A small town primarily populated by migrant workers, Sha River Town lies in the yet-to-be-developed LC district of Shanghai. Most of the original residents have already moved out, leaving behind rows of rented rooms occupied by laborers from other regions.
Ouyang Xueqing watched Fang Ming, who was walking ahead of her. The steady and composed man she'd seen earlier had vanished. Since he had whistled a tune a few minutes ago, his pace had turned lighthearted, almost childlike, as though he were eagerly anticipating a reunion with an old friend.
Moments later, Ouyang's eyes widened as a yellow dog suddenly darted out from an alley. Alarmed, she shouted, "Fang Ming, watch out!"
Instead of stopping, Fang Ming quickened his pace. Ouyang's heart leapt to her throat as she saw the dog bounding toward him. She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the worst.
"Haha! Still up to your old tricks after all these years?" Fang Ming's cheerful laughter rang out. "Alright, alright, enough now. Get your head off me."
When Ouyang opened her eyes, she was met with an unexpected sight. Fang Ming was crouching, and the yellow dog had its front paws on his shoulders, rubbing its head against him affectionately and licking his face with its tongue.
This kind of yellow dog—known as the Chinese native breed, or zhonghua tianyuanquan—had become a rare sight in urban Shanghai. Ouyang vaguely recalled seeing one as a child at her grandfather's house, but these days, pet lovers favored poodles, Shih Tzus, and other exotic breeds. Native dogs had all but disappeared from the city.
The dog looked like it hadn't had a bath in a while. Though its coat wasn't overly dirty, Ouyang couldn't help but imagine it crawling with fleas and ticks. The thought made her recoil. Yet when she saw the genuine joy on Fang Ming's face as he played with the dog, she bit back her complaints.
"Old Yellow, enough of the reunion. Take me to Da Zhu now," Fang Ming said as he gently pushed the dog's paws off his shoulders. Standing up, he gave the dog a few pats on the head and turned to Ouyang. "Sorry if he scared you, Officer Ouyang. This is Old Yellow, my companion of over ten years. Since I'm here now, you can head back. Thank you for your help."
Ouyang's expression stiffened, and after a moment, she forced a smile. "Since you've found your friend, I'll take my leave."
She returned to her car, her face still dark with frustration. Never had she felt so dismissed.
"That Fang Ming! After all the trouble I went through to help him, he doesn't even offer to let me visit or exchange numbers. Not even a promise to treat me to dinner someday as thanks!"
With a loud roar, her BMW Z4 sped away, drawing curious stares from passersby and leaving behind the sound of her frustration.
"So this is where Da Zhu lives?"
Following Old Yellow, Fang Ming arrived at a small yard. Calling it a yard was generous—it was more like a makeshift shed built beside the main house. A side door provided easy access to the living space inside.
The main door was ajar. Old Yellow nudged it open with his head, and Fang Ming stepped inside.
The shed was sparse. A single bed and table occupied the space, with a makeshift kitchen in one corner. The "kitchen" was nothing more than a bench stacked with pots, pans, and other basic utensils.
"So this is the 'good life in the city' that Da Zhu always brags about." Fang Ming chuckled, shaking his head. Every time Da Zhu returned to their village, he boasted about how well he was doing in the city. But this living situation laid bare the truth.
No one likes to admit hardship. Even if life is tough, people returning home tend to put on a front to save face.
"Well, at least Da Zhu treats you well, Old Yellow," Fang Ming said, his gaze falling on a pile of bones in the corner. The leftovers suggested Da Zhu had been feeding Old Yellow decently—no small feat given how much the dog could eat.
Fang Ming had found Old Yellow as a puppy on a rainy day when he was just eight years old. He had taken the wet little creature into the Taoist temple where he lived and raised it ever since. Over the years, Old Yellow had developed a love for meat, insisting on it at every meal. The two had often feasted on wild game that Old Yellow would bring back—rabbits, pheasants, even the occasional snake.
Despite being over 20 years old in dog years, Old Yellow showed no signs of slowing down. His coat was still thick, and his energy boundless, much to the chagrin of local female dogs whenever he returned to the village.
Half an hour later, Old Yellow suddenly perked up, standing alert. He dashed to the entrance just as a familiar figure appeared at the gate.
"Old Yellow, what's gotten into—Huh? Fang Ming! When did you get here?"
"Not long ago," Fang Ming replied, stepping forward to embrace the tall, sun-tanned young man.
The man was Wang Dazhu—known simply as Da Zhu—one of Fang Ming's few childhood friends from the village.
"You should've told me you were coming! I would've come to pick you up. How'd you find this place anyway?" Da Zhu asked, punching Fang Ming playfully in the chest.
"I asked Uncle Wang before I left. He gave me a rough idea of where to find you. Plus, with Old Yellow here, how could I miss?"
"True enough. Old Yellow's nose is sharper than ever. Well, enough talking—have you eaten yet? Let's grab some food."
"Woof! Woof!" Old Yellow barked enthusiastically.
"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten you," Da Zhu said, glancing at the dog. "But the restaurants here don't allow dogs, so I'll bring you something back."
"No need for a restaurant," Fang Ming interjected. "I saw a food stall nearby. Let's just grab something there."
Da Zhu hesitated briefly, then sighed. "Alright, no need to hide it from you. I haven't been paid yet, so money's tight. Once I get my paycheck, I'll treat you to a proper feast."
Fang Ming patted Da Zhu on the shoulder. He knew the struggles his friend faced. After an accident left Da Zhu's father unable to work, the family's financial burden had fallen entirely on Da Zhu. To make matters worse, he was also supporting a younger sister attending university in Shanghai.
"Let me call my sister. She'll be thrilled to know you're here. She used to follow you around like a shadow when we were kids," Da Zhu said, pulling out his phone.
Fang Ming stopped him. "No need. It's late, and she's probably busy. I'll be in Shanghai for a while, so we can visit her tomorrow—it's the weekend."
Da Zhu nodded, setting his phone aside. Together, the two old friends left the shed, their laughter echoing down the street as they reminisced about their childhood antics. Behind them, Old Yellow followed at a leisurely pace, occasionally marking his territory with a casual lift of his leg.