Chapter 80: Life Has Become Unbearable

"Third Brother, help me! Give me a bottle of juice to soothe my throat first! I can't go on like this!" Early that morning, Yang Meng rushed into Zhang San's motorcycle club, yelling for help as soon as he stepped through the door.

Zhang San was polishing his prized H2R, the club’s showpiece, and laughed when he heard Yang Meng’s cry. "Well, look who's here—the man of the hour! Honestly, I think the wisest thing would be to keep you out." Though he joked, he went to the bar, took out a bottle of juice, and handed it over. "This one's on me. You really need it right now."

His teasing was not without reason—Yang Meng had been in the limelight recently.

The arrest of the teenage car theft ring had sparked a huge public response. The media, netizens, everyone was in an uproar. Even television stations launched programs featuring so-called experts discussing a single topic: how to view juvenile crime.

Resourceful reporters found Yang Meng's home, camping at his doorstep day after day. The parents of those young offenders showed up as well, each with a single plea: asking Yang Meng to show mercy and spare their children.

There were even plenty of supporters for these parents. Only now did Yang Meng realize how many self-styled moral guardians there were in the world. Even neighbors from the alley, unfamiliar faces, would see him and say, "Yang, that's enough; they're just kids."

Such people are never lacking in life—always playing the ‘good person,’ quick to advise others to be tolerant, regardless of right or wrong. As the not-so-famous comic performer Master Guo once said: people who urge you to be magnanimous without understanding the situation, stay away from them—they'll drag you down when lightning strikes.

What are they after? By defending the so-called ‘weak’ without regard for facts, they simply satisfy their own sense of moral superiority. In chasing this feeling, the suffering of the victims is never considered.

If they were in Yang Meng’s shoes, would they say the same? Anyone can be a saint with their words, but when real action is required, can they truly be so noble?

Yang Meng was reminded of a television show from a Nordic country. The high welfare there made it a prime destination for refugees when wars broke out elsewhere. With so many refugees causing social issues, a local TV station created a program randomly interviewing people on the street: Do you support your country accepting refugees?

All the interviewees outdid each other in virtue, unanimously supporting the acceptance of refugees. Watching, Yang Meng felt embarrassed by his own lack of compassion, thinking how far behind he was compared to these foreigners.

But then came the twist. The show arranged for a ‘refugee’ to appear. Since everyone supported accepting refugees, why not take this one home?

The predictable happened: not a single interviewee agreed to take the refugee home. The consensus was clear: they were content to be saints with their words, leaving the real sainthood to others.

Such people are laughable, but what's frustrating is that they are the most common in life.

Now Yang Meng was surrounded by this crowd of ‘saints,’ with someone every day telling him to be forgiving. What he wanted most was to stick his middle finger in their faces and ask, "What business is it of yours?"

The parents of those kids were even more ridiculous: some knelt at Yang Meng’s door crying; some brought people to threaten him; some came with the child’s teacher, waving report cards to prove their kids had bright futures and begging Yang Meng to show mercy.

Yang Meng still couldn’t understand: does good academic performance mean they won’t commit crimes? The ‘genius scholar’ at Capital University killed his own mother, imitated her voice to borrow 1.44 million yuan, and evaded police for over three years; doctoral student Lu murdered his supervisor and department rivals because he couldn’t stand being outperformed. Does academic achievement really mean everything?

To escape them, Yang Meng hid in the library. Yet some parents somehow found out he was there and stormed in, crying and making a scene until Yang Meng couldn’t even read. After much thought, he could only flee to Zhang San’s place for refuge.

Yang Meng took the juice and gulped it down fiercely. "It’s true, good news never spreads, but bad news travels a thousand miles. Even you know about this? What, are you going to tell me to be tolerant too?"

Zhang San grinned. "Not me! I’m a car guy, and nothing angers me more than car thieves. I wouldn’t be satisfied unless they got the death penalty!"

Yang Meng sighed, "That’s what I like to hear. You have no idea, everywhere I go lately someone follows me—it's driving me crazy. But don’t worry, I took plenty of detours before coming here; no one knows I’m here."

Zhang San looked at Yang Meng as if he were an idiot. "Yang, are you alright? Believe me, it won’t be long before someone comes looking for you." Seeing Yang Meng’s confusion, Zhang San pointed outside. "They don’t need to follow you; they just need to find your motorcycle. You don’t really think those reporters don’t have connections with the police, do you? With your flashy bike, you’re not hard to spot."

Yang Meng pulled a bitter face. "This is the most low-profile bike I have. Should I just ride out on my Rocket Five?"

"You’re just showing off—that’s exactly what you’re doing!" Zhang San said.

Yang Meng finished the juice in one gulp. "Alright, Third Brother, since that’s the case, I’ll leave so I don’t cause you any trouble."

Zhang San stretched out his hand. "Don’t go! I’m actually hoping the reporters come—they’ll give me some exposure, free advertising, right? You think I’m stupid? Chongfeng even called, saying if he sees you to let him know so he can treat us to dinner—he wants free advertising too!"

Yang Meng laughed. "You two really have a head for business."

Zhang San pulled a face. "What can we do? Business is tough these days; we have to get creative."

Yang Meng replied, "Free advertising isn’t easy. Since I’m here, my 833 is having trouble starting. I checked earlier—the spark plug is too damp, probably flooded by the cylinder. Could you find someone to help me fix it?"

Zhang San laughed. "For such a minor issue, you know it better than anyone—why do you need my help? Bring the bike in; it’ll be sorted in a few minutes. By the way, what about your ‘Six-Eyed Demon’? Did you get compensation and buy another one?"

Yang Meng waved his hand. "Don’t mention it. Actually, the bike was recovered the very next day."

"What?" Zhang San was stunned.

Yang Meng said angrily, "Aren’t these kids idiots? Who would they sell the parts to after stripping the bike? Obviously, the Zhao Village flea market crowd! The guys who assemble bikes at Zhao Village all work for Money Pockmark. Since Money Pockmark gave me that bike, as soon as they saw the engine number, they notified him. After Money Pockmark called me, he raided all the bike dealers at Zhao Village. Except for two tires that vanished, almost everything else was recovered. Then Money Pockmark put all the parts back together and even swapped in a set of Pirelli full slicks. Now I can’t ride that bike anymore—can’t afford to!"

There are thirty grades of tires. The ‘Six-Eyed Demon’ comes with very narrow stock tires. Generally, the wider the tire, the better the grip but the harder the steering, while narrow tires handle better but grip less. However, the Six-Eyed Demon’s handling is exceptional due to its perfect design—shock absorbers, frame, and engine combine to give a ‘glued to the ground’ feeling.

Full slicks, commonly called ‘bald tires,’ are the ones used in racing, with no tread and much faster wear. More importantly, they’re insanely expensive—a good set of race-grade slicks costs as much as a compact car. In races like WSBK, you’re required to pit and change tires every eighteen laps.

Do the math, and that’s a new set every eighty kilometers! Now that’s truly unaffordable.

Professional racing is a money furnace, whether cars or motorcycles—it’s no joke.

Zhang San laughed. "So what now? Are you going to enshrine that bike?"

Yang Meng forced a smile. "That’s the real happy headache. Slicks are for the track, but our roads are uneven and don’t grip like a racetrack. Putting those tires on is asking for trouble. Besides, the bike is still at Money Pockmark’s place—it’s evidence, after all."

Zhang San gave a thumbs-up. "I get it—you’re determined to punish those car thieves to the fullest."

Yang Meng nodded. "Exactly. I have two reasons: first, to get justice for all the victims; second, to teach those unruly kids a lesson. Life isn’t what it was when we were young. Back then, I didn’t know anything—holding a girl’s hand felt dangerous! Now? In this digital age, every kid grows up with a smartphone or tablet. They’re exposed to far more information than we ever were. What don’t kids understand these days? There’s even the saying, ‘Commit crime while you’re young’? Nonsense! Today, I’m sounding the alarm for these kids and their parents."

Zhang San gave another thumbs-up. "Well said. Let’s fix your bike and head to Chongfeng’s for a meal."

Yang Meng checked his watch. "Alright, there’s still time. It’s settled."

"Got anything else to do?" Zhang San asked.

Yang Meng nodded. "Yes, I have to go to the detention center to pick up another unruly kid."