Chapter Seventy-Nine: Illegal Parking

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In an age consumed by material desires, money brings prestige, while poverty strips one of dignity—people laugh at the poor but never at those who sell themselves. Reaching into another’s pocket brings smiles, but when others reach into yours, you cry out in distress. Once your possessions fall into someone else’s hands, regret is all that remains.

No sooner had Song the Second burst into the private room than he was filled with remorse. He caught sight of the old shotgun, once his, peeking from Hou the Third’s pant leg, and his expression soured as he retreated a step, tugging at Song Yicheng’s sleeve and nodding toward Hou’s trouser leg. In a voice only the two could hear, he whispered, “We misunderstood… How could I have forgotten about this… What do we do now? That’s a real gun—if we go head-to-head, we don’t stand a chance…”

“I told you to keep calm, but you wouldn’t listen. Now, we have to play it by ear…” Song Yicheng pulled his mask higher, cautiously addressing Hou the Third, “Sorry to trouble you. We’ll take her away now so you won’t be bothered any longer… No need for a tip, of course, but if you want a refund, you’ll have to go to the front desk—that’s not our responsibility…”

Hou the Third pouted, clearly dissatisfied. “No way. If you want to take her, you’ll have to pay me first. Otherwise, things won’t end peacefully tonight. If this blows up, it’s your faces that’ll be tarnished.”

Song Yicheng and Song the Second exchanged glances and slowly edged toward the door. Song Yicheng bowed slightly, grinning apologetically. “You’re the boss. We’ll get the manager over to negotiate…”

“Stop right there!” Hou the Third planted his hands on his hips and snorted coldly. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. If you take her now, later you’ll claim I caused trouble and say there were too many against one, forcing me to swallow my grievances. Let me make it clear—I’m not a pushover. Don’t try those dirty tricks on me. If you dare mess around, I’ll make this bathhouse a river of blood!”

Seeing Hou the Third’s hand resting on his trouser leg, Song the Second recalled his ordeal at the auto repair shed and felt a pang of unease, stammering, “So what do you want?”

“It’s simple,” Hou the Third rolled his neck and spoke leisurely, “Either you two pay up first, then take this coward who just came back from Thailand. Or, call your manager here on the walkie-talkie, right in front of me—witnesses and evidence present, no excuses. Get my money back, and this is over. I don’t think my demands are unreasonable, right?”

Song Yicheng laughed dryly, hastily agreeing, “Not unreasonable at all…” He shot Song the Second a look. “Hurry up—call the manager and let’s leave. No point getting tangled up here…”

“You call,” Song the Second folded his arms. “Why is it always me? You’ve been bossing me around since we were kids. Do you think I’m your lackey?”

“What do you mean, bossing you?” Song Yicheng’s temper flared. “You’ve eaten, drank, and lived for free at my place for years—isn’t it right for you to do a little work?”

“Free food, drink, and lodging?” Song the Second sneered. “I wake earlier than the rooster and sleep later than the dog. If you hired a housekeeper, you’d have to pay a salary. Did I ever ask for a cent?”

Just as Song Yicheng was about to argue back, Hou the Third dug at his ear, eyeing them coldly. “Are you treating me as air, or just stalling for time?” He pointed at Song Yicheng. “Cut the nonsense. You—do it. I’ve no time for your games.”

Song Yicheng nodded obediently, searched himself, and smiled wryly, “Brother, I didn’t bring the walkie-talkie…”

“Unprofessional as hell—if you’re in this business, love it, and have the right gear. Otherwise, you’re just a loser…” Hou the Third scowled, turning to Song the Second. “You do it!”

Song the Second smiled awkwardly. “Brother… I changed clothes in a hurry earlier, forgot to bring the walkie-talkie…”

“Ha!” Hou the Third scratched his head, his expression darkening. “So you’re playing with me? Looks like you won’t give up till you’re staring at the coffin. Don’t push me to lose my temper…”

“Brother, brother,” Song the Second interjected hastily, “calm down—we’ll pay…” He shot Song Yicheng a look. “Hurry up—Brother’s patience is running out.”

“Why don’t you pay?” Song Yicheng guarded his pockets warily.

Song the Second turned his pockets inside out. “See? Not a single coin on me.”

“Why’d you leave home without money?” Song Yicheng complained. “So you planned to mooch off me from the start—saving money at the expense of your dignity. You’re stingier than a stone!”

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“Don’t be ridiculous,” Song the Second argued, stiff-necked. “If I had money, wouldn’t I bring it? The house was robbed…” He glanced at Hou the Third and swallowed the rest of his words. “You say I’m stingy, but all these years, have you ever paid for a meal? Every time the bill comes, you suddenly need the toilet—what, do you have a timer installed in your bladder?”

“Are you dredging up old grievances? Fine, let’s settle the accounts…”

“It’s about time—some people always take advantage and play innocent.”

Hou the Third took a deep breath, his face turning iron-gray. He shouted, “Enough! Are you two performing a comedy routine? Looks like I’ll have to get serious…”

“No need!” Song Yicheng immediately pulled out three red bills from his pocket, grimacing as he handed them to Hou the Third. “Brother, three hundred yuan. No need for change—consider it a gift for you to buy cigarettes. We’ll take the technician and leave, won’t trouble you further.”

“That’s more like it. We’re all from the street—no need to tear each other apart…” Hou the Third nodded, inspecting each bill. As Song Yicheng and Song the Second carried the technician to the door, he suddenly remembered something and tilted his head, eyeing them. “Wait! Why did you barge into my private room just now?”

The two froze, feeling the air turn to ice.

Song Yicheng spotted the car keys hanging at Hou the Third’s waist and quickly found inspiration, clearing his throat and feigning calm. “You see, after all this commotion, I almost forgot the main thing… Well, brother, we came in to remind you to move your car. It’s parked out on the roadside—could get ticketed.”

“It’s late—the traffic police are asleep. Who’ll ticket cars now?” Hou the Third dismissed the warning, thinking to himself that the car wasn’t even his, so he didn’t care if it was plastered with tickets.

“You don’t know—year-end is coming, and the police are stricter, often working overtime at night. Lots of cars around here get ticketed in the evening…” Song Yicheng explained. “That’s why we came to bother you. If it’s inconvenient, you can give me the keys—I’ll move it for you.”

Hou the Third waved him off. “No need. If they ticket it, so what? I’m not short on cash. Go about your business—don’t bother me again.”

Song Yicheng shrugged, nodded briskly, and, with Song the Second, quickly carried the technician away. After settling the technician in the room where they’d previously hidden, Song Yicheng wiped sweat from his forehead and quietly asked Song the Second, “Did you get a good look at those car keys? Can you guess what car it is?”

“No need to guess,” Song the Second replied confidently. “One glance and I know. We’ve been in the business for years, fixed enough cars to circle city A twice and a half… It’s a 2013 Ford Focus, two-door sport model. No mistake.”

“I just thought of a good plan,” Song Yicheng smiled slyly. “You stay here and keep those two thugs from leaving.”

“What plan? Slashing tires?” Song the Second pouted. “I’ve done that a dozen times already.”

Song Yicheng shook his head mysteriously and strode toward the main entrance. “Tonight, I’ll show them the true limits of the law…”

Watching Song Yicheng leave, Song the Second rolled his eyes and muttered, “Great, he’s dumped the dirty work on me again…” He turned to see Hou the Third coming out of the private room, hunched his shoulders, and stealthily followed him all the way to the free dining area, hiding behind a stone pillar and quickly texting Song Yicheng, “The monkey’s met the fat pig, hurry up!”

Song Yicheng glanced at his phone, replied simply, “Got it,” then scanned the area. Spotting a black Ford by the roadside, he circled it. “2013 Ford Focus, two-door sport—this is the one!”

He hadn’t lied: years of driving a taxi had taught him the habits of city A’s traffic police. Every year-end, they patrol late at night, partly to crack down on violations, partly to assist the security team’s anti-vice campaign. Places like Jiangnan Hao are always under scrutiny, with police often patrolling nearby.

Two minutes and thirteen seconds later, Song Yicheng encountered the first traffic cop, speeding by on a motorcycle. He placed a hand on the Ford, spat forcefully at the cop, and pulled a grotesque face.

The motorcycle slowed to a stop. The officer removed his helmet, wiped off the spit, and approached Song Yicheng, head cocked. “What’s your problem?”

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“Nothing, just can’t stand people like you. What, chasing end-of-year targets, out wandering at night…” Song Yicheng looked at the officer with contempt, venting all the frustrations from his taxi-driving days. “Every day you nitpick tiny mistakes—deduct points, issue fines. Do you know how hard it is for people to earn a living?”

“Oh, you’ve got a lot of resentment,” the officer cleared his throat. “But some people never learn without a fine. Sometimes a small mistake ruins a whole family. Even if you don’t value your own life, you can’t endanger other road users.”

“Bah,” Song Yicheng spat lightly at the ground. “You just want more bonuses, acting all sanctimonious. I’ve got thousands in parking fines every year—so what if I park at the curb? Who does it hurt… You ignore the crooked parking lots, but pick on us poor folks…”

“You can report crooked parking lots to the commerce hotline. Illegal parking seriously affects other road users—that’s our job.” The officer glanced coldly at the black Ford. “Is this your car?”

“So what if it is, so what if it isn’t?” Song Yicheng blustered. “None of your business!”

The officer pointed at a no-parking sign nearby. “See that sign? You know parking isn’t allowed here?”

Song Yicheng snorted, nose upturned, as if he hadn’t heard.

“Move it, now,” the officer said, suppressing his anger. “Or else…”

“Or else what?” Song Yicheng picked his nose. “Just a fine, right? Who cares—I’ve got plenty of money. Fine away.”

“Never seen anyone so arrogant…” The officer laughed angrily. “Don’t test the limits of the law. Move your car, now!”

Song Yicheng planted his hands on his hips. “Hey, I’m not moving it today—what can you do about it?”

The officer snapped photos of the scene, took out a notebook, quickly scribbled down the vehicle info and violation, and stuck it to the window. “Fine: 150 yuan. One last chance—move it now.”

Song Yicheng scoffed. “Same old tricks. If you’ve got guts, try something different.”

“All right, I’ll oblige you…” The officer pulled out his walkie-talkie, pressed the button. “Headquarters, headquarters, there’s a vehicle blocking traffic at Jiangnan Hao’s entrance—send a tow truck immediately…” He stowed the walkie-talkie and pointed at Song Yicheng. “Wait right here!”

“Waiting’s fine with me!” Song Yicheng shot back defiantly.

Over ten minutes later, the officer directed a tow truck to haul away the black Ford, tore off a slip and handed it to Song Yicheng. “Go to the traffic station tomorrow, pay your fine, and claim your car…”

Song Yicheng shoved his hands in his pockets, didn’t take the slip, and turned back toward Jiangnan Hao. “I’m not the owner—why give it to me? Find the owner yourself!”

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