Chapter 279: Theft Incident

At the edge of the sidewalk, Zheng Tan was rubbing the gum on his paw on the ground; passersby would occasionally walk by, and upon seeing Zheng Tan they would hastily avoid him, even muttering a few words of disdain, for fear of touching a 'mad' or 'cramping' cat.

Zheng Tan was already angry from stepping on the gum, and hearing these people call him a 'crazy cat' or 'sick' made him want to kick them, but the gum on his paw wouldn't come off, picking up dust and grit from the ground, making it feel even more disgusting than when he first stepped on it.

Just as Zheng Tan was thinking about going back to have Jiao Ma help clean it up, he sensed someone walking toward him.

He looked up and saw a young man in his late twenties approaching; Zheng Tan sensed no malice from him, still rubbing his paw on the nearby flowerbed while keeping his eyes on the person, and even without ill intent, caution was still warranted.

"Did something get stuck on your claw?" he muttered to himself, then walked back to the table and pulled off some of the cheap paper towels there.

Zheng Tan realized the man meant to help; seeing he looked upright, he decisively raised his paw, offering the gum‑covered pad to him.

"Huh?" the man obviously hadn't expected the cat to be so cooperative; he was still thinking how to turn the cat's paw over without getting scratched or bitten, having encountered a similar situation before—last month a cat in an elderly woman's apartment in the compound had gotten a fish bone stuck in its mouth, and he'd been called to help; after struggling for a while he got the bone out, but his arms were left with scratches that hadn't fully faded. Yet now it seemed he had overthought it—not every cat is so uncooperative; this cat was indeed somewhat special.

Zheng Tan watched as the man wrapped the gum, now coated with dust and grit, in paper and peeled it off his paw bit by bit, then switched to fresh paper and wiped a few more times.

"All done!" the man said, tossing the paper‑wrapped gum into a nearby trash can, then reached out to pat Zheng Tan's head, but Zheng Tan dodged.

Zheng Tan flexed his paw, opening and closing it, then opening and closing again; the gum's adhesion was strong, so even after wiping away most of it with paper towels, some still clung to the fur in the creases of his pad, but it felt far better than the previous unpleasant sensation.

He tapped the ground, then tried taking a few steps. Not bad. Although still a bit awkward, it was tolerable; he would let Jiao Ma figure out the rest when he got home—just a wash would do.

Without that big lump stuck to him, Zheng Tan felt walking was much easier.

The helper walked back to the roadside table, sat down, and resumed chatting with the older man at the table.

"Butting in again?!" the older man said, wearing a look of disapproval.

"Just lending a hand."

"You helped out of all the people passing by?"

"..."

"Cats are the most ungrateful; even those animals said on TV and in newspapers to repay kindness are only a minority—many forget your good deed the next day. Out there, these cats and dogs, don't be too nice to them, or they might bite you. As for cats like this," the older man gestured toward Zheng Tan and said to the person opposite him, "even if you feed it well, it just sees you as a meal ticket; when you're in trouble, if it doesn't cause you trouble, that's good enough—what more could it do for you?"

Zheng Tan felt he was being guilt‑by‑association, an innocent caught in the crossfire. He looked at the man spitting out words, and upon hearing him say, "Even if you kneel and beg, it won't come to you," Zheng Tan, saving face, lifted his leg and walked over.

The man who had been speaking caught sight of Zheng Tan's movement, his words choking in his throat; he kept his pose and stared in Zheng Tan's direction.

Under their astonished gazes, Zheng Tan walked over, jumped onto an empty plastic chair beside their table, then looked at the older man and said, "Go on, keep talking."

The older man's face twitched; he lowered his hand, picked up a bite of food with his chopsticks, swallowed half a bottle of beer, then asked the person opposite him, "What have you been busy with lately?"

Caught off guard by the sudden topic shift, the young man thought a moment before replying, "Lately there have been quite a few incidents on Chuning Avenue."

Chuning Avenue is the name of the road where the old street's commercial district lies; it's not far from this open‑air stall.

"Oh, I heard about that—just the other day an out‑of‑town wealthy merchant came here for an inspection and lost his phone on Chuning Avenue… Supposedly after filing a report he also lodged a complaint; did you guys in charge of this area get reprimanded?"

The young man grunted, "In recent months there have been many reports from the public there, the incident rate remains high, and the surveillance cameras installed by the shops haven't helped much—clearly a repeat offender, and he's familiar with the area." What he didn't say was that when they got reprimanded it was brutal; it looked like this year's bonus was out of the question, and they'd have to scrape by on their meager wages.

"Exactly, I heard his phone was worth 28,000—you know the security there is poor, yet you flash such an expensive phone on the street; isn't that just begging to be stolen?!"

Saying the security is poor in front of a policeman is basically slapping his face, but because they understand each other, the young man didn't get angry, only felt resigned—since not catching the culprit is a fact, and the high incident rate is also a fact.

"How's it going now? Any progress?" the older man asked.

The young man shook his head. "We've checked everyone with a record; although a few cases match, the thief who stole the 28,000‑phone probably isn't among them, and someone else is hiding it—we just don't know."

"Is it all you investigating? Weren't there also Xiao Zhang or Xiao Liu or something, your colleagues?" the older man asked. He recalled that the few people with records in that area had complicated backgrounds, and if scrutinized they'd surely bear grudges.

"They've checked a few as well."

"They pick the easy ones to crack, leaving the tough bones for you?!"

Seeing the other man silent, the older one continued, "Isn't it pretty tough? You see nobody else pitching in, just you playing the hero?! I know without you saying it—those hard‑to‑crack bones have definitely gone and complained about you again! You… when you used to handle cases, you'd take on the difficulties while others reaped the credit—no memory at all! You think this is a blockbuster where you can freely show off your blood‑stained flair, right?!"

The young man, having been lectured, lowered his head and gave a helpless smile. There was nothing to be done—it was just his nature.

Seeing the other man smile, the older man's ire flared again; he tapped the young man's head with his chopsticks, saying, "You laugh whenever I speak, trying to brush it off? Your mindset hasn't changed—after being screwed over a few times you still haven't learned. In this society, the kind are preyed upon by the wicked!"

"Xiao Luo, don't blame me for nagging—you're almost thirty, years fly by, you have no money, status, car, house, or woman. In others' eyes you're just a loser. And above all, you're stupid! Dense! Stubborn! Single‑minded! No room for advancement!"

Zheng Tan watched from the side as the two talked—one spraying saliva across the table, the other reduced to foolish laughter after being scolded; though the topic was somewhat serious and heavy, the scene looked hilarious.

After finishing his lecture, the older man apparently felt he'd gone too far; knowing he speaks bluntly when drinking, he paused, picked up the bottle in front of him, and said, "Come on, let's have one together, brothers."

After they finished the bottle, the older man let out a long sigh and said, "How about you transfer elsewhere? Though I'm no longer in this line of work, I still have some connections—not a big shot, but I can lend a hand. You know the difference between a well‑funded police station and a poor one is huge… cough, I mean, the difference in case‑file funding is huge."

"No thanks, thanks anyway, Brother Chen—I think it's fine there."

The older man drew a deep breath, ready to say something, but in the end didn't; he waved his hand and changed the subject.

Around them were tables set out in the night, everywhere people were speaking loudly, shooting the breeze, and no one paid attention to these two.

Zheng Tan pricked up his ears to listen to the surrounding chatter—from international affairs to the price of eggs going up a cent at the market, they talked about everything.

The concerns of the grassroots are broad; to many they seem to carry a sort of 'earth‑fate, sea‑heart' meaning—those who live on gutter oil yet command the heart of Zhongnanhai; put positively, it could be said they have no land but worry for the world, for the rise and fall of the realm, every commoner bears responsibility. When Wei Leng and his ilk gather they also joke about this topic, and what they mean is that these seemingly meaningless grassroots pursuits are still better than the high‑end elite who, aside from their own interests, grow increasingly indifferent to everything else.

Zheng Tan also drank a bit of beer; the older man poured it into a spare disposable cup on the table, though they usually drank straight from the bottle—these cups were useless, and giving Zheng Tan a drink was just the older man's idle pastime after getting drunk, but he hadn't expected Zheng Tan to actually drink.

"I think this cat is a bit off," the older man muttered.

"... Still okay," Xiao Luo said. Drinking cats aren't unheard of, just extremely rare.

"Don't doubt it, old brother—I may have left the trade, but my eyes are still sharp; this cat… well, I'm buying this round, why are you so eager to pay? Do you have money or do I?" Seeing Xiao Luo about to reach for the bill, the older man hurriedly stopped him, pulled out his wallet, and went to pay.

After finishing dinner and drinks, the two prepared to leave.

"By the way, give me your number—I sent my phone in for repair once and all the stored numbers were lost." the older man said to Xiao Luo.

"I'll just call you," Xiao Luo said, pulling out his phone.

"No, I didn't bring my phone—I left it charging at home, and since I came out in a rush I didn't grab it; ah, I forgot to buy a spare battery today—just one battery is really inconvenient."

Zheng Tan silently nodded in agreement from the side; a single battery really isn't convenient, but fortunately today's phones don't drain power like the future large‑screen models—if they were smartphones, constant use would mean charging every day, which would annoy Zheng Tan to death; he now charges only when nobody's home, sneaking it in, and who knows when that might get exposed.

"Last time I bought a cheap one, and after a short while the battery bulged; I got nagged by your sister‑in‑law for ages. This time I'll get a better one—keep your eyes open, don't let anyone pawn off a fake as genuine. Tsk, nowadays everything's counterfeit or diluted; out in society, if you don't sharpen your eyes and quicken your wits, you'll get taken for a ride."

Xiao Luo recited his phone number several times; the older man, drunk, couldn't remember and had nothing to write on, so he asked the shop owner for a sheet of paper to jot it down.

Zheng Tan, however, did memorize Xiao Luo's phone number; having just heard them talk about the phone‑theft incidents on Chuning Avenue, he thought of someone.

As the saying goes, "Yellow mud falling into your trousers—whether it's feces or not, it's still feces." So Zheng Tan decided to dump a basin of yellow mud onto Zhang Dong's trousers. (To be continued…).

ps: (6.6)