“So what do we do now! They’re disturbing everyone! In every sense of the word!! They’re the ultimate nuisance in the city—no other creature can surpass them!!!”

The residents’ group chat had been in a near-frenzied state lately.

As he was reading, Henry Clark received a message from Jack Grant.

Jack Grant: [How did you sleep last night? Everyone says last night was the worst for the rat problem.]

Henry Clark: [I slept well, straight through till morning.]

Jack Grant: [Goodbye]

Chapter 9: Natural Enemy

Jack Grant didn’t reply on the phone again.

He came straight over in person.

“You really didn’t hear anything last night? My parents live right below you, and the rats gnawed at the window screens all night!”

Jack Grant had huge dark circles under his eyes and looked exhausted.

He’d thought Henry Clark was just bragging in the chat, but seeing him now, Henry Clark didn’t look at all like someone who’d been kept up all night.

Henry Clark replied, “I only got back last night and didn’t see any rats. Maybe I just slept too deeply and didn’t hear a thing. If you hadn’t mentioned it, I’d have almost forgotten. I didn’t even throw the takeout trash into the processor—only cleaned up this morning. Didn’t the property management hire a pest control company? Didn’t it work?”

“It worked!” Jack Grant said angrily. “Apparently they raided a few underground nests, and then all the rats started running upstairs. People even saw rats climbing up the exterior walls in broad daylight. It’s not just our complex—rat problems have bounced back in the neighboring communities too. It’s driving everyone crazy!”

Jack Grant took the bottle of purified water Henry Clark handed him, opened it, took a couple of sips, and continued, “I don’t even think rats stealing food is the main issue anymore. With the rat problem getting worse these past couple of days, everyone’s nerves are frayed and tempers are short. Even the smallest thing in the group chat can spark an argument.

“But the community manager said they’re going to do a full sweep next, sending professionals to handle it door-to-door, though some services will cost extra. I’ve already registered my apartment and my parents’ for the queue. If you need it, you can just contact the property manager and sign up.”

“Door-to-door pest control?” Henry Clark asked.

“They’ll come check your place to see where the rats are getting in. The unit next to mine hired someone last week. Exhaust pipes, air conditioner holes, all sorts of gaps are entry points for rats.

“Because of the exterior wall materials, some holes are tricky to seal. The price is about 80 to 100 per hole. Finding the holes is extra, around 500. Someone in the group had seven holes sealed—1,200 total, 500 for finding the holes and 700 for sealing them. But I think if it solves the problem once and for all, it’s worth it. I heard private pest control companies have raised their prices again, but the community’s group deal should be cheaper.

“If you’re not sure, you should have a professional check your place too. You don’t follow the group chat, so you might not know—someone in another building had a technician come to clean their air conditioner, getting it ready for summer. When the technician opened the vent, he found a pile of rat droppings… gross!”

Jack Grant glanced at the central air conditioning vent in Henry Clark’s home. “If you have time, you should book a cleaning too.”

As he spoke, Jack Grant’s face fell. He pointed at his dark circles, then raised a finger to point at the ceiling. “Have you ever experienced a 3 a.m. disco party in your ceiling?”

“No,” Henry Clark said.

“These rats nowadays, who knows what they’re eating to get so big—they have no sense of their own weight. I don’t know how they got into the ceiling, but they’re chasing each other, jumping left and right. I started sleeping with earplugs, and when I got up this morning, my dad’s favorite antique-style Zen carved ceiling was all cracked!”

Henry Clark said, “You don’t have pets or kids, so you could use rat poison.”

Jack Grant waved his hand. “You’re underestimating them. There are new variants now, and they’ve developed resistance to common poisons. The strong stuff is strictly regulated and mostly banned. I’m just hoping for a rat-catching robot to hit the market.”

“Haven’t you tried borrowing a cat from William Reed?” Henry Clark asked.

William Reed was their college classmate, renting in the same complex. He hadn’t lived here at first, but he loved photography and started taking retouching gigs before graduation, then made it his full-time job. Half a year ago, he opened a small studio and rented a big apartment in their complex. Three months ago, when the community rounded up stray cats, William Reed, like many others nearby, adopted one.

Jack Grant: “He won’t lend it! He says his cat doesn’t catch rats anymore!”

Talking about this made Jack Grant even more annoyed. “How could a cat that used to be a stray not know how to catch rats! Someone in the group suggested, ‘Just starve it for a couple of meals and it’ll go hunt on its own.’ William Reed replied, ‘That’s what I thought too.’ But after a couple of days, William Reed said, ‘Nope, as soon as it meows, I forget everything I was planning.’ I just don’t get it!”

Jack Grant sighed. “So yeah, I’m still hoping for a rat-catching robot.”

Henry Clark took out a tea canister and handed it over. “Someone gave me two cans—split this one with William Reed.”

“What kind of tea is this?” Jack Grant asked, perking up.