Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I don’t remember what time they finally went to bed that night.

Regardless, I could still hear them scrubbing the front door well into the middle of the night, accompanied by intermittent sounds of retching.

“Hubby, it stinks so bad! *Quack!* *Blegh!*”

“Shut up and finish this so we can go to sleep! *Blegh!*”

“I feel like I’m shoveling manure! Mom! I want to play Honor of Kings! *Blegh!*”

*Slap!*

“Play, play, play! All you know is how to play! It’s the middle of the night, what games are you playing?!”

“I can’t sleep! You guys are being too loud! *Blegh!*”

“Shut your mouth! *Blegh!*”

They couldn’t sleep, but I certainly did.

I even had a dream where three ducks kept singing in my ear: “Quack, quack, blegh.”

The next afternoon, I headed to the community sports court.

Since this was an old neighborhood, many of the facilities were outdated. The recreational areas were already small and few to begin with, and now, even those were being occupied-a drying rack had been set up right under the basketball hoop, draped with two thick, heavy quilts.

As soon as they saw me, a group of high school kids swarmed over.

“Bro, I told my parents what you did yesterday. They laughed so hard they spat out their food.”

“Bro, you’re literally a god descended from heaven.”

“Those are their quilts. They insisted on drying them here, saying the sunlight is better.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

I pulled out a vial of reagent and thoughtfully reminded them to pinch their noses tight.

“Wh-what is that?”

“Handcrafted perfume. The top note is cat urine, the heart note is dog urine, and the base note is ‘Old Jar’ pickled cabbage. If you sniff carefully enough, you might even catch a subtle hint of athlete’s foot.”

“Huh?”

Let’s talk about that pickled cabbage first. I went to the wet market early this morning specifically to find it.

I was blunt with the vendor: “Is this pickled cabbage trodden by foot?”

The owner gritted his teeth. “What nonsense! Our stuff is clean and hygienic. We eat it ourselves!”

I said, “Then take a bite.”

The owner snapped, “Are you looking for trouble?”

I turned to leave. “If it wasn’t stepped on, I don’t want it. No flavor.”

Seeing that I was a ‘connoisseur,’ the owner pulled me aside and whispered conspiratorially, “So you like that specific kick, huh? Don’t worry, you’ve come to the right place. My cousin plays soccer-almost made the national team. He stomped these personally. You won’t find this flavor anywhere else!”

The moment the owner opened the lid, I nearly saw my ancestors.

As expected of a ‘premium brand,’ the quality control was impeccable.

By the time I finished dousing the quilts with the bottle, the kids had already retreated ten meters away.

They yelled at the top of their lungs, “That’s a suicide mission, bro! You’re taking yourself down with them!”

I yelled back, “If they ever dare to dry their quilts here again, give me a call!”

Not long after, Mrs. Duck was pounding on my door.

“You animal! Two brand-new quilts are completely ruined! What are we supposed to sleep under tonight? *Quack!*”

I replied, “Oh, so you actually use quilts at night? I thought you just huddled together for warmth.”

She shrieked, “The washing machine is ruined too! You’re paying for it! *Quack!*”

Cat and dog urine have a unique chemical structure that regular laundry detergent can’t touch; you need enzymatic cleaners to break them down. By tossing them straight into the wash, she had essentially just spread the stench evenly over everything.

I spread my hands. “Do you have evidence? Why are you saying I did it?”

“Who else could it be but you?! *Quack!*”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask your husband?”

Speak of the devil.

Someone tagged me in the group chat saying that Mr. Duck had just entered the compound.

I rushed to the parking lot without a moment’s delay.

Mr. Duck hadn’t bought a parking space. He simply parked wherever he saw an empty spot. If someone called him to move his car, he ignored them; if they went to his door to reason with him, they were cursed out.

Many residents were fed up with his harassment.

But things were different now.

I was here.

I came to Xingfu Community to do only three things: kill the ducks, kill the ducks, and kill the damn ducks!

Helpful members of the group chat tagged the owner whose parking space had been occupied.

The guy sent several sixty-second voice messages in a row, pouring out his grievances.

I asked him to rent the space to me first.

Then, I found a few welders and had them weld a ring of railings directly around Mr. Duck’s car.

The cost was only three or four hundred yuan, but I insisted on paying five thousand and made sure to get a formal invoice.

As soon as Mr. Duck got home, he heard his wife’s tearful complaints. Thirsting for revenge, he stormed over to the parking garage to find me.

The work had just been completed when he charged onto the scene aggressively. “You little bastard, are you looking for a death wish? What the hell did you do to my car?!”

I threw the contract in his face. “Look closely. This is my parking space!”

Mr. Duck ripped the contract to shreds. “I don’t care if it’s your space or not! Now, get this thing off my car immediately!”

I laughed. “Why are you begging me? If you’re so capable, do it yourself.”

He immediately called for a technician.

As soon as the technician arrived, I spoke up. “This is my parking space. Whoever touches my property, I’m coming after them for damages.”

Nobody is an idiot. One look was enough to tell there was a dispute involved, and the workers all refused the job, though they stuck around to watch the drama unfold.

Left with no choice, Mr. Duck called the police.

The police also confirmed that the parking space was mine, and I could do whatever I wanted with it as long as I wasn’t building a house.

Mr. Duck finally lost his nerve. He apologized, saying he had to work tomorrow and asked me to give him a break.

I nodded and pulled out the invoice. “The railings cost five thousand, and the parking fee is three thousand per hour.”

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Eight thousand? Why don’t you just rob me?!”

I glanced at the police officer and said, “Robbery is illegal. Besides, I didn’t use a knife to force you to park here!”

Mr. Duck snapped, “Believe it or not, I’ll sue you!”

“I believe you,” I replied. “So go ahead. Find a lawyer, file the paperwork, go through mediation, the trial, the verdict… I’ll happily accompany you through the whole process. Your car will stay locked up here in the meantime. I’m in no rush anyway; I don’t mind dragging this out for six months or a year.”

Mr. Duck was so livid his teeth were literally grinding.

“Are you done?” I asked. “If you’re finished, I’m going back to get my takeout. I ordered roast duck.”

He panted heavily and spat out, “Fine! I’ll give you the eight thousand. Now take this thing down!”

“What eight thousand?” I said. “It’s ten thousand now. Eight thousand was the price a moment ago.”

“Who the hell hikes prices on the spot like that?!”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fuck!”

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Wait, wait, wait! I was cursing at myself! Twelve thousand, twelve thousand… I’ve transferred it to you.”

After the workers finished dismantling the railings, I remembered something else. “You’ve occupied everyone’s parking spaces for so long-don’t you think you should settle those previous fees? I’ll even accept installments.”

Now that he had his car back, he immediately reverted to his true nature. “Settle my ass!”

Then, in the early hours of that morning, I found his car and used a wire to draw the Mona Lisa on it.

From the hood to the trunk, the strokes were powerful and the likeness was vivid.

The onlookers had poor eyes but sweet tongues; they said my drawing of Ultraman was truly spirited, especially those two big eyes that looked like lightbulbs.

I felt a pang of sorrow, involuntarily recalling the past when I drew portraits on the street to make a living and was chased through eight blocks by a cursing customer.

***

Mr. Duck was pounding on my door again early the next morning.

But no matter what he said, it was useless.

Where was the evidence?

The camera just happened to be blocked by a balloon. Perfectly reasonable, right?

On a street where people come and go, no one was willing to be a witness. Perfectly reasonable, right?

Besides, why were so many other cars fine while yours was the only one damaged?

You should look inward for the cause.

After this analysis, Mr. Duck fell into a state of powerless rage, slamming his fists on the table.

Mrs. Duck stood there with disheveled hair and a vicious look in her eyes.

I flashed a finger heart at the Duck couple. “Good morning, Ducky!”

Since you won’t take the dignified way out, I’ll help you find it.

A person must keep their word.

I said you’d pay in installments.

Now you’re paying… in paint!