Chapter 2: The Vet Behind on Rent

The business card in his pocket hadn’t even had time to warm up before the next morning. The door was banged so hard the hinges rattled.

“Shen Luming! It’s been three months! Do you think I run a charity?”

Lao Zhou, the landlord, slapped a crumpled rent demand note onto the reception desk, his finger drumming a furious rhythm on the wood. Two nosy neighbors trailed behind him, poking their heads in to gawk at the clinic. The ancient ultrasound machine was draped in a white sheet, the IV stand leaned at a crooked angle, and cardboard boxes stacked against the wall reached all the way to the ceiling. Morning light squeezed through the gap in the roll-up door, casting a thin, sharp line of brightness across the floor. It caught the crack in the counter’s edge that had been splitting for half a year, and the faded veterinary license hanging on the wall.

Shen Luming was crouched on the floor, checking the temperature of an old Pekingese, not lifting his head. “Uncle Zhou, just give me ten more days. This dog’s tartar is way too thick. It needs to be off the anti-inflammatory meds first. I just had it do a cleaning yesterday, free of charge.”

“You wash dogs for free, but you collect my rent!” Lao Zhou’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls. “What did this place bring in last month? Five hundred? Six hundred? If I rented this space to a malatang guy, it’d bring me three-thousand-five a month!”

“Six hundred and twenty,” Shen Luming said, shaking the thermometer to snap the reading. He stood up. “Sold four deworming shots, two bags of prescription kibble, and did three spay/neuter surgeries. One was on a stray cat. Didn’t get paid for that one.”

Lao Zhou choked on his own breath, then slapped the desk even harder. “Then hand over the lease! I’m leasing it out next month!”

Shen Luming didn’t answer. He turned and lifted the Pekingese onto the exam table with careful, light movements. He knew the numbers. If he lost this space, there’d be nowhere for that batch of strays to go. But the account was down to just over eight hundred yuan. Barely enough for supplies. He looked down at the dog. It was nuzzling the back of his hand with its damp nose, tail giving a listless, sluggish sweep of the table. Shen Luming reached out and smoothed the fur behind its ears, his fingertip still coated in the dog hair from checking its temp.

The door creaked open a crack. A girl with a high ponytail peeked her head in, her eyes shining like fresh AA batteries. “Excuse me… do you hire front desk staff? I saw the paper posted outside. It’s all curled up, so I peeled it off to read it. The salary was listed as ‘Negotiable.’ Does ‘Negotiable’ just mean ‘we have no idea’?”

The white, faded collar of her hoodie still bore a university emblem, and the straps of her backpack were frayed. She clearly hadn’t been out of school for long.

“Two thousand a month. Lunch included,” Shen Luming said.

“Two thousand?!” The girl pushed the door open and marched straight over, dumping her bag on the counter. “How can you expect anyone to work for that?”

“That’s why no one’s answered the ad in half a year.”

The girl blinked, then burst out laughing, revealing two small tiger teeth. “Okay, fine. I’m Tang Doudou. I studied animal medicine, but I failed my internship. But I’m great at editing videos. Your clinic is a dump. It needs branding, marketing, a story!”

Lao Zhou sneered from the side. “A story? His story is that he’s three months behind on rent.”

Tang Doudou shot Lao Zhou a look, then glanced at Shen Luming. Her eyes darted as she pulled out her phone. “Uncle Zhou, right? If you kick him out and rent to that malatang guy next month, the grease smoke will drive the dry cleaner next door up the wall. Look at his clinic. It’s broke, sure, but it’s clean. Smells like disinfectant every day. He’s the least hassle of all your tenants.”

Lao Zhou opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat. Shen Luming gave Tang Doudou a look but said nothing. He just filed her sharp tongue away in the back of his mind.

At that moment, the light at the doorway was blocked out.

A man in work clothes burst in, clutching a mixed-breed dog, his boots caked in mud, his face flushed red. “Doctor! Is the doctor in? My Dahuang is in labor! It’s been all night and she can’t push!”

The dog was a yellowish-brown Chinese rural breed, her belly swelled huge, breathing like a bellows, blood seeping between her hind legs. Shen Luming was there in two strides. He pressed his palm against her abdomen and his face darkened. “Malpresentation. Head back, stuck. She needs a C-section.”

“How, how much for a C-section?” the worker rubbed his hands together, his voice shaking. “I only have three hundred on me…”

“C-section, anesthesia, post-op antibiotics. Eight hundred,” Shen Luming said as he started walking toward the surgery room. “Eight hundred minimum. I’m not trying to make a fortune off you.”

The worker went pale. “Eight hundred… I, I only make three-twenty a month, and I’ve got two kids at home…” He clutched the dog and took half a step back. “Maybe… maybe we try a natural birth first?”

Shen Luming stopped. He looked back at the dog. Her wet eyes were staring at him, tongue lolling out, her whole body trembling with the effort of breathing. He gritted his teeth.

“Bring her in,” he said. “No C-section. I’ll reposition the pup manually. Look, I’m saying it now: this is a rough method. High risk. If the dog dies, don’t blame me.”

“I don’t blame! Just save her!”

Tang Doudou had followed to the surgery room door. She raised her phone, then hesitated, lowering it. She whispered, “Can I film this? Is this… is this okay to film?”

“Film away,” Shen Luming said, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Good thing. Let the public see what ‘can’t afford medical care’ actually looks like.”

On the operating table, he first gave the dog a low-dose sedative, conserving the meds the way rural vets do. Then he coated his entire right arm in lubricant and slowly slipped it inside. The dog’s belly spasmed. He stopped instantly, waiting for her to settle before continuing.

“First one. Head presentation. Turn it.” He muttered as he twisted his wrist inch by inch inside. “Tang Doudou, hold her hind legs. Keep her from kicking.”

“I’m holding, I’m holding!” Tang Doudou had one hand on the dog’s leg and the other holding her phone up, the camera locked steadily on his arm. “Dr. Shen… what you’re doing, I’ve never seen that technique in any textbook.”

“Not in textbooks. Just out in the countryside,” he said, sweat beading on his forehead. “They deliver cows, horses, pigs, and sheep this way. A dog is smaller than a cow, so you gotta be gentle. Too gentle and it won’t turn, too hard and you crush the pup.”

The only sound in the surgery room was the hum of the exhaust fan. The mix of disinfectant and blood made the air thick, tightening the throat. Tang Doudou’s breath was shallow; her phone didn’t move a millimeter.

When the second pup emerged, the worker’s eyes were red. The third one was stuck the longest. Shen Luming’s arm remained inside for nearly a minute, completely still, only his jaw muscles clenching tight. Tang Doudou didn’t dare make a sound. On her phone screen, the blue veins on his arm were bulging.

“Out!” He yanked his arm free. A wet, squirming puppy landed on the padding. He immediately tore the amniotic sac and held the puppy upside down, patting its back. A tiny, weak squeak sounded.

The fourth one, the fifth one, one after another. When the last one came out, the mother dog had almost no energy left. Shen Luming lined up the five puppies side-by-side against her belly. They squirmed on their own, nose-diving for nipples, stumbling as they went.

“They’re alive,” he said, stepping back and leaning against the wall, his arm a mess of blood and fluid. “Five of them. All alive.”

The worker crouched on the floor for a long time before he finally got up. He wiped his face, his voice trembling. “Doctor… let me, let me bow to you…”

“Don’t do that. Just take good care of the dog,” Shen Luming waved him off. “Come back in three days for a check-up. I’ll give you the anti-inflammatory shot for free.”

Tang Doudou pocketed her phone and rushed over, eyes wide. “Shen-shen! Shen-shen, did you hear that?! Five of them! All alive! Your technique just now, I got it on camera crystal clear! Your arm went in there like turning a screwdriver, and every twist was perfect!”

“Call me Doctor Shen.”

“Shen-shen!” She completely ignored him. “This video’s going viral. I even have a title in my head: ‘Can’t Afford the 800-Yuan Surgery Fee? A Vet’s Arm Saves Five Lives.’ It’s going to blow up! Your clinic’s threshold will be worn away by the crowds starting tomorrow!”

Shen Luming ignored her, looking down to wipe the mother dog’s body. He knew that whether the video went viral or not was up to fate, but the eight hundred yuan was definitely gone. Lao Zhou had been standing in the doorway the whole time, arms crossed, watching it all. Now his expression was a little strange.

“Lao Zhou,” Shen Luming said, without looking up. “Give me two more weeks for the rent.”

Lao Zhou huffed. He didn’t slam the desk this time. He turned to leave, and as he reached the doorway, he threw over his shoulder: “Two weeks. Not one day more.” He took two steps, then looked back. “That dog… is she okay?”

“She’s fine.”

“Mm.” Lao Zhou left.

The worker picked up the dog, showering him with thanks. As he was about to leave, something struck him. He pulled out his phone from his pocket. “Oh, right, doctor. The folks at that place next to our construction site lost their dog yesterday. A Corgi. They say it’s purebred. They’ve put a five-thousand bounty on it. If you get a chance…”

Shen Luming paused his wiping.

Five thousand.

He looked up. “Got a photo?”

“Yeah, yeah!” The worker scrolled through his phone and handed it over. “It’s this one. His name is Yuanbao. He’s been missing for two days. The owner is frantic. They’re paying five thousand, not a cent less, to whoever finds him.”

Shen Luming looked at the round, plump Corgi on the screen and suddenly remembered the echo left by that orange tabby cat last night—there had been a short-legged shadow flickering in the depths of that alley, too.

He handed the phone back, his voice flat. “Give me the address.”

Tang Doudou was already leaning in, her eyes scary bright. “Shen-shen, are we taking this job? Five thousand! That’s a month’s rent!”

Shen Luming tossed the surgical scissors into the sterilization tray. Metal clinked against ceramic, a single, sharp sound.

“We’re taking it,” he said. “But we need to clarify one thing first—did that dog run off on its own, or did someone take it?”

He turned to look out the window. Under the old pagoda tree at the alley’s entrance, a calico cat was crouched, licking its paw. In last night’s echo from the orange cat, that alley had appeared three times. Every time, there was a figure in a dark jacket. The shadow of the pagoda tree, pushed by the wind, slowly crept across the clinic’s threshold.

Tang Doudou followed him with her phone, murmuring, “I have a feeling… something big is about to happen in this clinic of ours.”

Shen Luming didn’t answer. He took the crumpled rent demand, folded it in half twice, and shoved it to the very bottom of the drawer. Then he fished Fu Shiyuan’s business card out of his white coat pocket, glanced at it, and put it back.

The dog, the cat, and the person poisoning things—suddenly, Shen Luming felt that the five-thousand yuan bounty might just be the beginning.