Chapter Two: What a Coincidence

“A dog from your own family bites someone, and yet you still argue so forcefully. Truly, the kind of person determines the kind of dog.”
The elderly gentleman, though clearly cultured, restrained his anger and refrained from saying anything too harsh.
But just because he didn’t hurl insults didn’t mean others would hold back.
“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Walking a dog without a leash is like letting the dog walk itself’?”
“Does she even need to hear it? Can the dog even understand human words?”
“You’d better get yourself checked at the hospital. Your dog acts like it’s rabid. I wouldn’t be surprised if it caught it from you.”
Seeing the dog owner’s brazen attitude, the crowd grew increasingly agitated, and more people joined in.
“You all think I’m easy to push around, don’t you? I’m calling the police right now—I’ll report you all for attacking me.” The dog owner, realizing she was being overwhelmed, began threatening the crowd with the police.
But someone in the crowd replied, “No need for you to call—I already did. When the police get here, let them handle it.”
The dog owner, hearing that someone had actually called the police, realized she was in the wrong. “I won’t stoop to your level today, but just you wait.”
With that, she tried to leave with her dog.
“Your dog bit someone and you’re trying to run?” The crowd naturally wouldn’t let her go, surrounding her and creating a chaotic scene.
Some people blocked the dog owner from leaving, while others tended to the little girl. In the midst of the commotion, no one paid any attention to Zhang Congwen, the one who had actually intervened to help. Even Zhang Congwen himself hadn’t noticed the small wound that had appeared on his left arm.
He couldn’t tell if it had come from someone’s stick, the dog’s teeth during the struggle, or perhaps a scratch from its claws.
Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through his wound. As he glanced down to inspect it, a flash of light flickered across the cut on his left arm. The light vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Zhang Congwen to wonder if it had just been his imagination. He didn’t dwell on it.
“The dog’s awake!”
In the confusion, someone shouted, and the crowd hurriedly backed away, faces wary, ready in case the dog attacked again.

The Alaskan Malamute, just regaining consciousness, found itself surrounded by hostile faces and immediately began to whimper, feeling threatened.
Zhang Congwen looked over at the dog as it awoke, and the Malamute caught his gaze. Perhaps the way Zhang Congwen had subdued it earlier had left a deep impression, for as soon as the dog saw him, it stopped growling and became timid, hiding behind its owner.
Zhang Congwen was surprised by what he saw—for at that moment, he realized he could understand the dog’s emotions.
Dogs do have some facial expressions, but they are nowhere near as complex as humans’. Anyone who’s raised a dog knows that a dog communicates more through its tail and body language than its face.
Yet now, Zhang Congwen could read the Malamute’s feelings right from its face, which was extraordinary.
When the dog first awoke, its emotion was one of vigilance—a readiness to fight, feeling threatened. But upon seeing Zhang Congwen, that changed instantly to fear and submission, then finally to a sense of security as it hid behind its owner.
What puzzled Zhang Congwen, though, was that beneath that sense of security lay another emotion—one of stifled pressure and frustration.
All the other feelings made sense, but this underlying emotion was odd. Zhang Congwen couldn’t immediately figure out where it came from.
Seeing her dog hide behind her, the owner instantly scooped the Alaskan Malamute into her arms, comforting it.
She declared, “My dog is so timid, there’s no way he would bite someone on his own. That little girl must have provoked my precious boy. If she got bitten, she deserved it.”
She said this with such conviction, as if her dog’s timidity was irrefutable proof that the little girl must have been the one to provoke him.
Zhang Congwen ignored her words and continued to observe the dog’s behavior.
The owner was quite short, so when she lifted the Malamute, she could only hold its front legs off the ground, leaving its hind legs standing awkwardly.
The Malamute, being a large breed, was uncomfortable in this position and struggled instinctively, but was only held tighter.
At that moment, Zhang Congwen understood where the dog’s frustration and pressure came from. He couldn’t help but say, “I suggest you reconsider how you raise your dog. Otherwise, next time, he might not just bite a passerby—he could bite you, too.”
At his words, the owner flew into a rage—more furious even than when the crowd had accused her. “Nonsense! I’ve raised my precious boy like a son since he was a pup. I’ve never hit or scolded him; how could he ever bite me? Don’t you dare try to blame me for what happened.”
She looked at Zhang Congwen as if she’d seen through his “plot,” sneering at him again and again.
“Don’t say it’s not your fault. The way you spoil your dog like he’s an ancestor—that’s exactly why he ended up biting someone.”

Someone in the crowd quickly retorted.
Zhang Congwen shook his head inwardly; that wasn’t what he meant. While her way of spoiling the dog wasn’t good for him, it wasn’t the real reason the Malamute had bitten someone.
He was about to explain when someone shouted, “Step aside! Who called the police? Where’s the dog?”
The police had arrived.
They handled the situation quickly: the owner was taken to the station for questioning, the Malamute was secured, and the little girl was sent for medical treatment. The crowd soon dispersed.
Only Zhang Congwen was left behind, forgotten.
He sighed, hailed a ride, and quietly went to the hospital to get a rabies shot. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the cut on his arm, but better safe than sorry.
“Zhu Qingyan?”
As Zhang Congwen got out of the car, he saw a tall girl stepping out of the car in front of him. Her silhouette seemed familiar, so he called out tentatively.
She turned, looking surprised. “Zhang Congwen? What are you doing here?”
He had just started to answer when he noticed a small cut on Zhu Qingyan’s finger.
“What happened to your hand?” he asked.
She replied, “My Bichon at home bit me. I came here for a rabies shot. What about you?”
Zhang Congwen raised his left arm, pointing to his own wound. “What a coincidence.”