The Hunt

Tong Hao rubbed his stomach, continuously sucking in air.

The meat baked bun from earlier hadn’t even digested yet when he spotted Meng Chao cheerfully walking toward him from a distance, holding a large metal bowl in each hand.

With a clang, he set the overflowing bowl of cold noodles on the table and pushed it forward.

"This one’s yours," Meng Chao pulled a pair of chopsticks from the bucket. "Eat up. We’ve got seven or eight more places to hit before dark."

"Boss, I really can’t eat anymore. From morning till now, I haven’t stopped stuffing my face—fried dough stick pie, oven-baked bun, fried skewers and ramen—" Tong Hao covered his mouth as he let out a burp. "Aren’t we supposed to be working a case? Shouldn’t we be looking for Xu Qingli? Why did we suddenly switch to food reviews?"

"Quit whining and eat. Don’t you see the owner peeking at us from behind the counter?"

Meng Chao sniffled, scooped up a big mouthful of noodles, and muttered under his breath while eating.

"You think solving cases is that easy? Flash your badge and everyone cooperates? You’ve been watching too much TV. In real life, ordinary people would rather stay as far away from a murder case as possible.

"Especially these small street vendors. They’re not after riches—just peace and safety. Who’d willingly get involved in messy business like murder and arson, especially when the killer’s still on the loose, hiding in the shadows? No one wants to stick their neck out and risk retaliation later.

"If you go straight up and ask now, they’ll either claim the surveillance is broken or just wipe the footage clean. Not even the heavens could do anything about it. So we eat first, spend some money, and casually chat up the owners or staff to feel things out. What’s that saying again? Right—‘adjust your approach based on the person.’"

"That’s not even a real idiom—"

"If they’re the type with a strong sense of justice, the kind who gets fired up about social issues, then we can reveal our identities and investigate directly. But if they’re the timid, evasive type who dodges questions, then we’ll just make up some excuse. The goal is to check the surveillance—as long as we get to see it, that’s all that matters."

As he spoke, Meng Chao stealthily dumped a few extra clumps of noodles into Tong Hao’s bowl.

"Remember, sometimes solving cases means bending low. Don’t always be so reckless and bullheaded."

Tong Hao kept his head down, shoveling noodles into his mouth, completely unaware that his bowl was mysteriously refilling.

"So what did you tell this owner?"

"This guy’s cowardly—doesn’t want trouble and is super suspicious," Meng Chao took a sip of broth. "Hey, don’t look around. He’s watching us right now. Keep your head down and eat like you’re starving."

Tong Hao immediately obeyed, stuffing his face with noodles like his life depended on it.

"I lied and told him my dog ran away, asked him to check the surveillance for me. I kept an eye on the footage while he pulled it up—didn’t see anyone who looked like Xu Qingli," Meng Chao muttered under his breath. "My guess is he hasn’t left Qindao. We’ve got checkpoints at all the major exits—it’s not that easy to escape. Plus, didn’t the witness say Old Sun’s van was last seen in this area?"

"Xu Qingli, I’m begging you—stop hiding. If you keep running like this, you’ll end up with nowhere to be buried."

Tong Hao sniffled as the northern wind blew, his teeth chattering from the cold. His chopstick-holding hand was red, numb, and itchy from the freezing air.

"I can’t do this. I seriously can’t eat any more cold noodles. It’s the middle of winter, and my brain’s throbbing from the cold."

He set down his chopsticks, blowing warm air into his cupped hands.

"Boss, what’s the next place we’re checking?"

"Sister Guo’s cold skin noodles and cold dishes."

"Tch—""First, come with me to the post office."

"Why?"

Meng Chao didn't look at him, his tone calm.

"I'm thinking of sending some money to Xu Caizeng. I doubt Xu Qingli managed to send any this month. You saw how it was in Nanling Village—that old man's life is already so hard. If the monthly support stops, he won't survive."

He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"With the New Year coming up, let’s at least help him get through the holidays first."

Tong Hao blinked, then suddenly leaned in.

"Boss, you're not what I expected. I thought you were the kind of person who—"

"What kind?" Meng Chao shot him a sidelong glance. "I'm human too. Everyone has a heart. We can't let emotions interfere with cases, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have feelings. Seeing someone like Xu Caizeng in that state—who wouldn’t feel for him?"

Tong Hao opened his mouth to say more, but Meng Chao cut him off with a chopstick gesture.

"This mom-and-pop shop just opened. Eat up—consider it encouragement."

Tong Hao glanced up and noticed a few crumpled "Grand Opening Discount" flyers on the wall. They were the only customers in the tiny restaurant.

The owner crouched behind the counter, watching them eagerly. When their eyes met, the man offered a pitiful, ingratiating smile.

Tong Hao’s heart softened. With a resigned sigh, he picked up his chopsticks again.

Meng Chao drove while Tong Hao slumped in the passenger seat, rubbing his stomach and gazing out the window.

At dusk, a rag-picker in a tattered padded jacket bent over a trash bin, rummaging through it.

"Ah, life is suffering," Tong Hao muttered, wiping condensation off the window. "Don’t you think Cao Xiaojun’s pitiful too? Busting his ass his whole life—what was it all for?"

"Pity isn’t an excuse for crime," Meng Chao retorted coldly. "What about Li Qingfu? Liu Chengan? There’s no shortage of suffering and poverty in this world. Should everyone turn to crime?"

Tong Hao turned to study Meng Chao’s profile.

"Brother Meng, what do you think is the most important thing about being a cop?"

Meng Chao kept his hands on the wheel, eyes ahead, the sunset’s orange glow reflecting in them.

"Not dying."

"Be serious—"

"I am. Don’t die before solving the case. That’s my only rule for myself. Hope to live long enough to put away one more criminal before I go—makes the world a little safer."

He steered off the main road into a narrow alley.

"What about you, kid? Never asked—why’d you become a cop?"

"I thought the uniform looked really cool—"

Meng Chao gave him an incredulous side-eye. "You’re insane. That’s your reason?"

"Seriously! Don’t you think cops sound badass when they shout orders?" Tong Hao suddenly sat upright, miming a gun with his right hand. "Freeze! Police! Hands up! Drop your weapon—"

Meng Chao ignored him, lighting a cigarette.

"My mom was against it, though. Kept saying detective work is too dangerous, that the mortality rate’s sky-high. No idea where she heard that rumor—"

"Not a rumor." Meng Chao turned to him, uncharacteristically grave. "It’s true. Our job is dangerous."

"People really die?""Yeah, all kinds of deaths—vicious criminals, accidents during arrests, and the long-term high-intensity, high-pressure work mode. Plenty die from overwork too," he took a deep breath. "Even with all that effort, only a few cases get solved. Every year, there are many cases where no matter how much overtime we put in or how thoroughly we investigate, we hit dead ends and have to shelve them. A life just gets locked away in the archives or becomes another number in the news. Families come crying, making scenes, screaming the worst insults at us. And of course, they’ll grab your collar, kneel, and knock their heads until they’re bruised, begging you to keep investigating."

Meng Chao rolled down the car window and tapped his cigarette ash outside.

"Tong Hao, you just said all lives are suffering. Remember this—no matter how hard it gets, some people still hold the line. Police work isn’t child’s play. When good people are broken, it’s not gods who save them—it’s you. Because you wear this uniform, because you’re the police, the embodiment of justice."

Meng Chao glanced at him, half exasperated, half hopeful.

"Grow up fast. Before that day comes."

Tong Hao blinked. "What day?"

"The day I fall. You’ll have to step up immediately, because the people need us. We’re all they’ve got."

Meng Chao stopped the car, and his words stopped with it.

"Take your time. Don’t stress too much. You’ve had it rough lately, landing this case right off the bat." He scratched his head. "When it’s over, I’ll treat you to something good—authentic traditional cuisine, Qindao biang noodles. So damn delicious—"

Tong Hao looked away, then back again. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally couldn’t hold it in.

"Brother Meng, isn’t that from Shaanxi?" He rubbed his nose. "And it’s called biangbiang noodles. ‘Qindao biang noodles’ sounds like you’re cursing."

"Oh, really?" Meng Chao’s face stiffened. "No wonder Lao Ma looked uncomfortable when I took him to eat it. Tch, got scammed by the owner. He bragged about making biang noodles in Qindao for over fifty years, but the guy’s barely thirty. I was wondering how he stayed so youthful."

"Bro, you’re a cop. How’d you get duped so easily?"

Meng Chao waved it off and stepped out of the car.

"Every day’s a battle of wits with criminals—exhausting enough as it is. In daily life, I turn a blind eye. Who cares if it’s authentic? Tasty is enough."

He chuckled to himself.

"Let’s sweep this unfinished building area first. I doubt Xu Qingli would go to hotels or inns—he’s gotta be holed up in some corner here."

Tong Hao followed him out, muttering to himself that this man probably hadn’t eaten anything decent in his life.

Come to think of it, every time he saw Meng Chao at a scene, he was either munching on a pancake or a baked roll. Even at the canteen during lunch, he wolfed down carbs like crazy, savoring even a plain steamed bun.

Unaware of Tong Hao’s thoughts, Meng Chao strode ahead.

Watching his back, Tong Hao suddenly felt an urge.

"Brother Meng, once we crack this case, let me treat you to a proper meal?"

Meng Chao turned back and grinned."What, trying to bribe me? Tell me, are you aiming for a promotion? Got your eyes on Lao Ma's position?"

"Not at all—"

"Then, you want my spot?"

"Can you stop joking around?" Tong Hao frowned. "I just think you're living a pretty pitiful life."

"Pitiful, me?" Meng Chao stuffed his hands in his pockets and smacked his lips. "Eh, whatever. Why wouldn’t I go if you’re treating me? As the saying goes, free food tastes sweet even in hardship. Let’s call the rest of the team too—"

A dark figure dashed past behind him. Tong Hao froze, and his expression changed instantly when he recognized who it was.

"What, don’t be stingy," Meng Chao was still rambling. "Everyone’s had it rough lately—let’s all go and recharge. Worst case, I’ll split the bill with you—"

But Tong Hao had no time to waste. Shoving him aside, he took off running.

Baffled, Meng Chao stood there, shouting after him.

"Where are you going? Why’d you run off like you’re scared?"

"Xu Qingli!"