Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 120

The seasons in northern cities are always distinct. As autumn arrives, Jing City transforms into a colorful tapestry of gardenia yellows and maple reds.

The café 【Autumn】 is located on a pedestrian street lined with ginkgo trees, its weathered signboard accentuated by the romantic hues of fallen golden leaves. Every year when the ginkgo leaves blanket the streets, flocks of visitors come to take photos and check in.

Qiu Sheng had set up a picturesque scene outside the café—a few vintage-style tables and chairs casually arranged, with a retro "28-inch bicycle" leaning against the wall, all for visitors to snap pictures against.

A girl in a camel-colored trench coat sat there while her friend took her photo. Once done, the girl hurried over to check the camera.

The photo turned out beautifully—a beam of sunlight illuminated her face, making her glow.

Her friend pointed to a corner of the image and said, "Too bad someone got in the shot."

The girl looked down and saw half of a small figure in the corner—likely a child, though only the side of a bun tied with a ribbon was visible, not the face.

Though the photo didn’t capture the full figure, it was clear the child was dressed in a thin, old-fashioned tunic, with chubby, lotus-root-like arms peeking out from the wide sleeves.

The girl muttered in confusion, "It’s so cold—why is this child dressed so lightly?"

She turned to look at the corner where the photo was taken, but it was empty—no child in sight.

The two girls huddled together to examine the photo again. From the partial glimpse, the child’s attire seemed oddly antiquated, like something from a wealthy family in ancient times.

Exchanging uneasy glances, they felt as if they’d stumbled upon something supernatural. Without lingering, they quickly packed their props and hailed a cab to leave in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the mysterious child from the photo crouched behind a tall shrub, watching ants march in a line, completely hidden from view.

After a while, the child stood up, gripping her knees for support, then toddled to the café’s entrance. With all her might, she pushed open the heavy glass door.

The short-legged little one waddled inside, where a blue parrot perched near the entrance greeted her, "Hello, welcome!"

The plump child stopped, her round belly sticking out, and replied with utmost seriousness:

"Hello, my name is Zhong Yuntong. Is my mother here?"

The parrot tilted its head, studying her, then suddenly whistled the tune of the children’s song "The Little Painter."

Little Zhong Yuntong, clutching her tiny hands, hummed along—each note spectacularly off-key. At first, the parrot paused to correct her, but soon, even its melody was dragged into chaos.

Frustrated, the blue parrot ruffled its feathers and squawked, "Let me die, let me die!"

Zhong Yuntong, the oblivious culprit, blinked her big, dark eyes innocently, utterly baffled by the parrot’s outburst.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of a café employee—a young woman in a black apron embroidered with letters. She knelt down and asked,

"Whose child are you? Why are you alone? Where are your parents?"

The child’s dark eyes flickered, and she answered politely, "Hello, my name is Zhong Yuntong. Is my mother here?"

"Zhong Yuntong? Are you looking for your mom? Do you know her name?"

The child nodded. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Madam."

The employee: "......" She had a strong suspicion this kid watched too many period dramas and couldn’t tell fiction from reality.

"Come with me, let’s see if we can find her." The employee reached for the child’s hand.

Despite the chilly weather outside, the little one’s chubby fingers were warm.

She led the child through the café, scanning the scattered customers. "Do you see your mom here?"

After a careful look, the child shook her head. "No."

They then went upstairs to the second floor—a free reading area with bookshelves lining three walls and a sunken seating area in the middle. Only a few students sat reading.

It was obvious no mother was here.

The employee brought Zhong Yuntong back downstairs and settled her behind the counter before dialing the police to report a lost child.

After hanging up, she realized the kid had vanished again. A quick search later, she found the little one pressed against the glass of the dessert display case.

Zhong Yuntong’s mouth hung open as she pretended to take a bite of the cakes inside, even mimicking chewing motions with her hands.

Melted by the adorable sight, the employee crouched beside her. "Which one do you want? I’ll treat you."

The child studied the options through the glass, then carefully pointed at a strawberry mousse cake. "This one, please. Thank you."

Qiu Sheng’s sister-in-law had given birth last night, and she’d stayed at the hospital until dawn before finally going home to sleep. She didn’t wake until afternoon, starving, and ate a meal that could’ve been breakfast or lunch.

With no more sleepiness and nothing to do at home, she drove to the café.

As she turned the corner, she spotted a police car parked outside. Her heart jumped—had something happened at the shop?

But if there was trouble, someone should’ve notified her, the owner, immediately. Why hadn’t she heard anything?

After parking, Qiu Sheng hurried inside in her soft-soled flats.

The officers were gathered around the counter. Just as she was about to ask what was going on, a bright, childish voice rang out:

"Mom."

Qiu Sheng turned toward the sound. At the counter sat a little girl—plump, fair-skinned, with enormous dark eyes—dressed in clothes that didn’t suit the season or the era.

This strange child had just called her "Mom" and was now grinning at her.

It was eerie, yet for some reason, Qiu Sheng felt an odd familiarity.

One of the officers, a tall middle-aged man, glanced back and asked, "Do you know this child?"

Qiu Sheng was about to blurt out that she didn’t know the child, but the chubby little girl sitting at the bar counter called out to her again, loudly: "Hello, Mother. I’m Zhong Yuntong. I’m here."

The police officer asked again, "Ma’am, do you know this child?"

In that instant, fragments of memories flashed through Qiu Sheng’s mind—a dimly lit, ornate palace where she combed the child’s hair and played with her. They carried golden baskets, wandering through misty clouds, picking baskets of deep red flowers that bloomed in the dark of night.

These were scenes from Qiu Sheng’s dreams.

The child who had appeared in her dreams countless times was now sitting right in front of her. Was this reality or another dream?

Qiu Sheng pinched the flesh on her arm. It hurt. Was this real? Or was she hallucinating from lack of sleep?

Seeing that Qiu Sheng didn’t recognize her, the child grew anxious, swinging her little legs on the bar stool. She tugged at an officer’s sleeve. "Carry me down."

Once set on the ground, she rushed straight to Qiu Sheng, wrapping her arms around her leg and calling out loudly, "Mother!"

The officers exchanged skeptical glances. They asked Qiu Sheng again, "Do you know this child or not?"

Qiu Sheng lifted her gaze and nodded. "Yes, she’s my daughter."

The officer remained wary. "If she’s your daughter, why did you seem not to recognize her earlier?"

Qiu Sheng explained, "I stayed up late last night. I’m a bit out of it."

The officer bent down to ask the little girl, "Do you know her? Is she really your mother?"

"She’s my mother," the child declared proudly, hugging Qiu Sheng’s leg and tilting her chin up.

The officer pointed at Qiu Sheng. "Then what’s your mother’s name?"

"Her name is Madam," the child answered brightly.

The officer gave Qiu Sheng another puzzled look.

Calmly, Qiu Sheng explained, "That’s how the household staff addresses me."

The mother-daughter dynamic was strange, but Qiu Sheng was the owner of this café and a shareholder in the Qiu Group—a woman of considerable influence. It was hard to imagine her involved in something like child trafficking.

After recording Qiu Sheng’s ID information and contact details, the officers left, promising to follow up later.

The barista who had called the police looked remorseful, repeatedly apologizing. "Sis Sheng, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know she was your daughter."

Qiu Sheng smiled gently. "It’s fine. It’s not your fault."

In her mind, she added, It’s not your fault—I almost didn’t recognize her either.

Little Yuntong took her mother’s hand and said, "The sister bought me cake." Crumbs still dotted her chubby cheeks.

Qiu Sheng chuckled and told the barista, "Don’t charge for that cake. Write it off as a loss—reason: fed to a puppy."

The barista: "..." Fed to a puppy? What an adorable excuse.

Qiu Sheng looked down at the child holding her hand. The girl’s small, warm fingers curled into her palm, her bright eyes and delicate features identical to those in Qiu Sheng’s dreams.

The child from her dreams had come into reality, and Qiu Sheng was surprised by how calmly she accepted it.

Right now, staring at the girl, she felt no overwhelming emotions. Her first thought was practical: She’s not dressed warmly enough.

"Are you cold?" Qiu Sheng asked.

The child shook her head.

"Then let’s go buy you some clothes, okay?"

The little girl nodded. "Okay."

On the drive to the mall, Qiu Sheng finally thought to ask the child’s name. She hadn’t caught it clearly when the girl spoke to the police.

Sprawled lazily across the spacious backseat of the luxury car, swinging her legs, the child answered, "Zhong Yuntong."

Qiu ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‍Sheng asked evenly, "Do you have a father?"

The child held up a finger, serious. "I have one father. His name is Zhong Jin."

At that name, Qiu Sheng’s heartbeat quickened—her reaction stronger now than when she’d first seen the child.

How long had it been since she and Zhong Jin divorced? For a moment, she couldn’t recall.

She thought harder.

She was 35 now. She had divorced Zhong Jin at 26, almost 27. That meant they’d been separated for nine years.

After the divorce, she hadn’t seen Zhong Jin even once. Occasionally, she’d hear snippets about him from her brother, Qiu Chen.

After his parents died in a car accident, Zhong Jin had transferred to a city in the south for personal reasons. He stayed there for years before returning to Jing City.

Then, abruptly, he resigned from the police force. According to Qiu Chen’s sources, Zhong Jin had developed psychological issues that made it impossible for him to carry a gun again. Unwilling to take a desk job, he quit.

These days, he managed his parents’ business and seemed to be doing well.

As for Qiu Sheng, she had drifted through the years in a haze.

After ovarian surgery, her health and energy had never fully recovered.

When her father, Qiu Zhengrui, was still alive, he’d constantly pressured her to remarry for political alliances. He’d even invited Wen Hechang—one of her suitors—over frequently, orchestrating "romantic" scenarios to sway her.

Eventually, fed up, Qiu Sheng had a massive fight with Qiu Zhengrui and moved out of the family villa into a penthouse in the city. After that, her business dealings with Wen Hechang fell apart.

She became afraid of going out, of seeing people. Aside from making doll clothes, she didn’t know what to do with herself.

Adrift, she was still lost when Qiu Zhengrui died suddenly of a brain hemorrhage.

He left no will. Qiu Sheng, Qiu Chen, and Tao Siyuan inherited his estate in shares. Qiu Chen took over the company while Qiu Sheng lived off dividends, uninvolved in management.

Suddenly wealthy beyond need, she indulged in all life had to offer—yet felt emptier than ever.

Later, on a whim, she opened [Autumn] Café. She didn’t expect it to turn a profit; she just wanted somewhere to go every day, people to talk to.

She’d assumed this was her life now—35, neither young nor old, no desire to love again. If she could die suddenly before growing truly old, that would be the best ending she could imagine.

Yet here she was, at 35, suddenly with a child—one whose father was the ex-husband she hadn’t seen in nine years.

What an absurd twist of fate.

Qiu Sheng began to wonder: Am I living inside a novel?

When the car arrived at the mall, Qiu Sheng secretly decided not to tell Zhong Jin about this matter yet. With her capabilities, she could raise this child perfectly well on her own.

She had heard that Zhong Jin had never remarried all these years and didn’t have any children of his own. Telling him would only mean gaining a competitor for custody, with no real benefit.

Qiu Sheng lifted the little girl from the back seat of the car and muttered softly, "A child her age should be in a car seat. Hmm, I’ll remember to buy one later."

She carried the child for a few steps before setting the chubby little one down and holding her hand as they walked toward the elevator.

Inside the elevator, surrounded by mirrored walls, the child gasped in wide-eyed amazement. "Wow!"

Stepping out into the vast, bustling mall filled with dazzling displays, she gasped again. "Wow!"

Tugging at Qiu Sheng’s hand excitedly, she asked, "Mom, does this mean we’re going to live a good life now?"

Qiu Sheng pulled a pair of sunglasses from her bag and put them on, answering calmly, "Sweetheart, your good days are still ahead of you."

The child swung Qiu Sheng’s hand again. "Let’s go find Dad, so he can live a good life with us too."

Without batting an eye, Qiu Sheng lied smoothly, "We can’t find him. He’s not in this world anymore."

The little girl pouted. "He went off to fight for territory again, didn’t he?"

Thinking about how her father often left to "claim territory" through fights, the chubby child quickly made peace with it. She was used to it—Dad sometimes disappeared for a while.

Xiao Tong followed Qiu Sheng into a children’s clothing store. Qiu Sheng crossed her arms and lightly tapped a few items. "This one, this one, and that one."

The sales clerk eagerly approached. "Would you like all of these?"

Qiu Sheng shook her head. "No, I want everything except these." She turned and pointed at the round little girl beside her. "Please find her size."

The child patted her belly and sighed in disappointment at the overalls Qiu Sheng had excluded—she really loved the pink duckling printed on the front.

Noticing her dejection, Qiu Sheng followed her gaze and nearly recoiled at the sight: oversized green overalls with a sloppily drawn, hideous pink duck.

"Sweetheart, you don’t actually like those, do you?"

Grinning, the child ran over, threw herself into Qiu Sheng’s arms, and looked up pleadingly. "I like them! Please buy them for me? Thank you!"

Staring into those hopeful eyes, Qiu Sheng couldn’t bring herself to refuse—though she couldn’t help feeling a pang of despair.

This terrible taste… this familiar feeling… Who on earth did she inherit it from?

After finishing their shopping, Qiu Sheng immediately dressed Xiao Tong in a fluffy white sweater. Paired with chunky leather shoes, a rainbow-colored hat, and a scarf, the child looked like a little snowball.

Pleased with the outfit, Qiu Sheng grabbed a sleek black frameless glasses from the display—worth over 6,000—and placed them on the child. Now the look was perfect.

Next, they went to buy a car seat.

This had been weighing on Qiu Sheng’s mind. Other things could wait, but the child’s safety came first.

While Qiu Sheng listened carefully to the salesperson’s explanations about car seat specifications, Xiao Tong toddled around the store on her short legs.

Every now and then, she’d return, cling to Qiu Sheng’s leg, and declare, "I want to buy that thing you put in your mouth for neinei."

Qiu Sheng had no idea what she meant but patiently followed her to see—only to realize she was pointing at pacifiers.

"Sweetie, these are for tiny babies. You’re way too big for them."

Xiao Tong clasped her little hands together, puffed out her round belly, and said pitifully, "But when I was a tiny baby, I never got to have one of these neineis."

Qiu Sheng’s heart ached—she really had deprived her child of too much.

So she agreed to buy a pacifier.

Xiao Tong happily sucked on the freshly cleaned pacifier as she wandered around the store—until she realized no milk came out. Instantly disillusioned, she lost all interest.

Later, when Qiu Sheng wasn’t looking, Xiao Tong secretly tossed the pacifier into the trash.

Soon after, the chubby little girl came running back, hugging Qiu Sheng’s leg. "I want that little carriage with the roof!"

Qiu Sheng followed her and discovered the "carriage" was actually a stroller.

The salesperson explained, "This is a stroller for older kids. She can sit in it, and you can fold it up to store in your trunk. It’ll save you a lot of energy when you’re out and about."

Remembering how tiring it had been to carry Xiao Tong earlier, Qiu Sheng immediately decided the stroller was a must-buy.

After purchasing it, she noticed the child had wandered off again.

She found Xiao Tong sitting on one of those vibrating weight-loss machines, her little chubby body shaking wildly as she stretched her mouth open and let out a long, wobbly "Aaaah—"

Amused by the adorable sight, a few onlookers pulled out their phones to take pictures.

Qiu Sheng swiftly stepped in, warning them not to photograph her child, and led Xiao Tong away.

After their shopping spree, Qiu Sheng decided to eat out before heading home. She took Xiao Tong to a private kitchen restaurant.

The owner of this restaurant had a daughter, and ever since her birth, every young diner received a small gift—a tradition upheld for years.

A few years ago, when Qiu Sheng had dined here with a friend, the friend’s daughter had received an adorable Mickey Mouse tumbler. Qiu Sheng had never forgotten how cute it was.

When the server came to take their order, Qiu Sheng casually asked if the Mickey tumblers were still available.

To her surprise, after their meal, the manager dug through the storage and found one last Minnie tumbler to give Xiao Tong.

Thrilled, Xiao Tong immediately strapped it onto herself with the attached belt.

After dinner, they returned to their downtown apartment, where all their shopping had already been delivered. Bags of all sizes lined the hallway, stretching from the entrance to the living room.

Aunt Liang, the housekeeper, emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a pristine white towel. "I noticed all these are children’s items. Should I send them to the villa for the newborn? That’s why I haven’t unpacked them yet."

Aunt Liang had come to Jing City from Haishan for work.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

She was slightly older than most housekeepers, which usually put her at a disadvantage in the domestic job market. But Qiu Sheng had chosen her—whether because she was from Haishan or simply because she liked Aunt Liang’s neat and efficient demeanor, she wasn’t entirely sure.

Qiu Sheng offered a salary several thousand higher than the market rate. Since she lived alone and rarely ate at home, the workload for Aunt Liang was relatively light.

Because of this, Aunt Liang cherished the job even more, keeping the house impeccably tidy. Over the past two years of working together, they had gotten along wonderfully.

As Qiu Sheng sat by the entryway changing her shoes, she said to Aunt Liang,

"Pack all these things into the walk-in closet—don’t send them to the villa. These... these are for my daughter."

Aunt Liang was momentarily taken aback. In the two years she’d worked here, she had never heard Qiu Sheng mention having a daughter.

Just as she was puzzling over it, a round little head peeked out from behind Qiu Sheng—a strikingly beautiful little girl with bright, clear eyes, who grinned and greeted her cheerfully:

"Hello, I’m Zhong Yuntong."