In Luzhou, Anhui Province, it was still dark at half past five in the morning as Fang Shicheng, counting the minutes, finally dragged himself out of bed.
He had woken up much earlier, but had simply found himself unwilling to leave the warmth of his bed.
He smacked his lips, a persistent bitter taste lingering in his mouth, not from hunger. A discomfort churned in his stomach, a sensation as if something were about to overflow, its burning presence unsettling his very core.
Splashing his face with tap water, he meticulously scrubbed the corners of his eyes clean. For Fang Shicheng, this already constituted a ‘meticulous’ grooming session. The stubble on his chin and upper lip had grown long. He found his razor, intending to clean up the stubble, but was too lazy to lather up soap. The cheap, single-blade razor, already rusty, nicked a pimple on his lower jaw, making him wince in pain as he quickly rinsed the wound with tap water.
The tap water streamed down his cheeks, flowed over his chin, and then into his mouth. Fang Shicheng first gargled twice, spitting it out, before gulping down several more mouthfuls.
Luzhou’s tap water carried a strong chlorine taste and was notably hard, far inferior to the water in his hometown of Qindao. Yet, Fang Shicheng had grown accustomed to it. He wasn’t pampered, after all; good water or bad, once drunk, it all ended up as urine.
He wasn’t going to the lab today. Before leaving his dorm, he carefully donned his most presentable T-shirt.
He had to make a trip to Qindao; his sister’s school started tomorrow, and boarding students typically arrived a day early. Reaching the bus stop outside his dorm, he found it wasn’t even six o’clock. His specific bus route wouldn’t depart until half past six, meaning he would have to wait quite a while.
This hour marked Luzhou’s quietest time, a stillness even more profound than the dead of night.
Fang Shicheng could no longer recall the exact day he first arrived in Luzhou. It was sometime in 2004, the day he reported to Huake University, carrying bags and bundles of luggage, undoubtedly looking as rustic and travel-worn as ever.
Back then, Luzhou hadn’t left a particularly strong impression on him.
Luzhou was not the refined and grand city it had become. In ’04, many dilapidated two-story self-built houses still dotted the landscape. He attended classes in the second teaching building of Huake University’s East Campus, where no buildings reached even ten stories high. Looking out from the classroom, he would see a kaleidoscope of colorful rooftops, varying in height and scattered unevenly across the vista.
Some roofs were tiled, others corrugated tin, but the ugliest were undoubtedly the flat concrete slabs.
In 2004, he experienced his first winter in Luzhou. It had snowed heavily then. Shandong and Anhui Provinces, though not far apart, boasted vastly different climates. Fang Shicheng, having grown up by the sea, had seen snow before, but never such a prodigious snowfall. He still remembered the drifts piling up to his calves.
The snow was so thick that many tin roofs had collapsed under its immense weight. After the snowfall ceased, the accumulation transformed into dark, grimy ice, making every step treacherous and prone to slipping.
That was his inaugural year in Luzhou, his first year away from the small county town of Qindao.
He was familiar with such places, for he carried the salty tang of the seaside county town, while Luzhou reeked of mud. They existed in the same world; even separated by hundreds of kilometers, they felt remarkably similar.
Fang Shicheng was familiar with this sensation. In his nascent adult perception, Luzhou was merely an oversized county town. He had imagined such days would stretch on indefinitely, until he found a job, married, and had children…
The bus arrived, stopping in front of Fang Shicheng as its doors opened silently. There was no sound, no smell of gasoline.
Luzhou’s buses had become purely electric several years prior; indeed, the world’s first fully electric bus line was established there. Fang Shicheng, however, remained unaccustomed to this sensation, even after years of riding electric buses.
The departure of the first bus, in a sense, heralded the city’s awakening. Fang Shicheng, feeling dizzy after looking at his phone for a while, turned his gaze to the window. Towering and respectable new residential buildings now dominated the landscape, gleaming private cars filled the streets, and horns blared, making his ears ring.
When had Luzhou become so unfamiliar?
Fang Shicheng couldn’t pinpoint it; his mind had been hazy ever since he started university. It was as if an invisible hand had pressed an accelerator at some point, and everything in Luzhou had rapidly grown unfamiliar from that moment on.
He knew he was living in an era of explosive growth and dazzling prosperity, an era that swept the ancient city of Luzhou along, hurtling it in a direction he couldn’t comprehend. It was a one-way vehicle, with no brakes, only an accelerator pressed firmly into the gearbox.
The familiar shanties disappeared like bursting soap bubbles, creating a large number of nouveau riche. Construction sites dotted the area around the school, and Fang Shicheng watched with his own eyes as towering buildings rose from the ground, while respectable asphalt roads appeared everywhere.
The roads became respectable, the houses became respectable, and even the trees in the green belts seemed to acquire a new dignity. Yet, as a transient in Luzhou, even if the city had become his second home, he ultimately did not belong here.
****
After a journey of over an hour, Fang Shicheng alighted at Luzhou Railway Station. He fumbled in his pockets for a while, eventually retrieving his ID card from his wallet, before dutifully joining the queue in the main hall.
When he first arrived in Luzhou, tickets were always bought at counters. Now, everything was handled by automatic ticket machines, a change that still felt unfamiliar to him.
In the queue, ahead of Fang Shicheng, was a young woman wearing heavy perfume, talking loudly on her phone, oblivious to her surroundings. She wore hot pants and a midriff-baring top, her hair dyed a yellowish-brown chestnut shade. However, Fang Shicheng was more inclined to describe it as ‘poop-colored.’ ‘Healthy poop should be this color,’ he mused. ‘Yellow might indicate intestinal issues, and black means digestive tract bleeding. So, the woman’s hair color ahead was truly the color of the healthiest stool.’
Fang Shicheng secretly glanced at the woman’s neck, where an incomprehensible tattoo resided: a red segment of foreign script forming a circle. As a country bumpkin, he had no idea what it was, only that its shape reminded him of a cooked blue crab.
The woman in front was speaking very loudly on the phone, making Fang Shicheng’s ears perk up.
“He must be able to cook and own a car, at least a Volkswagen. If he’s a poor guy driving a domestic car, don’t even let me meet him; it’s a waste of my time. Let me make it clear, I’m picky about food, and I don’t cook, nor will I ever help out. He needs to prepare my meals every day, and if they’re not to my liking, he’ll have to redo them. He must pick me up and drop me off for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and absolutely no tardiness. I need ten hours of sleep daily; any lateness is a waste of my sleep time. Oh, and he’s not allowed to wake me up early in the morning. I get grumpy when woken, so he can’t speak loudly to me.”
Fang Shicheng secretly turned on his phone’s voice recorder, his face alight with excitement. As he recorded, he simultaneously sent messages in the group chat ‘Touchstone Home.’
[Old Fang: Guys, I’ve encountered a real gem!]
[Old Fang: Recording now, will send it later, I’m dying of laughter]
[Old Fang: She’s dressed like a streetwalker, and her perfume could kill mosquitoes.]
[Mr. Pickles: No pictures, then what’s the point? Where are the pictures?]
[Old Fang: I’m right behind her, I’ll send it later, it’s explosive!]
Fang Shicheng continued to listen to the ‘Poop-Head’ in front of him spouting nonsense.
“I hate children, no kids for me. I can’t have them anyway. If he wants kids, he can have his mother bear them; I won’t provide any upbringing. Also, I have a bad temper. His parents need to give a week’s notice before visiting, or I’ll smash things. I have a cat, but I don’t like scooping litter; he’ll change the cat litter. I’ve said it already, I won’t do housework, I won’t clean, I won’t wash clothes or dishes. If he dares to make me do these things, I’ll hit him. I love shopping, so the bride price and his monthly salary must be handed over. My salary won’t contribute to household expenses; I’ll spend it all myself. I dislike uneducated people; he must be able to discuss literature with me when necessary.”
The more Fang Shicheng listened, the more overjoyed he became. For some inexplicable reason, he felt a strong, schadenfreude-filled happiness.
He believed the ‘Poop-Head’ wasn’t lying; she genuinely thought this way. Online trolls couldn’t possibly conjure up such pure-flavored nonsense; this had to be the genuine outpouring of a new-age independent XX. He loved watching such fools spout absurdities. The rapid development of the era did have its benefits. In the past, such a person would have been drowned in a pig cage; where would he have found such entertainment?
An elderly man walking ahead of the woman, presumably unaccustomed to this particular ‘species,’ frequently turned his head, perhaps out of anger, his lips trembling. However, when it was his turn at the automatic ticket machine, he stepped forward to scan his ID. The woman, still talking, directly crossed the one-meter line on the floor in front of the machine, pressing close to the old man, as if urging him to hurry.
To record more clearly, Fang Shicheng also crossed the one-meter line, but the ‘Poop-Head’ in front suddenly yelled, startling him so much he nearly dropped his phone.
“Mom, I’m a feminist!”
“If he dares to talk back to me, I’ll smash things, I’m warning him. For the first few months, I won’t move out. He can come at mealtimes to cook, then leave immediately after cooking. Other times, please don’t stay at my place. Don’t bring just anyone; no ugly ones, not too tall, not too short. About 1.8 meters, I guess. If he looks like Kim Soo-hyun, then disregard what I just said.”
The ‘Poop-Head’ spoke with increasing fervor, agitating the old man in front of her. He turned and glared at the ‘Poop-Head,’ who instantly erupted.
“You old geezer, who are you glaring at?! Is your mother there for you to stare at?!”
The old man was momentarily stunned, but quickly reacted, retorting with a strong Jianghuai accent.
“You disgusting, obnoxious, disgraceful woman dressed like a hussy! You’re indecent, a complete disgrace!”
The ‘Poop-Head’ didn’t understand the local dialect, but she knew he wasn’t complimenting her. She shrieked ‘Aow!’ and lunged to grab the old man’s hair, only to discover it was a wig, which she yanked off. The old man was not one to be easily bullied; he immediately swung a fist, landing a punch on the ‘Poop-Head’s’ face.
The ‘Poop-Head’ froze, likely not expecting him to actually hit her. Seizing her moment of shock, the old man delivered three rapid jabs and an uppercut, knocking the ‘feminist’ to the ground. She clutched her face and screamed, but the old man relentlessly continued, forcefully kicking her head repeatedly.
Fang Shicheng’s expression was exaggerated; he desperately wanted to burst out laughing but managed to hold it in. He was no longer recording audio; he had switched to video, but still dared not go too far.
Two patrolling police officers rushed over. They tried to pull the old man away, but he was still unilaterally beating the ‘Poop-Head.’ Perhaps tired from kicking, the old man abruptly collapsed to the ground, feigning a heart attack and groaning. The ‘Poop-Head,’ who had been taking a beating, saw the police arrive and quickly scrambled up from the ground, pouncing on the old man feigning illness.
Fang Shicheng, wisely, stopped recording. Amidst the chaos, he used his ID card to bypass the two and went to collect his ticket.
After all, the old man would have legal mitigation. As long as the woman wasn’t permanently disabled, he’d likely just receive a verbal warning. And now, it was clearly a mutual fight, so it would probably end in the traditional Chinese way of mediating and smoothing things over. With his ticket in hand, Fang Shicheng darted to the waiting area upstairs, leaning on the railing to continue watching. The view from upstairs was much clearer, though unfortunately, he couldn’t hear their shouting match. However, due to the commotion below, the railing section near the first floor in the waiting area was also packed with onlookers.
Fang Shicheng opened the video, intending to upload it to the group. The phone interface showed a prompt that it would consume 165MB of data. This made Fang Shicheng pause for a moment, then, enduring the heartache, he spent twelve yuan to buy 1GB of data before uploading the video and audio to the group.
[Old Fang: Live video]
[Old Fang: Police arrived, so I stopped filming after that]
[Old Fang: They’re fighting each other, the old man pretended to be sick first, then the woman saw the police and went to hit him]
[Mr. Pickles: Old geezer, hit harder! Damn, you’re old and can’t swing a fist. Find a knife, use a red and white blade on that b*tch, she won’t be able to take it!]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: You should join in]
[Old Fang: I can’t tank that, it’s a T0 vs T0 matchup right now]
[Old Fang: Holy shit! The woman went for his ear!]
[Old Fang: Holy shit! So much blood!]
[Old Fang: Holy shit! My phone can’t focus!]
Upon seeing the old man bleeding profusely, Fang Shicheng watched as he immediately pinned the ‘Poop-Head’ to the ground. Blood oozed from the old man’s earlobe; he had likely seen red after seeing his own blood. With his phone still clutched in his hand, he pressed down on the ‘Poop-Head’ and relentlessly hammered her face. In no time, the ‘Poop-Head’ was also covered in blood.
[Grand Master Hunyuan: Show the ear bite]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: What caused the fight? Because of crazy talk?]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: Can you transcribe the text? I don’t have headphones, I can’t listen]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: @Old Fang]
[Old Fang: I don’t have that software, and I don’t understand how they started fighting either. They exchanged a couple of insults and then started punching]
[Mr. Pickles: Blind guess: the woman attacked first, thinking the other person wouldn’t fight back, and then got a severe beating]
[Mr. Pickles: Intense!]
[Old Fang: Yes, the woman provoked first]
Two police officers each tried to separate them, but the two were tightly entangled. The woman headbutted the old man, but after one strike, she was the one who couldn’t take it. This headbutt seemed to remind the old man; he retaliated with two headbutts of his own, completely knocking the woman unconscious. He himself looked like he couldn’t hold on much longer, and only then were the two separated by the police.
This spectacle truly amused Fang Shicheng; he almost wished he had a bag of sunflower seeds to crack while watching.
[Old Fang: It’s over, both are unconscious]
[Old Fang: Too bad you weren’t there, it was so fierce, straight to blows, no nonsense at all]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: So stupid. Did she think that no matter how exaggerated, how crazy, how insane she was, society would still coddle her like a baby?]
[Old Fang: Both are seriously injured. The woman kept bleeding from her nose, her nasal bone might be broken. So stupid, everything was fine, but she had to go and bite the old man’s ear. Both are injured]
[Grand Master Hunyuan: Serves her right, it’s good she didn’t die. It could have been resolved with normal conversation, but she insisted on being aggressive, so she faced the underlying logic of order: violence and the cost-benefit of applying violence]