Eating Melons in the Police Station

Chapter 18

The children in the daycare don’t need to study. They spend their days eating, drinking, and simply passing the time. The morning sun was warm, and the weather wasn’t too hot, so all the kids ran outside to play. The swings, the slides, and the sandpit were swarming with children.

Miao Qingyue, as usual, sat in the corner of the classroom. Sometimes she would gaze out the window at the children running freely outside, but most of the time, she kept to herself, playing with puzzles or picking at a worn spot on her wheelchair.

But today, she wasn’t alone. Two children had gathered around her.

The shorter, chubby girl with a bowl cut was named Zhong Yuntong. She was talkative and loved being in the middle of things, chattering away nonstop.

The slim, tall boy, who stood like a young poplar tree, was named Xiang Zimo. Unlike Zhong Yuntong, he wasn’t much of a talker. Most of the time, he just listened quietly, occasionally chiming in with a word or two.

Miao Qingyue sometimes wanted to join their conversations, but she had never played with other children before. She felt shy and worried that she might say something wrong and scare them away, so she remained silent.

Zhong Yuntong leaned her chin on her hands, staring out the window with a sigh. “Let’s go outside and play.”

Xiang Zimo nodded. “Sure.”

Zhong Yuntong turned to Miao Qingyue. “Let’s take her with us.”

Miao Qingyue stiffened and whispered, “I don’t want to go out.”

Xiang Zimo offered, “I’ll push her wheelchair.”

Zhong Yuntong jumped down from the low windowsill, took her little water bottle, and stuffed it into Miao Qingyue’s arms. Tilting her head, she said, “The one with the seat has to carry the stuff.”

Miao Qingyue, now holding the suddenly acquired water bottle, protested softly, “But I don’t want to go out.”

Her protest was clearly ignored. Xiang Zimo handed his water bottle to her too. “Can you carry two bottles?”

“I... I can.”

And so, Miao Qingyue, clutching two cartoon-themed water bottles, was wheeled out to the playground by her new friends. Xiang Zimo, who wasn’t even as tall as the wheelchair, couldn’t see the path ahead while pushing it. Zhong Yuntong held onto the armrest, guiding the way steadily.

Teacher Zhuang watched from under the eaves but didn’t intervene.

Miao Qingyue was three and a half years old and had been staying at the daycare for a year. It had been a lonely year for her. The other children didn’t want to play with her, partly because they were a little scared, and partly because their parents had warned them not to get too close to a disabled child, fearing accidents or misunderstandings.

Teacher Zhuang didn’t have much to say about it. She couldn’t force the other children to play with Miao Qingyue, but she was happy to see some kids taking the initiative now, as long as safety was ensured.

Zhong Yuntong and Xiang Zimo pushed Miao Qingyue across the playground, heading toward the big tree, but they were stopped by a roadblock.

A chubby, dark-skinned boy, accompanied by a few others, blocked their path. In a gruff, boyish voice, he commanded, “You can’t play with Miao Qingyue.”

Zhong Yuntong let go of the wheelchair and took a step forward. “Let’s play together.”

The chubby boy, whose name was Luo Jiahao (nicknamed Mantou, or “Steamed Bun”), stammered when he saw the pretty girl. “I... I’m Luo Jiahao. My nickname is Mantou. You’re younger than me, so you should call me Mantou Gege (Big Brother Mantou).”

Zhong Yuntong replied seriously, “Okay, Mo (a colloquial term for steamed bun). My name is Zhong Yuntong. Want to play?”

“But... I’m not called Mo.”

Officer Mao Feixue was in charge of the interrogation. Zhong Jin ran into her in the hallway and asked about the case. The two stood chatting for a while.

Mao Feixue’s phone buzzed, and Zhong Jin gestured for her to check it.

She glanced at the screen and smiled. “It’s a photo from Zimo. Look.”

She showed Zhong Jin the photo of the Cinnamoroll puzzle.

A voice message followed: [Mom, this is the puzzle I did with Yuntong and Miao Qingyue. Teacher Zhuang hung it up for us.]

“Your son sent this? How?” Zhong Jin asked.

Mao Feixue typed a reply: [Zimo, you did great. Take care of the girls, and everyone stay safe.] She looked up and explained, “It’s a kids’ smartwatch. All the children have them now.”

Zhong Jin pondered whether it was necessary to get one for Zhong Yuntong. Would she be able to use it at such a young age?

Mao Feixue received another message from Xiang Zimo: [Mom, I love you.]

Zhong Jin made up her mind. She would take Zhong Yuntong to buy a smartwatch that evening. Not just to hear “I love you,” but simply to stay connected.

*

"Press this spot to call me. And press here to send me a message. I’ll reply when I receive it. Hey, pay attention, don’t look around."

After buying the kids' smartwatch, Zhong Jin took the child and sat on the long bench outside the phone store, teaching her how to use the watch.

Little Tong had zero interest in the watch. She sat on the bench, swinging her legs, her chubby little finger pointing at the sausage stand ahead. "I want to eat that."

"...Alright then." Zhong Jin put the watch away for now. He had definitely acted on impulse—this thing was way too complicated for a three-year-old. She didn’t even care to glance at it.

A few people were already lined up in front of the sausage stand. Zhong Jin, holding Little Tong, joined the end of the queue. In front of them was a mother and son, the boy looking like an elementary school student.

Because they were so close, the conversation between the mother and son was clearly audible.

The little boy said to his mom, "Today, the tutor asked us what our dreams are. Zhao Leyuan said he wants to be a musician, and Tong Chengze said he wants to be a scientist."

"What about you?" the mom asked.

The little boy replied, "I don’t want to work. My dream is to be a rich adult. If I can buy lots of ice cream, fried chicken, sausages, and spicy sticks, I’ll be totally happy."

The boy’s mom chuckled wryly, "Son, you’re being too optimistic... But having dreams is always good."

Zhong Jin noticed Little Tong perking up her ears to listen, so he bounced the chubby child in his arms and asked, "Do you have a dream?"

What kind of dream could a three-year-old possibly have? Zhong Jin was just asking casually.

Little Tong clasped her tiny hands over her chest, her big eyes shining faintly in the night. With a serious expression, she declared, "My dream is to be a sausage master. I’ll make sausages and eat them myself."

Zhong Jin, "...Alright then, having dreams is always good."