An Old Friend Named Him

The silver BMW screeched to a halt. The driver, scared witless by the terrifying figures outside the window, looked back in panic. "President Mu?"

Tong Zhao had whetted President Mu's appetite that night, but he hadn't expected him to run off. Now, phone in hand, he was distractedly looking for a minor celebrity to sleep with him.

When the car suddenly stopped, his head slammed into the seat in front of him, nearly making him throw up all the alcohol he'd already drunk.

"What the hell! Are you blind—" The figure outside the window scared him into cutting off the curse. President Mu drew back. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The man outside wore a mask, with the brim of his cap pulled low. He raised the stick in his hand and tapped on the glass. "Coming out on your own, or should I help you?"

"Who the hell are you? How dare you block my car? You must have a death wish!" President Mu roared at the driver, "Drive! Run them over!"

"But..." The driver pointed ahead with a trembling finger.

Several spike strips lay across the ground in front of and behind the car. If it drove over them, the tires would burst.

President Mu turned pale and said to the man leading the group outside the window, "Brother, how much do you want? Give me your account number, and I'll transfer it right away."

The man outside straightened up impatiently and weighed the wooden stick in his hand. "Coming out on your own, or should I help you?"

"Don't be rash. It's just a matter of money, isn't it? If you want it, I'm willing to pay. There's no need to get physical." President Mu forced a conciliatory smile onto his face, but hid his hand behind his back and quietly dialed the police.

As soon as he pressed zero, the window cracked with a crash, a web of fractures spreading across it. President Mu was so frightened that he dropped his phone on the floor.

A few more blows shattered the window, and the man reached inside and opened the door.

Several men dragged President Mu out of the car. His obese body hit the ground like a ball, while the driver trembled in his seat, not daring to move.

President Mu tried to get up, but the wooden stick pressed against his chest. The man's eyes beneath his cap were sharp and cold, and a faint scar seemed to extend from beneath his mask to the corner of one eye.

"Brother, let's talk this over." President Mu was shaking all over, his head covered in cold sweat.

The man crouched and gave a signal. His subordinates immediately pinned President Mu's right hand to the ground and forced his fingers apart.

When the man pulled out a dagger, President Mu's voice changed. "What are you going to do? Let's talk this over. Tell me what you want. Tell me, tell me, just don't hurt me!"

The dagger spun in the man's hand, its tip aiming at President Mu's palm.

"This hand is dirty. Here's a lesson for you." The man raised the dagger and brought it down, driving it through President Mu's palm.

A howl rang out through the night sky.

In a seven-seat SUV, the man removed his mask, revealing the hideous scar on the left side of his face. He lowered his eyes, wiped the blood off the dagger, and put it back in its sheath.

"Brother Ze, where are we going next?" a subordinate asked, turning to him.

Wei Ze said, "We're going to move the boss's car."

"Move the boss's car? What car?" The subordinate blinked.

"The boss's car got a flat tire in front of the old residence."

"Huh? What happened?" The subordinate had been off handling something else and had only shown up when they blocked President Mu's car, so he didn't know what had led up to it.

Another man, who was bald, swore at him. "Just move the car when you're told to. Why so many questions?"

"Yes, Brother Guang." The subordinate lowered his head.

Wei Ze took the cigarette Ye Guang tossed him and smiled.

The boss had told them to put nails on the uphill road in front of the old residence in advance, and it turned out he'd done it to puncture his own tires?

Thinking of President Mu just now, Wei Ze was also a little puzzled.

But they weren't allowed to be curious about the boss's affairs, much less ask about them.

Tong Zhao slept deeply. Although he could hold his liquor, his hangovers were severe.

The moment he opened his eyes, Tong Zhao felt a little disoriented.

The birdsong outside the window, the planet-shaped lamp on the ceiling, and the orange scent of the bedding left him briefly unsure of what time he was in.

He sat in a daze for a full half minute before the events of last night pieced themselves together in his mind.

He sat up and closed his eyes, waiting for the dizziness to ease. Then he got out of bed and paused again.

He glanced toward the door before heading to the bathroom.

While brushing his teeth, Tong Zhao felt a slight pain in his lower lip. He leaned closer to the mirror and saw that it was red and swollen.

How did that happen? Tong Zhao wondered. A mosquito bite?

It was possible. Autumn mosquitoes in their final struggle for life could leave nasty bites.

After getting ready, Tong Zhao took three deep breaths at the bedroom door before working up the courage to turn the handle and go out.

As he walked down the stairs, the aroma of breakfast greeted him.

Shu Sizhuo sat at the dining table looking at a laptop. He wore a dark gray shirt, and a pair of thin-framed glasses sat on his handsome young face, making him look like a refined scoundrel.

Tong Zhao frowned. How had this little brat managed to become nearsighted in eight years?

A few steps farther down, Tong Zhao saw the old dog lying at Shu Sizhuo's feet and stopped without thinking.

The old dog was dozing, but glanced sideways at the sound.

The next second, he threw off his elderly demeanor, sprang to his feet, and raced toward Tong Zhao.

Little Loofah!

Tong Zhao nearly called out, but forced the words back. He reached out to catch the dog charging at him and was knocked onto his butt on the stairs.

Little Loofah pawed at him frantically, licking his face over and over.

"Stop, stop, stop... That tickles..." Tong Zhao laughed and played with him for a while, then held him and stared at him. As he looked, his heart began to ache.

His Little Loofah had turned into an old loofah. Boo-hoo-hoo.

"Little Loofah." Shu Sizhuo had come over at some point. At his single call, Little Loofah reluctantly moved off Tong Zhao, though he continued to look up with his tongue hanging out.

Shu Sizhuo held out a hand to Tong Zhao.

Tong Zhao paused, then gave him his hand.

Shu Sizhuo's palm was broad and dry. The moment they touched, Tong Zhao's heart gave a little squeeze.

"He's an old family dog. Maybe he's like me and thinks you look like that old friend, so he got a little excited," Shu Sizhuo explained with a smile after pulling Tong Zhao up.

"It's... it's fine." Tong Zhao smiled to cover it up. "His name is Little Loofah?"

"Mm. An old friend named him."

Tong Zhao: "..."

"Come have breakfast." Shu Sizhuo smiled. "I'll take you back after we eat."

While Tong Zhao ate, Little Loofah lay down at his feet instead. Every couple of bites, Tong Zhao would stroke Little Loofah's head, and Little Loofah would give an enthusiastic wag of his tail.

Shu Sizhuo's dark eyes rested on Tong Zhao through his glasses.

After breakfast, Tong Zhao followed Shu Sizhuo to the garage. Little Loofah couldn't bear to part with him and followed him all the way to the elevator, barking twice before the servant assigned to care for him led him away.

After the elevator doors closed, Tong Zhao's eyes quietly reddened.

—[Your name is Little Sizhuo, so he'll be Little Loofah. What do you think? Does it sound nice? Hahaha...]

He had given Little Loofah to Shu Sizhuo as an eleventh birthday present, sixteen years ago in this world.

Little Loofah was old now, and Tong Zhao couldn't stay here forever. Unless something unexpected happened, this would be the last time he saw Little Loofah.

With Shu Sizhuo standing right behind him, Tong Zhao didn't dare rub his eyes. He gritted his teeth and blinked twice, holding back the tears that were about to spill.