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In the kitchen, Han Bin began by washing and chopping the vegetables, preparing all the ingredients with care. He removed the fish's odor line, marinated the meat and fish ahead of time. Then, he scrubbed the pan and lit the stove, heating the pan before adding cool oil. His first dish was shredded pork with eggs. Next came sweet and sour carp, braised sea cucumber with scallions, and stir-fried cabbage in vinegar.

With each dish brought from the kitchen, Han Weidong would taste a bite. At first, he was doubtful, but as he sampled the food, surprise flickered across his face.

“Well, this shredded pork with eggs is quite good,” Han Weidong remarked.

“Indeed, your cooking skills are almost catching up to mine,” Wang Huifang praised.

“This boy has been hiding his talent all this time,” Han Weidong said. “Only now does he reveal it.”

When the sweet and sour carp was served, its appearance and aroma alone promised excellence.

“You’re starting to show a chef’s touch,” Han Weidong smiled, picking up a piece with his chopsticks. “Mmm, you know, this sauce is just right.”

“Let me try,” Wang Huifang said.

“How is it? Has our son surpassed you in culinary skill?” Han Weidong teased.

Sweet and sour carp was a labor-intensive dish, requiring quite a bit of oil, so Wang Huifang rarely made it at home.

“Don’t jump to conclusions yet,” she retorted. “Let’s see the next dish. If sea cucumber isn’t handled properly, it can taste quite fishy.”

Having cooked for a lifetime, Wang Huifang was not about to be outdone by her son’s first attempt in the kitchen.

Though it was Han Bin’s maiden effort, cooking seemed etched into his mind. With seafood like sea cucumber, the fishiness was inevitable; using scallions to remove the odor and enhance flavor was crucial. When frying scallion oil, the fire must be gentle, allowing the aroma to seep slowly into the oil. Once the scallions turned yellow, they were fished out.

Then, the white part of the scallion was added and stir-fried with the sea cucumber, thickened with starch, and the sauce reduced.

When the braised sea cucumber was brought to the table, Wang Huifang tasted a bite and grew silent.

Han Weidong also sampled it, savoring the flavor, then winked, “How is it?”

“Ahem, not bad,” Wang Huifang admitted.

Han Weidong chuckled quietly to himself, thinking, “Not bad? One could open a small restaurant with this.”

Of course, since it was Han Bin’s first time cooking, his speed and mastery of heat still lagged behind a professional chef.

The final dish, stir-fried cabbage in vinegar, was served, and the family began their meal.

“Mom, Dad, how’s the food?” Han Bin asked, still unsure of himself.

“It’s excellent, especially the braised sea cucumber. So fresh,” Han Weidong replied.

“Son, perhaps you should become a chef. This talent must come from your mother,” Wang Huifang joked.

Han Bin laughed heartily.

His culinary skills were actually the result of rewards from cracking cases, so he wasn’t about to abandon his true calling.

It was rare for the family to have lunch together. As they ate and chatted, the atmosphere was warm and harmonious.

Dining with his parents, Han Bin’s appetite was strong; the three of them polished off every dish on the table.

Objectively, it proved Han Bin’s skill in the kitchen.

“Ding dong.”

In Han Bin’s mind, the sound of the police badge prompt echoed: “Officer 577533, your dishes have been recognized by your family. Cooking proficiency +3.”

“I’m a detective. What use is learning life skills?” Han Bin wondered.

“Police are people too. Balancing work and leisure is essential for health and better service,” the badge responded.

Han Bin considered this and found some truth in it. When one is poor, one keeps oneself upright; when successful, one helps others. Only by managing his own life could he maintain an honest and positive heart, and better serve the people.

After the meal, Han Bin and his father brewed a pot of tea to relax.

The phone rang.

Han Bin checked the caller—Zeng Ping: “Captain Zeng.”

“Han Bin, you only get half a day off today.”

“A case?” Han Bin asked.

“I’ll send you an address, come to the scene right away.”

“Yes, sir.”

After hanging up, Han Weidong asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I need to go to the scene.”

“Go ahead, and be careful,” Han Weidong reminded him.

“Son, weren’t you supposed to rest today? Why are you leaving again?” Wang Huifang came out of the kitchen and asked.

“There’s a case. I need to head over now.”

Bang! The door closed. Wang Huifang sighed, “Look, he’s even busier than you, the station chief.”

“When I was young, I was the same,” Han Weidong replied, smiling.

…

Huacui Residential Complex.

This was an old neighborhood, with low-rise buildings near the city center, classified as a school district, so the property prices were high.

The crime scene was in Unit 1, Apartment 201.

Han Bin was surprised to see there was no police tape at the door, nor were any officers stationed outside.

As he reached the second floor, the door opened and Li Hui poked his head out. “Bin, come in.”

“What kind of case is this, so secretive?”

“A kidnapping,” Li Hui replied.

Han Bin nodded. Generally, kidnapping cases required discreet investigation to avoid provoking the kidnappers and risking the victim’s life.

Han Bin slipped on shoe covers and entered Apartment 201.

The room was crowded; besides Zeng Ping, Tian Li, and Zhao Ming, members of the technical team were monitoring the phone.

A middle-aged man, unfamiliar to Han Bin, sat anxiously on the sofa, his phone on the coffee table in front of him, looking as though he was waiting for something.

“Captain Zeng, what’s the situation?” Han Bin asked.

“The victim is thirteen, a middle school student,” Li Hui said, pointing to the stranger. “This is the victim’s father, Cao Hua. He received a text message at noon saying his son had been kidnapped. He rushed home, found the door open, the living room in disarray, and called the police.”

“Have you traced the phone’s origin?”

“It’s the victim’s phone.”

“Any clues about the kidnapper?” Han Bin asked.

“Based on our estimation, the kidnapper should be male, about one meter eighty tall,” Li Hui said.

“Did you find surveillance footage?” Han Bin inquired.

“No, it’s an old neighborhood without even a property management company, let alone cameras,” Li Hui replied.

“Then how did you determine the kidnapper’s height?” Han Bin asked.

“Look, there are two sets of footprints beside the table,” Tian Li said.

Han Bin turned to look; juice had spilled near the table, marking two sets of footprints of varying depth—one more distinct, the other blurred.

Li Hui walked over, speaking seriously, “Judging from the sole pattern, these are leather shoes, size forty-four. From the length, it can be inferred the wearer is about one meter eighty tall.”

He spread his hands as if to say, “See? You’re not the only one who can analyze footprints. I can too!”

Zeng Ping ignored Li Hui and asked, “Han Bin, what do you think?”

Han Bin approached, examining the two sets of prints closely. “Did you trace the kidnapper’s movements?”

“No.”

“During the investigation, did you describe the suspect as a male, about one meter eighty tall?”

“A woman wouldn’t wear this style of leather shoes,” Li Hui shrugged.

Han Bin stood up and shook his head. “You’re investigating in the wrong direction.”

“What’s wrong?”

“The kidnapper’s height isn’t about one meter eighty, but closer to one meter sixty,” Han Bin said.

“That’s impossible. Look again—someone that short couldn’t wear size forty-four shoes,” Li Hui objected.

“This is a crude disguise—small feet in large shoes,” Han Bin explained.

“Small feet in large shoes? How can you tell?” Li Hui asked.

“First, the heel print is heavy, showing frequent heel strikes. Second, the big toe presses firmly near the front edge of the shoe print, while the other four toes show less pressure. Third, the heel’s heavy pressure is evident beneath the arch area of the shoe print,” Han Bin replied.

“So our entire investigation is off track?” Tian Li said.

Han Bin patted Li Hui’s shoulder. “You’re still young; you need more experience.”

“If the kidnapper’s height is only about one meter sixty, not much taller than the victim, it’s less likely a kidnapping—more likely an abduction,” Zhao Ming commented.

Zeng Ping frowned. “Start the investigation anew!”