As darkness fell, the shops along the street lit up one after another, some dim, some bright, some white, some pinkish. After experiencing days that were almost identical yet seemed to belong to no one at all, the people of the city began to enjoy their own unique nightlife.
Hot pot restaurants and Hunan cuisine restaurants were packed, with those who couldn't get a seat taking a number and queuing at the door. Street-side barbecue stalls were also crowded with people, their aroma wafting far and wide. The road was littered with skewers of lamb and gloves used for catching lobsters, and spilled vermicelli soup was everywhere.
The cook shouted from the back door of the restaurant, "Why isn't the swill truck here yet? The swill buckets are full, they can't hold any more!" After looking around for a while and not seeing the swill truck arrive, he called over the vegetable washer, "Go, pour the water from the swill buckets into the drain, and remember to scoop out all the bits of food and throw them in the trash can, don't clog the drain!"
In a dimly lit corner of a walled street, a dozen large trash cans stood side by side, yet they still couldn't hold all the garbage left behind by people indulging their appetites on this noisy night. Scattered plastic bags were everywhere, and the sauerkraut and fish soup mixed with sheep's blood and garlic emitted a putrid smell due to the mold.
However, this repulsive taste has become a delicacy for some animals.
Several stray dogs sniffed incessantly near the trash can, their scavenging by humans giving them the opportunity to pick and choose. For them, this was a rare feast season, a chance to fatten themselves up. But once winter arrived, people would retreat into their heated homes at night, and any food scraps left outside would freeze solid. Then, they would face months of cold and hunger.
Behind the trash cans is a wall more than two meters high, and behind the wall is a wasteland that has been demolished for a long time but has not been developed, overgrown with weeds and thorns.
A thin cat scrambled onto the wall. Whether it was because the streetlights were too dim or because the cat was so dirty, it was completely black, and you couldn't tell what color its fur was. Only its two bright eyes gleamed with a hungry yellow-green light.
It lay quietly on the wall, cautiously observing the bustling crowds in the nearby market, like a scout investigating the enemy ahead.
A stray dog looked up at it, seemingly about to bark, but perhaps because it was still swallowing something, it only let out a soft whimper before lowering its head again to search for its food.
The cat shrank its neck, and seeing that the dog didn't bark, it became bolder, sticking out half its body as if to jump down.
The sound of rustling footsteps came from over there, and two young men in white overalls carried a large bucket of garbage towards them. The cat quickly shrank back, its front paws on the top of the wall, its hind legs already outside, ready to jump over and escape at any moment. Several stray dogs only walked a few steps further away, continuing to rummage through their food.
"Business is really good today." After throwing away the trash, one of them took out a cigarette and offered one to another, "Here, have a smoke and take a break."
"So what if business is good? The boss is the one who makes a killing, and we're the ones who are exhausted." Another man took a cigarette, lit it with a snap, and the flame illuminated the wall, startling the cat on the wall.
"That's true. If I don't get a raise soon, I can't keep working here."
"Even if you can't keep doing it, you still have to. These days, it's good enough to have any work at all!"
"But our wages are so pitiful, we don't even earn as much as catching a few cats! I heard that the ' Cat-Killing Order ' online has gone up in price again, now it's five thousand per cat."
"Don't even mention five thousand, what about fifty thousand? Can you even find a single live cat in the city now? Even if you did, you couldn't catch it. It's not like whoever sees it owns it; you have to kill it."
"Hey, with all this trash around here, don't you think there might be stray cats or something?"
"There used to be plenty, but I don't know if there are any now."
"How about we get some medicine and sprinkle it around here, then come back in the middle of the night? Maybe we'll be pleasantly surprised!"
"Hmm, I can give it a try."
The cat pricked up its ears to listen.
There were more footsteps coming from that direction, heavier than the previous two, clearly belonging to a fat man.
"Hey, what are you guys doing here? Taking so long to throw out the trash, aren't you being lazy and checking the time?"
"Just for a smoke, I'll be right there!"
Whose cigarette is this? I'll have one too.
Knowing there were too many people around and it wasn't time for the cat to enjoy its meal, it gently licked its lips, took a step back, gripped the wall tightly with its paws, and slowly took another step back, not daring to make a sound. Step by step, it retreated until it reached the base of the wall, then with a light leap, it jumped into the grass.
They lay prostrate in the overgrown wasteland, waiting silently, like soldiers awaiting the order to attack.
A wild mouse crawled across a ditch by the grass. The cat remained motionless, watching through the blades of grass. When the mouse got closer, the cat swiftly extended its paw and pinned it down.
The mouse squeaked.
The cat first raised its head in a bit of a panic, listened intently, as if afraid that the tiny squeaking of the mouse would disturb the people having their late-night snack over there. After listening for a while without any movement, it relaxed and lay back down.
This is a fat mouse. The abundant food here has fattened it up, and it is probably for this reason that it was easily caught by the cat.
This fat rat would have been a delicious dinner for a cat that had been starving all day, allowing it to spend another long, lonely night without worry.
However, upon hearing the mouse's painful squeaks, the cat suddenly felt a pang of sorrow, a sense of shared suffering.
Two weeks ago, it was lying comfortably on a blanket, enjoying the air conditioning, watching TV, and eating cat food bought from the supermarket. Now, it's reduced to scavenging for food in the trash, and even then, it has to sneak around. Everyone says that rats are universally hated, but people kill rats only out of disgust, rarely pursuing them relentlessly to the point of extermination. But nowadays, cats are not only universally hated, but once discovered, they are relentlessly pursued and killed.
The cat didn't know what was happening, and of course, it couldn't understand the " Cat-Killing Order " online, but it watched its own kind disappear from the world one by one. In this city today, it's hard to say how many cats are still alive.
We are both wanderers in this world!
The cat slowly released its sharp claws, and the mouse, as if granted a pardon, squeaked twice and moved its fat body into the dark burrow.
The voices on the other side of the wall stopped, and the footsteps gradually faded away.
The cat leaped back onto the wall, poked its head out, looked around, and then quickly swooped down, accurately seizing half of the leftover bass before the pack of wild dogs could react.
Its movements were swift and light, making almost no sound. Stains covered its fur, obscuring its original color, making it difficult to spot in the shadows. However, it could not hide its jewel-like eyes that reflected a yellow-green light, which, though only flashed briefly, were as striking as shooting stars streaking across the night sky.
A drunken man was unzipping his pants and urinating in a dark corner of the roadside when something caught his eye. He staggered towards a trash can. Then, his mind, which had been clouded by half a jin of baijiu (a strong Chinese liquor), suddenly cleared, and he roared in a booming voice:
There's a cat!
The street fell silent suddenly, as if time had stopped for a moment. Then it erupted in chaos as street sweepers brandished their brooms, kebab eaters held their skewers, cyclists pushed their bikes, and pedestrians picked up twigs—all rushing toward the drunkard.
The cat was so frightened that its fur stood on end. With half a fish still clutched in its mouth, it leaped over the wall and ran into the weeds.
Behind it, the shouts of people still echoed, "Catch it... Don't let it get away... Surround it... Block the exit..."