This purely fictitious story, which happens to bear any resemblance to reality, is purely coincidental. It takes place in a large coastal city in Country Z. That year, Sora Aoi had been used up by people, and I had been worn out by university. I was twenty-two years old, a confusing age. But what was more confusing was that I became unemployed after graduation, my father fell ill, and my girlfriend ran away with someone else.

After graduation, my girlfriend and I failed to find jobs multiple times so we both ended up working at a pet shop. A month ago, she was caught giving a pet a bath in a client's bed. Unable to salvage the situation, I tearfully accepted the harsh reality.

At the pet shop, I had hard days, with a low salary, a fierce boss, and colleagues who kept stepping on me. Until one day, I met a woman who hated me deeply but later she got me a job at a women's prison.

The reason she despised me was because I took advantage of her when she was drunk.

On the day the story began, I was at work as usual, cleaning up the messy pet shop. Afterward, I went out to the convenience store next door and bought a pack of soft white sand-5 bucks. I lit a cigarette, leaned against the wall, and sighed. There was no hope in living, but even less reason to die. My dreams had gone to hell, living each day lifelessly.

On the steps of the shop, sat a group of people of all ages, men and women. There was a fair and delicate loli, sweating all over, her bra faintly visible beneath her school uniform. Ah, youth, such adorable youth.

With a cigarette in my mouth, I watched the little loli. She was on the phone and glanced at me from time to time, then looked at the road. I took a few more puffs of my cigarette, a BMW parked on the roadside, the little girl got up and walked over. Youth, such adorable youth.

The little loli opened the door and got into the BMW, the driver was a balding, sunglasses-wearing man. The man put his arm around her, his dark hand reaching out for her.

Inside I cursed, beast.

It was a bitter realization, this gilded, flashy city was not a paradise for a country kid.

"Zhang Fan, what are you doing? Are you slacking off again?" A gruff voice snapped me out of my reverie.

I turned my head and there was Store Manager He Hua, the boss was her Godfather, and we used to call her Sister Hua, staring at me coldly.

I tossed the cigarette away and asked ingratiatingly, "What can I do for you, Sister Hua?"

When under the eaves, one must bow one's head.

"You have quite the nerve chilling here while I'm swamped with work in the store. You're just lazing around smoking, with no ambition. No wonder your girlfriend ran off with a rich guy."

Looking at her thin, crimson lips moving up and down as she spoke, I silently cursed her a hundred times in my heart.

The impact of my girlfriend's infidelity was undoubtedly devastating. To make matters worse, I had to bear the "kind" reminders from my store manager on a daily basis: "You can't even handle such a small matter. No wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else! You can't even wash a dog properly. No wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else! You can't even clean the floor properly. No wonder your girlfriend ran off with someone else!"

My girlfriend ran away with someone else. What the hell does that have to do with how clean I mop the floor?

"We've got a client on the line. They want us to come over and give their pet a bath. Be quick about it!" She handed me the service slip.

I work in this despair-ridden pet store, earning a meager wage, with a boss who is shrewd and subordinates who are not; pay raises are a fairy tale, overtime is a stark reality.

Fine, I might as well resign. I gritted my teeth and pondered for a bit. Sighing, I decided to wait until I found a new job.

Carrying the service slip, I arrived at a luxurious residential area. After answering a series of queries from the security guards, I found myself in front of the client's door.

The door opened, and I was taken aback. A beautiful woman stood there, dressed in a luxurious silk nightgown. Her long hair was casually disheveled, enhancing her allure. Her tall, curvaceous figure was mature yet inviting. Even a casual glance would stir unbecoming thoughts. The intoxicating scent of her perfume mingled with the smell of alcohol.

Dressed in my dirty work clothes, holding a basin filled with pet washing supplies, I felt a wave of inferiority washing over me standing before her. I was so humiliated, so shamed, it felt like a bad cliché. I told her in a low voice that I was from the pet store.

"It took you three days to respond to my call? What kind of service does your pet store provide?" Her captivating yet piercing eyes glared at me as she complained.

I apologized, "Sorry, miss, we've been pretty busy lately and we are short-staffed."

"Change your shoes. The cat's in the kitchen, you can go in and find it yourself," she commanded disdainfully, looking at my dirty shoes.

With slippers on, I entered her home. The interior was splendidly decorated and filled with high-end appliances like a giant wall-mounted television. A pristine wedding dress lay draped over the sofa and a half-drunk bottle of foreign liquor rested on the tea table.

I walked into the kitchen where a couple of McDonald's takeout bags lay scattered on the counter. In the corner of this extravagant kitchen, a white Pomeranian dog was feasting on McDonald's chicken wings. These days, even dogs seemed to eat better than me.

I waited for the puppy to finish eating before lifting it up. Eyeing the two leftover chicken wings in its plate, I swallowed hard. It was about time for my dinner too. With the puppy in tow, I stepped into the bathroom to give it a bath.

The woman was in the living room, arguing on the phone with her boyfriend: "Get rid of your fox-cat for me, or I'll take it to the vet. You need to understand this is my house, not yours. Sorry, there's no way I can forgive you. There are plenty of beautiful women out there for you, you can marry whoever you want, just stop bothering me!"

I sneaked a peek at the living room and saw her tossing her cellphone on the couch, then picking up a bottle of wine to take a few swigs.

Another one tormented by love.

Suddenly, she turned her head to look at me. Her piercing gaze was intimidating, scaring me into quickly continue drying the puppy with my head bowed.

"That vet, that vet!" she was calling me.

"What's up?" I felt uncomfortable deep down. Both my girlfriend and I studied psychology, a major that's hard to find a job in, until one day we encountered the boss of our pet store at a job fair. Saying, "You guys study psychology, that’s medicine. We do veterinary, that's also medicine. Both are pretty much the same". Our boss is such a genius.

I washed my hands and walked out to ask her what she wanted.

"Got a smoke?"

"Yes."

"Give me one." Her voice was off.

I walked over, took out a soft white sand from my pocket, and handed it to her. When her hand reached out to get the cigarette, my heart skipped a beat. The cigarette fell to the floor, her eyes were red and slightly swollen, and there were blood vessels in her normally bright eyes, a clear sign she had just been crying.

I quickly averted my gaze so as not to look at her.

The cigarette fell on the ground, so I quickly took out another one for her. She took it and asked, "Lighter."

I lit it for her.

There was a long, deep scar on her hand, a fresh wound, with the blood not entirely dry yet. Her other hand had a similar scar.

"I told her I had finished my work, meaning it's time for her to pay me," I said.

She didn't speak, just looked at her phone, texting and smoking. I didn't dare to sit, afraid to dirty her couch.

I looked at her, distinctly attractive and curvaceous, her bosom round and full, and her skin snow white. I couldn't help but swallow.

After nearly finishing her cigarette, she threw the butt on the floor, saying, "What a horrible smoke this is!"

I felt a surge of anger. If I had the money, who would smoke a five yuan cigarette? I said grumpily, "If you don't like it, don't smoke. If you do smoke, don't complain."

She glared at me, and I dared not hold her gaze and looked away.

"Is the cat clean now?" she asked me.

I told her it was clean. I don't understand why she calls that Pomeranian dog a 'cat.'

"I'll go get your money," she stood up, swaying with each stride toward the room. She had already finished that bottle of foreign liquor.

As she reached the bathroom door, she glanced inside, stepped into the bathroom, then shouted loudly for me, "Vet! Come here!"

I rushed over, "What's wrong?"

"You used my bath towel to bath the cat!" she asked me angrily.

"I was adjusting the water temperature with the hand-held shower and accidentally sprayed the bath towel," I said honestly.

"There's fur on it! You’re arguing!" she said angrily.

There were indeed dog hairs on the bath towel. I didn't know how they got there, but it truly wasn't my doing. I explained, "I didn't use your bath towel to bathe the cat. We bring our own towels, and we wash and disinfect them after each use."

"Why is there hair on the towel?" She interrupted me loudly.

"I've told you we have specific towels for that! Are you just looking for trouble?" I flared up too.

"How dare you yell at me? Fine, I'm going to complain about you right now." She pushed me away and stepped out of the bathroom, picking up her phone from the couch to call the store, "What's the attitude of your visiting veterinarian? Using my towel to wipe my cat, denying it, and even daring to yell at me."

I heard my boss repeatedly apologizing on the other end of the call.

Great, I'm going to get scolded again when I get back.

After she finished the call, she went into her room, took out her wallet, pulled a wad of small bills out of her wallet, and irritably swung it at me: "Take it!"

From her perspective, I was even worse than a dog. Watching those bills fluttering made me feel like my shattered, cheap self-esteem was scattered all over the floor. My temper flared up; I walked up to her, slapped her cheek hard. A loud crisp sound echoed, and my hand vibrated from the impact.

She looked stunned for a moment, only then reacting with outrage, "How dare you hit me! I've never been hit in my life! I'll kill you!"

To my surprise, she counterattacked immediately, grabbing a wine bottle from the coffee table and smashing it at me.

I was shocked but didn't manage to dodge it. The wine bottle hit me hard in the chest. It was truly terrifying when a woman lost it. She charged at me, returning the slap. Luckily, I was quick and grabbed her arm. She tried to break free, but I firmly held onto her other arm. We entangled together, and I used the momentum to press her onto the sofa, laying on top of her.

She reddened and demanded, "Let go of me!"

"Screw you! You’re venting on me because some guy dumped you when you were drunk!" I retorted.

While both her hands were held by me, she bit my palm.

Pain coursed through me as I yelped, my palm had a deep bite mark that was bleeding. This pain enraged me even more.

The audacity of this woman, she dared to bite me. So I bit down on her arm too, seeing this, she quickly moved her arm away, and as she turned her head, her mouth met mine. Just as I was about to exert more strength, I realized we were in a kissing position. My mind heated up, and I shot back, "You dare to bite me, you will pay for it!"

Once a person got impulsive, they could turn into a devil.

Overwhelmed with rage, I’d lost all sense of reason.