Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 112

On the second evening of Qiu Chen's stay at Haishan, Zhong Jin and the others indeed moved to the bedroom to read bedtime stories.

Du Xin actually quite enjoyed the atmosphere of their family reading sessions—she could even learn something from them. However, she couldn’t very well follow them into the bedroom to listen. So she had no choice but to give up, crouching by the coffee table to continue working on her case analysis.

But anyone who’s ever watched a horror movie knows that fear doesn’t just vanish in an instant. Sometimes it lingers for days before slowly fading away.

So Qiu Chen eventually carried his laptop back out to the living room, only to find Du Xin watching an anatomy video—the visuals a bit too shocking for comfort.

He had no choice but to retreat to the bedroom again, leaning against the pillows as he continued working.

After a while, there was a knock at the door, startling Qiu Chen. "Who is it?"

"Open up, it's me."

It was Zhong Jin’s voice.

Qiu Chen relaxed slightly and got up to unlock the door.

Zhong Jin walked in, arms full of blankets and pillows. "I'm sleeping here tonight." Without waiting for a response, he spread his bedding on the floor and lay down, making himself at home.

"Did you and Qiu Sheng have a fight?" Qiu Chen frowned.

Zhong Jin grunted in response, closing his eyes and saying nothing more.

Qiu Chen shut down his laptop, turned off the light, pulled the covers over himself, and soon drifted off to sleep as well.

The next morning at breakfast, Qiu Sheng and Zhong Jin barely spoke. The tension between them was unmistakable—they had definitely argued.

Qiu Chen quietly pulled Zhong Jin aside and advised, "Go talk to Qiu Sheng. There’s a child in the house—your fighting isn’t good for her."

Zhong Jin’s expression remained cold as he gave a faint "Mm" in response.

He called Qiu Sheng into the bedroom, and after an unclear exchange, Zhong Jin emerged again, plopping down on the sofa with a scowl.

"Couldn’t smooth things over?" Qiu Chen asked.

Zhong Jin stayed silent.

Qiu Chen tried again, "Take her out for a walk, go shopping, catch a movie, or find a nice restaurant to relax and eat something good. Clear your heads before coming back."

"And what about the kid?" Zhong Jin crossed his arms, his tone heavy.

"Leave Little Tong to me."

Once they settled on the plan, Qiu Chen got up to find Little Tong. He called her name twice before hearing her voice from the balcony. Following the sound, he walked over—only to be met with the sight of a plump, wriggling frog.

Little ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‍Tong was holding the frog in one hand, one foot propped on the small step in front of the terrarium as she bent over, fishing around for something else inside.

Qiu Chen’s scalp prickled. When had this tank of critters appeared here? It definitely hadn’t been there during his last visit.

He stopped at the glass door, not daring to step closer. "Little Tong, put the frog down and come over here."

The chubby child ignored him, deaf to his words as she continued fiddling with the terrarium, her back turned as she knocked something inside with a loud clatter.

"Little Tong, did you hear me? Put. The frog. Down." Qiu Chen tried again, firmer this time.

The little troublemaker remained selectively deaf.

"Little Tong. Zhong Yuntong. Can you hear me?"

The young lady answered with actions—clearly, she could not!

Qiu Chen’s expression darkened. Even a composed man had his limits. His voice dropped low, a warning edge to it. "Put. That. Frog. Down. Now."

Hearing the shift in tone, Little Tong immediately tossed the frog back into the tank, spun around, and clasped her hands together, wide eyes blinking up at Qiu Chen with exaggerated innocence.

"Go wash your hands," Qiu Chen ordered, still stern.

The little girl shuffled down the steps one at a time, waddling past Qiu Chen before bolting to the bathroom. She climbed onto the step stool, turned on the faucet, and stuck her hands under the water.

Qiu Chen followed and found her rinsing her hands under cold water, her sleeves already damp.

He stepped in, rolling up her sleeves for her, adjusting the water to warm, and soaping up her chubby little hands. He scrubbed them thoroughly before rinsing them under warm water and drying them with a towel.

Little Tong stretched out her plump fingers. "Please put some lotion on me."

Qiu Chen shot her a look but still reached into the cabinet for her children’s moisturizer.

The little girl waited patiently, fingers splayed.

Looking at her obedient expression, Qiu Chen’s irritation had already melted away. Whoever invented Zhong Yuntong must have been a genius—switching between devil and angel in an instant, capable of raising one’s blood pressure one second and melting hearts the next.

After washing up, Qiu Chen noticed Little Tong’s sleeves were still damp and told her to change into a fresh set of clothes.

She trotted into the walk-in closet, opened her dresser drawer, and knelt down to rummage through it before pulling out a small floral-patterned top. "Uncle, I wanna wear this one."

"Fine. Can you change by yourself?"

"I can!"

So Qiu Chen stepped out, waiting by the door.

From inside, the sounds of Little Tong struggling with her clothes filled the air—grunts and huffs as if she were performing some Herculean task. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was a little too plump or if all kids were like this.

Then, the struggling noises stopped, replaced by a panicked cry. "Uncle! Help me!"

Qiu Chen rushed back in to find the little girl sitting on the floor in her undershirt. The damp top had been successfully removed, but the new one was stuck halfway over her head—the neckline too tight to pull down past her forehead.

The stretchy fabric clung tightly to her round face, the outline of her features clearly visible through the material.

With her face smushed against the fabric, she wailed, "Uncle! I think it’s nighttime now. Please save me!"

Qiu Chen crouched down and tried tugging the shirt lower, but it wouldn’t budge—the neckline was stretched to its limit around her head.

He lifted the hem instead, pulling the shirt back off entirely.

Holding it up against her, he realized how small it was. "This must be from when you were younger. It’s way too tiny now."

He examined the shirt again, puzzled. "You only grew one year older. How did you outgrow clothes this much? What exactly have your parents been feeding you?"

Little Tong, still in her undershirt, giggled behind her hands. "I’m too fat."

"Fat? You’re perfectly fine. Don’t you dare diet—you need proper nutrition, understand?"

Qiu Chen rummaged through the wardrobe again and pulled out a frilly blouse for her to wear. The ladylike floral blouse with a large collar was paired with Little Tong’s striped athletic shorts—neither the uncle nor the niece saw anything odd about the outfit.

After changing, Little Tong realized her parents were gone. She searched the entire house, even checking the bathtub and toilet, but couldn’t find them. She then ran to the sofa, resting her hands on Qiu Chen’s knees, and asked, "Where are my mom and dad?"

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"They went out," Qiu Chen answered truthfully.

Little Tong’s lips trembled, and she looked ready to burst into tears. "They don’t love me anymore. They left again."

Qiu Chen bent down, meeting the child’s eyes, and spoke earnestly:

"Your parents will always love you, but they also need their own lives. So sometimes, they need to go out alone to relax. Do you understand?"

Qiu Chen couldn’t help but pity the poor parents—having to stage a fake argument just to trick him into babysitting so they could sneak out for a breather.

365 days a year of non-stop childcare—no one could handle that without cracking.

Little Tong squeezed out two teardrops. "I don’t wanna understand. I wanna be with Mommy and Daddy."

Qiu Chen patted her fluffy head. The little bun on top had gotten messy during the outfit change, but since he had no skill in hairstyling, he left it as it was—a wild, disheveled puff.

Seeing how heartbroken the child looked, Qiu Chen suggested, "Let’s study. Studying helps ease sadness. When you immerse yourself in learning, you’ll forget your troubles for a while."

Little Tong immediately stopped crying, waving her hands and backing away. "I’m not sad anymore! No studying, bye-bye!"

"Are you really okay now?" Qiu Chen teased.

Little Tong forced a grin, stretching her lips wide. "I’m not crying. I’m super happy."

Qiu Chen: "Perfect timing, then. Let’s study."

Little Tong clutched her head in protest. "Aaaah, why are you like this?!"

But her objections were futile. Qiu Chen dragged her over to study anyway. Recently, her online tutor had been teaching her Chinese character strokes, so today, Qiu Chen decided to try teaching her to write.

He carefully penned three characters on a notebook—【Zhong Yuntong】—then pointed at them. "This is your name. Want to try writing it?"

Little Tong took one look at the complicated strokes and immediately declared, "I wanna change my name."

Qiu Chen glared at the tiny underachiever. "To what?"

Little Tong stood by the coffee table, belly sticking out, deep in thought. Then she snatched the pen from Qiu Chen, sprawled over the table, and painstakingly scribbled 【ABC】 before tossing the pen aside.

"Done! I learned how to write my own name. Bye-bye!"

Qiu Chen massaged his temples with a sigh.

Back when he’d hired a private tutor for Little Tong, the rate was 300 yuan per hour. At first, he’d thought it was expensive—for such a young child, half-playing, half-learning, an hour couldn’t possibly cover much.

Now he knew the truth: of that 300 yuan, 280 was compensation for psychological damage.

The sound of a passcode being entered came from the door. Little Tong shrieked, "Mommy and Daddy are back!" and seized the chance to flee.

But it was Du Xin who walked in. Since it was the weekend, she hadn’t gone to the forensics center and had instead spent the morning exploring the neighborhood, so she’d returned early.

Du Xin carried a bag of fruits and a small cake, which she handed to Little Tong. "Here you go, Tongbao."

Little Tong clutched her belly with both hands and bowed. "Thank you, sis!" Then she carefully carried the transparent cake box back to the coffee table.

The chubby child leaned against the table, scooping up cake with a tiny spoon. When she bit into a chocolate piece, she clenched her fists, squinted her eyes, and wiggled happily.

Noticing Qiu Chen’s glare, Little Tong—afraid he’d force her back to studying—patted Du Xin’s hand. "Sis, please chat with my uncle."

Du Xin: "...Huh?"

Qiu Chen, however, took the initiative. "Du Xin, since you got into the Police University, you must’ve been a top student, right?"

"Uh, I—I was okay," Du Xin replied, suddenly feeling like she was being interrogated by a nosy relative during the holidays.

Qiu Chen clasped his hands together, adopting the demeanor of a business negotiator, and pointed at Little Tong. "Would you be interested in tutoring her? One-on-one, in-person lessons."

Little Tong, her nose and lips smeared with cream, frantically waved her hands. "No, no, no!"

Du Xin glanced at the pitiful child and decided it was better to let her have a happy childhood. "Well... she’s only four. At this age—"

Qiu Chen cut in, "I’ll pay 600 per hour. You decide the curriculum and schedule. I’ll just handle payment and check the results."

Du Xin instantly revised her stance. "Four is the perfect age to start learning."