Chapter One: The Curious Journey of a Middle-Aged Man With Nothing

Inside the rented room, Black Feather sat on the bed in a loose white vest, scrolling through his social media. At this moment, he felt utterly lost—almost ten years had passed since his graduation.

Today was the hundred-day celebration for his roommate Zhang Qiang’s child, and several classmates were posting photos and videos from the banquet, children in tow. Some already had kids in elementary school.

Meanwhile, he was still penniless, loveless, a single man since birth—no, a single middle-aged man.

A few days earlier, Zhang Qiang had sent him a message, hoping he’d attend the banquet and catch up. Black Feather, however, declined with the excuse that he was away on a business trip and couldn’t make it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go; he simply didn’t have the face to meet his old friends. The past ten years since graduation had been nothing short of heartbreaking for him.

His first year out of college, he worked odd jobs at a mobile phone shop. After half a month, the shop went under, unable to compete with online sales. It closed, and he never received his wages.

A few months later, he found a clerical job, spending his days copying and printing documents for colleagues. But after just a few days, the company downsized, and he was let go.

He bounced from job to job, never lasting longer than a month, either because the boss vanished or the company needed to cut expenses, and he was always the first to go.

In the blink of an eye, Black Feather was thirty-two. Now, he survived on odd jobs—flyer distribution and day-to-day gigs—barely scraping by.

After so long, he no longer dared to submit resumes. At his age, applicants all boasted years of experience, department management, or at least participation in workplace projects. How could he admit he only lasted half a month beside a printer? At thirty-two, with no experience and youth long gone, why would any company hire such a washed-up man?

Not only did he avoid contact with classmates, but he hadn’t reached out to his family in five years.

Black Feather grew up in the countryside, clawed his way into a top city university, and once believed graduation would lead to great things. Reality, though, had beaten him down.

He remembered those years of youthful pride, feeling as if he could conquer the world. Those classmates who used to call him “Feather Bro,” now posted photos from scenic spots or posed with wives and million-dollar cars.

He had once been vice president of the student council, MVP of the college basketball tournament, runner-up in the campus singer competition, recipient of more love letters than the library had books, and ranked in the top ten of the university’s forum personalities.

What had become of him now?

His golden-boy persona had thoroughly collapsed. The more he thought about it, the more suffocated he felt, rubbing his three-month-old belly fat, simmering in frustration.

At this moment, he lived in the shabbiest rented room in the city’s urban village, paying just three hundred a month. The landlord provided meals, all utilities included.

The landlord was Uncle Liu, an elderly man whose son had taken his family abroad years ago and hadn’t returned since.

When Uncle Liu first saw Black Feather sleeping under the overpass with his luggage, chased away by city officials, he indignantly brought him home.

He promised work, food, and shelter. The “job” was essentially for Black Feather to live there as his housekeeper, doing cleaning and cooking, for a monthly wage of three thousand.

Most of the first month passed, and Black Feather was about to receive his first salary. But then Uncle Liu was hit by an electric bike and hospitalized; the culprit fled, leaving Uncle Liu to pay his own medical bills. When Black Feather took Uncle Liu’s bankbook to withdraw money, he realized Uncle Liu lived on little more than a thousand in retirement each month.

Black Feather couldn’t bring himself to ask for his wages. He continued doing chores for Uncle Liu and took on odd jobs outside, bringing in a little over a thousand each month.

He gave Uncle Liu three hundred for rent and bought groceries with his own earnings.

They lived together like father and son. Yet both knew their relationship was merely a matter of mutual benefit.

This unstable arrangement was bound to fall apart sooner or later. The day arrived all too suddenly.

That afternoon, Black Feather had just finished an extra role for a film crew, earning two hundred yuan. He picked up a box of roast goose from a street food shop, intending to treat Uncle Liu.

Humming a tune, he walked back to the urban village.

Fire engines, sirens blaring, blocked the entrance. He finally made his way to Uncle Liu’s house, and the scene before him stunned him.

The once bright red brick walls were now blackened and dripping with water.

Two firefighters carried out a charred body.

Black Feather recognized the golden glint of a gold tooth—a trademark, Uncle Liu’s gold tooth.

Seeing this, Black Feather collapsed to the ground, the lunch box falling from his hands, pieces of roast goose rolling onto the wet earth.

“Hey, don’t block the way,” a young firefighter said, helping him up.

Black Feather, at one seventy-five, wasn’t tall and had grown soft with lack of exercise, weighing nearly two hundred pounds. The firefighter struggled to lift him and nearly fell under his weight.

Luckily, a middle-aged firefighter caught them in time.

The older firefighter saw Black Feather’s expression and understood, croaking, “My condolences.”

Black Feather’s face was pale, head bowed, tears streaming uncontrollably.

Frustration.

Just that morning, Uncle Liu had joked that Black Feather was so handsome that if he got lucky as an extra, the director might cast him as the lead.

Black Feather had cheerfully bid farewell to Uncle Liu, who was watching TV on his rosewood bench.

Now, they were worlds apart.

Who could believe it?

Black Feather followed the ambulance to the hospital.

Police, doctors, firefighters—one after another spoke with him, gathering information.

They learned he was merely Uncle Liu’s tenant.

Black Feather also heard from the police and firefighters that the fire was caused by aging wiring.

That evening, the police drove him to the entrance of the urban village.

He returned to the rented room—the door stood wide open.

Holding his phone, he turned on the flashlight and surveyed the interior.

The rosewood bench Uncle Liu had sat on that morning was now burned into several pieces, scattered crookedly on the floor.

The white walls were blackened.

The ceiling fan had crashed onto the coffee table, shards of glass strewn everywhere.

The TV cabinet against the wall was now stained black, its former TV spot empty.

The television was missing—stolen?

Black Feather shone his phone over the area. That old, heavy TV—who would steal it?

He glanced doubtfully at the spot, then swept his phone around the room.

The refrigerator by the TV cabinet was gone.

He entered the kitchen—no rice cooker, no induction stove.

Upstairs, the old appliances Uncle Liu couldn’t bear to throw away, stored in the utility room, were all missing.

Black Feather dialed the middle-aged firefighter.

“Captain Fan, this is Black Feather.”

Captain Fan recalled him quickly—the overweight man from the hospital.

“Hello, are you asking me to help you find a place to stay?” Fan Xiangdong inquired; he’d mentioned earlier that if Black Feather couldn’t find accommodation, he could help, as it wasn’t uncommon in his profession to assist people in finding temporary lodgings.

“That’s not it. I wanted to ask, during the fire rescue today, did you see any of the household appliances?”

“Appliances?” Fan Xiangdong remembered leading the firefighters, hoses in hand, into the burning house. He’d seen appliances arranged as in any home, and had warned his team to be careful of their positions to prevent the fire from worsening. But once the situation was under control and the smoke cleared, as he exited with his team, he vaguely felt something was different.

Now, recalling it, those appliances were already gone at that time. He’d somehow taken it for granted and simply walked out?

A chill crept down Fan Xiangdong’s spine.

Who would steal large appliances at such a moment?

Firefighters were everywhere, inside and out. To move such bulky items, even if someone had the idea, who would choose that time to act—and succeed?

Fan Xiangdong had always trusted his memory, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll bring a few guys over to take a look,” he replied, asking Black Feather to wait in the house.