Tears of Heartbreak

Early the next morning.

The shrill sound of the alarm jolted Han Bin awake.

Last night, Han Bin had drunk half a bottle of liquor—not too much, not too little, just enough. After coming home, he took a shower and enjoyed a solid, restful sleep.

It was truly refreshing.

After washing up, Han Bin headed downstairs to his parents’ apartment for breakfast.

As soon as he opened the door, Wang Huifang, busy in the kitchen, heard the commotion. “Binzi, you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Wash your hands, breakfast’s ready.”

“What are we having?” Han Bin asked.

“Dumplings.”

“So extravagant—dumplings first thing in the morning?” Han Bin was a little surprised.

“We made them yesterday. You weren’t home, so there were quite a few left. I’m frying some for breakfast,” Wang Huifang replied.

Freshly made dumplings are always best, but leftover dumplings fried up have their own charm.

“Where’s Dad?”

“He said there are a lot of tourists these days, and plenty of things happening in his district. He left without breakfast.”

“Comrade Old Han, finally busy for once. Makes me feel a bit better about myself,” Han Bin laughed.

“There’s corn porridge in the pot, help yourself. The fried dumplings will be ready soon.”

Han Bin scooped himself a bowl of corn porridge and poured a dish of vinegar.

Before long, Wang Huifang brought over a plate piled with fried dumplings and a sausage. This kind of sausage keeps well and is convenient to eat—just refrigerate overnight and pan-fry in the morning.

Han Weidong loved sausages, but Wang Huifang always felt they weren’t clean. In her opinion, good meat was long gone, and store-bought sausages were certainly not made from quality meat. She’d once refused to let sausages appear on the table.

But as the saying goes, policies above and countermeasures below—Old Han was a seasoned cadre, not easily stumped by such trivialities. He’d found a shop that made sausages to order. He would buy the meat himself and supervise the process, ensuring everything was clean and trustworthy.

With hygiene assured, Wang Huifang no longer objected. The sausages tasted good, both her husband and son liked them, and they were easy to prepare—just refrigerate at night and fry in the morning.

“Son, are you off today, since it’s Saturday?”

“No. Yesterday I caught a suspect and closed a case, but the files, statements, records, and paperwork are all unfinished. I’ll be busy most of the day.”

“Eat more. Once you get busy, you won’t have time for meals.”

Han Bin nodded and began to eat heartily.

He’d invented his own ‘three ways to eat fried dumplings’—first, savoring them plain; second, dipping them in aged Jinzhou vinegar; third, putting them into corn porridge. Each method brought a different flavor.

In no time, the bowl of corn porridge, the sausage, and the plate of fried dumplings were gone.

Han Bin felt fully satisfied. No matter how many delicacies were out in the world, nothing compared to his mother’s cooking.

When he arrived at the precinct, another busy day began. Signing forms, stamping documents, sorting procedures—everything was tedious, not because the police station was intentionally slow, but because every case was important and even the slightest mistake could have serious consequences.

By the time he finished, it was already past three in the afternoon. Han Bin brewed a cup of tea, stretched, and prepared to finally sit down and rest for a while.

“Ding dong.” A familiar sound rang in his mind:

“Congratulations, Officer 577533, for solving a homicide case.”

“Micro-expression skill proficiency +5.”

“Merit points awarded: 12.”

This was the third case solved by Group Two this month.

Han Bin’s total merit points for the month stood at 29.

Micro-expression proficiency +11.

At this rate, in another three or four months, he’d be able to pay off the skill installment for micro-expressions.

Han Bin was in good spirits. Tomorrow was Sunday; if no urgent cases came up, he might finally have a day off, and was already considering where to go and how to treat himself.

But his peace was short-lived. No sooner had he relaxed than a commotion outside shattered his train of thought.

...

Police Service Hall.

Liu Jingxiang paced anxiously, clearly restless.

Earlier, after his statement was taken and it was confirmed he had nothing to do with the case, the precinct released him.

He barely had time to rejoice before seeing his wife get arrested.

He had some idea why she was taken, based on the questions asked during his own interrogation by the police, but when he tried to ask the officers, they refused to tell him, only instructing him to go home and wait for news.

But Liu Jingxiang was not the sort to sit idly by. Once home, he tapped every connection he could, trying to find out how his wife was involved in the case. The police operation to apprehend Wu Zekai was extensive, and plenty of officers knew about it. He actually managed to learn a few details.

The more he learned, the angrier he became.

Yesterday, Liu Jingxiang received word he could pick up his wife from the precinct.

He drank heavily last night, waking up still hungover and conflicted about whether to go.

In the end, he went. He needed to get to the bottom of it—what exactly was the relationship between his wife and the suspect, and how far had things gone between them?

After all these years, working tirelessly as a long-haul trucker through winter and summer, who was it all for?

He didn’t know how long he’d waited before Tian Li appeared, escorting Cui Xiaofang.

Liu Jingxiang spotted her immediately, his face dark and menacing.

Cui Xiaofang kept her head down, not daring to look at her husband. She opened her mouth several times before finally managing a faint call, “Jingxiang.”

Liu Jingxiang fixed his gaze on her, jaw clenched. “Tell me, what’s your connection to this case?”

“I’m innocent, I have nothing to do with it. The police can vouch for my innocence,” Cui Xiaofang hastily replied.

“Officer, is that true?” Liu Jingxiang pressed.

Tian Li glanced at him, answering coolly, “She really isn’t much involved in the case and has cooperated throughout. For now, she must stay local and be available around the clock.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Then what is it?”

Liu Jingxiang hesitated, glancing around before gritting his teeth and blurting out, “I mean, is she innocent with that suspect? Has Cui Xiaofang ever betrayed me?”

“I’m a police officer, not a gossip columnist. Private matters aren’t my jurisdiction. If you want answers, ask her yourself at home,” Tian Li replied.

“Officer, you must know the truth—please, I beg you, prove that Xiaokai and I are innocent,” Cui Xiaofang pleaded, clutching Tian Li’s arm in desperation.

“Xiaokai, my ass! I’ll teach you!” Liu Jingxiang snapped, rushing forward and striking Cui Xiaofang across the face.

A sharp smack echoed.

“Stop!” Tian Li’s eyes flashed as she shouted, “You dare hit someone in a police station? You’re out of line.”

Liu Jingxiang ignored her warning. To him, she was just a frail female officer—one bump and she’d fall. What could she possibly do to him?

Cui Xiaofang burst into loud sobs.

“You have the nerve to cry?” Liu Jingxiang grew even more furious, raising his hand for another slap.

Tian Li’s gaze sharpened. She grabbed Liu Jingxiang’s arm, executed a wrist twist, locked his arm, hooked his leg, and with swift, precise movements, brought him down.

A muffled thud sounded.

Liu Jingxiang was pinned to the floor.

“Husband, husband, are you alright?” Cui Xiaofang asked anxiously.

Liu Jingxiang closed his eyes, overcome by rage, humiliation, and helplessness. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye. Whether betrayed by his wife or pinned down by a female officer, he felt utterly disgraced as a man.

How could life go on like this?