Eating Melons in the Police Station

Zhong Jin sat slumped on the sofa, clutching a cold towel in his hand, his gaze heavy as he stared at Little Tong.

Earlier, both Little Tong and Qiu Sheng had mentioned that in their previous world, Little Tong had been injured, and Zhong Jin had fed her his own blood to heal her. This was also the explanation for why Little Tong, despite being a demon hound, shared the same genes as Zhong Jin.

What Zhong Jin hadn’t expected was that even after reincarnation, his blood still retained its healing properties in this life. And it seemed incredibly effective—just a single drop had completely healed Little Tong’s wound.

When he first realized this, Zhong Jin had been utterly stunned. But as he gradually accepted this supernatural phenomenon, his shock was replaced by an overwhelming surge of joy.

His blood could heal Little Tong.

This meant that if Little Tong ever got hurt again, there was no need to fear—like the car accident that haunted his nightmares. He wouldn’t have to worry about losing her to something like that again.

This wave of joy crashed over him like a tidal wave, nearly drowning him in its intensity.

Calmly, he stood up, walked to the bathroom, rinsed the towel, hung it to dry, then returned to the sofa. He picked up a book and pretended to read, though his mind was elsewhere. He just needed something familiar to ground himself, to grasp at some semblance of reality.

By the time Qiu Sheng returned home from work in the evening, Zhong Jin’s emotions had settled. He had let Aunt Liang leave early and personally cooked sweet and sour ribs, a favorite of both Little Tong and Qiu Sheng. He even uncorked a bottle of red wine.

After washing her hands, Qiu Sheng crouched by the dog bed and planted a kiss on Little Tong’s round head.

Little Tong, who had been secretly munching on ribs in her bed, offered a half-gnawed piece to Qiu Sheng. "Mom, eat this."

"Sweetheart, you enjoy it. Mom has other sources," Qiu Sheng politely declined, pushing the saliva-coated rib back.

She then snatched another rib from the dining table and wandered to the kitchen, peeking inside.

"Why are you so happy today?"

Zhong Jin turned around, humming an off-key tune, grinning. "Guess... though you’ll never guess."

Qiu Sheng continued nibbling on the rib, unable to fathom what could have him so elated. She gave up and stole another rib instead.

During dinner, Zhong Jin still didn’t reveal the reason for his joy. It wasn’t until Little Tong had fallen asleep that he sat Qiu Sheng down on the sofa and recounted what had happened that afternoon.

Qiu Sheng’s reaction matched what Zhong Jin had anticipated—she covered her mouth, eyes wide with astonishment.

The two of them then tiptoed into the bedroom, crouched by the bed, and took turns examining Little Tong’s tiny, pudgy hands, turning them over and inspecting every inch.

Seeing both hands perfectly unharmed, soft and plump, they both let out an awed sigh.

"Did she notice her wound was gone? Was she confused?" Qiu Sheng asked.

Zhong Jin shook his head. "She forgot all about the injury after her nap."

Qiu Sheng: "So this is what made you so happy?"

"Mm. ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‍From now on, I’ll be her medicine. If she gets hurt again, there’s nothing to fear."

"But it’s your blood."

Zhong Jin guessed her concern. "Are you imagining some vampire movie scenario? It’s not like that. For a wound like hers today, just a drop was enough. Blood regenerates—I’ll be fine."

Qiu Sheng recalled the last time she accompanied Zhong Jin to see a traditional Chinese doctor. Ahead of them in line was a mother whose pulse reading revealed her body was weak. The doctor explained that the mother’s breast milk was essentially refined from her vital essence—if the child thrived, the mother would naturally grow frail.

Thankfully, Little Tong wasn’t consuming his blood as a meal, so it wouldn’t drain Zhong Jin to that extent.

Still, Qiu Sheng made a pact with him:

"For minor injuries, let her heal on her own. This kid’s reckless—if she learns that getting hurt is painful, she’ll be more careful next time. For serious injuries, the really painful ones, then you can use your blood to save her."

In the end, Qiu Sheng couldn’t bear to see Zhong Jin suffer, nor could she stand the thought of Little Tong in pain, so this compromise was her solution.

They chatted until past 10 p.m. Before heading to bed, Zhong Jin reminded Qiu Sheng, "Call Mom and ask if she has any blood-nourishing remedies. Have her send some over."

Zhong Jin had suddenly realized the importance of his own health. He needed to take good care of his body, stay strong, and live a long life. As long as he was around, Little Tong would never suffer or die.

As he retreated to the bedroom, Qiu Sheng grumbled, "Who’s your mom? You say it so smoothly." But her fingers had already dialed Ms. Tao’s number.

The weather grew warmer by the day, and spring flowers bloomed across the wetlands park. Qiu Sheng’s studio planned a photoshoot there, so she arranged a day off for Little Tong, seizing the chance to take her out for a spring outing.

Little Tong wore oversized overalls, a bucket hat, and a small crossbody bag. At the park entrance, she pulled out bug spray from her bag and spritzed it on her arms and legs.

After spraying herself, she ran around offering the spray to everyone else, earnestly warning them:

"Don’t let the bugs bite you, or you’ll get a huge swollen bump and then you’ll die."

As the group walked, Ming Yan carried Little Tong on his shoulders, letting her perch high so she could see the vast fields of flowers ahead.

Little Tong tugged at Ming Yan’s ears and leaned down to whisper, "You’re nice to me, but don’t try to be my dad, okay? Because I already have a dad named Zhong Jin."

Ming Yan’s face darkened. "Did your dad teach you to say that?"

Little Tong shook her head. "It was Wen Hechang. He wanted to be my dad too, but then my dad beat him up so bad he cried and rolled on the ground."

Ming Yan: "..."

Three- or four-year-olds often blurred reality and imagination. In reality, Wen Hechang had gotten drunk and wept over family troubles. But in Little Tong’s mind, he had been crying because Zhong Jin had "beaten him up."

So now, according to her, Wen Hechang had wanted to be her dad, and Zhong Jin had made him cry.

Luckily, Ming Yan had a nephew around Little Tong’s age and knew how easily kids spun tall tales. He didn’t take it to heart.

Upon reaching their destination, the adults busied themselves with filming while Little Tong played nearby by herself. She crouched down, picking up fallen flowers from the ground and tucking them into her hair.

Being small in stature, Little Tong soon disappeared into the sea of blossoms.

Unable to see her, Qiu Sheng called out anxiously. Little Tong stood up from the flowers, her head adorned with a riot of colorful blooms. "Mom, look at me! I’m a flower fairy," she declared.

Ming Yan turned around with her camera and captured the moment with a click.

After wrapping up the shoot at that spot, the group packed their gear and headed to the next location.

Ming Yan, carrying her camera and Little Tong on her back, led the way while explaining the upcoming art gallery to Qiu Sheng and the others.

"You’ve probably heard of Zhong Liwei, right? He’s a renowned painter from Jing City who’s been living in seclusion in Haishan these past few years. He even established his own private gallery here. I’ve had some interactions with his apprentice."

Qiu Sheng asked, "Is photography allowed inside the gallery?"

Ming Yan replied, "We’re not going in—just capturing the exterior."

The area along the stream belonged to the gallery grounds, enclosed by a fence and a gate. Peering through the fence, the plants inside were noticeably different from those outside.

Inside, the flowers were deliberately chosen for their muted, low-saturation hues—less vibrant than the ones outside but far more atmospheric, as if dusted with a silvery glow, reminiscent of Monet’s garden palette.

At the entrance, they were stopped by a security guard who informed them that the gallery was temporarily closed for cataloging artworks, with no fixed reopening date.

This location was crucial for the first episode of their video, and without it, the final product wouldn’t have the same breathtaking impact.

Qiu Sheng and Ming Yan tried negotiating with the guard for a while, to no avail. Ming Yan then called the painter’s apprentice, who politely declined, saying it wasn’t worth disturbing the master over such a small matter.

As they stood nearby discussing alternative locations, Zhong Jin called. Qiu Sheng answered and told him about the filming setback.

"Let me see what I can do," Zhong Jin said before hanging up.

Shortly after, the guard received a call and promptly opened the gate for them.

Zhong Jin’s line of work involved dealing with all kinds of people, so his network was vast, though he rarely tapped into it. That he’d made this call at all was unusual.

Qiu Sheng chuckled softly, covering the phone as she said in an uncharacteristically tender tone, "Thank you, Zhong Sir."

For the rest of the shoot, Ming Yan seemed noticeably downcast.

After finishing, the group exited the wetland park through a different route, which led them past a commercial street before circling back to where they’d parked. The detour was clearly designed to boost spending, and since everyone was hungry after the long walk, they stopped for snacks before heading home.

Little Tong clutched a warm bag of candied chestnuts, and the moment they got home, she went looking for Zhong Jin to share her spoils.

Since he wasn’t back from work yet, she knelt by the window, pressing her hands against the glass as she peered outside anxiously. But soon, her attention was stolen by the cartoon playing on the neighbor’s TV across the street, and she forgot all about her father.

By the time Zhong Jin returned, Little Tong was too engrossed in the show to acknowledge him. Qiu Sheng pointed to a bag of cold chestnuts on the coffee table and said,

"Your daughter brought these for you. They’re cold now, but still edible. Go ahead."

Zhong Jin picked up a chestnut, peeled it, and asked cautiously, "Zhong Yuntong, you didn’t lick this, did you?"

"No, no," Little Tong waved dismissively without turning around. "I kept them warm by holding them against my tummy."

Only after the neighbor’s cartoon ended did Little Tong push herself up from the window and waddle over to Zhong Jin, leaning her belly against his knee. "Give me one," she demanded.

Zhong Jin peeled another chestnut and handed it to her. The little girl pinched it between her fingers, nibbling at it like a tiny hamster.

Suddenly, Qiu Sheng shrieked from the balcony.

Zhong Jin dropped the chestnuts and rushed over. "What’s wrong?"

Qiu Sheng was clutching something in her hand, eyes squeezed shut as she screamed, "Help! Bugs! So many bugs! Aaaah!"

"Why are there bugs in the house?"

Zhong Jin pried open her hand, shaking the contents onto the floor. Qiu Sheng flung her small purse down too, shrieking as she bolted away.

Scattered across the floor were leaves, flowers, assorted insects, and even a half-grown frog. Zhong Jin lunged for it, but the little frog leaped behind the washing machine and vanished.

Qiu Sheng: "Aaaah!"

Meanwhile, Little Tong stood calmly nearby, munching on her chestnut and casually directing Zhong Jin, "Hurry, catch it! Don’t let it get away. I worked hard to bring it home, hehe."