Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 93

The next morning, when Zhong Jin opened his eyes, he found himself in an entirely unfamiliar place—what appeared to be a luxurious office. Beneath him was a spacious, plush leather sofa.

He had drunk too much the night before, and his memory was hazy. For a moment, he couldn’t recall how he’d ended up here.

Zhong Jin tried to sit up but realized his legs wouldn’t move. Propping himself up with his hands, he saw Little Tong sprawled over his feet, her chubby little body covered by his coat, her dark, messy hair poking out.

He lifted the coat, intending to move her aside, but when he saw how peacefully she was sleeping, he chuckled hoarsely. The little girl was curled up with her bottom in the air, clutching his calf, her face buried against his leg, her cheeks flushed from sleep.

Unable to bring himself to wake her, Zhong Jin draped the coat back over her, patted her round little head, and resigned himself to staying in this slightly uncomfortable position for a while longer.

On the other end of the sofa, Qiu Sheng was asleep, wrapped in Qiu Chen’s coat.

Zhong Jin glanced around but didn’t see Qiu Chen anywhere.

Fragments of the previous night slowly came back to him—he and Qiu Chen had finished a bottle of Wuliangye, then polished off most of the red wine Qiu Sheng had left behind. After that, Qiu Chen had been making New Year’s calls and handing out digital red envelopes.

Remembering this, Zhong Jin reached for his phone on the coffee table. Sure enough, there was a red envelope from Qiu Chen in his WeChat messages. He tapped it open—200 yuan, the platform’s maximum limit for a single red envelope, not Qiu Chen’s. He must have sent out at least a hundred of these before the system stopped him.

Zhong Jin pocketed the money and continued piecing together the night’s events.

While Qiu Chen had been busy distributing red envelopes, Zhong Jin had been… cleaning. Yes, just cleaning. He prided himself on his drinking etiquette—he would never do anything outrageous while drunk.

Once Qiu Chen’s account was blocked from sending more red envelopes, he had insisted on going to the office to work, so the group had taken a taxi to the Qiu Corporation.

Which meant they were now in Qiu Chen’s office.

But where was Qiu Chen himself?

Just as Zhong Jin was pondering this, Qiu Sheng stirred awake at the other end of the sofa. She blinked sleepily at him, her long hair tousled, then closed her eyes again before reopening them after a moment.

“Morning,” ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‍she said.

The two of them stared at each other, bleary-eyed, for three seconds before bursting into laughter.

Zhong Jin: “Your brother’s missing.”

Qiu Sheng smoothed her messy hair and, seeing the phone in his hand, said, “Call him.”

Qiu Chen’s phone was answered—but not by Qiu Chen. The person on the other end said they were from the security office; Qiu Chen had fallen asleep there.

Bundling Little Tong in his coat, Zhong Jin carried her while Qiu Sheng followed in slippers. When they reached the security office, they found Qiu Chen sprawled on the small single bed, tucked under the guard’s blanket, sleeping soundly.

According to the guard, Qiu Chen had barged in late at night, declaring he would personally take over the night shift and urging the guard to go home for the holidays. He had even pulled out his phone to send a red envelope, only to find his account restricted.

Realizing Qiu Chen was drunk, the guard hadn’t dared to leave and had kept watch over him all night.

Qiu Sheng quickly apologized for the trouble.

The guard smiled sheepishly. “No trouble at all. If the boss wasn’t here, I’d still be guarding the office all night. Watching over him or the company—it’s all part of the job.”

Qiu Sheng shook Qiu Chen awake. Disoriented, he rasped, “Where am I?”

Covering her face in secondhand embarrassment, Qiu Sheng groaned, “Get up. We’ll talk at home.”

In the taxi back, Qiu Sheng recounted the night’s events. Qiu Chen refused to believe it—he often drank during business dinners, but his secretary always just took him home to sleep. He was convinced he had impeccable drinking manners.

Qiu Sheng scoffed. “How is this any different from drunken antics?”

Zhong Jin, holding the still-sleeping Little Tong, wore an expression of serene wisdom. “Maybe you’ve always been like this, and your secretary just never told you.”

Qiu Chen: “...You drank just as much as I did. How are you fine?”

Zhong Jin: “I have excellent drinking etiquette.”

Qiu Sheng, resting her forehead against the window, wagged a finger at him. “Do you remember riding a mop and claiming you could fly?”

Zhong Jin: “...”

Qiu Sheng pressed on. “Or telling the taxi driver your bank card password?”

Zhong Jin: “...Did that happen?”

“Want to see the video?”

“You recorded it?”

Qiu Sheng: “Because both of you promised me 100,000 yuan each. I needed proof in case you backed out.”

Zhong Jin: “I’d believe your brother offering that, but me? I’m too stingy for that.”

“You wouldn’t give it willingly, but I have footage of you ‘flying.’ Consider it hush money.”

Zhong Jin: “...Qiu Sheng, you’ve learned too much from me.”

The adults’ bickering roused Little Tong. She poked her head out of the coat like a little groundhog, blinking her big, bright eyes.

“Can we get meat pies and spicy soup?”

It was still early, the city shrouded in a chilly mist. The cold was biting, their breath forming clouds of white in the air.

At the breakfast stall, Little Tong tucked her hands into her coat pockets, puffing out breaths to watch the vapor swirl like cotton candy.

The owner brought their food. Qiu Chen carried Little Tong inside, then stepped out again to buy iced soy milk from next door.

Returning, he set a cup each in front of Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng. “Drinking this after a night of alcohol makes you feel better instantly. Try it.”

As he stabbed a straw into his own cup, he noticed Little Tong staring. “Want some?”

The girl shuddered, recalling yesterday’s unpleasant experience, and waved her hands frantically. “No, no, thank you!”

Zhong Jin looked at the bowl of douzhi (fermented mung bean juice) on the table and was reminded of Little Tong’s comment yesterday that it tasted like something squeezed from an armpit. The thought made her shudder, so she pushed the bowl toward Qiu Chen. "I don’t want it either, thanks."

After breakfast, Qiu Chen dozed off for a while on the sofa at Qiu Sheng’s place.

Today was New Year’s Eve. Qiu Sheng styled Little Tong’s hair to match the traditional New Year paintings—two small braids on each side, tied with brick-red pom-poms.

Little Tong changed into her new outfit: a brick-red padded jacket with a collar and cuffs trimmed in snowy white fur. The color scheme resembled the old city walls of Beijing dusted with snow, creating a festive atmosphere.

Visit frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓ for the b𝘦st novel reading experience.

Once everyone was ready, it was nearly noon, and they set off for the villa to have lunch.

*

The house was livelier with several children around. Though noisy, it truly felt like the New Year. Without them, the adults sitting stiffly around the table would have made the atmosphere awkward.

The day before, Uncle had bought a box of handheld fireworks, originally meant for the kids to play with in the yard after dark.

But right after lunch, the children couldn’t wait any longer and clamored to set them off. So Uncle took out a pack of sparklers and had the nanny take the kids outside to the yard.

The children cheered and ran out after the nanny.

Hearing about the fireworks, Little Tong happily followed. Seeing the others distributing them, she stood quietly in line without pushing or grabbing, patiently waiting for her turn.

The older kids each got their sparklers, but when it was Little Tong’s turn, the eldest boy said in broken Mandarin:

"These were bought with our money, so I decide who gets them. And I say you don’t get any."

A flicker of disappointment crossed Little Tong’s big eyes, but she quickly shrugged it off. Good-naturedly, she squatted on the steps, cupping her rosy cheeks in her hands. "Okay, okay. I’ll just watch you play then."

The nanny, seeing Little Tong wasn’t making a fuss, stayed silent. These were all young masters and misses of the household—she couldn’t afford to offend any of them. Better to avoid trouble.

The yard was bright with snow, making the daytime fireworks less spectacular. But for the kids, setting them off was a New Year’s tradition, and they still had fun.

Little Tong watched, her face lit up with wonder every time a sparkler flared. "Wow!" she gasped.

Not wanting her to enjoy the show for free, the other kids deliberately turned their backs, blocking her view.

After squatting for a while, Little Tong grew bored. She pushed herself up by her knees and was about to head back inside when Qiu Chen returned from outside, carrying gifts of cigarettes and alcohol for New Year visits.

Spotting the kids playing in the yard and Little Tong standing dejectedly on the steps, he walked over. "Little Tong, why aren’t you playing with the fireworks?"

She tucked her tiny hands into her coat pockets and shook her head. "I don’t want to anymore. They won’t let me play or even watch."

She reached out, pinching Qiu Chen’s fingers, and looked up at him. "Uncle, I kinda miss the police station now. At the station, Sister Shishi and the others always share everything with me. I miss it there."

Qiu Chen’s expression darkened. He turned to the nanny and snapped, "You just stood there while our child was bullied by outsiders? Do you even remember who pays your salary?"

The nanny mumbled an excuse: "She wasn’t upset, so I thought she didn’t mind..."

Qiu Chen handed the gifts to the nanny and scooped Little Tong into his arms. "Where are your parents?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Mom and Dad are talking with Grandpa in the study."

Without another word, Qiu Chen turned and strode off. "Uncle’s taking you to buy fireworks—a whole truckload. You can play with them however you want."

After buckling Little Tong into the Maybach, he was about to get into the driver’s seat when he remembered the holiday parking chaos. He called for the chauffeur instead.

With the driver at the wheel, Qiu Chen and Little Tong sat in the back. She pressed her hands against the window, staring outside.

He pulled her close, tucking her against his side. "From now on, whatever you want, just tell Uncle. I’ll get you anything. As long as I’m around, you’ll never be treated unfairly, got it?"

Little Tong nodded vaguely.

A moment later, she pressed a tiny fist against his chest and whispered, "Thank you, Uncle. You’re a good uncle."

Before Qiu Chen could feel touched, she added, "So... can I stop studying from now on?"

Qiu Chen: "......You still have to study."

Seeing her pout in disappointment, he flicked one of the pom-poms on her braid. "You’re such a little slacker. Your dad does most of your homework for you—it’s not like you’re studying much anyway."