"Please…for one moment, Mr…"
"Zhao. Just call me Zhao."
"Yes – Zhao. Wait for room key."
The gentleman drummed his fingers on the edge of the counter, shuddering at the poor attempt to strike a conversation in English. He was unable to restrain his eyes from studying the shabby motel receptionist until he disappeared behind a ripped curtain of red. There was a quick exchange of phrases in Chinese, before clinks of metal rang out from the storage room. Forcing his gaze to his luggage cart and his mind to the soft bed that awaited him, the man gazed at his watch.
11:45PM. The sooner he went to sleep, the better.
Mr. Zhao's full name was Adam Lee Zhao. He had been born in mainland China, but after his father got accepted into a better job in the United States, Adam had no choice but to say a quick goodbye to his hometown in Shandong province. A mere fourteen months had been spent in the small village, before he turned to the life ahead only a superpower country such as the states could of