There were some things that became utterly powerless to discuss once the conversation reached a certain point. Xi Tu'ang awkwardly changed the subject and pointed at Dong Fan. "How'd you get hurt? Need bandages or adhesive strips?"
"Thanks, got some at home."
"Your home's still there?"
"Seventh floor, Big Brother."
Xi Tu'ang sneered. "The water on West Sixth Street is nearly seven meters deep now."
Dong Fan looked puzzled. "So? My doghouse is twenty meters above ground."
"No one can live below the third floor, no one can sleep easy below the fifth. The seventh floor is just right, seventh floor—an excellent shelter. Break the door open and it's ready to use. Plus, it's got the equipment from your black-market shop. Perfect for stripping down and selling."
"...I appreciate the good wishes."
"The good wishes come later." Xi Tu'ang rubbed his own shiny bald head. After hesitating, he finally said, "I think you could spend a couple of years in prison."
That was certainly unpleasant to hear, but Dong Fan did not get angry. He merely bared his teeth slightly.
"You know it—the situation's not looking right these days. Especially for a leftover mutt from Metal Wild like you. You're a dog whose home's been destroyed, so you ought to have the awareness of one. And those mad dogs from the Piao Gang especially—they've been suppressed by Metal Wild for so many years, and they've always been vicious and ruthless. They won't let you off easily."
The little boat puttered onward. As sewage churned around it, Xi Tu'ang continued, "But officially, you kept a relatively low profile in Metal Wild. You don't have any serious charges on record, and you've got some skills. In times like these, going inside for a few years won't draw much attention... Maybe by the