Unfortunately, there was never a chance to use it.

After dinner, he lingered a while longer at Liu Xiaomei’s house before taking his leave. As the door closed behind him, Zhang Pa let out a soft sigh of relief—he had passed this hurdle, though he still wondered what Aunt Liu now thought of him.

He descended the stairs slowly. As he walked outside, he glanced back on instinct and saw Liu Xiaomei standing on the fourth-floor balcony, waving at him and blowing a kiss. With a flourish borrowed from Korean dramas, Zhang Pa cupped his hands to catch the kiss, then pressed them to his heart, his expression melting into one of blissful happiness. Liu Xiaomei laughed above.

He waved again, then turned and left.

Their relationship had not truly begun, but Zhang Pa already felt as if he had met his mother-in-law… Well, so be it. The next order of business: get back to work typing.

The world may change, but typing remains; typing is eternal, stories endure forever; for love, I’ll spend my life typing; the most romantic thing I can imagine is typing with you, slowly, side by side…

From here, the gym was close, but it was always crowded. After some hesitation, he decided to return to Xingfu Lane—he needed quiet to get his work done.

But unexpectedly, trouble awaited him there.

A fight had broken out in Xingfu Lane. Because of the demolition issue, Old Zhang the Fourth had brought back two large dogs, and luck had run dry—on a Sunday, no less, the police were actually working overtime to catch dogs. Old Zhang had locked the yard gate tight and now stood at the entrance, two kitchen knives in hand.

When Zhang Pa arrived at the foot of his building, a police car pulled up. Ahead, a crowd had gathered to watch the commotion.

Somehow, Zhang Pa sensed trouble and hurried over to the scene, running all the way to the corner near Old Zhang’s house. Then he understood.

There was no need to get any closer. He saw the police car, the crowd, and heard the commotion. Zhang Pa turned and ran.

Using the same route as before, he climbed the wall and slipped into Old Zhang’s yard.

Inside stood Old Zhang’s wife and the two big black dogs.

They say dogs know their masters’ hearts—these two truly did. As much as they wanted to burst out to defend their owner, they knew better than to make a scene now. The big fellows waited anxiously but quietly. One dog pawed the ground now and then; the other paced in a circle.

Zhang Pa jumped into the yard. The dogs glanced back at him, then returned their gaze to the shut gate.

Old Zhang’s wife was elated to see him. In a hushed voice, she said, “Hurry, get them out.”

Zhang Pa jogged over to the dogs and whispered, “Come with me.” Grabbing their collars, he led them to the wall.

The big dogs had escaped this way twice before and had met Zhang Pa many times, so they followed obediently.

A bicycle stood in the yard. Zhang Pa let go of the dogs, wheeled the bike to the wall, and climbed onto the rear rack, gesturing for the dogs to jump as he opened his arms wide.

One dog glanced at its mistress; seeing no objection, it sprang lightly into Zhang Pa’s embrace—he almost failed to catch it, and the bicycle wobbled dangerously. Quick to react, Zhang Pa grabbed the wall with one hand and steadied the bike with his foot while clutching the dog tightly with the other.

Once balanced, he hoisted the dog onto the wall, where it stood firmly.

He beckoned to the second dog and repeated the maneuver.

Then he hopped off the bike, moved it aside, and, after a running start, scaled the wall himself. Jumping down the other side, he opened his arms for the dogs, catching them one at a time before setting them on the ground and leading them away.

The streets outside teemed with people—it was impossible to leave that way. Instead, he darted into a nearby alley.

Ahead was Zhu San’er’s house. Zhu San’er had been locked up for two and a half years for fighting. His parents had long since divorced and gone their separate ways, leaving only a vacant house and a small courtyard.

Zhang Pa lifted the dogs onto the wall, then climbed after them. Once all three were in the little courtyard, he upended a shovel and sat on it, cradling the big dogs and murmuring, “The three of us really have rotten luck.”

Though the dogs often barked at him, they had never bitten. Now, in this predicament, they were especially docile, lying quietly across his lap.

Zhang Pa called Fatty. “Anyone home?” he asked.

“No one’s there. Why, what’s up?” Fatty replied.

“You’ve got a dozen or twenty people, and not a single one is home?” Zhang Pa said.

Fatty thought for a moment. “Maybe Big Cat is.”

“Forget him,” Zhang Pa said.

Big Cat was in a league of his own when it came to stinginess. Zhang Pa considered himself careful, but compared to Big Cat, he was an amateur. That guy redefined miserly.

In every TV show, there’s always that one penny-pinching man. Before meeting Big Cat, Zhang Pa thought it was just a screenwriter’s exaggeration. After meeting him, he was convinced.

No matter what you asked Big Cat to do, he’d expect something in return—even if you just wanted a phone number or asked him to carry something home, he’d make you buy him a meal.

He remembered everyone’s birthday and would always call between five-thirty and six o’clock to congratulate you and ask where you were. If you were celebrating, he’d show up—then complain about not being invited to dinner.

Zhang Pa wasn’t afraid of thugs, only of people like this. After two encounters, he kept his distance.

Noting Zhang Pa’s aversion, Fatty chuckled. “Really, Big Cat’s a good guy.”

“Spare me. Who’s the bad guy then?” Zhang Pa shot back.

Fatty laughed. “So what’s going on? Need me to come back?”

“Dog catchers are here. Head back and check on Old Zhang’s place,” Zhang Pa said.

Fatty agreed and hung up.

Now there was nothing to do but wait for news.

He didn’t expect to wait two hours. Not until six that evening did Fatty finally call: “Where are you?”

“Zhu San’er’s place,” Zhang Pa replied.

“Stay put. The police are still there. They took Old Zhang away.”

“How long do I have to hide?” Zhang Pa grumbled. “I haven’t even started work yet!”

“Missing a day won’t kill you,” Fatty said.

“You don’t know a thing,” Zhang Pa snapped.

“Even if I know nothing, I know what’s important. If you don’t care about those two dogs, go home and work all you want,” Fatty replied.

Zhang Pa sighed. “Why won’t the police leave?”

“They’re there to catch the dogs. Want me to bring you something to eat?” Fatty offered.

Zhang Pa glanced at the two big dogs. “Bring a couple of chicken legs for the dogs.”

“Damn, you’re extravagant.” Fatty hung up.

Half an hour later, he called again. “Go stand by the gate. I’ll pretend to walk past and toss the food to you.”

“Is that really necessary? Feels like a spy drama,” Zhang Pa said.

“More than necessary! There’s a police car at the corner, one in front of your building, one outside Old Zhang’s, and a bunch of black-uniformed city inspectors. You’d better pray,” Fatty replied.

“Damn,” Zhang Pa cursed. “Isn’t this overkill? They don’t even go this hard for actual thieves.”

“Today, you are the thief—now go get your supplies,” Fatty said.

“Slow down. I’ll give you my key; bring my computer over,” Zhang Pa said.

“With all this going on, and you’re still thinking about work? You must have been a model worker in your past life. I’m almost there—hurry up,” Fatty replied.

“Coming,” Zhang Pa answered. He patted the dogs, moved aside, and stood up to go to the gate.

“See me yet?” Fatty asked over the phone.

“I see you,” Zhang Pa replied, stepping out a little.

Fatty glanced around, quickly hung a plastic bag on the gate, and strode away, speaking into his phone as he went: “Anything else?”

“Find out what’s going on—is it a manhunt or a dog chase? Why the massive operation? Don’t the police always say they’re short-staffed?” Zhang Pa was incredulous. All this for two dogs? Why mobilize the force again and again? Wasn’t there a shortage of officers?

“Wait, I’ll check,” Fatty said and hung up.

Zhang Pa returned to the corner with the bag—inside were three chicken legs, a pound of steamed buns, and two bottles of water.

He fed the chicken legs to the dogs. They didn’t hesitate, devouring them greedily. Zhang Pa drank some water and ate a steamed bun himself.

The dogs had hearty appetites. After a chicken leg, each needed a bun before they were satisfied, settling comfortably against Zhang Pa as he handed them water.

Half an hour later, Fatty called: “Old Zhang’s cursed with bad luck. The deputy district chief he argued with is being promoted to district chief. Damn, how does promotion work for officials? They just announce it?”

Now it made sense to Zhang Pa. When the man had been deputy chief, his subordinates had tried to curry favor but failed. Now that he was being promoted, they were working even harder. Especially since Old Zhang had twice made fools of the police—his dogs were always at home, yet no search could find them.

After being made to look foolish twice, the police chief was furious. If he couldn’t show results, who else would he target but Old Zhang?

“What about my computer?” Zhang Pa asked.

“Did you give me your key?” Fatty replied.

“Oh—I forgot,” Zhang Pa said.

“Stay put then. The police aren’t gone. Damn, they’ve brought in police dogs!” Fatty cried.

Zhang Pa was stunned. “Is this really necessary?”

“What now?” Fatty asked.

Zhang Pa considered. “The northern path—is that alley still open?”

“Not sure. Haven’t been down it in years. Won’t matter—if the police dogs pick up the scent, they’ll chase you down,” Fatty said.

Zhang Pa swore. “You’re pushing me to cuss.”

Fatty laughed. “Go ahead—who’s stopping you?”

“Enough nonsense. Where are the police dogs now?” Zhang Pa asked.

“At the corner, probably waiting for orders. They’ll be heading in soon,” Fatty replied.

Zhang Pa had no choice. He drained a bottle of water, tossed it aside, patted the dogs, and said, “Time to run for it, boys.”

He told Fatty, “Bring leashes and wait for me at the northern alley. Hurry.”

“Where am I supposed to get leashes?” Fatty protested.

“Any rope will do!” Zhang Pa yelled, then called Turtle. “Get your junky car and come to the north entrance of Xingfu Lane. Don’t ask why—can you make it in fifteen minutes?”

“I’ll try,” Turtle replied and hung up.

Zhang Pa led the dogs to the door. Out the same way they’d come, he got them over the wall and headed north.

At the intersection, he waited. Fatty came running, out of breath, glancing around nervously. “Where are the dogs?”

“Where’s the rope?” Zhang Pa replied.

Fatty tossed him a bundle of hemp rope. Zhang Pa caught it, turned into the alley, and hid the dogs behind a parked tricycle.

He tied the rope to their collars and said to Fatty, “Stay here and keep watch.”