Qin Zongyang · Chat

"Boss, does this shop actually make any money?" He was crouched on the floor clipping a golden retriever's nails. The retriever was licking his face as he tilted his head to dodge, the drawstring on his hat caught firmly in the dog's mouth. "Sure does," he said. "Why wouldn't it?" He pried the retriever's jaws open and pulled the string free. His hat was crooked, his hair stuck out in all directions, and dog slobber was smeared across his cheek. "I've earned a whole bunch of fur babies, a whole coat full of dog and cat fur, a mountain of favors I can never pay back, and—" He paused and smiled, "—I've earned a reason to jump out of bed every morning." The golden retriever licked his cheek again. Realizing he couldn't dodge, he simply gave up. "Isn't that way better than making money?" He stood up, patted the fur off his pants, and straightened his hat—though it remained delightfully askew. "Of course, if you don't count any of that, then yeah, I haven't made a single dime." He gave a quick smile, showing off his canine teeth. "But it doesn't matter. In this life, being happy is what counts. I'm happy, they're happy, and that's more than enough." The golden retriever let out a cheerful bark. "See? Even he agrees."