147 speaks the truth.

The next day, the monkeys went to school. Zhang Pao, afraid of losing the room, strolled back to Happiness Lane, lingered a moment at the door, then stepped inside.

After days of cleaning, most things had been discarded, leaving only a simple bed, a wardrobe, and some dining utensils. What was missing now were the bedding. Lao Pi said he had some at home and would bring them over later.

What does it mean to be poor? It means not even having extra bedding at home, like the Yun family.

Zhang Pao didn’t mind; whether buying new or using old was fine. The main issue was that they wouldn’t be staying here long, and moving again would be a hassle.

After the fire, doors and windows were wide open, yet a faint smell of char and smoke lingered after several days. But that didn’t matter; they just joked it smelled like roasted meat.

Unexpectedly, a guest arrived—a young woman in jeans and sneakers knocked at the door, asking if anyone was home.

Zhang Pao went out and asked, “What’s the matter?”

The girl carried a sports bag, holding a phone in one hand and a pen and notebook in the other, peeking around as if looking for something.

Zhang Pao repeated, “Is there something you need?”

She asked, “Was there a recent fire here?”

Zhang Pao inquired, “From the insurance company?”

The girl smiled, “No, no, I’m a reporter. I want to interview you.”

“Interview me?” Zhang Pao was a bit curious. “I do good deeds anonymously. How did you find me? You must be quite a skilled reporter.”

The woman laughed at his tease and replied it wasn’t that. “Here’s the thing: this area is about to be demolished. Someone called in a tip-off, claiming the real estate company sent people to set the houses on fire. I want to find out what’s going on.”

“Set fire to houses?” Zhang Pao chuckled. “Who made that claim?”

“That can’t be revealed. We keep our sources confidential,” the reporter said. “Don’t worry, even if you tell me something during the interview, it will remain confidential.”

Zhang Pao looked outside. “Is it just you? No cameraman?”

“For now, it’s just me. I’m here to see what’s really happening. If the information isn’t accurate, there won’t be an interview.” She tapped on her phone. “May I ask, did you refuse to sign a contract because you were unhappy with the demolition compensation? And then the fire happened?”

After talking for a while, Zhang Pao understood the situation. Some stubborn residents in Happiness Lane, hoping to make money, were using the fire incident to stir up trouble, trying to pressure the developer into concessions.

As for the cause of the fire—was it really important? What mattered was that houses had indeed burned down, and demolition was imminent.

But there was one thing: in this city where he lived, such news tips were utterly useless. He had seen plenty of forced demolition news, but when had local news ever broadcast a forced demolition incident happening locally?

Never.

The reason was that the demolition wasn’t just a business matter. The developers hired thugs, even gangsters, but more importantly, government officials were often involved.

Selling land was a government act, and to smooth things over for developers, the government would help with the demolition and handle any fallout.

From this, Zhang Pao guessed that the young reporter was probably a novice. Experienced reporters didn’t chase this kind of story—they were invited by developers for dinners and red envelopes, then given press releases to tweak at home and publish as news articles.

Listening to the girl’s questions, Zhang Pao smiled and replied, “No, it’s got nothing to do with demolition.”

The reporter was a bit surprised and whispered, “Don’t be afraid. Don’t hide things for others. If there’s something hidden, just tell me. We can make a public appeal through the media.”

Zhang Pao said, “There’s really nothing to hide.”

“How is that possible? I just saw outside—the fire was severe. The entire second floor burned. Such a big fire can’t be accidental, right?” the reporter pressed.

Zhang Pao smiled, “You’re overthinking it. I’ll say it again—the fire has nothing to do with demolition. Thanks for your concern. Goodbye.” He tried to close the door.

The reporter hurriedly stopped him. “Wait.”

“Anything else?” Zhang Pao asked.

She held up her phone and asked again, “Regarding the demolition in Happiness Lane, have any residents had disputes with the company over compensation so far?”

Zhang Pao laughed, “I honestly don’t know. If you want to find out, you’ll have to investigate properly.” Then he closed the door.

The reporter was left standing outside, somewhat displeased. After a while, she wandered the street, searching for potential leads.

Zhang Pao didn’t take it seriously and opened his computer to work. But soon, the reporter returned, knocked, then pointed at his head and asked, “Were you beaten? Is that why you’re afraid to talk?”

Zhang Pao looked pitiful—his shaved head was wrapped in a large bandage, the adhesive tapes on his face removed, revealing several scars, one side of his face swollen, and most notably, dark bruises under his eyes with bloodshot veins.

The eyes took the longest to heal. To clear the redness required one word: time.

Seeing the reporter’s earnest and hopeful expression, Zhang Pao smiled, “You’re imagining things.”

“Why won’t you tell the truth? You were beaten but don’t dare say so? If someone hurt you, you should report it to the police,” she said.

Zhang Pao looked at her and laughed, “Have you never faced any trouble? Are you from a well-off family, or spoiled by your parents, never having encountered hardships?”

“What do you mean?” the reporter asked.

“Good grades, smooth sailing at school?” he continued.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked. “Are you calling me immature?”

“Not quite. You probably won’t believe me, but I envy you.”

“Envy me? Why?”

“You’re a television reporter, right? It’s not easy to get into a TV station. Since you made it, of course I’d envy you.”

“I got in by passing the entrance exam,” the reporter said proudly.

Zhang Pao smiled. “No offense. I just wanted to say thank you for your concern. But you’ve got one thing wrong—I’m not the landlord. I’m just staying here temporarily. Even if there were forced demolitions, it wouldn’t involve me.”

“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” the reporter asked. “Can I contact the landlord?”

“That’s not possible. The landlord works seven days a week, comes home tired after work,” Zhang Pao said.

“Working seven days a week? I don’t get days off either,” the reporter replied.

Zhang Pao smiled, about to say more, but suddenly paused. He realized he was becoming unusually tolerant, unlike himself. He pondered—could it be because of love? Yes, definitely! Ever since he started pursuing Liu Xiaomei, his temper had improved. Love truly was a miraculous remedy.

Lost in thought, he was snapped back when the reporter asked, “What’s wrong?”

Zhang Pao smiled, “I’ll tell you something—you came a little early.”

“Early? How so?” she asked.

“At this stage, the developer is still signing contracts with residents. Demolition hasn’t started yet. Of course, no matter how it goes, there will be contracts. You see, there are always developer staff coming here, doing their work. There are definitely stubborn residents here and likely forced demolition incidents as you imagine, but not now. If you want to get news, it’s easier to ask the developer’s staff directly.”

The reporter pouted, “I asked them, but they ignore me.”

Zhang Pao laughed, “Then you don’t need to come now. Come back in a while, maybe after the New Year. Demolition isn’t easy. Winter is tough for construction. After the New Year, demolition and construction will really start. That’s when the real story unfolds—whether people move or not depends on spring. You’re too early.”

The reporter thought for a moment, “You make a good point. But can you give me the landlord’s contact info?”

Zhang Pao smiled, “No.”

“Why not?” she said. “Is it because it’s not your place, so you don’t care it was burned down?”

Zhang Pao said, “I admire your imagination, but that’s not it. Listen to me—don’t waste your time here now. Come back after the New Year. As for the tip-off you got, that person probably didn’t sign any contract and just wants to stir up trouble to get more benefits.”

The reporter found his words somewhat reasonable and took out a business card. “Could I have your phone number? If anything happens, I can reach you. If you face any injustice, you can reach out to me.”

Zhang Pao readily gave his number and took her card. “Yu Xiaoran—that’s a nice name.” Then he added sincerely, “I hope you keep this pure heart of yours from today onward. Stay like this always.”

“What are you talking about? Like being a reporter for a few days will turn your heart black?” Yu Xiaoran said, giving her name.

Zhang Pao repeated his name, and Yu Xiaoran saved it in her phone. “What kind of name is that? Strange.”

Zhang Pao said, “Ugly people have strange names.”

Yu Xiaoran was taken aback, quickly apologizing, “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean your name was bad.”

Zhang Pao laughed, “It’s okay. Go on home.”

“You really have no problems?” Yu Xiaoran looked uncertain.

Zhang Pao laughed, “If you said a word, I’d have problems. You’re worse than a nuclear bomb.”

“True.” Yu Xiaoran smiled and said goodbye, “I’ll go now.”

Watching her leave, Zhang Pao thought to himself, Happiness Lane was truly lively. Even at the contract signing stage, all sorts of scoundrels appeared, using the house fire as leverage. Who knew what trouble would come next?

Just as he imagined, that afternoon Fatty called, asking directly, “Did the developer send people to beat you? Did they set your house on fire, too?”

Zhang Pao asked, “What did you say?”

Fatty said, “That doesn’t make sense. If anyone got beaten, it should be Wang Baihe’s family. Maybe they mistook you for the landlord?”

Zhang Pao asked again, “What?”

Fatty replied, “Your house got burned, there are photos and reports online saying the developer forced evictions. Just search ‘Happiness Lane.’”

Zhang Pao said, “Why search that?”

“Never mind that now. Did your house burning have anything to do with the developer?” Fatty asked again.

Zhang Pao didn’t answer but countered, “Can you find out who posted that?”

“I can’t. Several forums have it—QQ, Weibo, Tianya Community... Why do you ask?” Fatty responded.

(To be continued.)