12 More Prone to Letting One’s Thoughts Wander

Half-awake, someone knocked on the door. It was the round-faced girl from next door, storming in furiously. “I need your help.”

Zhang Pa was taken aback. “Why are you so angry if you want my help?”

No sooner had he spoken than another girl with long hair came in, pulling the round-faced girl back out. “Stop it.”

The round-faced girl protested, “I’ve never suffered such a loss in my life—I want him dead.”

Just look at the culture of this era: young people can’t stand any grievance. The least upset, and they’re out for blood.

The long-haired girl advised, “A mighty dragon can’t defeat the local snake. You’re an outsider here—how are you going to fight them?”

Clearly, she’d been bullied. Zhang Pa checked the time on his phone: just past midnight. For two girls who worked the night shift, they were back a little early today.

The round-faced girl growled, “I can’t swallow this!” She turned to Zhang Pa. “I know you’re in with those people over at Xingfuli. Help me ask—how much does it cost to break someone’s leg and arm?”

Zhang Pa replied, “We live in a law-abiding society now…”

“Spare me! I saw you guys chasing someone down the street with knives last time.” The round-faced girl demanded, “Just tell me—are you helping or not?”

“Not helping,” Zhang Pa said.

“You!” The round-faced girl snapped, “And here I thought you were a decent neighbor. Men are all the same, damn it.” She stormed out, slamming the door.

The long-haired girl had never liked Zhang Pa and didn’t say a word before following her friend out.

Zhang Pa sighed. If you don’t want to be bullied, just stay away from messy places like that.

The next morning, Zhang Pa went out to buy food and happened to see the round-faced girl coming downstairs. She snorted at him, haughtily raising her head as she walked ahead.

So this is how grudges are made? Zhang Pa smiled, waited a bit, then went down.

As he headed to the market, he saw Fatty squatting at the street corner and asked casually, “What are you doing?”

Fatty replied, “Wu the Third is back, driving some junk car and showing off, makes me sick.”

Zhang Pa looked back. At the end of the long street was a black car. “That black car?”

“Definitely up to no good,” Fatty cursed.

“Who cares if he’s up to no good? Come buy food with me,” Zhang Pa said.

“Forget buying food. Come have lunch at my place.”

“Your place?” Zhang Pa shook his head vigorously.

“Enough with the head-shaking. My mom said you should come over if you’ve got time—so now’s the time.” Fatty added, “It’s about that web series thing. Remember, you’re the one leading it.”

“Fine, I’ll lead,” Zhang Pa said. “Wu the Third coming back can’t mean anything good, can it?”

“Who knows?” Fatty suddenly grinned. “Want to get Turtle to beat him up?”

“You’re nuts.” Zhang Pa replied, “Do you have an addiction to fighting?”

Fatty said, “Not fighting in general—just beating him up.”

Zhang Pa chuckled. “If you’re itching for a fight, you know those two girls next door? The round-faced one’s been bullied and wants to break someone’s arms and legs. Want me to introduce you?”

Fatty curled his lip. “Introduce, my ass.” Then he added, “Come on, let’s eat at my place.”

“It’s still early,” Zhang Pa objected.

Fatty checked his phone. “Then let’s go to your place.” He stood up and led the way.

Zhang Pa followed. “I didn’t go out to sell books yesterday, so I have to go today.”

Fatty said, “You’re a real piece of work.”

So be it. Zhang Pa remembered something, went downstairs, and handed his key to Fatty. “You go up first. I’ve got something to do.” He rode off on his bike.

Ten minutes later, he returned and handed Fatty an envelope marked with a bank logo. “Four thousand.”

“What’s this for?” Fatty asked.

“For the computer. That’s all I have.” As he spoke, he called Sissy.

Fatty cursed, “Don’t insult me. Just take it.”

“Come on, don’t make it hard for me—just take it,” Zhang Pa insisted. “Besides, it’s not enough anyway.”

Fatty tossed the envelope onto the bed. “Give it to whoever you want.” He turned and opened the laptop.

At that moment, Sissy answered the call. He was actually in the girls’ dorm at the Conservatory of Music, learning singing and acting with the girls and planning to compose a theme song for their web series.

Zhang Pa immediately hung up and told Fatty, “Sissy’s in the girls’ dorm. What is this world coming to?”

Fatty said, “If you were as handsome as him, you could do it too.”

Zhang Pa tossed the envelope back at Fatty. “Stop acting like a big spender.”

“Keep it. Give it back to me when you’re a big shot.” Speaking of being a big shot, Fatty remembered something. “A friend of a friend of mine writes online novels and makes pretty good money. Want to meet him?”

“No, thanks,” Zhang Pa replied.

“Don’t you have any curiosity at all?” Fatty clicked the mouse at random, then asked, “How’s the script coming?”

“Haven’t written a single word,” Zhang Pa said.

“What’s it about?”

“No idea at all,” Zhang Pa replied quickly.

“Write about me,” Fatty said. “Make me the protagonist—write about my struggles building my career.”

“Better to write about Old Liang’s blind dates. That could fill dozens of episodes at least,” Zhang Pa countered.

Mentioning Old Liang made Fatty laugh out loud. “Old Liang is a legend. Last time at the Trade Center, he ran into three of his ex-blind dates in just twenty minutes.”

“You went to the Trade Center?” Zhang Pa was surprised.

“Sissy was buying gifts for a girl and dragged us along,” Fatty laughed. “Sissy and Old Liang together are a perfect pair—one leaves a trail of women, the other a trail of blind dates. Everywhere they go—‘Hey, you look familiar!’—hilarious.”

“Old Liang is a good kid. Don’t lead him astray.”

“Being good is useless. After five or six years of blind dates, he still hasn’t landed anyone,” Fatty said. “He’s not even as good as me.”

“Yeah, right. Like I don’t know? You accused Sissy of hitting on girls at your internet café, but how many girls have you slept with there? You’re the real scoundrel.”

“I’m willing to spend money on gifts and game gear—if you were willing to spend, you could get girls too,” Fatty bragged.

Zhang Pa didn’t want to continue the conversation. Glancing at the envelope on the table, he said, “How about we go outside and have a fight?”

Fatty was startled, jumping to his feet. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I just feel like hitting you.”

Fatty turned to leave. “I’m not going to stoop to your level, lunatic.” But he came back after a moment. “Let’s go.”

When lunchtime came, Zhang Pa shut down his computer, locked up, and went to Fatty’s house.

Fatty’s home was also a two-story house, each floor over a hundred square meters. Fatty lived on the second floor by himself.

When Zhang Pa entered, Fatty’s mother greeted him warmly. “Why don’t you ever come by?”

Fatty answered for him, “Busy making up stories every day. Haven’t you noticed his hair’s getting thin?”

“True, it does look a bit thinner,” Fatty’s mom said. “You can’t stay up late—never stay up late.”

Zhang Pa promised he wouldn’t. Fatty’s mom said, “Sit down for a bit. Lunch will be ready soon.”

During lunch, she asked about the web series. Even if it didn’t make money, she said, as long as you’re doing something serious—even if it costs a little—it’s better than getting into trouble and dealing with the police.

She asked all the details, then finally said, “If you’re short on money, tell Auntie—I have a little saved up.”

Fatty said, “But you won’t give me any?”

“I’ll give you some? Pay back the money from selling the internet café first,” his mom retorted loudly.

“I lost it all in business,” Fatty muttered.

“What else can you do except spend and lose money?” his mother said, disappointed. Then she added, “Wu’s third son is back. Don’t go making trouble for me.”

“Don’t worry,” Fatty replied, getting up. “We’re off.”

Zhang Pa said goodbye to Auntie, and the two went out. They parted at the intersection—Fatty to Turtle’s house for mahjong, Zhang Pa home to write stories.

As he was writing, someone stomped up the stairs and flung open the outer door, then Zhang Pa’s door. It was a bald man. He glanced around, then left to try the next room.

Zhang Pa was annoyed, got up, and looked down the hallway.

There were three rooms; the two girls lived in the innermost one. The bald man tried the second door, found it locked, banged on it twice, and, getting no response, moved on.

The two girls were home—round-face had come back. Unless they were out shopping, they were usually sleeping at home.

The bald man kicked the door open and barged in, and immediately the girls erupted in curses. “Screw you, you mother—”

Such courage, Zhang Pa thought, going over to have a look. The bald man hadn’t yet laid hands on anyone, just pointed at the round-faced girl. “This is your last chance—come quietly with me.”

Standing on the bed, the round-faced girl hurled insults at him, repeating the same curse words over and over. The long-haired girl joined in, threatening to call the police if he didn’t leave immediately.

The bald man said coldly, “Come with me if you know what’s good for you, or don’t blame me for what happens next.”

Zhang Pa appeared at the door. For once, the long-haired girl acknowledged him and cried out anxiously, “Call the police! Help me call the police!”

The bald man was arrogant and snapped at Zhang Pa, “Get lost! What are you looking at?”

Zhang Pa ignored him, pulled out his phone, and dialed 110. “Hello, this is Xingfuli. I’m reporting a case—a bald man broke in and is causing trouble, even hitting people…”

“Damn it!” The bald man rushed over and kicked at him.

Zhang Pa sidestepped, grabbed his leg, and, with a tug, nearly made the bald man do the splits—he crashed to the floor.

Zhang Pa kept talking to the operator. “He’s attacking me. Can I fight back? That would be self-defense, right?”

The bald man got up and charged him again. Zhang Pa dodged while continuing the call. “He’s hitting me. What should I do? Run? Okay, I’ll run, but I’ve got a computer and money in my room—what if he steals them?”

After a few more failed attempts, the bald man, realizing he couldn’t land a hit, stopped and asked coldly, “Who are you?”

Zhang Pa remained on the line with the police. “He’s asking who I am. Should I answer?”

The bald man’s eyes were cold. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance. Get out now and we’ll forget this ever happened. Otherwise…” He sneered.

Zhang Pa finally finished the call, urging before hanging up, “Hurry up and come.”

He put away his phone and stared blankly at the bald man, saying nothing.

The bald man threatened, “You’ve got a death wish, huh?”

Zhang Pa still didn’t respond—there was no point. Anything he said would be a waste.

The bald man nodded, pulled out his phone, and barked into it, “I’m at Xingfuli—bring some guys over, now!”

After the call, he stood by the door, eyes flicking between the girls and Zhang Pa.

Inside, the round-faced girl was relentless, cursing the bald man non-stop.

Zhang Pa really wanted to remind her: Does cursing help? If you really provoke him, aren’t you the one who’ll suffer?

Thankfully, the long-haired girl finally managed—with much tugging and persuading—to get her friend to shut up.

Silence fell over the room, and the four of them said nothing.