Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 77

Qiu Chen had originally planned to undergo the kinship test on the day he arrived in Haishan, but both Zhong Jin and Qiu Sheng persuaded him to rest for a day, assuring him that the test could wait until the following day.

In the past, Zhong Jin had never been this warm toward Qiu Chen.

Their relationship wasn’t exactly close, but it wasn’t strained either—previously, they hadn’t even exchanged contact information, relying solely on Qiu Sheng to relay messages between them.

This time, however, Qiu Chen noticed that Zhong Jin seemed far more attentive and hospitable toward him than before.

Somehow, he got the impression that Zhong Jin was deliberately trying to keep him in Haishan longer. Why? Qiu Chen couldn’t quite figure it out.

But since he was already here, and matters at his company had been temporarily settled, Qiu Chen decided to stay without overthinking it.

That night, he lay on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, occasionally hearing the faint chirping of a chick—an experience so novel it felt surreal.

The past few days had been like a dream. Suddenly discovering he had a niece, becoming an uncle overnight—it was all too bizarre.

Just yesterday, he had been at work, commanding the boardroom, or at home getting scolded by his father for still being single. Today, he was in an unfamiliar city, sleeping on someone else’s sofa, sharing a space with a chicken.

Everything felt utterly unreal.

Meanwhile, in the rainbow-colored master bedroom just a wall away, Zhong Jin held Little Tong, gently persuading her not to stay angry with Qiu Chen.

"He’s never met you before, so of course he doesn’t know how to act around you. You need to give him time."

Little Tong rested her chin on Zhong Jin’s chest, tucking her tiny hands under her belly. "I don’t want an uncle. I just want to be with Dad and Mom."

Zhong Jin placed a gentle hand on her fluffy head. "But they’re Mom’s family. If they can’t accept you, Mom will be very sad."

Little Tong pushed Zhong Jin’s hand away with her head, rolled over, and curled into a crescent shape, closing her eyes to sleep.

In the middle of the night, Qiu Chen was jolted awake by a beam of light. Groggily opening his eyes, the sight before him sent a shock of alertness through his body.

He bolted upright, pressing his back against the sofa’s wide frame, his voice low and guarded. "What are you doing?"

Little Tong stood in front of him, clad in rainbow-striped thermal underwear, a small miner’s lamp strapped to her head, her round little belly protruding as she clutched a corner of his blanket.

From Qiu Chen’s perspective, backlit by the headlamp, her dark, wide eyes looked like two bottomless pits.

His palms clenched instinctively.

Little Tong tossed the blanket back onto the sofa and deadpanned, "You’re so old. How do you still kick off your blankets?"

Then she turned and waddled away with a stern expression.

Had she… just been tucking him in?

Qiu Chen glanced back, catching only the sight of a chubby little figure in snug thermals disappearing behind the master bedroom door.

The next morning after breakfast, Qiu Chen and Little Tong went for the kinship test.

Zhong Jin handed Qiu Chen an evidence bag containing a child’s toothbrush. "Take your own toothbrush too. If you’re not convinced, you can comb her hair on the spot and use any strands that fall out. But—no blood draws, and no yanking her hair out."

"You’re not coming?" Qiu Chen asked.

Zhong Jin shook her head. "I have work."

Qiu Chen turned to Qiu Sheng. "Then you come with me?"

Qiu Sheng took a sip of soy milk and nodded. "Sure."

At the hospital, after submitting the materials for the kinship test, they were informed that since it wasn’t a direct lineage comparison, the process would be more complex, and results would take three days.

On their way out, Qiu Sheng received a call—Lu Xingxing’s mother and a few others had invited her to go shopping at a nearby mall.

Qiu Sheng asked if Qiu Chen wanted to join.

The moment he heard it was a moms’ gathering, Qiu Chen immediately refused. "No way." He passed Little Tong to Qiu Sheng. "Take her with you. I’ll just grab a taxi back."

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

Qiu Sheng tossed him the car keys instead.

"You drive her home first. The other kids are all in kindergarten—this is the moms’ rare break. We’re getting our nails done later, and if we take her, she’ll just cause chaos."

Without giving Qiu Chen a chance to protest, she sprinted off in her high heels.

Qiu Chen looked down at Little Tong in his arms. "Why aren’t you in kindergarten like the other kids?"

"Because I’m sick. That’s why I’m on leave."

To sell the act, Little Tong even coughed twice—as if worried he’d immediately drag her to school.

Then she suddenly spotted a McDonald’s by the roadside. "I want icy cream!"

Qiu Chen frowned. "No. You’re sick—no cold food."

"I’m better now!" She clutched her head in protest.

"You were just coughing."

No matter how much Little Tong whined or threw a tantrum, Qiu Chen didn’t budge. Ice cream while sick? This kid was being ridiculous.

He hauled the squirming child back to the car, strapped her into the booster seat, and drove back to Fuding Residential Complex.

Once out of the parking lot, Little Tong refused to enter the elevator, insisting she wanted to see "Fried Chicken."

Qiu Chen’s patience wore even thinner.

Why were kids so exhausting?

"No fried chicken," he scolded. "Junk food every day? You’ll never grow tall."

Little Tong held up a finger, explaining seriously, "Not the food! It’s a chicken named Fried Chicken. I wanna buy it flowers."

Qiu Chen had no idea what she was talking about. With zero experience handling children and even less patience, he simply scooped her up and headed for the elevator.

Little Tong, dangling midair, angrily headbutted his chest, yelling, "Put me down! I wanna see Fried Chicken! Put me down! Aaaah!"

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the complex’s security guard, who, upon noticing Qiu Chen’s unfamiliar face, immediately stopped him.

In the end, Qiu Chen had to call Qiu Sheng to explain to the guard that he wasn’t some child-snatching criminal.

After the misunderstanding was cleared up, Qiu Sheng explained the "Fried Chicken" situation:

"Fried Chicken was a chick she hatched, but it didn’t survive past the shell. Just take her to the supermarket near the entrance, buy a flower, and let her place it on the little mound in the greenbelt across from our building. Thanks, bro—I’m in the middle of a manicure. Bye!"

Listening to the dial tone, Qiu Chen was speechless. What did they take him for? A babysitting tool?

He looked down coldly at the tiny figure standing on the ground.

Little Tong felt his gaze was quite fierce. Clutching the hem of her clothes with tiny hands, she mustered her courage to meet his eyes and said, "Thank you, Uncle Qiu Chen. You and I are the bestest of friends, Uncle!"

Qiu Chen: "......Where can I buy flowers?"

Little Tong pinched one of Qiu Chen’s fingers and led him toward the supermarket outside the residential complex. If she spotted an ant, she’d stop to watch it for ages. If she saw a patch of grass, she’d squat down to touch it.

Perhaps it was the effect of her declaration—*You and I are the bestest of friends*—but Qiu Chen didn’t find her dawdling irritating at all. As she lingered along the way, he simply slipped his hands into the pockets of his black coat and waited patiently beside her.

Finally, they arrived at the supermarket entrance, where a few girls were playing with a big golden retriever.

The retriever nuzzled their hands, inviting them to pet its head, and the girls kept squealing, "So cute! So adorable!"

Little Tong, still holding Qiu Chen’s hand, stared longingly in their direction.

Qiu Chen asked, "Do you want to pet it too?"

"Yes." She nodded eagerly.

So Qiu Chen walked over and asked the dog’s owner, who was holding the leash, "Excuse me, could my kid pet your dog?"

The owner replied cheerfully, "Of course! He’s very gentle."

Qiu Chen then tilted his head slightly toward Little Tong and said, "Go ahead. Be gentle."

Little Tong toddled into the circle of girls on her short legs and, with her round head adorned with twin buns, nuzzled one of the girls’ hands:

"Sis, I wanna pet too."

Dog owner: "......"

Qiu Chen: "......"

Meanwhile, the girls hit the jackpot—not only did they get to pet an adorable dog, but they also got to fawn over an adorable child. Their delighted squeals doubled in volume.

The girls were very gentle, and even after being petted all over, Little Tong’s hair remained neat.

Her cheeks pink with excitement, she happily trotted back to Qiu Chen, took his hand, and pulled him into the supermarket.

Near the entrance was a flower counter displaying common varieties of fresh blooms.

Little Tong wandered around the display, unsure which flowers to pick. The clerk recommended several, and each time, she’d exclaim, "So pretty!" and agree to take them.

Helpless, the clerk turned to Qiu Chen. "Why don’t you let Daddy help you choose one?"

Qiu Chen corrected, "I’m her uncle."

"My apologies. The little one looks quite like you—I thought you were father and daughter. Though nieces often resemble their uncles."

Qiu Chen glanced down at Little Tong—soft, pale, and round like a steamed bun. He couldn’t spot any resemblance to his own sharp, striking features.

With the clerk waiting for a decision, Qiu Chen, who knew nothing about flowers, casually asked, "Which one’s the most expensive?"

His shopping principle: the priciest option might not be the best, but it certainly wouldn’t be the worst.

The clerk’s eyes lit up—a big spender! She quickly pulled out a large, pink blossom. "This is a king protea, reserved by a customer, but we still have a few left. Would you like this one?"

"How much?"

"It’s an imported king protea—180 per stem."

Qiu Chen almost scoffed—180 wasn’t even expensive. But seeing Little Tong’s big, sparkling eyes nodding eagerly at his feet, he casually waved his hand. "This one, then."

The clerk wrapped the pink protea in cellophane, added a sprig of baby’s breath, and handed it over.

With ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​‍the flowers in one hand and Little Tong’s tiny fingers in the other, Qiu Chen returned to the residential complex and found the small mound Qiu Sheng had mentioned.

It was easy to spot—right across from the building entrance, a bare patch of freshly turned earth amidst the winter-yellowed grass.

Qiu Chen lifted Little Tong onto the planter.

Pointing at the mound, he said, "Your fried chicken is buried here."

Little Tong crouched down and placed the peculiar-looking protea on the soil. Patting the mound gently, she whispered, "Little fried chicken, here’s a flower to keep you company."

For some reason, the scene made Qiu Chen’s chest tighten.

A chick that died right after birth—such a trivial thing, yet someone cared enough to mourn it. Was she just kind-hearted, or a little fool? Maybe a few hard knocks in life would teach her better.

After a moment of squatting, Little Tong pushed herself up with her knees.

Qiu Chen asked, "Ready to go home?"

Little Tong glanced up at the sparse, withering leaves above, then down at her round-toed snow boots. She fiddled with the buttons on Qiu Chen’s coat, her soles scuffing back and forth against the planter’s tiles.

Classic stalling.

"Home," Qiu Chen repeated firmly.

Little Tong tugged his sleeve and looked up, announcing loudly, "I wanna play outside! I wanna ride the mini train, eat fried chicken and ice cream, and have a sausage!"

Patience gone, Qiu Chen reached to pick her up, intending to carry her back by force.

But Little Tong flopped onto the planter instead—lying stiff as a board, legs splayed, hands resting on her round belly, eyes squeezed shut. Full-blown tantrum mode:

"I’m sleeping here now."

Passing neighbors chuckled, and Qiu Chen was tempted to yank the little troublemaker up and give her a spanking.

Just then, Zhong Jin arrived at the building.

Qiu Sheng had mentioned Qiu Chen was babysitting alone, and Zhong Jin, knowing his daughter’s antics, had rushed home during his lunch break to check on them.

Before even reaching home, he spotted his little rascal sprawled on the planter like a stubborn puppy, while Qiu Chen—a high-powered executive—stood by awkwardly, rubbing his hands.

Zhong Jin stopped and called, "Zhong Yuntong."

At the familiar voice, Little Tong’s eyes flew open.

Zhong Jin said calmly, "I’m counting to three."

Instantly, Little Tong rolled upright, scrambled backward off the planter, and bolted toward the building—short legs pumping so fast her shoes might as well have sparked.