This is a new story.

“Books for sale, books for sale, fresh from the oven—my latest masterpiece!” Zhang Pa stood at the Zhichun Road bus stop, shouting loudly. In front of him were two cardboard boxes piled with a dozen thick books titled “The Strange Chef.”

As people waited for their buses, someone approached, glancing at the books. “How much for one?”

“Twenty.”

“Twenty? Is this a pirated copy? Even for a pirated book, that’s expensive!” The person shook his head, about to walk away.

“Wait!” Zhang Pa shouted. “You can insult me, but you cannot insult my book!”

“You wrote it? Are you Tian Shi?” The man glanced at the cover.

“Tian Shi is my pen name! Is that a problem?” Zhang Pa retorted.

“Alright, you’re the boss. Sorry, my bus is here, we’ll talk next time.” The man disappeared into the crowd, squeezing his way through.

Zhang Pa snorted, “No sense of knowledge.”

Nearby stood a girl in overalls. She looked at the book, then at Zhang Pa. “You wrote this?”

Zhang Pa coughed. “Honestly, it’s not very good, just scribbling.”

“But I heard Tian Shi is a woman.” The girl flipped through a book. “Besides, their work has over six million words. You only have one book? That’s not professional at all.”

“It’s condensed printing! It’s condensed!” Zhang Pa hurried to explain, pointing at the spine. “See? Volume One.”

“Such tiny print?” The girl set the book down and thought for a moment. “This is pirated, isn’t it?”

“It’s really not, I can guarantee it.” Zhang Pa smiled. “Would you like to buy one?”

“No, I’m not interested in cooking.” She walked away.

“It’s not about cooking, it’s the story of a madman… A handsome man showing his prowess!” Zhang Pa called after her.

She lowered her head to her phone, ignoring him.

Zhang Pa could only keep shouting, “Books for sale, internet sensation, take one look and you won’t regret it, two looks and you won’t be disappointed, three looks… Will you buy a copy?”

Across from him stood a stern-faced, spirited old lady with white hair. She alternately examined the book and Zhang Pa, her voice deep, “Internet novel? You wrote it?”

Zhang Pa hesitated, sensing trouble. Was she one of those legendary district neighborhood watch types? But this wasn’t the capital. He replied, hesitantly, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” The old lady’s face remained stern. “Can’t even afford food? Is that why you’re out here selling books?”

“Uh… No, I’m just promoting it.” Zhang Pa’s voice faltered.

“Promoting what? Tell me the truth, are you starving?” The old lady’s tone softened, her voice suddenly gentle.

Zhang Pa stubbornly denied it. “Impossible. These books—you see them? All mine. Each one can be sold for money. This is all money!”

Seeing Zhang Pa unwilling to cooperate, the old lady hesitated. “How about this, I’ll buy five books… How much for one?”

“Twenty,” Zhang Pa replied.

She continued, “I’ll buy five, but you must do me a small favor.”

“What kind of favor?” Zhang Pa grew wary.

“It’s nothing big, just come to my house and say a few words to my grandson.”

“Go to your house? No.” Zhang Pa glanced at the other passengers, many watching the spectacle with interest but none intending to buy.

He thought for a moment, then began packing the books into the boxes, carrying them over to a well-used bicycle nearby.

He strapped the boxes onto the bike’s rear rack, ready to leave, but the old lady followed. “Young man, just help me out. I’ll remember your kindness, alright?”

“No, I’m a writer, I have principles,” Zhang Pa said, pride warring with guilt.

“I’ll buy five books, or ten. Just walk with me,” she offered, tempting him.

Zhang Pa struggled internally. What if she was a human trafficker? Even if not, what if he stumbled into a pyramid scheme? That would ruin his life. Or worse, she might fancy his body… He refused firmly, “No, I’m going home. Goodbye.”

But the old lady grabbed the bike handle. “Young man, if you don’t come with me, I’ll pull out the big guns.”

“What big guns?” Zhang Pa sensed trouble.

She patiently coaxed, “Look, if I nudge your bike wheel and fall to the ground…”

Zhang Pa’s expression changed. “Insurance scam?”

“Young man, I’ll buy five books, you come to my house, it’ll take at most twenty minutes… It’s settled.” She gripped the handle. “This way.”

Zhang Pa was on the verge of tears. He considered abandoning the bike and running, but couldn’t bear to leave his books. He looked skyward and sighed deeply, pushing the bicycle along with tragic resolve.

All the way, anxiety churned in his heart, fearful of the dangers ahead. The old lady soon reassured him, “Don’t be afraid, I promise to buy the books. When you’re at my house, just talk about how hard your life is, how miserable—make it as miserable as you can.”

Zhang Pa exclaimed, “Is someone in your family auditioning for a talent show?”

“No, my grandson won’t listen. The college entrance exam is coming, but he refuses to go to school, says he’s at home writing novels.”

Zhang Pa understood. “So you want me as a bad example?”

“More or less,” she said. “Turn right ahead.”

Zhang Pa protested, “How do you know I’m a bad example? How do you know my life isn’t good?”

The old lady glanced at him. “If you were doing well, would you be selling books at a bus stop? Riding a broken bike?”

“Ma’am, you can say what you want about me, but don’t call my book junk.”

“If it wasn’t junk, would it be unsold?” She was relentless.

Zhang Pa opened his mouth, sighed inwardly, and resigned himself. “Fine, five books.”

…

At half past four in the afternoon, Zhang Pa returned home, his mission of ‘guiding youth’ complete. He boiled a packet of instant noodles, surfing the web as he ate. Downstairs, someone called out, “Hey Zhang, we need a fourth for mahjong.”

Zhang Pa didn’t move, shouting back, “Not going.”

Moments later, his door swung open and a chubby man entered. “Come on, we need a fourth.”

“Don’t waste my time… I need to work,” Zhang Pa said.

“Don’t bother with that job. Work hard for a month and you barely cover food and rent. Mahjong has more future.” The chubby man tried to persuade him.

“You don’t understand my grand ambitions…” Halfway through his sentence, someone outside shouted, “Fatty! Fatty! We have enough, hurry up!”

Fatty yelled back, “Coming!” He made a contemptuous gesture at Zhang Pa, “I despise you. Don’t come drinking tonight.” Then he left.

Zhang Pa smacked his lips and continued browsing and eating noodles. When full, he opened a document and started writing his novel.

He lived in Happy Lane, a sprawling shantytown in the northern suburbs. Ten years ago, they said it would be demolished, but nothing changed. Instead, more houses appeared, many single-story homes turned into two-floor buildings.

Zhang Pa rented a room on the second floor: a bed, a table, a laptop, a hot plate, a simple wardrobe—nothing more.

Happy Lane was infamous in the provincial capital. Taxi drivers described it as a haven for swindlers and thieves, and there were plenty of ladies of the night. The only advantage was the low rent.

The city had twenty or thirty universities, but not one was near Happy Lane. There were two technical colleges and vocational high schools, and a bit further north stood the provincial detention center and women’s prison—a colorful neighborhood indeed.

That afternoon, he earned a hundred yuan at the old lady’s house, along with contemptuous looks. Serving as a bad example, Zhang Pa let the old lady say whatever she pleased. Her grandson listened with disdain, called him a loser, declared that writing web novels should be profitable, and still Zhang Pa ended up like this—a disgrace…

Well, I am a failure. Zhang Pa turned his gloom into motivation, weaving beautiful dreams in a world unseen by others.

He was in the thick of writing when noise erupted downstairs. Zhang Pa sighed, put on headphones, and continued.

Five minutes later, someone knocked urgently at the door. He removed his headphones and opened it—his landlord’s daughter stood there, face anxious. “Could you watch my mother for a bit? I need to go find a taxi.”

“What happened?” Zhang Pa asked.

“My mother’s hurt. Please help.” She turned and hurried downstairs.

Zhang Pa rushed after her.

The downstairs apartment was the same size as his, but Zhang Pa only rented one of its three rooms. In the living room, the landlord’s aunt sat on the floor, leaning against the sofa, eyes closed, pressing a towel to her forehead with her left hand.

Zhang Pa crouched beside her. “How are you?”

The aunt said nothing, tears streaking her face.

The white towel was stained deep red, and traces of blood smeared the skin around her eyes.

Zhang Pa glanced outside, then turned back. “I’ll carry you out. Can you stand?”

The aunt still didn’t respond.

In the urgency of the moment, Zhang Pa stopped worrying and tried to lift her. Using all his strength, he managed to get her upright, then stooped, supporting her with his right hand. He took a deep breath and mustered all his strength to hold her up.

He bent lower so she could climb onto his back, slowly rising. The effort was exhausting, and the aunt offered no help, making it impossible to move forward.

Just then, the landlord’s daughter returned. Together, they managed to carry the aunt out, carefully putting her into the taxi. Zhang Pa sat in the front and headed for the district hospital.

All the way, Zhang Pa asked nothing. Downstairs was often noisy; the aunt had an unreliable husband, who finally divorced her two years ago but still returned to torment her and her daughter.

At the hospital, after examination, it was diagnosed as a moderate concussion, with a cracked skull—hospitalization was needed for observation.

The human skull is the toughest bone in the body, and yet it was cracked…

That night, the aunt stayed for IV treatment, her daughter at her bedside.

The examination cost over four hundred sixty yuan, and the hospital deposit was eight hundred. Not a fortune, but it was only the first day.

The aunt was called Sun Yi, her daughter Wang Baihe.

When everything was settled and Sun Yi was in her ward, Wang Baihe thanked Zhang Pa and urged him to rest.

“I’m fine, I don’t need to go to work anyway,” Zhang Pa said.

“You need to update your novel.”

Zhang Pa exclaimed, glancing at his phone for the time. After all the commotion, it was already half past nine. If he rushed home… He thought for a moment and asked, “Did you lock the door?”

“I forgot,” Wang Baihe replied, unable to recall locking it.