Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 113
Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng finally had a rare child-free day. Originally, they planned to take the cable car to a mountaintop restaurant for dinner, then stroll through Haishan’s famous "Love Letter Promenade," where there was also a "Future Mailbox" where they could send a letter to their future selves or each other.
It sounded quite romantic in theory, but after eating out, neither of them felt like continuing their outing. They were so used to Little Tong’s constant chatter that her sudden absence left them feeling unsettled. Just a few hours apart, and they already missed the mischievous kid.
It was like how pet owners feel when they leave their dogs alone at home during work—equal parts guilty and longing.
In the end, they bought a Haishan Pavilion-themed lollipop from the mountaintop souvenir shop and headed back. On their way through the city, they made a detour to pick up a pizza.
This time, when they returned from their "escape," Little Tong didn’t interrogate them like before. Instead, she happily munched on the treats they brought back and even asked considerately, "Did you have fun today?"
At bedtime, Little Tong knelt on the quilt, hugging her silk gauze plush dog, her hair loose as she raised a finger and solemnly declared to Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin:
"I’ve decided to give you two vacations from now on. You can go out alone whenever you want."
Zhong Jin glanced up from his book and reached out to feel Little Tong’s forehead, relieved when he confirmed she wasn’t running a fever.
Kneeling on her chubby little feet, Little Tong sighed softly. "Raising me must be so hard. Thank you."
Hearing this, Qiu Sheng’s eyes reddened instantly. She used to watch dramas where mothers cried over something their child said and found it overly sentimental—she couldn’t relate at all.
Now she understood. Every time a child showed unexpected maturity, a mother really couldn’t help but tear up.
Zhong Jin squeezed Qiu Sheng’s hand while rubbing Little Tong’s head. "It is a little hard raising you, but without you, we wouldn’t be who we are now. Dad thanks you too—we’re glad you came."
Little Tong clutched the plush dog’s head, puzzled. "If you weren’t you, then who would you be?"
"Worse versions of ourselves."
Little Tong got dizzy trying to follow the logic and gave up. Sitting up straight, she made another grand announcement: "I’ve decided to change my name. From now on, I’ll be called ABC."
Zhong Jin: "...I’m your father. How come I didn’t know about this?"
Qiu Sheng: "Sweetheart, why ABC? That’s a strange name—Chinese people don’t usually name themselves like that."
Little Tong crawled under the blankets and shut her eyes firmly. "Because I can’t write 'Zhong Yuntong.'"
Her parents finally understood.
She’d been forced to practice writing her name by her uncle again.
After Little Tong fell asleep hugging her plush dog, Zhong Jin suddenly opened his eyes in the dark and muttered, "Zhong Tong is a bit hard to write. Maybe we should change her name when we register her household ID."
Qiu Sheng grumbled sleepily, "Zhong Jin, enough."
Qiu Chen didn’t stay long in Haishan before leaving. Officially, he claimed work obligations forced him to return, but the real reason was known only to him.
One night, he was jolted awake by a blinding white light. Squinting against the glare, he could barely make out a short, round silhouette in the haze.
Qiu Chen shielded his eyes and sat up halfway. "Zhong Yuntong?"
Follow curr𝒆nt nov𝒆ls on fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com.
A clear child’s voice rang out in the dark. "Uncle, I solved the problem you gave me today. If you eat 8 out of 12 apples, 4 are left."
Still groggy, Qiu Chen’s brain took a moment to reboot before recalling the arithmetic question he’d posed to Little Tong earlier.
At the time, the little troublemaker had taken a bite of an apple and waved him off: "Thanks, but I can’t eat that many."
Qiu Chen had scolded her, assuming the matter was closed—until the kid decided to deliver her answer at midnight.
The midnight math session was strange enough, but when Little Tong tilted her head, Qiu Chen realized she was clutching a plump, live frog.
The frog stretched its neck and greeted him: "Ribbit."
Qiu Chen scrambled backward in terror, pressing against the wall and wrapping the blanket around himself like a shield.
Only then did he remember he’d locked his door before bed. "How did you get in?"
Little Tong swung the frog in one hand while fishing out a ribbon-tied key from her collar with the other. "My key’s right here."
The next morning, Qiu Chen called his secretary to book the earliest flight out. Ignoring Zhong Jin’s dramatic pleas for him to stay, he fled Haishan without hesitation. Sure, grooming an heir was important—but so was his survival.
Not long after Qiu Chen returned to Jing City, Du Xin also moved back to her dorm. The house suddenly felt too quiet, leaving Zhong Dad and Qiu Mom to resume full-time parenting.
Fortunately, Qiu Chen had arranged for Du Xin to tutor the heir. Though she didn’t come daily, she helped divert some of the child’s energy. Plus, studying tired Little Tong out, so she slept more—making this round of childcare much easier.
"Brother Zhong, you wanted to see me?" Du Xin strode out of the forensics center, wearing a white lab coat and glasses.
Zhong Jin, in uniform, leaned against a black SUV. "Just dropped by after a meeting at the bureau. How’s work treating you?"
"Pretty well." Du Xin adjusted her glasses. "The team here’s been great—very supportive. No major cases yet, just a few injury assessments. Easy stuff."
Zhong Jin nodded. "Good. If you need anything here, just reach out to me or Qiu Sheng. Don’t hesitate."
"Mm."
When Zhong Jin didn’t leave, Du Xin raised an eyebrow. "Was there something else?"
Zhong Jin lowered his gaze, lips pressing briefly before asking casually, "Du Xin, did you and Qiu Sheng stay in touch after my divorce?"
"No." She shook her head. "Why?"
"Nothing, just curious. You two seemed closer this time."
Du Xin studied him silently.
"Go ahead with your work. Come over for dinner tonight—Aunt Liang made wild herb dumplings."
Zhong Jin waved as Du Xin walked back inside. Only after she disappeared did he return to his car. Gripping the steering wheel, his eyes lingered on the door she’d exited through.
When Du Xin first spoke, her gaze remained fixed on Zhong Jin, appearing candid while actually observing his reactions. Throughout their conversation, her right eyebrow would subconsciously lift slightly—a clear sign of tension.
Du Xin was lying.
Truthfully, Du Xin’s confirmation wasn’t even necessary. Zhong Jin had already pieced together what must have happened to Qiu Sheng during the divorce. Knowing Qiu Sheng’s personality, she would never have agreed to the divorce so easily under normal circumstances.
From Du Xin’s reaction, it was obvious Qiu Sheng had instructed her to keep it a secret. It seemed Qiu Sheng was determined to bury the matter entirely.
That evening, Du Xin came over for dinner and helped Little Tong with her homework. Zhong Jin showed no signs of suspicion.
After dinner, an urgent matter at the institute called him away. Before leaving, he reminded Little Tong, “Be good during your lesson. Don’t give Sister a hard time.”
Du Xin had Little Tong sit on a small stool by the coffee table and opened the teaching materials.
Over their recent sessions, Du Xin had noticed certain pronunciation quirks in Little Tong’s speech—like saying “dis” instead of “this,” or “mysewf” instead of “myself.” She also frequently misused the measure word “a.”
Du Xin decided to start by correcting these small habits. She crafted a sentence for Little Tong to repeat: “This is my own matter.”
Perched on her stool, Little Tong clutched her stuffed chicken, Ball Mourning Tyrant, with utmost seriousness and recited, “Dis is mysewf matter.”
“Hmm, a little progress. Let’s try again.” Du Xin repeated the sentence patiently, offering encouragement each time.
Du Xin was, without exaggeration, the most patient person Qiu Sheng had ever met. Sometimes, even Qiu Sheng, watching from the sidelines, would grow frustrated, yet Du Xin remained calm and persistent.
For instance, despite countless lessons on the 26 English letters, Little Tong still stumbled when their order changed.
Du Xin wrote “b” and “d” side by side and asked Little Tong to read them aloud. Pointing at “b,” Little Tong confidently declared, “B!”
Then, pointing at “d,” she announced with equal conviction, “Backwards B!”
Even Qiu Sheng, known for her unshakable temper, nearly lost it. But Du Xin simply remarked, “Little Tong, you’re so imaginative.”
When the tutoring session finally ended, Qiu Sheng gave Du Xin a thumbs-up. “With your perseverance, Du Xin, you’ll succeed at anything.”
Removing her glasses, Du Xin rubbed her tired brow. “Getting paid more for two-hour weekly lessons than my actual job? However exhausting, it’s worth it.”
Qiu Sheng fetched two beers from the fridge and handed one to Du Xin. “Have a drink to unwind before you go.”
Du Xin gripped the can, condensation dampening her palm. “Are you allowed to drink now?”
“A little won’t hurt.”
Qiu Sheng popped open her beer and crouched by the dog bed, rummaging through a pile of odds and ends until she unearthed the TV remote.
She flopped onto the couch and turned on the TV. “Let’s watch a movie. Any preferences?”
Du Xin suggested an old drama. Qiu Sheng found it and hit play.
The lights dimmed, bathing the living room in the film’s warm golden glow.
Little Tong, nestled in her mini couch with a jumbo bag of chips, crunched away happily, a yogurt bottle at her feet.
Whenever Qiu Sheng and Du Xin clinked their beers, Little Tong eagerly raised her yogurt to join the toast.
The slow-burning drama lost the little one’s interest quickly. Once her snacks were gone, she toddled over and curled into Qiu Sheng’s lap. “Mommy, I’m sleepy. Carry me to bed.”
Qiu Sheng undid her hair, cradled her, and rocked gently. The round head lolled against her arm, chubby feet dangling and swaying. A few pats later, the child was out like a light.
Du Xin stood and took Little Tong from Qiu Sheng, settling her on the other couch. She draped a cartoon-print blanket over her.
Rubbing her sore arm, Qiu Sheng sighed.
Du Xin glanced back, hesitating before speaking. “Zhong Jin came to the forensics center today.”
“Huh?” Qiu Sheng froze mid-motion, the screen’s flickering light casting shadows across her delicate face.
Du Xin moistened her lips. “I think… he already knows.”
“What did he say?”
Their hushed conversation drowned out the movie’s dialogue.
On screen, someone announced, “The crispy roast duck is here!” Neither noticed—but the deeply asleep child suddenly blinked open her large, dark eyes.
