The Irresponsible Little Dog

Lights came on behind the smashed window, and furious curses rang out in the quiet alley.

Zheng Qing held his breath and turned to run, but his foot suddenly grew heavy. A miserable whimper came from beside him. Looking down, he saw the little dog biting the cuff of his trousers, its narrow eyes opened wide as it stared fixedly at him, its tail wagging ingratiatingly.

"Be my witness—I'm not here right now." He nodded irresponsibly, utterly ignoring the little fellow's furious gaze. He pushed up his bike and tried to slip away, only for his trouser cuff to be immediately tugged tight. Lowering his head helplessly, Zheng Qing finally noticed that the little dog's hind leg was bent unnaturally backward. It had probably been injured in the fight just now.

Watching the little dog stubbornly cling to his trouser cuff and listening to its low whimpers, Zheng Qing felt a surge of pity for some reason. In his panic, before he could think further, he grabbed the dog by the scruff and tossed it into his bike basket. Then, amid another burst of cursing from the window, he fled at top speed.

The hundred-odd meters passed in an instant. Once he reached the main street and saw the bright lights all around him, Zheng Qing let out a heavy breath. Looking back, the night sky remained silent and tranquil. He could only vaguely make out an enormous shadow fluttering away into the distance.

The little dog lay lazily in the basket, then raised its head to look at Zheng Qing. Its glossy black eyes shone brightly, as enchanting as an endless starry sky. Zheng Qing suddenly felt that perhaps it would be better to take the little fellow home. After all, that was one corpse and two lives—or perhaps one corpse and several lives. If he simply left the injured dog on the street, it might not even survive until tomorrow morning.

Eager to get home, he failed to notice the sly smile curling at the corner of the dog's mouth. Otherwise, he would definitely have pulled out a handful of talisman papers and viciously smashed them at the little thing.

***

Endless red. Rich, vivid red. Red that filled heaven and earth—the only hue in the entire space. It seemed to have been dyed with fresh blood, filling the world with an aura of slaughter and despair. Zheng Qing stood alone amid that boundless red, motionless, blank, foolishly staring in silence at the monotonous world.

Gradually, soft murmurs rose within that monotonous world. They grew louder and louder until wild, deafening sounds echoed through the space, like tens of millions of wolves howling mournfully at the moon, or countless armored men beating drums and shouting across a wilderness. Contradictory, yet heavy.

But Zheng Qing, standing alone in that space, felt nothing. He merely spread his arms, closed his eyes, and stood quietly there. More and more red piled up, gradually forming thicker, heavier blood-red clouds above his head. They pressed down harder and harder until, in the end, they swallowed Zheng Qing whole.

"Thud!" With a cry of pain, Zheng Qing crawled out from beneath the bed. He had fallen under the bed again. How many times had this been now? Zheng Qing felt helpless, but there was nothing he could do. It was not as though he could tie himself to the bed before sleeping.

Compared with his childhood experiences of headaches that made him ram his head into walls and sleepwalking onto cabinets, falling off the bed while asleep did not seem like much of a problem.

Rubbing his slightly swollen, aching forehead, Zheng Qing had completely forgotten the blood-red world from his dream. He only remembered being chased by something enormous. As it chased him, he woke up. As for his clearest memory, it remained fixed on that great eagle with emerald-green eyes.

Thinking of that great eagle, he lifted his head and searched around nervously. Before long, he spotted the little dog sleeping soundly amid the pile of clothes beside his bed.

He had been a little muddleheaded yesterday. He had only casually washed the dog before going to sleep himself. He had not expected the little dog to find itself such a comfortable place so conscientiously. Reaching out to scratch its upright ears, Zheng Qing felt that this little dog was simply too lovable.

He glanced at the alarm clock beside his pillow. It was not yet six.

Barefoot, Zheng Qing quietly walked onto the balcony and looked up at the sky.

Good. The morning star was still shining.

He casually took out a handful of golden pellets and scattered them along the balcony windowsill. Zheng Qing cast a sidelong glance at the corner of the wall, the corner of his mouth curling slightly. Then he closed his eyes, sank his breath into his dantian, and slowly extended his fists and kicked his legs in time with his breathing.

It felt very much like Tai Chi, yet it was nothing like it at all. Zheng Qing had practiced this Guidance Technique for nearly seven years, never missing a day in accordance with his teacher's requirements.

The paper ball in the corner rustled.

Shortly afterward, a plump little creature with reddish-brown mottled fur climbed up the smooth wall and onto the windowsill. When Zheng Qing had finished several sets of punches and was gathering his breath and focusing his mind, he saw the little creature stuffing things into its mouth nonstop.

"Eat slowly. No one's going to steal it from you." Zheng Qing adjusted his breathing and watched the little mouse with a grin.

The little thing ignored him, continuing to stuff the tiny golden pellets into its mouth until its cheek pouches bulged brightly. Only then did it wipe its whiskers and pause for a moment.

Zheng Qing did not know what breed of mouse it was. It looked somewhat like a guinea pig, short and stout, with round ears, black eyes, short limbs, and no tail, but it was only the size of a fist. Yet it also resembled a hamster, petite, with cheek pouches and sharp incisors. Ever since he had discovered the little thing as a child, its size had basically never changed. It was quite miraculous.

Though he did not know its breed, the little thing had never lacked names. When Shuke Beita had been wildly popular during his childhood, Zheng Qing had called it "Shuta," and often stuffed it into model aircraft to battle monsters. Later, after the film Alvin and the Chipmunks came out, the little thing was renamed "Dabao" for a time. As the saying went, Dabao was seen every day.

After finishing his exercises today, Zheng Qing felt refreshed and wanted to give the little thing another new name.

"Hmm, seeing as this great lord is completely free now, you'll be called Freedom. But Freedom sounds a little tacky. In English, it becomes 'free.' Free means Fei Rui, which is a good omen. But looking at all that fat on you, this 'fortune' should be changed to 'fat.'"

"Mm, from today onward, you'll be called Fei Rui!" Zheng Qing furrowed his brow and worked through a very complicated chain of reasoning. The little creature stuffed the last golden pellet into its mouth, glanced at the person spouting nonsense, calmly wiped its face, and slowly ambled to the window. It slid down a nearby heating pipe and returned to the little nest it had made for itself.

Zheng Qing curled his lip, vigorously rubbed his face, then lazily returned to his room and flopped despondently onto the bed, having no idea what to do next.

Freedom. He had always thought this was the kind of life he wanted most, but after indulging himself, after relaxing, an uncontrollable sense of emptiness rose from the depths of his heart.

He remembered reading a book about philosophy when he was very young. There had been a school of philosophy—he could not remember its name—that discussed the meaning of life, or rather, the meaning of existence. In their view, life had no meaning. People were born and died, living ordinary, numb lives day after day for decades. What was it all for?

The soothing melody of his Canon ringtone suddenly sounded. Zheng Qing casually picked up his phone and hummed, "Moshi moshi?"

It was another invitation to hang out. A wry smile appeared on his face. Every day was like this: eat until full, sleep, wake up and eat, or play on the computer some more. Such comfortable days had once seemed so enjoyable, so wonderful, but now... sigh. Zheng Qing realized he was even somewhat impatient for his college entrance exam results to arrive. No matter whether they were good or bad, they would at least give him something to look forward to. If he did poorly, he could consider finding work. If he did well, he could enjoy the university life he had longed for.

The sleeping little dog rolled over, its fluffy tail swaying naturally. Zheng Qing blinked, but quickly turned away and tossed the thought from his mind. He must have been seeing things. He had actually seen three tails just now! Though the little dog's tail was strange and resembled a squirrel's, there was no way it could grow three of them.

A hallucination. It had definitely been a hallucination.

He believed his own eyes, and he believed his own instincts even more. He had brought this little thing home with his own hands. It was absolutely not some unclean thing.

His family did not object to keeping small animals, provided they did not stink and did not make a mess. After Zheng Qing actively dealt with those problems, the pregnant little dog settled into his home.

The days passed one after another, and Zheng Qing's life continued to waver between lucidity and decadence. The only thing that annoyed him was the little dog he had rescued last time.

After recovering from its injuries, the pregnant dog gave birth to a little puppy resembling a small squirrel. Then, once the little squirrel had grown to the size of a fist and no longer needed to nurse, it vanished without a trace.

With a flick of its tail, it took away not a shred of worry, leaving behind a floor full of long fur and a pitiful Little White Dog.