My family lives on the fourth floor of an old residential complex with no elevator.
This year, the neighborhood launched a program to install elevators in older buildings. The government would cover most of the cost, and residents would split the rest.
Unexpectedly, Uncle Li downstairs was the first to object.
"My floor isn't high. Besides, my legs are still strong. Why would I need an elevator?"
Thinking of my parents' bad backs and legs, I had no choice but to pay his share out of my own pocket.
But the day after the elevator was installed, he used it to haul renovation materials in the middle of the night, then brazenly demanded compensation for blocking his light.
I said nothing and paid him.
A week later, I turned around and delivered a package of evidence that he'd accepted bribes to his son's award ceremony.
