Jackson Wu looked at his surroundings. He looked at both of his hands, feeling relieved.

Right now, he was in his bedroom, decorated with posters of his favorite alternative rock band, Linkin Park.

It was full of books, basketballs, and dirty clothes on the floor.

No wonder his mother was always angry every time she entered his room. Perhaps he should clean his room.

Later. Not now.

“Jackson! I will count down until you come. If you don’t, say goodbye to your fried rice!”

The sound of his mother screaming from the dining room to his bedroom on the second floor woke him up from his reverie.

Right.

Just before he got here, he performed the ritual that cost him half his life and his power as a werewolf.

He had to meet Alicante and fix his mistakes. That was his mission.

After getting changed, he took his smartphone on his nightstand and switched it on.

January 15, 2015.

Good. 

He returned precisely a year before he lost Alicante Watson for good. He would not be a super jerk like he used to be.

He would be the one to stretch out his hand to Alicante Watson. He swore to protect Alicante from anything.

“Jackson! Didn’t you hear what I just said to you?”

“Yes! Yes! 'I’m going down now!” Jackson answered in a half-screaming voice.

Yes.

He can’t be late for school. His mission was to save Alicante, no matter what price he had to pay. He didn't mind repeating it many times or losing everything he had.

As long as he could save Alicante. As long as he could give Alicante a much better life, it was more than enough for him. He did not ask for more.

All he wanted was to give Alicante a chance to smile. To feel the warmth of the sun again.

To tell him that he deserved to be happy. 

Before his death, Alicante always thought happiness in this world was bullshit.

Because of his stupidity a year ago, he lost him forever. He would not repeat the mistakes he had made in the past.

No way.

He didn’t want his mother to wait too long. So he grabbed his smartphone and backpack out of his room and rushed down the stairs with quick and steady footwork.

He sat in his chair, staring at his favorite egg-fried rice served on the dining table.

“I was just about to throw it away if you didn’t come down on the count of six,” his mother started eating her sandwich.

He loves egg-fried rice, especially if his mother made it. But in contrast with him, his mother fancies her breakfast with anything related to bread.

Whether eating a sandwich, a beef sandwich, garlic bread, a baguette, whatever it was for her breakfast.

His mother once said the bread was much more practical and had a texture that could make her feel full longer.

Considering that his mother was the type to pay a lot of attention to her appearance, it was not unusual.

Vegetables, olive oil, nutritional yeast, and tofu even dominated the sandwich. No mayonnaise, beef, or ketchup, like any sandwich should have. 

There was only kosher Himalayan salt topped with turmeric powder and paprika as a condiment.

His mother always said that the two servings of her palm-sized sandwich were more than enough to keep her full until lunchtime.

He was still holding the same principle as all Asians: it was not delicious to eat any food without rice.

“Six?” he commented after reciting a blessing before eating food.

He then took a mouthful of fried rice into his mouth, which released a spicy taste combined with a sweet scent.

“It’s weird. When you called out to me earlier, I didn’t even hear you count down from ten.”

“Me, counting down from ten? You are wrong, Jackson. I started the count at six instead of ten,” his mother replied, returning to eat her sandwich while pretending not to notice his surprised expression.

Another fact about his mother, who raised him as a single parent, was that it was difficult to predict what was in her mind.

He was silent, enjoying his mother’s fried rice without trying to make a sound by throwing a protest at her.

If he opposed his mother, he might never have his breakfast, which always worked to get him up in seconds just by smelling it, for good.

“How is your basketball practice progressing?”

“All is fine. No problem,” he answered simply, taking a sip of mineral water before continuing his meal. “Can you watch my game on Sunday?”

“If my schedule allows me, I will come. But I can’t promise––”

“I understand. It’s okay if you can’t come,” he said with a small smile, holding back his disappointment when hearing his mother’s answer.

“I’m sorry, Kid …”

It was the same response, just like in the past.

He finished the rest of his fried rice as quickly as he could until there was nothing left, then just put it on the dining table.

Their household manager would soon arrive at his house to do their household chores.

He walked over to his mother and kissed her cheeks, which were thin from her lack of sleep. “I am leaving first.”

“Okay. Be careful on the way. Don’t drive at high speed.”

“I know, Mom. I am not a kid anymore!” Jackson grumbled as he grabbed his bag and ran out of the dining room.

Although he knew it in his heart, he immediately broke his mother’s promise.

How could he be riding his motorcycle at a moderate speed when he could not wait to meet Alicante Watson and hug him tightly?

“I won’t do that,” he said, half shouting so his mother, who was still in the dining room, could hear his voice. “Have a nice day!”

He got out of his mansion to get his motorcycle in the garage, then drove it at full speed.

***

© Zhen Xin Xin. Do not repost. Read the official version only on Tapas