The Landlord and the Lackey

The day of the move, Chen Guohao stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of the luxury apartment that cost one hundred and twenty thousand a month in rent, looking at the building where he’d lived for three years. The tin roof of the rooftop extension caught the setting sun, reflecting a blinding glare. He remembered yesterday while packing, Afu had yawned beside the suitcase, completely clueless about why his owner was stuffing all his belongings into three black garbage bags.

“Let’s go. This place is ours now,” he said to Afu. Afu sniffed the unfamiliar carpet by the door, then took two steps back.

He didn’t take a single thing. That fan he’d bought from a Facebook secondhand group, the pillow he’d used for three years, the folding table that squeaked when you sat on it—all left behind in the rooftop extension. Lin Shufen said she was going to throw them out. He couldn’t be bothered.

Now he stood at the floor-to-ceiling window. Outside was the Xinyi District skyline. Taipei 101 was right on his left, like a candle stuck in a cake. He glanced down at his phone. Lin Shufen’s chat was still stuck on yesterday’s conversation.

He decided to call her and humiliate her.

“Hey, Ms. Lin. It’s Chen Guohao.”

“Oh, Mr. Chen! You’ve moved out already? That air conditioner repair bill—”

“I’m not paying it,” he said, deliberately slowing his tone. “And let me tell you, that apartment of yours? I’m going to buy it.”

Three seconds of silence on the other end.

“…What?”

“I said, your apartment. I’m buying it.” He leaned against the window, looking at the old building in the distance. “Name your price. I’ll pay cash.”

Lin Shufen’s voice suddenly softened—soft as melted butter. “Mr. Chen… why… why all of a sudden—”

“I won the lottery,” he said casually. “Powerball. One point two billion. After taxes, still over nine hundred million.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah. Oh my god,” he mimicked her tone. “So I thought I’d buy your apartment as a souvenir.”

Lin Shufen’s voice started trembling—whether from excitement or shock, he couldn’t tell. “Mr. Chen, uh… my apartment isn’t really worth much. If you want to buy it, we can—”

“But I changed my mind.”

“What?”

“I was kidding,” he laughed. “I just wanted to see if you’d beg.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

“Mr. Chen, that’s not fair. I’ve always taken good care of you. Think about it—I haven’t raised your rent in three years.”

“Because the rooftop extension is illegal. You didn’t dare raise it.”

“Oh, don’t say that—”

“Okay, I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Lin Shufen’s voice suddenly turned desperate. “Mr. Chen, where did you move to? I—I can lower your rent. Come back. I’ll charge you only five thousand a month—”

“You think I’d go back to that tin-roofed shack?”

“Then… would you consider renting another place of mine? On Zhongxiao East Road. A legitimate unit. With a kitchen—”

“You know what, Ms. Lin? Right now you sound like you’re begging me.”

“…I am.”

It felt good. So good his heart skipped a beat. But that feeling lasted maybe five seconds. Then it was gone.

“Forget it. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait! Mr. Chen, my son—”

He hung up.

The living room fell silent again. The air conditioner hummed. The refrigerator made a low drone. Afu lay by the window, rubbing his nose against the floor, sniffing something.

He looked at his phone. The call log showed “Lin Shufen,” call duration just over two minutes. He deleted the chat, opened Contacts, and found “A-Kun.”

He called.

“Hey, A-Kun. It’s Chen Guohao.”

“Oh, Guohao-ge!” A-Kun’s voice sounded like he was eating something. “Long time no see! How’ve you been—”

“I won the lottery.”

“…What?”

“Powerball. One point two billion.”

A cough on the other end, then the sound of a chair tipping over, then A-Kun’s scream: “Fuck! No way?!”

“For real.”

“Holy shit! Guohao-ge! I knew you were a lucky charm! I knew you’d win! Didn’t I tell you before? Your luck—”

“Shut up and listen,” he cut him off. “I want to hire you as my personal assistant. Salary fifty thousand a month. Job is simple: walk my dog every day, buy me food, chat with me. You in?”

“Hell yes! Of course!” A-Kun’s voice sounded like it was jumping out of the phone. “I’ll quit tomorrow! No, I’ll quit right now!”

He heard A-Kun yell on the other end: “Hey, boss! I quit! My boss won twelve billion!”

“A-Kun!” he quickly stopped him. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Oh, oh, sorry, sorry—” A-Kun’s voice came back to the receiver. “I quit, boss. I’ll come to your place now?”

“Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock. Report to my new place. I’ll send you the address.”

“Roger, roger, roger! Long live Guohao-ge!”

He hung up.

The living room fell silent again. He opened the refrigerator. Inside was only a bottle of water and an expired bento box. He took the water, took a sip, and looked at the empty living room.

A hundred-twenty-thousand-a-month apartment. The living room was three times bigger than the entire rooftop extension. The sofa was the kind that swallowed you when you sat down. The coffee table was solid wood. The TV was eighty inches. He turned it on. The screen was showing some talk show, guests discussing the rising cost of living.

He turned it off.

“You know what, Afu?” he crouched down and looked at the dog lying on the floor. “I just scared Lin Shufen speechless. That money-grubbing landlady, always pulling a sour face every time she came to collect rent, like I owed her millions. Fuck. Now I really do have millions, and she’s on her knees begging me to come back.”

Afu lifted his head, looked at him, then went back to sniffing the floor.

“And A-Kun—that guy who used to compete with me for turf handing out flyers—now he calls me boss. Back in the MRT station, he wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Now he’s going to walk my dog.” He laughed. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Afu yawned.

“You don’t get it.” He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, and looked out at the night view.

It was already dark. The lights of Xinyi District were on, each light a rich person. Now he was one of them. He could buy anything he wanted. He could shut up anyone he hated. He could make those who used to look down on him kneel and lick his shoes.

He thought of Zhuang Yating. She was probably eating hotpot with her husband now, scrolling through her phone and laughing at him. He opened Instagram, searched her account, and found she’d already blocked him.

He threw his phone onto the sofa.

“Forget it,” he said to the air. “Doesn’t matter.”

He walked into the bedroom. The bed was ridiculously huge—big enough for four people. He lay down. The mattress was so soft it made his back ache. He tossed and turned, then finally got up, grabbed a pillow, and went back to the living room sofa.

Afu followed him out, jumped onto the sofa, and curled up by his feet.

“You’ve got it easy,” he said, petting the dog’s head. “No worries about money, no worries about people. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep.”

Afu licked his hand, then turned to look at the door.

“What?”

The doorbell rang.

He checked his phone. Eight thirty at night. He walked to the door, looked through the peephole—A-Kun stood outside, holding two bags of late-night snacks, grinning like he’d won the lottery himself.

He opened the door.

“Guohao-ge!” A-Kun stepped inside, eyes wide. “Holy crap, this place is—so—so—so insane! This living room is bigger than my whole studio!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I just quit! Figured I’d come check out the boss’s new place, and brought you some food.” A-Kun set the plastic bags on the coffee table, opened them—inside were popcorn chicken and beer. “Here, my treat.”

“Didn’t you just quit? You haven’t gotten your last paycheck yet.”

“No worries! I’m happy!” A-Kun opened a beer for himself, raised it. “Cheers to Guohao-ge, congrats on winning!”

Chen Guohao looked at A-Kun’s face, grinning ear to ear. A strange feeling stirred inside him. Not happiness, not satisfaction—something more complicated.

He picked up a beer and clinked it with A-Kun’s.

“From now on, don’t call me Guohao-ge. Call me Boss.”

“Sure thing, Boss!” A-Kun took a big gulp. “So what do I do starting tomorrow? Walk the dog, right? Where’s your dog?”

He pointed at Afu on the sofa.

A-Kun walked over, crouched down, and reached out to pet Afu. Afu let out a low growl and backed away.

“Whoa, does your dog bite?”

“He doesn’t like strangers.”

“No problem, no problem. We’ll get used to each other.” A-Kun stepped back, grabbed a piece of popcorn chicken, and stuffed it in his mouth. “Boss, let me tell you—when I quit today, the flyer boss tried to keep me. Said he’d give me a raise. I told him no thanks, I found a better job.”

“Did you tell him you’re working for me?”

“No way. I said I got a full-time job.” A-Kun grinned slyly. “I don’t want him to know you won, or he’ll come begging too.”

Chen Guohao nodded and sat back on the sofa.

“Boss, what’s your plan next?” A-Kun opened another beer. “Thinking of buying a car? A house? Or investing in something?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

“Want me to scout around? I know a guy who sells used cars—”

“No.”

“Then—”

“A-Kun,” he cut him off. “Just do what I tell you. Don’t ask too many questions.”

A-Kun’s expression flickered for a moment, but he immediately put on a smile. “Of course, of course. Sorry, I was being nosy.”

The living room fell silent again, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the crunch of A-Kun chewing popcorn chicken.

Chen Guohao watched A-Kun—the guy who used to compete with him for the best spot at the MRT station to hand out flyers, now sitting in his luxury apartment, eating popcorn chicken he’d bought himself, grinning like a lapdog. He thought back to the days at the MRT station. A-Kun always grabbed the busiest exit, leaving him only the side entrance. He’d once cursed under his breath, hoping A-Kun would get hit by a car.

Now A-Kun walked his dog.

“Boss, you okay?”

“Nothing.” He snapped back to reality. “Finish up and head home. Be here at nine sharp tomorrow.”

“No problem, no problem.” A-Kun stood up, packed the leftover popcorn chicken into the bag. “I’ll get going then. Good night, Boss.”

He walked A-Kun to the door and closed it.

The living room fell silent again.

He walked back to the sofa, sat down, and picked up his phone. No unread messages. He opened LINE and saw a message from Lin Shufen from ten minutes ago: “Mr. Chen, my son would like to meet you. Are you available?”

He didn’t reply.

He turned off the phone and looked at Afu. Afu was already asleep on the sofa, his belly rising and falling.

“You know what?” he said to the dog. “I could buy this whole building now. I could make Lin Shufen beg me to go back to her shitty rooftop extension. I could make A-Kun call me ‘Boss’ until his throat goes sore. I could make Zhuang Yating regret it for the rest of her life, make her husband get fired from the company.”

He paused.

“But I just realized—I don’t have anything to say to them.”

He lay down and stared at the ceiling. The living room chandelier in this luxury apartment was the expensive kind, blindingly bright. He closed his eyes and heard Afu snoring.

A-Kun would come tomorrow, walk his dog, buy him food, chat with him. Lin Shufen would call again tomorrow, her voice even softer. Zhuang Yating would probably never contact him again.

He had thought being rich would be like this.

But he was wrong.

Being rich wasn’t what he imagined at all.

Being rich meant he could order delivery in the middle of the night, but didn’t know what to order. It meant he could buy anything, but didn’t know what to buy. It meant he could make anyone listen to him, but didn’t know what to say.

He sat up, opened his phone, found A-Kun’s chat.

“Remember to bring dog food cans tomorrow.”

He sent the message.

Then he lay back down.

Afu turned over and rested his head on Chen Guohao’s leg. The dog’s warmth seeped through his pants, warm like a living heart.

He didn’t push him away.

“Good thing you don’t know I’m rich yet,” he whispered. “Otherwise you’d probably act just like them.”

Afu didn’t respond. He kept sleeping.

Chen Guohao looked at the dog and suddenly laughed. Laughed at himself, at all of this.

Turned out the best part of being rich was those two minutes when he called to humiliate Lin Shufen. After that, it was nothing.