ran through the building.
Mr. Wong met them downstairs, keys jangling on his belt. "Sorry 'bout the gate. Been meaning to oil it."
Mr. Wong led them through the corridor, his steps brisk but casual. He wore a short-sleeved collared shirt tucked into belted slacks, and the keys on his hip clinked with every movement like a lazy percussion instrument.
"You're lucky," he said as they reached the stairwell. "Unit 3 one of the better ones. Used to be my niece's before she moved out and got fancy on the west side."
The stairs creaked, but the walls bore little paper cranes taped next to doorbells, and someone had written a quote in chalk near the third-floor landing:"A home is not walls—it's warmth."
Mr. Wong chuckled as he unlocked the door. "That one's from pat, lives down the hall. Bit of a poet. Bit of a gossip."
He swung open the door with a grin."Welcome to Blue Fern."
The living room was larger than Eli expected. Wide windows let in sunlight that glinted off the worn but polished wooden floor. The walls were a pale green, and though there were a few chips near the corners, someone had clearly done some patchwork recently.
"This here is the common area," Mr. Wong said. "New coat of paint last month, and we replaced the old ceiling fan with a dual-blade. Quiet, doesn't rattle like the old ones."
To the left was a small kitchen, tucked behind a bar-height counter. It had newer tiled counters, open shelves, and a two-burner electric stove with a microwave overhead. A small window above the sink overlooked a tangle of power lines and the top of the next building.
"Comes with the basics," Mr. Wong said. "Fridge isn't fancy, but it's cold. And if anything breaks, I actually show up. Ask anyone here."
He waved them toward the bedrooms.
The first was a tight single, with a clean window and peeling floor boards, but it had a functional wall heater and a built-in desk. Jin wandered in, opened a drawer, and nodded faintly.
"It's small," he said. "But not bad."
The second room, the main bedroom, had space for a full bed and a small desk, plus a sliding door closet that ran nearly the full length of one wall. There was a faint stain on the carpet near the window, but otherwise, it was clean and bright.
Mr. Wong opened the bathroom door. Inside, it was all beige tile and chrome fixtures, recently cleaned. A stand-up shower, no tub, but the water pressure roared when he tested it.
"Neighbors?" Eli asked, glancing around.
"Mixed bag," Mr. Wong replied. "You've got Mr. Lau across the hall—retired truck driver, always offering pickled vegetables. Next door's a young couple with a toddler—quiet most of the time. And across the way…" He lowered his voice slightly. "...a cat named Mushroom who thinks she owns the whole floor."
As if on cue, a meow echoed faintly down the hall.
Eli and Jin exchanged a look.
The apartment wasn't elegant. But it was bright. Lived-in. Honest. And fifteen minutes from the store.
Jin pressed his nose to the living room window. "You can smell noodles from here."
"That'd be Yao's," Mr. Wong grinned. "He sets up shop right out front after five. Dumplings too."
Eli let out a slow breath. "It's… not bad."
"It's real," Jin said quietly.
Mr. Wong gave them both a look that was almost fatherly. "This place isn't perfect. But it's trying."
He handed Eli a business card. "Think it over. I've got another showing tomorrow, but I like first-come, first-considered."
Eli nodded, slipping the card into his pocket.
Second visit down. One more to go.