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Dinner was Liu Xiaomei’s treat, held at a hotpot restaurant near the school. Each person had their own small pot, and they ordered a few dishes, the total cost coming to less than eighty yuan.

However, Liu Xiaomei was a celebrity on campus. When she dined outside with a man, many students who came to eat glanced repeatedly, guessing at Zhang Pa’s identity.

Zhang Pa asked Liu Xiaomei, “Aren’t you worried that they’ll say the two of us are a couple?”

“In your dreams,” Liu Xiaomei replied. “Are you wondering why I’m willing to talk to you, why I bought you a piano, why I taught you to dance, and now eat with you?”

Zhang Pa admitted he was.

Liu Xiaomei smiled, “I’m not telling you.”

Zhang Pa said, “I’m not in a hurry. I’ll find out eventually.”

After dinner, Liu Xiaomei wanted to see a film. At the cinema, they first chose the movie, bought tickets, and went inside.

Zhang Pa didn’t care what was playing. Sitting beside Liu Xiaomei made him feel happy—two blissful hours passed as he accompanied her home.

Before parting, Liu Xiaomei reminded him, “Don’t forget your task.”

“I won’t forget,” Zhang Pa replied, then went to fetch his bicycle and headed home.

When he arrived, he saw the lights blazing on the second floor. He hurried upstairs; the neighboring room had been rented out, and a man and a woman were busy tidying it.

Zhang Pa said nothing, unlocked his own door, and entered. Nowadays, he had tasks hanging over him: learning to dance, learning guitar, writing scripts, and, most importantly, inventing stories every day. He sorted his thoughts, wrote out each task on paper, stuck them to the wall beside his computer screen, and began with the first lesson.

He started with guitar, plugging the USB drive into the computer, opening the video tutorials, and cradling the instrument as he watched two sessions in a row...

His days grew increasingly full. The next day was even busier: he got up and started working, completed his assignments, practiced piano, and worked on his splits. While he was bustling around, loud voices sounded downstairs, sharp and urgent.

Zhang Pa didn’t want to go down, but someone called for him, shouting his name hoarsely—Zhang Pa, Zhang Pa.

He went downstairs to find a police van parked not far away, with an officer inside. Fatty was anxiously waiting under the opposite wall. Zhang Pa went over and asked, “What’s going on?”

Fatty dragged him aside and whispered, “Someone called the police. They’ve come to catch the dogs—it’s already underway. Zhang Old Four is blocking the door, won’t let them in. You slip in from the back, get the dogs out.”

Hearing this, Zhang Pa said not a word and dashed into the alley, Fatty chasing behind.

After a short run, they reached a narrow lane. Zhang Pa ducked inside, circled around, and arrived beneath a wall.

Inside the wall was Zhang Old Four’s home. He kept not just two big dogs, but several birds and hamsters, and had dug a pond in the yard containing fish and turtles.

Zhang Pa carefully climbed the wall. He saw Zhang Old Four and his wife bracing the door, shouting loudly, while officers and neighborhood staff shouted outside. Judging from the scene, Zhang Old Four wouldn’t last much longer before opening the door.

Zhang Pa jumped gently into the yard. Zhang Old Four, using his back to block the door, was startled by his appearance.

Zhang Pa gestured for silence, then approached the two dogs.

The big dogs were well trained. Zhang Old Four had ordered them to lie down, and despite the shouting and the crowd outside trying to rush in, they obeyed without a sound.

As Zhang Pa drew near, the dogs saw an unexpected figure—someone outside their master’s command. They suddenly stood up, eyes fixed on him.

Zhang Pa cursed inwardly—these two creatures, even though he’d carried one before, still treated him this way.

He signaled to Zhang Old Four, who in turn made gestures to the dogs. With a few motions, the dogs stilled.

Zhang Pa walked over, squatted, picked one up, and slowly moved it to the wall. He lifted the dog to the top of the wall. The dog looked back at Zhang Old Four, who made a jumping gesture, and the dog leaped down.

He returned for the second dog, and with the same method, placed it atop the wall, and it too jumped down. Zhang Pa followed, attached a leash to their collars, and led them toward Fatty’s house.

Fatty waited at the corner; as soon as he saw them coming, he turned and hurried back. Soon, two men and two dogs entered the basement.

Once inside, Zhang Pa began lecturing the dogs: “You two heartless things, I’ve saved you once already, and you still treat me like this? Aren’t we pals? When have I ever bullied you?”

Fatty said, “You didn’t bully them? Your first meeting was a heroic duel—how impressive!”

Zhang Pa snapped, “Oh, you dare bring that up?”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? If they can’t beat you, why not call for help?” Fatty retorted.

Zhang Pa fumed, “That’s helping the dogs! Made me spend two hundred on vaccinations—hurry and reimburse me.”

Fatty said, “Between friends, money shouldn’t be an issue.” He looked at the two dogs. “They’re smart. They act fierce, but they never bite you. Apart from Zhang Old Four, you’re the only one who can carry them—others wouldn’t stand a chance, might get bitten to death.”

“That’s two ungrateful mutts. Every time they see me, they bark and show fighting spirit—am I a Red Bull?” Zhang Pa slapped each dog.

Strangely, in this cramped space, with their master absent, the two dogs expressed no anger toward Zhang Pa.

Fatty said, “I’m going out to check. Watch them.”

Zhang Pa acknowledged, and Fatty left the basement.

There were many things in the basement—several sofa cushions, some large cardboard boxes, and most importantly, his "Strange Chef" was stored here. Looking at the books wrapped in kraft paper and plastic, Zhang Pa sighed—when would they finally sell out?

He stayed in the basement for over two hours before Fatty returned, announcing, “Damn, definitely someone reported it. The police searched everywhere, took away a Pekingese.”

Zhang Pa said, “Zhang Old Four has offended someone again?”

“He’s offended no one,” Fatty replied. “Given his current state, who could he possibly offend?”

Zhang Pa thought for a moment, “Let’s ask Zhang Old Four later.”

After the police left, more than an hour passed before Zhang Old Four called Fatty, “Are the dogs at your place?”

Fatty confirmed, then asked, “Who did you offend?”

“This time, it’s someone powerful,” Zhang Old Four answered. “I just called Old Three—he said the station chief ordered the dog seizure, and it’s an order from above. That kind of official, I’ve never even met. How could I have offended him?”

Fatty asked, “When will you get the dogs?”

“Don’t rush, I’ll check things out first,” Zhang Old Four said. “From Old Three’s tone, the police will come again. Next time, we can’t rely on luck. We need to be more careful.”

Fatty said, “I don’t mind. But is it okay to keep your dogs in my basement?”

“No,” Zhang Old Four replied. “Don’t worry, I’ll find someone to ask.” He hung up.

Fatty relayed this to Zhang Pa, who immediately recalled the middle-aged man who’d clashed with Zhang Old Four a few days ago and mentioned it to Fatty.

Fatty promptly called Zhang Old Four. Zhang Old Four remembered the man as well and cursed, “If that bastard is behind this, I’ll kill him.”

Fatty said, “Let’s be serious—find out who he is. The station chief sent officers, so that guy must have some pull, at least enough to direct the chief. Be careful.”

Hearing this, Zhang Old Four paused to think, “I’ll ask around.”

But asking was likely pointless—they didn’t know the man’s name, only had an impression. To find him based on that... did he think he was a detective?

An hour later, Zhang Old Four called, saying he’d learned nothing.

Zhang Pa grabbed the phone, “I’ve been stuck here a long time. I can’t keep babysitting them forever.”

Zhang Old Four’s two big dogs were dangerous to many. With their master absent, Zhang Pa had to stay; otherwise, things could go wrong.

Zhang Old Four considered, “I’ll come over now.”

Soon, Zhang Old Four arrived at Fatty’s basement. He thanked Zhang Pa, they handed over the dogs, and Zhang Pa went home to continue his tasks.

According to Zhang Old Four, his two dogs were pure military breeds. Whether that was true or not, they were certainly clever. As Zhang Pa left, the dogs even wagged their tails at him—a rare gesture of thanks.

He patted them again, “Glad I helped you out,” and walked out.

He went home to continue working. Meanwhile, Fatty and Zhang Old Four tried to find out what was happening.

By evening, they finally had some news: the middle-aged man who’d argued with Zhang Old Four was a district government official, responsible for the demolition of Xingfuli, and had been on an undercover inspection that day.

With this information, one thing was clear—Xingfuli was definitely slated for demolition. Having resisted for years, it couldn’t hold out much longer. In the current city map, Xingfuli was like a blemish that had to be eradicated.

Because of this, Fatty and his crowd gathered at Big Tiger’s place, eating meat and drinking, discussing serious matters. They needed to unify their stance and strategy, never signing the relocation contract lightly.

Their group was small, but larger meetings had been held many times.

Initially, district officials came to convene them. But every meeting provided residents with information and a chance to unite. While officials spoke, no one paid attention; instead, they exchanged phone numbers and organized.

After the demolition mobilization meetings ended, residents would have their own gatherings, with one agenda: unite for higher compensation.

Due to the compensation issue, some individuals privately received promises of benefit and signed relocation contracts early. When word got out, fights broke out in Xingfuli.

This year was another round; no one knew when the government would convene next.

Usually, for shantytown redevelopment, the government avoided direct involvement, sending representatives instead. The process was mainly led by enterprises, who called meetings and signed contracts with residents.

Xingfuli was different—its infamous reputation made it impossible for the government to find a company willing to take over. Rarely, when a company agreed, the district had to help.

Compared to interests, nothing else mattered.

Fatty’s group unified their message, then relayed it to Big Tiger.

Big Tiger was unhappy, “If we move, business will suffer.”

Regardless of Big Tiger’s opinion, the group first studied the demolition issue, then spoke about the house Da Zhuang had helped rent. Fatty said he was satisfied; it was spacious, and he hoped to get a few good-looking bunk beds so everyone could live and hang out together.