Chapter 22: From Today On, I Shall Be Your Host—Pray You Do Not Meet Your Maker

"Is anyone there?"

"If not... then I’m starting the glue job!"

Ansheng kicked open the door to the boss's office, a plastic bag dangling from his mouth as he sauntered in with a sinister grin.

The office of the Gaofeng Consulting Company featured a long, solid wood desk about three meters in length, a tea table positioned opposite the desk, and a display cabinet filled with teapots.

"Handmade Yixing clay teapots—I like these."

Ansheng pulled a bottle of 502 superglue from the bag and, with a cheerful expression, dripped it into the spouts of the teapots. While he was at it, he also glued the lids of the Sancai tea bowls in the office shut.

Unlike his previous outbursts, Ansheng didn't go on a wild smashing rampage this time. Instead, he was quite "thoughtful," carefully placing two drops of glue into the spout of every single teapot in the display cabinet.

Beyond their exquisite craftsmanship, the value of Yixing teapots lies in their collectibility and utility. If the spout is blocked and tea cannot flow, they lose their practical value entirely. Yet, Ansheng was being particularly devious; 502 glue isn't permanent, and the residue can be removed by heating the clay, but it would be a massive headache to deal with.

The value of these pots varied based on the artisan's reputation and the level of detail, but anything displayed in this cabinet was worth at least a few thousand yuan—these were genuine collectibles.

Ansheng’s strategy in gluing them was simple: it was pure torment that stopped just short of being a criminal offense.

Didn't their Gaofeng Consulting Company love to stir up trouble in the live stream of Yu Xueqing’s father? Didn't they spend their days idle, jumping around in the comments section? If they had nothing better to do, Ansheng would find work for them!

Since they loved posting inappropriate links and reporting the live stream, Ansheng would mass-send those same links to their clients!

His initial plan had been to scout the location and then find a group of protected animals in the mountains to release inside their office, giving them a taste of being reported. But after some thought, he realized a simple fine wouldn't be enough to cure these bastards. Besides, he didn't have a job to rush off to; he could afford to play the long game and see who lasted longer.

"Oh, right! Can't forget the door lock..."

After finishing with the teapots, Ansheng scurried behind the office computer tower, unplugged the power cord, coated the plug with a ring of 502 glue, and inserted it back just enough to look connected. Then, he found the safe where documents were kept and gleefully smeared glue inside the keyhole.

"Hehe..."

He unscrewed the remaining glue and dumped it onto the breathable cushion of the boss’s chair, eagerly anticipating the sight of Gaofeng sitting down tomorrow and getting his rear end glued to the seat. 502 is notoriously bad at bonding some things, but it is absolute perfection when it comes to skin.

Once the scene was set, Ansheng flicked his fluffy tail, broke into a rhythmic, swaggering dance, and hummed a tune as he left. On his way out, he even politely closed the door behind him to prevent any burglars from getting in.

"Ying ying ying—"

***

Ansheng returned to Old Chen’s bicycle basket and gave him a wave.

Old Chen, cigarette lit but expression vacant, hadn't even noticed his cigarette had burned down to the filter, nor had he noticed the fox returning; he had just been staring blankly into space. It wasn't until Ansheng made a sound that Old Chen snapped back to reality, giving a bitter smile.

"My dear Lord Fox! All that smashing and wrecking inside... you really have to watch out for them calling the police."

Ansheng couldn't have cared less and waved a paw. "Ying ying ying..."

The police? Tomorrow, they’d be scrubbing teapots until their hands went numb. He wondered if thick Vida tissues soaked in glue would be enough to keep their toilets clogged for a full day.

As he was leaving, Ansheng suddenly remembered the water dispenser in the company office. He considered getting some laxatives to go with the clogged toilet for a perfect "combo attack." Maybe he could hide some steel wool somewhere and, when they weren't looking... stuff it into their car exhaust pipe.

***

On the way home, Ansheng said goodbye to Old Chen when they reached Lin Ying’s place.

Old Chen went home looking exhausted. As a man nearing retirement, biking from 2:00 AM to 4:00 AM had nearly done him in. Still, he had already decided to catch a nap and then take his wife for morning tea on Changle Street.

And where was Changle Street? Oh, what a coincidence—it was right next to the intersection across from Gaofeng Consulting.

***

"Sister Lin? Are you asleep?"

Ansheng slipped into Lin Ying’s place and saw the food on the island counter, long cold and untouched. He ran toward the master bedroom, intending to drag Lin Ying out for a late meal. Although the tools he’d borrowed from her hadn't ended up being used, he remembered her kindness. Naturally, neighbors should look out for each other; his and A-Qing’s future Rolls-Royce Cullinan would depend on her.

"Hmm!?"

As Ansheng pushed open the bedroom door, his nose caught a strange scent. Amidst the various fragrances, there was the distinct smell of blood!

"What the hell!"

Recognizing the source, Ansheng—who had been moving lightly—felt his fur stand on end. He sprinted full speed onto the bed where Lin Ying lay and yanked back the sheet.

***

As the sheet was pulled away, a thick, metallic scent of iron flooded the room. Ansheng was frantic, turning around to see where Lin Ying had cut herself.

But when he looked, he saw Lin Ying curled into a ball, staring at him with wide, bloodshot eyes, looking slightly confused.

Ansheng froze, letting out a whimper of deep bewilderment.

Lin Ying’s complexion was as poor as ever. Even with the air conditioning set quite low, her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her lips were pale and tinged with blue. However, as Ansheng stepped onto her thigh with his front paws to nudge her curled-up arms aside, he saw no wounds on her body, yet the smell of blood was overwhelming.

"Ying..."

Ansheng stared at her in silence, his little fox face showing a visible flush of embarrassment.

Oh, right... he’d almost forgotten that women have menstrual cycles. Having the scent of blood for a few days a month was apparently normal. And for someone like Lin Ying, who just lay around waiting to die and had no routine, it was normal for it to be painful, too.

"Ying ying ying..."

Ansheng’s eyes darted around. He subtly extended a small paw, spreading the pads like a blooming plum blossom, and used the space between his toes to pinch the sheet and pull it back up, covering Lin Ying once more.

"No... I don't want to eat at all today, I feel like throwing up."

Seeing the little fox, Lin Ying weakly collapsed back onto her pillow, lifting an arm to cover her sweat-drenched forehead, shaking her head with a pale, blue-tinted face. She used to get hungry, but she’d had no energy to move and no desire to eat. Now, she wasn't hungry at all; the pain was so intense that it made her nauseous.

"Don't do this, sister! Say something else! How is a lifelong bachelor like me supposed to handle this?!"

"I even forgot that women have periods, how am I supposed to treat you now?"

Ansheng was jumping around in a panic. Looking at her expression, it seemed as if she were in so much pain she might pass out. He felt completely numb. "Menstruation" was a foreign word to him.

"Right! Use her phone to search on Baidu!"

"Damn it! 'Tell your boyfriend to boil brown sugar water'? Screw the brown sugar water, she’s about to faint!"

"If I call an ambulance, I can't even speak human language!"