Grotesqueries of the Old Domain

Chapter 24: Cat

“Weren’t you going to snatch it? Why did you suddenly give the ticket back to me?”

Zhang Wenda looked at the ticket in his hand in surprise, scarcely believing what he saw as he watched Song Jianguo’s retreating figure.

Without looking back, Song Jianguo said, still absorbed in fiddling with her own things.

Zhang Wenda glanced down at his bruised and battered body, then slipped the ticket into his pocket.

“But thank you for saving me. Although you got me into a lot of trouble these past few days, I’m glad you saw the error of your ways.”

At that moment, Song Jianguo turned around, a lollipop dangling from her mouth, and approached, her calloused right hand gently patting Zhang Wenda’s head.

Her voice was softer in this moment than it had ever been.

“You’d better not be too relieved. Giving the ticket back means I want you to keep it.”

The next instant, with a click, a collar snapped around Zhang Wenda’s neck.

Seeing the shock on Zhang Wenda’s face, Song Jianguo instead wore a smile like a cat toying with a mouse.

“How does it feel — falling from heaven into hell all at once? Good—that’s exactly what I wanted.”

“By the way, I heard your name is Rat of Death? Too bad—my name is Cat.”

She said this as she reached out and unabashedly ruffled Zhang Wenda’s hair.

“You—!” Zhang Wenda grabbed the collar with both hands, trying to pull, but was stunned to discover he couldn’t tear the thin metal collar off.

“Let go of my hands.”

At Song Jianguo’s light command, his body immediately obeyed without control.

“I’m sorry, but now you cannot resist me. Whoever holds this collar and places it on someone else makes that person their hunting hound—100% obedient.”

With the lollipop still in her mouth, Song Jianguo circled around Zhang Wenda.

“From the moment I won, you became my spoils. Your ticket, your everything belongs to me now.”

As she spoke, she pulled the nearly finished candy from her mouth.

“This thing is really tasty. I never had one before. From now on, you’re responsible for buying these for me at the Supply‑and‑Marketing Cooperative.”

“Also, I just checked—extra ten yuan for the special‑ability ticket. You need to scrounge that up too.”

Zhang Wenda said nothing; he just stared at her.

This wasn’t a brat—this damned well was an enemy!

Yet once he fully grasped reality, he grew calm rather than angry.

Once she clipped that collar onto me, everything about this changed.

“So? In this situation now, too shy to say something?” Song Jianguo asked, amused.

“I’m more concerned about my classmates.” Zhang Wenda bowed his head and stared at his scars. “I hope they’re okay.”

“They’re fine. They’re out there all over the streets looking for you.”

Song Jianguo tilted her head toward the tunnel’s opening outside.

Hearing this, Zhang Wenda froze, staring silently at his wounds.

He had already sensed that not everyone played by his harsh rules.

“Is that all you want to ask? Don’t you want to ask how you feel being caught by me?”

When she saw his calm, Song Jianguo grew a bit irritated.

“I have nothing to say. I played, I lost—I accept it. Even if you ambushed me by cheating with the rules, losing is losing.”

Zhang Wenda strained to move and leaned calmly against the wall.

“I know what you want to say. You put that collar on me so I’d get you money. But it’s dark outside now—you can’t just gather money at night, can you? I’ll help tomorrow.”

He reasoned with her in a calm voice.

Before, handling a brat was tricky—light felt wrong, heavy felt wrong.

But now the target was clear. All tricks were allowed.

Song Jianguo wanted to argue, but found his words reasonable.

Still not wanting him to gain the upper hand, she kicked him.

“Get up!”

Zhang Wenda stood, uncontrollable.

“You want to sleep more? Now! Right now! Immediately think of how to get money!”

Song Jianguo ground out.

Zhang Wenda paused, then stood and headed outside.

“Okay. I’ll get money now. You just reminded me—I do know a place to make money.”

When he came down from the treehouse, Song Jianguo unsurprisingly followed.

Clearly, even with the collar, she didn’t trust him.

They walked under streetlights, one after the other, Zhang Wenda stopping and looking as if searching.

About an hour passed, and as Song Jianguo thought he was stalling to teach her a lesson, he stopped in front of a rainbow arch.

Unlit for the evening, the plastic clouds looked eerie in the gloom.

“Youth Center. There’s money to be made here. White Go pieces, five mao per bag. I haven’t counted Liquid Joy’s value, but it’s probably valuable.”

Zhang Wenda pointed to the stairs leading down.

Song Jianguo didn’t trust him so easily.

She summoned a cat, whispered briefly, and confirmed he was telling the truth.

She shoved him inside.

This Youth Center location was different from before, but the basement décor was largely the same—very old.

But this time Rabbit Teacher didn’t hand out the Old Man Ding guide.

When Zhang Wenda lifted the curtain, a flabby tunnel of flesh blood appeared before them.

Seeing it, Song Jianguo pinched her nose and stepped back two paces in disgust.

Without Old Man Ding’s filter, the stench was unbearable.

“It’s filthy down there. You wait outside. I’ll go in and bring you whatever I find.”

Zhang Wenda spoke sensibly.

“Don’t even think about it—you’re not leaving my sight!”

Song Jianguo pushed him inside, then stationed the black cats at the door to prevent anyone from ambushing them.

Under Zhang Wenda’s flashlight, the Youth Center interior was a blur of bloody flesh, no longer clean or bright.

He could barely use his memory to make out which room was the Go room or the aeromodelling room.

He went in without tricks, heading to the Go room and began working diligently.

While Zhang Wenda bent over his task, Song Jianguo didn’t notice that he secretly dipped his finger into the red scar on his forearm and smeared the blood onto the tunnel’s flesh.