A Dog Out of Nowhere Chapter 8

Fang Chi caught what he threw. Car keys.

So this was it, Sun Wenqu too drunk, called him to drive? Couldn’t take a cab, couldn’t hire a driver?

“Got a license?” the man outside asked.

Fang Chi recognized him. Fang Ying had introduced him once: Sun Wenqu’s buddy, Ma Liang.

“No.” Fang Chi lied. He did have one, got it last month. Practiced with Chen Xiang’s car. Driving an automatic Beetle wouldn’t be hard. He just didn’t want to drive Sun Wenqu.

“Then what the h*ll are you here for?” Ma Liang said.

“Looking.” Fang Chi raised the keys, ready to toss them back. “I’m leaving.”

“Ha.” Ma Liang chuckled. “Fiery, huh?”

“Cut the cr*p!” Sun Wenqu leaned in the passenger seat, eyes shut, frowning. “Drive. I feel sick.”

“Go, go.” Ma Liang waved. “Take the side road, fewer cops.”

“I’m driving unlicensed?” Fang Chi braced against the car roof, not moving.

“You’ve got a license,” Ma Liang grinned, pointing. “Don’t act with your uncle, ne, nephew.”

“Drive!” Sun Wenqu barked again from inside.

“Liangzi!” someone from the bar waved. “We need you here.”

“Thanks. Drive safe, slow,” Ma Liang patted the roof, turned back.

Fang Chi looked at the keys, sighed, climbed in. Checked his bag, license was there. He started the car.

Sun Wenqu had reclined the seat, half-lying, brows knit, looking miserable, maybe asleep.

Night barely started and he was already like this?

Drunkard.

Fang Chi cursed inwardly, adjusted to the car, eased onto the road.

Not ten minutes later, he had to pull over. Streets unfamiliar, night disorienting. He fussed with the GPS, then drove on.

Sun Wenqu stayed quiet the whole time, like dead asleep.

It was a relief. Fang Chi put on the music player. English songs filled the car, probably Sun Wenqu’s playlist.

Made him think again of “Gravity.” He clicked his tongue, glanced over, and jumped.

Sun Wenqu was awake, arm pillowed under his head, staring at him.

“You’re awake?” Fang Chi snapped, oddly irritated.

“Who said I was asleep?” Sun Wenqu’s voice was low, nasal.

“Aren’t you drunk?”

“Not that much. Just my stomach hurts.” Sun Wenqu smirked. “Mostly I wanted to walk you like a dog, see what it’s like holding your contract.”

“You’ve got nothing better to do.” Fang Chi sneered, eyes back on the road.

Sun Wenqu said nothing. Only after three intersections did he finally murmur: “True.”

It wasn’t close to his place. Fang Chi was new to driving, new car, unfamiliar roads. They were only halfway after ages.

“Pull over.” Sun Wenqu tapped the window.

“What for?” Fang Chi hit the brake.

“Your dad wants to inspect that supermarket.” He pointed at a 24-hour shop by the road.

“Can’t you inspect it tomorrow?” Fang Chi glanced at the roadside. He had a shadow about parallel parking, needed two tries during the test. “This isn’t a good spot…”

Sun Wenqu didn’t reply, just tapped the window again.

Fang Chi frowned. No reasoning with a drunk. He gritted his teeth, inched the car over painfully slow, finally stopping with about a meter between him and the sidewalk.

Sun Wenqu dragged the door open, gave it a look. “Big enough to run horses through. Why not park even farther out, just slam the brakes in the fast lane and be done with it…”

“If you’re not going, shut the door.” Fang Chi looked at him.

“Who said I was going?” Sun Wenqu narrowed his eyes. “You go. Buy me a bottle of water.”

“Me?” Fang Chi scowled. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted to inspect?”

“So what, you planning to prop me up? Carry me in?” Sun Wenqu lifted an arm.

Fang Chi killed the engine, stepped out. Two steps toward the shop, then stopped. Looked back at Sun Wenqu, who had one leg out the passenger side, dangling. “What brand?”

“Anything.” Sun Wenqu looked down at the ground.

“Cold or room temp? Nongfu Spring okay?” Fang Chi asked again.

“Cold cold cold cold, yes yes yes yes yes,” Sun Wenqu looked up at him. “Aren’t you only fourteen? So d*mn fussy.”

“If I come back with cold Nongfu Spring and you change your mind, I’m calling a cab.” Fang Chi said.

Sun Wenqu blinked, then laughed, tilting his head against the door. “So cautious.”

Fang Chi strode into the supermarket, straight to the freezer, grabbed a bottle, and jogged to checkout. Luckily, no customers this late.

He had reason to hurry, Sun Wenqu’s face had gone ghostly white. Who knew how much he’d drunk, how far gone he was? If Fang Chi dawdled and the guy decided to stagger into traffic, there’d be real trouble.

Coming back out with the water, he immediately spotted the car, and Sun Wenqu squatting by the roadside.

“Here, you…” Fang Chi handed the bottle over. Sun Wenqu didn’t take it, just braced himself on the car. Fang Chi stiffened. “No way, you threw up again? Why do you puke every time you drink?”

“I didn’t. Just my stomach is uncomfortable,” Sun Wenqu steadied himself, then took the bottle, tilted it back, gulped. He shot him a sidelong glance. “Besides, last time, was I puking from the booze?”

“Feeling better? If so, get in. It’s past eleven.” Fang Chi checked his phone. “I can’t be late tomorrow.”

Sun Wenqu drank again, then tossed the half-full bottle into a trash bin. “Let’s go.”

“What a waste,” Fang Chi muttered, circling back into the driver’s seat. “Should’ve bought you a small one.”

“Yeah, wasteful,” Sun Wenqu mused. “Want to fish it back out?”

Fang Chi ignored him, started the car.

With half a bottle of water in him, Sun Wenqu seemed more alive. He leaned back, and kept fidgeting.

Newbie driver as he was, Fang Chi was already on edge. Sun Wenqu’s every twitch in his peripheral vision made him tense, half convinced an arm would knock into him.

“You got fleas or what?” he finally snapped.

“Headache,” Sun Wenqu muttered.

“And you still drink like this?” Fang Chi couldn’t get it.

“Normally it’s fine,” Sun Wenqu rubbed his brow. “Tonight the drinks got mixed. Some idiot dumped baijiu into my wine glass.”

“With your luck, even if they weren’t drunk, they’d mess your drink up on purpose,” Fang Chi said.

“Is that so?” Sun Wenqu shut his eyes. A while later, he smirked. “Maybe you’re right.”

He must’ve been hurting for real, after that, he went silent. Just sat there, brow furrowed, one hand pressing his stomach, the other at his temple.

Near his place he finally stilled, eyes closed, whether asleep or just resting, hard to tell.

At the gate, no marked spots. Fang Chi guessed and pulled in roadside, like the others.

“Hey.” He nudged him. “We’re here.”

No response.

“Wake up. Sleep inside. If you don’t get up, I’m leaving you.” Fang Chi pushed again.

Still nothing, just that pinched brow.

Fang Chi hesitated, sighed, got out, opened the passenger door, leaned in, tugged his arm. “Wake up! Don’t sleep here!”

Still unmoving.

“Don’t expect me to haul you in. Stay out here and sleep in the car if you want.” Fang Chi glared at him a full minute, no reaction. He cracked the window a sliver, pulled out, shut and locked the door.

“Suit yourself!” He tossed the keys back through the gap, they landed near Sun Wenqu’s hand.

He walked a few paces, stopped, and glanced back. Still no movement. He turned away and headed toward the back gate.

Weather wasn’t too cold yet. One night in the car wouldn’t kill him.

As he thought this, his phone rang. Sun Wenqu’s number.

Fang Chi rolled his eyes, answered. “Awake?”

“Just leave your father in the car like that?” Sun Wenqu’s voice was nasal.

“What else?” Fang Chi stopped walking.

“Come back,” Sun Wenqu said. “I feel like death. Can’t walk.”

Back at the car, he found him slumped against the seat, brows twisted in pain.

“I’ll help you in.” Fang Chi opened the door.

“Can’t. Dizzy.” Eyes still shut.

“…Then how am I supposed to get you inside?” The alcohol stench made Fang Chi irritable.

“Carry me.”

“What?” Fang Chi froze, voice rising.

“Wait, let me find… the contract.” Eyes closed, Sun Wenqu fumbled in his pocket, actually pulled out the “service contract,” shoved it toward him. “Read it?”

Fang Chi smacked his hand away, tossed the paper aside, yanked him up by the arm. “Just this once.”

“Can’t promise.” Sun Wenqu murmured.

If he didn’t look genuinely miserable, Fang Chi wouldn’t have tolerated another second.

He crouched at the door, muttered, “Get on.”

Sun Wenqu collapsed onto his back, arms looped over his shoulders.

“Don’t move.” Fang Chi fished the keys from his coat pocket, hoisted him up, kicked the door shut.

“Nice muscles.” Sun Wenqu murmured against his ear.

The whisper tickled like a feather duster. Fang Chi’s whole side itched. He strode quickly to the gate, resisting the urge to hurl him over the wall. “Don’t talk!”

“Why not?” Sun Wenqu chuckled, blew a breath against his neck. “I was complimenting you.”

Fang Chi nearly dropped him then and there. He ground his teeth. “I’m warning you…”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“Hold it! Hold it!” Fang Chi barked, jabbing the key at the lock with desperate focus. He’d never opened a door so wholeheartedly.

He burst through the gate, hurried to the house door, fumbling the next lock just as frantically. Luckily, the keys were different enough, no need to try each one.

Inside, he propped Sun Wenqu against the wall, patted around for a switch, snapped, “Light? Bathroom?”

No answer. Then, laughter.

“You…” Fang Chi started, but Sun Wenqu flicked on the living room light himself.

In the sudden brightness, that smug grin nearly made Fang Chi drag him back out to the street.

“Seeing how filial you are, I feel much better.” Sun Wenqu laughed, raising a hand.

Fang Chi instinctively shielded behind him.

That made him laugh harder. “Relax. Not grabbing your *ss tonight.”

Fang Chi couldn’t even describe the feeling, pointed at him a few times, speechless, then yanked the door shut with a slam that nearly clipped his ear.

Only when alone did Sun Wenqu stagger into the bathroom, retching dryly into the sink, nothing coming up.

His stomach burned like fire, head pain creeping toward splitting.

All his friends knew he couldn’t handle mixed drinks. Which idiot spiked his glass?

“F*ck.” He splashed his face, then collapsed onto the sofa, clutching his stomach, fumbling for his phone. Called Ma Liang. “Liangzi, get over here.”

When Ma Liang arrived, Sun Wenqu was sweating on the couch, hugging a pillow, TV on.

“Where’s your… son?” Ma Liang pulled out boxes of medicine, poured water.

“Gone,” Sun Wenqu said, then chuckled. “Bolted like a rabbit.”

“You laughing’s… uglier than crying.” Ma Liang handed him the pills. “Why not have him buy you meds?”

Sun Wenqu just looked at him, swallowed the pills, drained the water, sighed. “Embarrassing.”

“I said I’d drive you home. No, you had to have that kid do it. Then act like it’s shameful.”

“Shut up.” Sun Wenqu flipped him the finger. “I just wanted to mess with him. This kid, you really don’t see?”

“See what?”

“He hates me.”

“Obvious.”

“Don’t jump the gun!” Sun Wenqu hugged the pillow again. “Don’t you see the real reason?”

“No. All I know is, I hate you ‘cause you’re useless.” Ma Liang said. “Dead weight.”

“F*ck off.” Sun Wenqu laughed, then winced, coughing. “It’s ‘cause I like men. That’s what he hates.”

Ma Liang didn’t reply. He just hauled him to bed, shoved a hot-water bottle into his arms.

“Ugh. Stomach hurts.” Sun Wenqu curled, brows practically tied in knots.

“Change into pajamas?” Ma Liang opened the wardrobe.

“No.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Sleep. I’ll come back early tomorrow.”

“Mm. Take the car. Go cuddle your wife.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

That got another laugh out of him, half groaning.

“Sleep already.” Ma Liang lit a cigarette in the living room, stood a while, then checked back, quiet, no more thrashing. He turned off the light, left.

As for Fang Chi, after just one day, he felt like Sun Wenqu was already driving him to a nervous breakdown. One night of bad sleep, and he woke foggy-headed, half-dead.

Three months of this? Either he’d beat Sun Wenqu to death, or Sun Wenqu would torment him into the grave.

He had planned to sneak a nap during class, but third year felt like marching to war, step into the classroom and the walls were plastered with motivational slogans big and small.

Any drowsiness was instantly scared off.

But after seeing Sun Wenqu’s handwriting, all those words he once thought looked pretty good suddenly dropped several notches…

Two periods later, Fang Chi was yawning nonstop. Unfortunately, the second class was Old Li’s. Obsessed with squeezing every drop of teaching time, Old Li stood at the podium as if he hadn’t heard the bell.

Probably not many other classes were really dismissed either, the only clue came from a few people strolling past their door, showing it was indeed break time.

“From Class Six, right? What’re they doing here?” someone muttered. Their class and Class Six were never on good terms, this kind of swaggering instantly soured the mood.

Class Six was at the other end of the same hallway. Coming all the way here was basically a trek, enough time to go downstairs and buy snacks instead.

“Something wrong?” Old Li noticed them too, leaned on the podium and asked.

At once the classroom erupted in boos and jeers.

The group quickly left, but not before shooting a few fierce looks inside.

The stares carried meaning, vicious. Fang Chi followed their gaze to a few rows behind him, but couldn’t tell who they were targeting.

Still, in this pressure-cooker atmosphere, fights broke out often. Like steam vents, brush a shoulder, exchange a look, and it might jump straight from words to fists.

By afternoon, Fang Chi couldn’t hold out. The last self-study period was commandeered by the English teacher; under her sharp gaze, he still collapsed on his desk and slept through it.

After dismissal though, his energy came back.

“Hey, I asked for you,” Liang Xiaotao leaned on his desk, “your Chief Huang is at just the right age for neutering. If you’ve got time, take him in today. I talked to the vet already, just go straight there.”

“Oh,” Fang Chi replied, “the same doctor you mentioned last time?”

“Yep. You can’t be reluctant, right?” Liang Xiaotao grinned.

“Chief Huang already glares at me every day. If I castrate him, he might actually kill me.” Fang Chi laughed, slinging on his backpack. “I’ll take him tonight just to get used to the place first.”

He always walked home, counted as exercise. Behind the school ran a one-way lane with few cars, lined with trees. Earphones in, walking that road was nice, sometimes he even jogged.

After a while, two electric scooters whooshed past him, turning sharply into a side alley.

He recognized them, Class Six guys, the same ones loitering outside their room earlier.

He hesitated, then quickened his pace, pulled out his earphones. As he neared the alley, he heard scuffling footsteps, shouts, curses.

“Beating you’s what I wanted! Been sick of your face forever!”

Fang Chi frowned. If they were hitting someone from his class, he should help.

He groped in his bag for a weapon. Nothing good, just a descender and a piton. The piton was too vicious. He wedged the descender between his fingers and walked to the alley mouth.

“You f*cking fag, acting all tough!” someone shouted, followed by the thud of fists.

Fang Chi froze.

And saw clearly now, four or five from Class Six beating on one boy.

The one taking the blows was Xiao Yiming.

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