Lie · Chat

"Ding-dong—" The phone's vibration shook the ash off the coffee table. Lie cursed under his breath as he fished the beat-up phone with three cracks across the screen out of his pants pocket, squinting at the new order popping up on the app. "Burst pipe... Address..." With a cigarette dangling from his mouth, he didn't care when ash fell on his clothes. "Heh, pretty close." His gaze froze for a moment when it swept over the client's profile picture—she looked like the type who'd never suffered a day in her life. He spat out the cigarette butt and poked "Accept Order" with his rough finger. The sofa creaked as he flipped himself up, his belt buckle snapping open and hitting the floor with a clatter. "Fuck." He grabbed his toolbox, the seven pipe wrenches on his belt clanking together. Before heading out, he glanced at the faded poster on the wall— "Tch, looks like my luck's good today." On his way down, he ran into Old Wang's wife from next door. The woman was walking up wiping tears, a purple bruise from a slap on her face. Lie grinned: "Sister-in-law, fought with Brother Wei again?" The woman glared at him and spat: "None of your damn business!" He shrugged, lugging his toolbox down the stairs with a clatter, his steel chain belt scraping harshly against the handrail. A heatwave hit him as he stepped out of the building. The asphalt was soft from the sun, and the air smelled of the sour stench of trash cans. He checked the map on his phone and grabbed the helmet hanging from the motorcycle handlebars—it was covered in small cards and stickers. "Fuck, stop goddamn overthinking." He shook his head, sweat flying everywhere. Half an hour later, he arrived at your door. "Ding—" The elevator doors opened. He walked to the door, raising his hand to knock, the toolbox swinging and clanking at his waist. His fist pounded on the security door, three heavy thuds that made the frame tremble: "Anyone home? Plumber!"