Chapter Seventy-Six: Confession

As soon as the door was opened, four furry dog heads squeezed out eagerly. The dogs were overjoyed to see their master return, each vying to leap onto Zhuang Bowen, their tails wagging so furiously they could have been rattles.

Pushing the four dogs aside, Zhuang Bowen led Zhang Congwen into the house and said politely, “Please, have a seat.”

“Uh…” Zhang Congwen glanced around uncertainly, unsure how to respond.

The living room was in utter chaos. The ramshackle furniture Zhuang Bowen had bought looked as if it belonged to the seventies or eighties, and now, after the dogs’ handiwork, not a single piece remained intact or upright.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” Zhang Congwen asked.

Aside from a sofa with its springs exposed, there was hardly a recognizable piece of furniture left in the room.

“Were these all destroyed by your dogs?” Zhang Congwen inquired.

Zhuang Bowen also realized there was nowhere decent to sit. He certainly couldn’t ask Zhang Congwen to perch on the battered sofa, so he fetched a small stool from the bedroom, apologizing, “It’s a bit rough here—please bear with me.”

Zhang Congwen didn’t seem to mind. Sitting down, he surveyed the room once more. “This is truly eye-opening. If all this destruction is the handiwork of your dogs, it’s remarkable your house is still standing.”

Zhuang Bowen hurried to explain, “They’re not quite that formidable. Most of the furniture was about to fall apart when I bought it. Some pieces would collapse if you pushed them.”

Only then did Zhang Congwen relax. If this sled dog squad was really so powerful, Zhuang Bowen might have considered hiring them out for demolition work.

Still, Zhang Congwen could feel the dogs’ wild energy. A table leg as thick as a child’s arm was nearly chewed through, and a vintage chair’s cushion had been torn to shreds.

Wild! Absolutely wild!

Zhang Congwen couldn’t help but marvel.

What was even more infuriating was that these four dogs showed not the slightest remorse for their destruction; instead, they seemed almost proud, as if to say, “Look at the contribution we’ve made! If not for us, who knows when this junk would ever get cleared out?”

“Aren’t you going to do something about them?” Zhang Congwen finally asked.

Zhuang Bowen looked around at the devastation, feeling as if his soul had left him. It had been a terrible idea—sure, the dogs had their fun, and Zhang Congwen was certainly impressed, but in the end, it would be Zhuang Bowen who had to clean up the wreckage.

“I’m used to it. When they first started wrecking the place, I tried scolding and even hitting them. But these beasts are thick-skinned—whatever I do goes in one ear and out the other. The next day, they’re right back at it.”

Zhang Congwen tried not to laugh, feeling it would be impolite, but it was a struggle to keep a straight face.

“It’s fine; if you want to laugh, just laugh,” Zhuang Bowen said, noticing Zhang Congwen’s discomfort.

Still, Zhang Congwen felt it would be rude to laugh outright, so he turned away, trying to distract himself.

He noticed that after the initial excitement when Zhuang Bowen came home, the dogs quickly lost interest in their master and began to focus curiously on Zhang Congwen, even trying to jump on him several times.

Their reaction struck Zhang Congwen as odd. Remembering what he’d seen when Wang, the cat trainer, worked with cats, he asked, “Do you have any videos of your dogs’ usual behavior?”

“I do!” Zhuang Bowen immediately took out his phone and showed Zhang Congwen some videos of the sled dog team at home. In all the footage, the four dogs were behaving perfectly, showing nothing unusual.

After watching, Zhang Congwen realized there was nothing amiss in the videos.

“Any footage of them during their demolition sprees?” he asked.

“No,” Zhuang Bowen replied without hesitation.

That made sense—he’d already said the dogs only destroyed things when he was out, never when he was home. So how could he possibly film them in the act?

As Zhang Congwen pondered other possibilities, Zhuang Bowen’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I have a home security camera installed. But you have to pay for cloud storage, and I only set it up for real-time monitoring, not recording, so I never subscribed. Should I get a subscription now?”

Zhang Congwen shook his head. Getting a subscription now wouldn’t help recover past footage—there was no need.

Finally, Zhang Congwen proposed a rather dubious plan: “How about I come by again the day after tomorrow? You prepare some things for them to destroy. When I arrive, we’ll set it all up, then we’ll leave and monitor the dogs through the camera.”

Zhuang Bowen was close to tears—if only he hadn’t set out the furniture ahead of time. Still, for his dogs’ sake, he reluctantly agreed.

By the time Zhang Congwen returned home, it was already late, and Song Jiawei had not yet come back. After a simple meal, just as Zhang Congwen was about to go to bed, Song Jiawei arrived.

“You’re back late—where have you been?” Zhang Congwen asked automatically.

Then he remembered that Song Jiawei had mentioned a date the night before. Seeing Song Jiawei’s beaming face, Zhang Congwen’s curiosity was piqued. “Were you out with Julie Xie? How far have things gone?”

Song Jiawei grinned mischievously. “Not that far—just held hands.”

The thought of Julie Xie’s small, soft, and warm hands sent waves of excitement through Song Jiawei. He even considered not washing his hand for three days to commemorate the occasion.

But then he remembered he’d be seeing Julie Xie again in two days, and reluctantly abandoned the plan. He couldn’t very well take her delicate hand with his own grimy one.

That would be an affront to love. Yes! To love!

Watching Song Jiawei smile foolishly, looking for all the world like a subway pervert from a certain film, Zhang Congwen, unusually, refrained from bursting his bubble and instead asked, “So, have you officially started dating Julie Xie?”

“No, not yet. I’m a traditional, proper man—such things must be taken seriously!” Song Jiawei declared righteously.

Zhang Congwen gave him a look of pure disdain.

You, traditional and proper? You’re holding her hand before even being official—no one would believe that, not even a dog.

Of course, reality was not quite as Song Jiawei claimed. He had intended to confess to Julie Xie today, but just as he’d mustered the courage after taking her hand, a woman nearby suddenly yelled “jerk” at the man across from her.

As if that weren’t enough, the woman, still not satisfied, turned to Julie Xie and said, “Sister, never trust a dog of a man! Men are all the same—no good ones anywhere.”

With that, she stormed off without a backward glance.

Song Jiawei was left speechless. He’d done nothing to deserve this—how was he supposed to confess now?

He could only blame his own inexperience—why on earth did he have to pick a crowded street for his confession?