Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 118

The noon sun blazed overhead, leaving the basketball court deserted.

Zhong Jin set Sang Biao down on the ground, bent over, and removed his leather shoes and socks. His throbbing big toe, which had made walking unbearable, didn’t look too abnormal—just a faint bruise at the base.

Little Tong crouched in front of him, her voice tight with worry. "How bad is it? Did it break?"

"Not sure. We’ll need an X-ray at the hospital to confirm."

In an instant, Little Tong shot to her feet, turning her back to him as she bent forward. "Get on. I’ll carry you to the hospital."

Seeing the gravity on the child’s face, Zhong Jin was more amused than touched. "Do you even know how much I weigh? You’re tiny—how could you possibly carry me?"

Little Tong glanced back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "No matter how heavy you are, I can do it. Don’t forget—I’m the Heavenly Cloud Demon Dog."

This was the first time she had openly admitted it.

Before, she had stubbornly insisted she was Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng’s baby, refusing to acknowledge her true nature no matter what.

So she had known all along.

Zhong Jin didn’t call her out on the slip. Instead, he beckoned her closer, using his thumb to wipe away the moisture at the corner of her eye. "You’re a big kid now. No more crying, okay?"

He slipped his feet back into his shoes, gripping Little Tong’s shoulders as he stood. Unable to put weight on the front of his foot, he hobbled forward on his heel, leaning on her small frame for support.

Sang Biao, having shadowed Little Tong on patrols for years, had long mastered the art of following. Without needing guidance, the chicken trotted dutifully behind them.

They hailed a cab outside the gymnasium and headed to the hospital.

The hospital was crowded, so letting Sang Biao roam freely wasn’t an option. Little Tong bundled the chicken into her sunproof jacket, tying the sleeves around her chest to fashion a makeshift sling.

She settled Zhong Jin onto a bench in the lobby before marching off with Sang Biao on her back to queue for registration. The sight of a small child toting a chicken drew curious stares, and murmurs followed her.

But ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍Little Tong had never cared about others’ opinions. Even with whispers right beside her, she remained unfazed.

When her turn came, she stretched onto her tiptoes, poking just half her head above the counter as she politely asked, "Auntie, hello. My dad hurt his big toe—no bleeding, just some bruising, and he can’t put weight on it. Which department should we go to?"

The receptionist, charmed by the articulate and well-mannered child, softened her tone. "Can’t walk? Start with orthopedics. Did your dad bring his ID?"

Little Tong handed over the ID she had prepared in advance, her brow furrowed with seriousness. "Auntie, can we see a specialist?"

The woman chuckled. "No need for a specialist with a toe injury. You can grab a shared wheelchair by scanning the code in the lobby—right side."

"Got it. Thank you, doctor."

With the registration slip in hand, Little Tong hurried back, Sang Biao bouncing on her back. Zhong Jin raised a hand to call out to her, but she breezed right past him without a glance.

Before he could wonder what she was up to, she returned, pushing a wheelchair.

She patted the seat. "Hop on. We’re going to orthopedics."

Zhong Jin could have limped there himself, but her thoughtfulness warmed him. He obliged, settling into the wheelchair.

Noticing she still carried Sang Biao, he reached out. "Let me hold him. He’s heavy—it’s too much for you."

Little Tong shot him a stern glare. "You’re the patient. Stop worrying about this stuff. Besides, if you waltz in holding a chicken, the doctor won’t know if it’s your leg or his that’s broken."

Zhong Jin withdrew his hand sheepishly. "Fine, fine. The family’s in charge."

With Sang Biao strapped to her back and her injured father in tow, Little Tong navigated the hospital effortlessly, checking signs and asking for directions without hesitation until they reached the orthopedics department.

She handled everything—X-rays, payments—all on her own.

Zhong Jin watched from the wheelchair as she bustled about with solemn focus. It felt like a preview of his old age, when she’d be the one ferrying him to appointments.

Sang Biao slipped from her sling a few times, but each time, she crouched to readjust him before resuming her tasks, forms clutched in hand.

Finally, the diagnosis came. The doctor examined the X-ray. "First joint fracture in the right big toe. We’ll need a splint. No weight on that foot for now."

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Zhong Jin gave a calm "Mm." Injuries were routine in his line of work—he knew the drill.

Little Tong, however, stood rigid beside him, ears pricked as she listened. While Zhong Jin remained unfazed, her face tightened, eyes glistening.

The doctor, noticing the little caregiver’s distress, reassured her. "Don’t worry, kiddo. Your dad’s got a minor injury—it’ll heal in no time."

She swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "Will there be any lasting problems?"

"Nope."

"Should we do blood tests? I didn’t see any earlier."

The doctor chuckled, handing her a tissue. "Wipe those tears. No blood tests needed—trust me, I’m the doctor."

Little Tong grilled him with several more questions, each met with patient explanations. The doctor even walked her through post-fracture care, treating her with more attentiveness precisely because she was a child.

Once the tiny caregiver and her plump chicken were finally ushered out, Zhong Jin caught the doctor removing his glasses with an amused sigh.

As they wheeled into the hallway, Little Tong suddenly halted. Zhong Jin turned.

"What now?"

Without a word, she dashed back into the examination room, emerging moments later with her phone in hand, tapping at the screen.

Zhong Jin sighed. "...You didn’t just ask for the doctor’s number, did you?"

She clipped her phone to her waist with a lanyard, gripping the wheelchair handles as she pushed forward, smug.

"I added Uncle Doctor on WeChat. Told him I’d message if you suddenly get worse."

Zhong Jin: "I won’t suddenly get worse."

After returning the wheelchair outside the hospital, Zhong Jin leaned on Little Tong’s shoulder, limping toward the exit. They still had to cross the small plaza out front before reaching the taxi stand.

Little Tong stood with her back straight, her body tense as she lifted her head to speak to Zhong Jin: "Dad, you can lean on me like a crutch. I can support you."

Zhong Jin's hand rested lightly on her shoulder without applying any pressure as they slowly moved forward.

The slanting afternoon sun cast the hospital building's shadow across the square, reminding Zhong Jin that Little Tong hadn't eaten lunch yet.

The girl was growing fast at her age—her appetite came quick and fierce. Missing even one meal would leave her stomach growling. Her uncle's driver, who picked her up from school, always brought bread or milk to tide her over, or else she wouldn't last until dinner.

She had played soccer in the morning and then rushed around the hospital all afternoon, yet she hadn’t complained once about being hungry.

Zhong Jin looked down at her. "Not hungry?"

Little Tong pressed her lips together and shook her head. "Nope."

No sooner had she denied it than her stomach let out a loud growl. She giggled sheepishly.

Zhong Jin paused, scanning the area for shops selling her favorite snacks, but Little Tong flagged down a taxi instead, urging him,

"Come on, let's just go back. You shouldn’t be walking around too much."

They took the taxi to drop off Sang Biao at the fruit shop first. When the car stopped at the intersection, Zhong Jin told Little Tong to take Sang Biao inside herself, specifically warning her not to mention the injury to Aunt Liang.

Little Tong carried Sang Biao into the shop, where Aunt Liang was busy peeling pineapples for customers while her little grandson fussed nearby—so much so that a customer had stepped in to help calm the child.

Clearly, Aunt Liang had enough on her plate without adding to her troubles.

Setting Sang Biao down, Little Tong waved goodbye to Aunt Liang, pinched the little grandson’s cheek playfully, then dashed back out of the shop.

Once they returned to the hotel, Zhong Jin ordered a wheelchair online before calling out to Little Tong, "Zhong Yuntong, what do you want to eat? Hotel restaurant or takeout?"

The girl had disappeared into the bathroom as soon as they got back, and Zhong Jin had no idea what she was doing in there—she hadn’t come out for ages.

Just as he finished speaking, Little Tong pushed the door open and walked over to the couch. She crouched in front of Zhong Jin, tilting her head up and opening her mouth wide to show him.

"Dad, I think my front tooth is about to fall out too."

Little Tong had started losing her baby teeth at six, and Zhong Jin remembered she’d already lost five so far. Her front tooth had been loose for the past two weeks but stubbornly refused to come out.

That morning, while watching her play soccer, Zhong Jin had wondered when it would finally give way—though the pain in his foot had distracted him from the thought. Now, it seemed, the time had come.

He steadied her forehead with one hand and slipped a finger into her mouth, gently wiggling the tooth back and forth. It was indeed hanging by a thread.

"Let me pull it out. What if it falls out while you're sleeping and you accidentally swallow it?"

Little Tong kept her mouth open and nodded. "Okay."

Zhong Jin pinched the wobbly tooth between his fingers and, with barely any effort, plucked it free. He leaned over to grab a tissue, wrapping the tiny tooth—still tinged with blood—inside.

Little Tong ran her tongue over the new gap, then hurried back to the bathroom to inspect it in the mirror. When she returned, she sighed at Zhong Jin.

"Great. Now I’m a ‘Bun Grandpa’ too."

"You still remember the bun seller, huh? Then do you remember the nickname you gave Luo Jiahao when you were little?"

Little Tong grinned, revealing her newly missing tooth. "Of course I remember. Doesn’t everyone still call him ‘Bun’ now? Hah!"

The wheelchair Zhong Jin ordered hadn’t arrived yet, and Little Tong refused to let him walk outside, so they settled for takeout delivered to their room.

Back in Jing City, Little Tong had often whined about craving Haishan’s seafood. Zhong Jin ordered her a large spicy seafood platter—packed with shrimp, crab, baby abalone, and clams—so she could indulge to her heart’s content.

His injured foot ached, dulling his appetite. Besides, he wasn’t great with spicy food anyway. After barely finishing half a bowl of seafood congee, he pushed it aside and reached for the medicine the hospital had prescribed, picking out the painkillers and anti-inflammatory pills.

Little Tong, still wearing her gloves, crouched by the coffee table cracking crab legs. She glanced at Zhong Jin’s half-eaten congee, then watched as he tossed back the pills.

Holding a crab leg, she asked, "Does your foot hurt a lot?"

"Of course it hurts—it’s broken. That’s why you shouldn’t go jumping around all the time. You even tripped walking on flat ground last time. If you break a bone one day, you’ll learn the hard way."

He rambled on, but Little Tong stayed quiet. When Zhong Jin turned to look, he found the kid silently crying, tears plopping onto the crab leg she was dismantling.

He grabbed a tissue and reached over to wipe her cheeks, softening his voice. "What’s wrong? Did I say something bad?"

Little Tong sniffled, ate the crab leg, then pried open the shell to scoop out the roe. Between tearful bites, she scolded him: "You always lecture me, but you don’t even take care of yourself. You tell me not to play soccer in dress shoes, so how come you forgot?"

After a few more reproachful words, she shoved another mouthful of crab roe in, still sniffling.

Then, between sobs, she went on: "When someone told you to kick the ball, why couldn’t you just say no? You always teach me to stand my ground and not be a people-pleaser, but you can’t even do it yourself."

Zhong Jin listened quietly, peeling a shrimp and holding it out to her.

Little Tong took it in one bite. She might have been crying, but she wasn’t missing a single morsel of food.