Lao Ma returned to the office with a file tucked under his arm and saw Tong Hao sitting alone on a bench, shoulders slumped, eyes downcast, his face full of defiance.
"Calmed down yet?"
He tapped the back of the chair with two fingers. Tong Hao glanced up at him before turning away stubbornly.
"I don’t need to calm down."
"You still think you’ve been wronged?" Lao Ma picked up the cup on the desk and took a sip. "If we hadn’t stopped you, what were you planning to do? Beat him to death? Then go to jail? Don’t tell me you’d end up behind bars before Xu Qingli does."
He spat twice, flicking stray tea stems back into the cup.
"Listen to the nonsense you were spouting—'I’ll quit being a cop if I have to, but I’ll kill that bastard.' Do you even know the interrogation room has cameras and audio recording now? If this blows up, how are you going to handle it? If word gets out that a cop assaulted someone, what then? You think the whole Criminal Investigation Unit’s reputation should go down with you?"
"So Meng Ge just dies for nothing?"
"Meng’s case—"
Lao Ma faltered, lowering his head before slamming the cup back onto the desk.
"Preliminary investigation shows he fell because key bolts on the scaffold’s connecting couplers were missing—couldn’t support the longitudinal horizontal bar, the one he stepped on. But whether this was deliberate or an accident—"
"It couldn’t have been an accident. It was a trap. Xu Qingli did it—he must’ve loosened the scaffold beforehand. He used to work construction—sabotaging it would’ve been easy for him. He wanted Wu Ximei dead, but he didn’t expect—"
Tong Hao choked up suddenly, waving his arm as if to ward off grief.
"Captain Ma, we all know that bastard’s guilty—"
"Yeah? Where’s the proof?"
Lao Ma slammed the desk, drawing glances from others in the office.
"Show me evidence—solid, irrefutable evidence that can convict him. Bring it to me! If you’ve got it, I’ll nail him right now!"
Tong Hao’s face flushed red with anger, lips pressed pale. "I just can’t accept this!"
"Who can? Look around this office—everyone’s grinding their teeth, holding it in. Everyone’s working with bloodshot eyes!"
Lao Ma raised his voice.
"Oh, so you’re the only one close to Meng Chao? The only one hurting? You think the rest of us haven’t known him longer than you? Don’t forget—I was the one who brought him into the force. You think this doesn’t eat at me? I—"
His eyes reddened again, and he hastily grabbed the cup, gulping down water.
Tong Hao’s expression faltered. He stole a glance around the room—though it was nearly midnight, seven or eight people were still working. He caught Chu Xiao wiping her eyes discreetly before resuming her blank-faced typing, organizing case notes.
Lao Ma looked at him, then scanned the others, snapping the cup lid shut with a clack.
"Everyone, take a break. It’s past eleven—go rest for a bit."
He pulled out some cash and handed it to Chu Xiao.
"Xiao Chu, take everyone to grab a bite. Stretch your legs—we’ve got a long night ahead."
"Mm." Chu Xiao shot a glance at Tong Hao before slipping on her jacket. "We’ll wait for you at the street wonton stall."
As if by unspoken agreement, the team set aside their work, filing out in small, silent groups.
Tong Hao stood to follow, but Lao Ma yanked him back.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
"To eat.""Come back here," he yanked him back onto the stool. "Don't rush off yet. I have something to say to you."
Lao Ma sat across from him, pulling a cigarette case from his pocket. He handed one to Tong Hao and stuck another between his own lips.
Tong Hao took it but didn't smoke, holding it between his fingers as it burned untouched.
"About Meng's situation—it's normal, really. I've been in this line of work over twenty years. Seen so many brothers go. Those who retire peacefully are truly blessed."
Lao Ma lowered his head, exhaling smoke. Under the pale fluorescent light, Tong Hao stared fixedly at the disheveled gray hair on the back of his head.
"Today it's Meng. Tomorrow it could be me."
"Captain Ma, don't say that—"
"I had this same talk with Meng back then. He was bawling his eyes out, not half as tough as you are now."
Lao Ma gazed at the dancing ember before him, as if seeing Meng Chao fresh out of the academy again.
"Ten years gone in a blink. Life passes so fast—no time to waste."
"Captain Meng, he..."
"Captain? Back then he was just a Cucumber Egg. We all called him Little Meng, always tagging along behind us with that dopey grin."
Lao Ma waved his cigarette and managed a rare smile.
"Our squad's tradition is passing down experience—veterans train rookies hand to hand. You came late, so you missed some things. The old-timer who mentored Meng, Lao Sun... sigh, he also fell during an arrest."
Tong Hao listened silently, head bowed.
"When we breached the door, the suspect charged out swinging a machete—the kind for cutting watermelons, must've been 30 centimeters long. That blade flashed cold steel as he swung blindly, ready to take cops down with him."
"Meng froze. Can't blame him—fresh graduate facing a desperate man for the first time. Stood there dumbstruck, didn't even dodge as that blade came straight for his face. Then Lao Sun—his mentor—stepped in front without hesitation. Took the suspect down to buy time for others. We got the perp, but Lao Sun bled out before reaching the hospital."
Tong Hao's eyes widened, nostrils flaring. The cigarette in his hand burned to the filter, its ash stubbornly clinging.
"Listen well, Tong. It's not just criminals who live by the blade—we cops do too. Your heart pounds day and night, never relaxing for a second. One moment of confusion, and you fail the victims. Worse, you might get your teammates—or yourself—killed."
Lao Ma patted his shoulder.
"Don't resent today's lecture. These vicious bastards know exactly how to twist the knife. Take Xu Qingli—he deliberately provoked us with ugly words, fishing for our hand. Play into his game, and you're trapped."
"Captain Ma, I don't understand. It's different—not what they taught at the academy—"
Tong Hao's mouth twisted, eyes welling again. He covered his face, voice muffled."This is only the first case, the first case I've been involved in, but I'm already confused. What's good, what's bad—I don't understand. And... and Captain Meng died protecting a criminal. After his death, Wu Ximei even went back on her word. If you hadn’t used Tianbao as a breakthrough, she still wouldn’t have confessed anything.
"How can someone be so heartless? She knew perfectly well that Brother Meng climbed up there for her sake. She was all gratitude at the time, but how could she turn around and deny everything after the accident? That’s not right—is that even human?"
"Tong, you have to admit, the same rice feeds a hundred kinds of people. The world is full of all sorts. Some only love themselves, like Ni Xiangdong—he’ll warm himself with others’ blood, climb over corpses without a shred of guilt. For his own sake, he treats lives like weeds, striking or killing without hesitation. That’s born evil, to put it bluntly. If not properly guided, he’d be a scourge on society.
"Then there are those who only love their own, like Cao Xiaojun, Wu Ximei, and Xu Qingli. They’re genuinely good to their own people, loyal to the bone, willing to give everything. But once it’s outside their circle, they’re cold and indifferent to strangers. To protect those they love, they’d even break the law.
"Look at those kids out there in the streets—same thing. They’re fiercely loyal to their brothers, ready to take risks for them. But once the bond breaks, once interests clash and they no longer see each other as brothers, watch how fast they turn on each other, how vicious they become. Betrayals like that are all too common.
"And then there’s another kind of person—not so much good as compassionate. They grieve for everyone’s suffering, friend or foe, good or bad. If you’re in need, they’ll push past their own fear and rush to stand in front of you, shielding you with everything they’ve got.
"It’s the same with firefighters, doctors, soldiers, police—this line of work demands great love. You have to love every single person, not just in words. You think a doctor would refuse to treat someone just because they’re an enemy? Or a firefighter wouldn’t save someone from a fire because they don’t like them?
"Meng was that kind of person. He could see the suffering of every innocent soul and feel it as his own. You have to be like that too. Without that heart, you can’t be a cop—you don’t deserve to be one."
Lao Ma stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
"Tong Hao, you’re just starting out. As someone who’s been through it, I owe it to you to give you a heads-up. Soon, your days and nights will flip, your meals will be irregular, you’ll be exhausted, snapping at people. You’ll witness all kinds of evil, and your heart will be torn open again and again. Let me put it this way—in our line of work, the cases that land on our desks? Hardly any involve decent people.
"Over time, the blood and filth will cloud your vision. The wounds on your heart will scar over and harden. You’ll grow numb—you’ll have to, or it’ll be too much to bear. But remember this: you can’t let yourself go completely numb. Because the moment you stop caring, the moment you start muddling through, that’s when the victims are truly doomed.""Evil is evil. Never try to justify a criminal's actions. Your empathy should lie with the victims. Always tear open the scab on your heart and face every victim with the softest, freshest part of your soul—because you wear this uniform, because you're a police officer. If you can't handle it, quit now. Don't tarnish the reputation of good cops."
Tong Hao could no longer hold back, burying his head under the desk to wipe away tears in secret.
"What did Xiao Meng tell you when you first met? Hide your fangs, hide your smile, because what you're facing is the cruelty of the world."
Lao Ma handed him a tissue.
"Now, hide your tears, hide your emotions. Solving cases requires brains, not hatred, not empty threats. This world isn't without justice. Those who do evil will face retribution, and it's your duty as a cop to ensure every criminal is punished fairly and squarely."
Lao Ma sighed and shoved the entire pack of tissues into his arms.
"Alright, think it over. When you've sorted yourself out and are ready to approach the case with the right attitude, come down. We'll be waiting at the wonton stall on the street corner. Meng loved the stuff—you should try it too."
Lao Ma took two steps but suddenly stopped, gripping the doorframe and glancing back at him.
"Don't let his death be in vain. Calm down and think—what would he do if he were here?"
The sound of footsteps faded, leaving only the hum of the fluorescent light overhead.
Alone on the stool, Tong Hao pulled out a few tissues, roughly wiping away tears and snot, mulling over Lao Ma's words.
If he were here, if he were here—
He pushed open the door to Meng Chao's office.
The new captain hadn't been assigned yet, and the office hadn't been fully cleared out, still preserved as it was when he'd been there. A jacket was slung haphazardly over the chair, the ashtray brimming with cigarette butts, a plastic teacup tilted to one side on the desk, its transparent walls stained with rings of brown tea residue.
Tong Hao pulled out the chair and sat at Meng Chao's desk, viewing everything from his perspective.
"Give me a hint, boss," he murmured. "Xu Qingli is too damn cunning. We're stuck in a dead end now. If you were here, you'd definitely find his weak spot. Please, just give us a clue—what should we do next?"
Ring-ring—
The landline on the desk suddenly rang, echoing through the empty office in the dead of night.
Tong Hao flinched, instinctively leaning back.
Ring-ring—
The phone kept ringing, pounding against his eardrums, each ring more urgent than the last.
Ring-ring—
Could it be Meng Chao?
Could he be calling to give them a lead?
At this hour—
Tong Hao swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. After a long hesitation, he steeled himself and snatched up the receiver.
"Hello?"
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