It's so hard to come up with a title.

“And then what?” Big Ox asked.

“Then? The three women called the police, accused him of harassment and all sorts of crimes, but our Brother Zhang was impressive; he quietly went with the officers, and was released the very next day,” Old Pi said.

“Why? That’s it, nothing happened?” Big Ox pressed.

Fang Zijiao replied, “Are you stupid? We already talked about this before; obviously, he has connections.”

The four of them chatted in the hospital ward, while Zhang Pa was at home working.

Life is a repetition, day after day, year after year; to find happiness, one must learn to enjoy it. But being cooped up alone in a room, writing endlessly without rest—no matter how much you love it, fatigue creeps in. Zhang Pa couldn’t quite call it exhaustion; laziness was his constant companion, and often, while writing, he’d drift off to do something else. Fortunately, he bought himself an expensive guitar, so time wasn’t entirely wasted.

At lunch, Bandit and Da Wu came to drink with Zhang Pa at a noodle shop on the corner.

Zhang Pa knew something was up. After ordering food and drinks, he asked, “What’s going on?”

Bandit said, “We need your advice.”

“My advice? Are you crazy?” Zhang Pa opened a beer.

Bandit explained, “Da Wu and I have been job hunting for days. Good jobs are nowhere to be found, bad jobs pay just over a thousand a month. It’s the twenty-first century, even pedicab drivers make several thousand, but every job offer we get is barely over a thousand. The best is fifteen hundred. Makes me want to buy fifteen hundred’s worth of spirit money and throw it in their faces.”

Zhang Pa said, “Stop with the nonsense. Even courier jobs pay over two thousand. Why not try that?”

“Couriers make about two-seven or two-eight,” Da Wu mused. “If nothing else works out, maybe we really should deliver parcels.”

Bandit scoffed, “Forget it. Those guys drive vans—you know how to drive? You’d deliver by bike?”

Da Wu scratched his head. “Seriously though, we’ve looked for days and found nothing good. Tiger says Guo Gang is hiring. If we join, it’s thirty-five hundred a month to start, two months on probation. Later, it could go up to five or six thousand. But working for Guo Gang… we’re not sure.”

Zhang Pa asked, “How much does Tiger make?”

“Tiger’s salary is high—eight thousand base, plus some perks,” Bandit replied.

Zhang Pa said, “If you two just want to work, does it matter whose boss you are? No need to fret so much.”

“If only it were that easy. What we can’t figure out is how you manage to get by on just a few hundred a month,” Bandit said. “Got any tips? Teach us.”

“Are you buying me drinks or mocking me?” Zhang Pa raised his glass. “Let’s drink.”

The three clinked glasses. Bandit asked again, “So, should we take the job with Guo Gang?”

Zhang Pa replied, “If you want to, go for it. What are you worried about?”

Bandit said, “I don’t know. It just feels off.”

Zhang Pa shrugged, “I’m no life coach. Asking me is pointless. Let’s just drink. I’ll tell you a joke—a sissy got cornered by a pregnant girl at his doorstep...”

The two immediately perked up and asked for details.

Which just goes to show—no matter who you are, there’s always a market for gossip.

After the meal, the two decided to keep looking for work and swore off Guo Gang. Zhang Pa asked why.

Bandit replied, “If you can live on barely a thousand a month and still be so chill, there’s no way I’ll be worse off. Why be Guo Gang’s lackey?”

Zhang Pa said, “Trying to pick your own memorial day in advance?”

Bandit just grinned, called the waiter for the bill, and headed back to Xingfuli.

The afternoon sun drifted lazily across the sky, its rays just as languid. Pedestrians on the street seemed even lazier; watching them, you’d think the world was truly a place of leisure.

The three walked along a small street. Bandit suggested going to play cards with Turtle; Da Wu wanted to go home and nap. Zhang Pa said nothing, and at his doorway, simply said goodbye and climbed the stairs.

Next door, the girls had brought in two more friends, making things a bit rowdier. But at least there were no raucous noises—nothing he couldn’t tolerate. Zhang Pa returned to his room to continue working.

That evening, Liu Xiaomei called. “There’s a dance class tomorrow afternoon. Remember, it’ll be two classes a week from now on, Wednesdays and Saturdays. I won’t remind you again.”

Zhang Pa agreed, instantly recalling her gentle kiss.

If you’ve never kissed, you can’t imagine how soft and warm a woman’s lips are. Liu Xiaomei’s kiss was sweet and fragrant—Zhang Pa could never forget it.

Just then, Fatty came running up in a hurry. “Big news.”

Zhang Pa glanced at him and muttered lazily, “The world’s ending? Oh, I’m terrified.”

“It’s really happening—they’re demolishing the place. I just got word: this afternoon the district held a mobilization meeting for Xingfuli’s demolition.”

“Isn’t that meeting for you guys?” Zhang Pa asked.

Fatty replied, “It was for the staff. Looks like it’s a sure thing now.”

“Didn’t you already confirm this last time? Another confirmation today?”

“Last time we weren’t certain. This time it’s definite,” Fatty said.

“They’re making their move. You need to figure out your next step. Why come to me?” Zhang Pa asked.

Fatty said, “They’ll send people over in a few days. Where will you move?”

“We’ll see when the time comes,” Zhang Pa said.

Fatty thought for a moment. “Their suggestion is to sell the resettlement house, add some money, and buy a commercial apartment in the city.”

“Makes sense,” Zhang Pa replied simply, sounding unconcerned.

Fatty considered, then said, “I’m off,” and went downstairs.

Was the demolition really happening? Zhang Pa sat in a daze.

Though many disliked Xingfuli, he himself didn’t mind; low rent trumped any other convenience.

The provincial capital isn’t the capital, and Xingfuli isn’t University Town—there won’t be a batch of instant millionaires from this demolition. In reality, no matter how big your current place, no matter how large the new apartment, you’ll definitely have to pay extra. How much? That’s another story.

One thing was certain: whatever happened, Zhang Pa would have to move. With Xingfuli gone, the soil that nurtured him would be gone too. It would be hard to coast through life on a bicycle as before.

The advantage of living in a crowded courtyard is that even the loneliest person feels surrounded by life. Swap it for a high-rise after demolition, and even the liveliest family can’t escape the loneliness of being walled in.

After some thought, he realized he’d have to look for a new place.

Fatty’s news was accurate: the next day, staff from a company and the neighborhood office arrived in Xingfuli to register every household, measuring apartment sizes and counting residents, all duly recorded.

It would be a long-term process, but now that the survey had started, it meant a real estate company had accepted the project.

Fatty called Tiger and asked if Guo Gang’s company had picked up the job. The answer was surprising: no. It was a mysterious out-of-town company.

Logically, to ensure the demolition went smoothly, a local company should handle it—especially since Guo Gang built his business on demolition. Why hadn’t he gotten the contract?

But none of that had anything to do with Zhang Pa. He was just a guest, living here temporarily. While the residents fretted over square footage and how many apartments they might get, he was still tapping away at his keyboard.

He hadn’t been out peddling books for days, freeing up plenty of time for writing. He was making good progress, learning guitar, and feeling quite fulfilled.

Just as he was busy and content, No. 119 Middle School made the news.

No. 119 was a pitiful place, home to countless rotten characters—like Yun Zheng’s gang of five troublemakers.

This time, though, it wasn’t about them. Several senior students beat up a first-year, laughed it off, filmed it on their phones, and even shared the video in their class group, which then went viral online.

Reading such news, you can’t help but sigh at how vast the country is. Otherwise, why do these things keep happening, one after another, never-ending?

The incident had happened; the principal was left stupefied. Just days ago, four of those troublemakers had been attacked outside school, and it had taken great effort to settle that mess. Now, another, even uglier scandal hit the web.

How the principal would handle it was not Zhang Pa’s concern. After finishing his work, he rode off to meet Liu Xiaomei for their date. Yes, Mr. Zhang stubbornly considered it a date, and so it was.

As usual, he waited for her after class at the music academy, and together they walked to the affiliated elementary school to teach the kids. In the short ten-minute walk, it was obvious Liu Xiaomei was especially happy.

Zhang Pa asked, “Are you always this happy when you’re with me?”

Liu Xiaomei replied, “If I’d known you were this shameless, I wouldn’t have bothered with you.”

Zhang Pa said, “Too late now.”

Liu Xiaomei just laughed, not denying it.

For the third time, the students’ parents saw Zhang Pa and Liu Xiaomei walk into the classroom together. In fact, it wasn’t just parents—elementary teachers, music students, even Liu Xiaomei’s suitors all saw them, and none could figure out their relationship. Such is the allure of a celebrated dance artist, super beauty, and the music school’s number one stunner.

After class, Liu Xiaomei gave him extra practice, then they ate together, making it a perfect little date, and finally he walked her home.

Zhang Pa was utterly in love with this life, and with this feeling. As the saying goes, happiness lies ahead—if only you dare reach for it.

And then, something even happier happened: this time, Liu Xiaomei invited him upstairs.

Zhang Pa asked, surprised, “Really? Is it okay?”

Liu Xiaomei replied, “Come up and see.”

What did that mean? Zhang Pa locked his bike, his thoughts running wild, and followed Liu Xiaomei back to her dorm.

She lived on the top floor, a tiny single room. The best part was she had a key to the rooftop, which was spacious.

The room itself was small, neat, and elegantly simple, with few possessions, all well arranged. A bed, a computer desk, a wardrobe, and some kitchen and bathroom items. No TV, no fridge.

Once inside, Liu Xiaomei turned on her computer and went to pour water.

Zhang Pa glanced around—there was only one chair. Was he supposed to sit on the bed?

Liu Xiaomei said, “Let me play you a song,” and clicked open a music player.

It was a popular song, very pleasant, but didn’t quite sound like the original. Noticing the microphone perched on the desk, Zhang Pa offered heartfelt praise: “That was amazing—really, better than the original!”

Liu Xiaomei laughed. “You’re pretty sharp.”

Zhang Pa cleared his throat. “If I couldn’t guess that much, I’d be hopelessly dense.”

Indeed, if someone plays you a hugely popular song that isn’t the original version, with a microphone sitting right there—if you can’t put two and two together, how could you ever hope to be in a relationship?