Chapter 180: The Mute

That day, the thugs came to hang around the shop as they always did.

Fang Pingxi was long used to it, and with other customers to attend to, he didn't pay them much attention. After all, in his view, it didn't matter if these fellows pocketed a few items; he just treated it as paying a protection fee.

This time, however, the thugs stayed for barely ten minutes, bought a bar of chocolate, and left.

Fang Pingxi was momentarily surprised, but the busyness of the store drove the thought from his mind.

In the afternoon, however, four or five police officers showed up at his door.

The leader wore a stern expression. "We have reason to suspect your establishment is a front for hiding narcotics. Cooperate with our investigation now!"

Fang Pingxi was completely baffled, but the officers weren't about to offer him explanations and directly began their search.

They roughly tossed his merchandise into a mess and even knocked over his display shelves.

Fang Pingxi groaned inwardly, wondering how long it would take to clean up this disaster. Moreover, with such a massive commotion, the neighbors would surely think he had committed some heinous crime; in the future, people would think twice before stepping into his shop to buy anything.

Just as he was pondering how to undo the fallout from the police search, the lead officer walked up to him.

The officer was clutching a transparent evidence bag, inside of which something was wrapped layer upon layer in crumpled paper.

The officer unsealed the bag and unwrapped the paper on the counter, revealing a stash of white crystals inside.

Another officer stepped forward with a testing device, which immediately began to beep incessantly.

The lead officer looked at Fang Pingxi. "Now, do you still have anything to say? Come back to the precinct with us!"

Fang Pingxi hurriedly defended himself, "There must be some mistake! Someone is framing me!"

"My business is doing so well, why would I ever need to sell this kind of garbage?"

The officer sneered, "Still trying to wiggle out of it? Do you think we came to inspect you for no reason at all?"

"Surveillance footage from the street corner shows a gang of thugs frequently lingering in your shop, staying for at least half an hour at a time, coming as many as seven or eight times a day!"

"According to our investigation, every single member of that gang has been involved in illegal drug trafficking!"

The officer challenged him, "Tell me, does anyone go shopping and linger in a store for that long?"

Fang Pingxi stared in astonishment. He had never imagined that the thugs loitering in his shop were up to something so sinister. He cursed himself for being cheap and failing to install security cameras; now he was completely unable to clear his name.

"Now that you've been caught red-handed, there's no use arguing! Let's go!" the officer declared, sealing his fate.

***

Fang Pingxi was escorted out of his shop, watching as the police officers officially sealed the premises.

Before he climbed into the police vehicle, the owner of another convenience store at the street corner stepped out to watch him, a sinister smile plastered across his face.

In that instant, enlightenment struck Fang Pingxi.

"Officer! It was that bastard who framed..." He pointed his handcuffed hands toward that store owner with agitated excitement, his body lunging sideways.

*Thud!* A baton struck him squarely in the lower back, a jolt of agony twisting his features into a grimace.

An officer grabbed him by the hair and shoved him headfirst into the car.

"Behave yourself!" the officer barked. "What, you little punk, you want to assault an officer?"

Contorted in pain, Fang Pingxi lacked the strength to talk back and was simply locked inside the cruiser.

He was hauled off to the precinct. No matter how loudly he proclaimed his innocence, the officers completely ignored him.

They took turns interrogating him, blasting him with glaring lights, denying him sleep, and tossing him a single cup of water every three or four hours.

Driven past his breaking point, Fang Pingxi lost control and began screaming at the officers, which instantly earned him a brutal beating.

Their beating technique was remarkably refined: they would place a thick book against Fang Pingxi's torso and strike it with their batons. This way, no visible bruises would be left on his body.

After enduring five days of this relentless torment, Fang Pingxi could no longer hold out and confessed to whatever they wanted.

Only then did the officers break into smiles.

They pointed out a "bright path" for him: since they hadn't caught his supposed buyers yet, they could just close the case by charging Fang Pingxi with personal drug possession. However, smoothing things over required a certain amount of grease for the wheels, so Fang Pingxi would need to hand over a sum of money.

Powerless to resist, Fang Pingxi forked over every last cent of his hard-earned savings to the police.

From there, he was transferred to a rehabilitation facility. He had no idea what he was even doing there, but regulations dictated he had to serve a full three months before being released.

When he finally walked out three months later, everything had already changed.

Because he had failed to pay rent for three months, new tenants had already moved into his apartment.

His landlord, having heard about his arrest, adamantly refused to lease the storefront to him ever again.

With no other options, Fang Pingxi begged the landlord to grant him a few days to clear out his remaining inventory.

The landlord gave him just two days, but where on earth could he work out a solution in a mere forty-eight hours?

Just as he was worrying endlessly, the convenience store owner from the street corner came knocking, arrogantly asking if Fang Pingxi wanted to sell his stock.

***

Gazing at the man's expression, Fang Pingxi burned with fury, but those five days of demonic interrogation had thoroughly broken his spine.

Holding his nose, he dumped his inventory to the owner at a drastically low price, pocketed the cash, and checked into a cheap motel for temporary shelter.

From then on, he lived like a hermit, ordering room service when hungry and crashing into bed whenever tired.

Day in and day out, he stared blankly at the television, numbing his mind with alcohol.

It all felt so absurd. He had worked so terribly hard, yet this was the miserable end he had come to.

Perhaps the heavens occasionally punished wicked people, but it was merely a drop in the bucket. Evil people endlessly sprouted forth, and somehow, he always seemed to cross paths with them.

In his drunken stupor, he cursed his aunt, cursed the police, cursed the convenience store owner, and cursed society as a whole.

At the same time, he cursed himself.

Following these furious tirades came tidal waves of despair and sorrow. He would invariably cry himself to sleep in a drunken haze and wake up weeping.

He grieved for his own tragic fate.

Eventually, numbness took over.

He resolved never to strive or struggle again. If this world had rotted to the core, he might as well rot right along with it.

By then, the money in his hands had been nearly squandered, forcing him to check out of the motel.

He bought a tent at a secondhand market and went to live beneath a nearby overpass.

He wasn't the only one living under the bridge; many other homeless individuals resided there as well. They were mostly elderly people who had grown old and, unwilling to burden their children, ended up wandering the streets.

There were also a few runaway youths and disabled individuals.

They were remarkably tolerant and quickly accepted Fang Pingxi as an outsider, inviting him to pitch his tent near them, showing him where to get free water, and occasionally tossing him some food.

Faced with their kindness, Fang Pingxi neither refused nor expressed gratitude; he merely existed in a state of numb detachment.

Over time, because of his taciturn nature, the homeless community simply dubbed him "The Mute."

And so, the Mute continued to live beneath the overpass. The faces around him changed batch after batch, yet he alone remained, a permanent fixture in the shadows.