Eating Melons in the Police Station-Chapter 98

After New Year's Eve, the weather in Haishan became noticeably warmer.

Yesterday, Little Tong had a wild day at the aquarium, running around so much that she took off her coat. Then, the giant combo meal she had came with an enormous ice cream boat—switching between hot and cold left her coughing and sniffling by morning.

Now, Little Tong lay on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with two wads of tissue stuffed up her nose, watching Zhong Jin take her temperature.

Zhong Jin checked the thermometer. "37.7°C—low-grade fever."

Qiu Sheng crouched beside the sofa, resting a hand on it. "Should we take her to the hospital?"

Little ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‍Tong was about to cough, but the mention of the hospital made her swallow it back. She clamped her mouth shut, her chest trembling, her face turning red from the effort.

Qiu Sheng quickly patted her back, concerned. "Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Do you feel like throwing up?"

"Just cough if you need to. We’re not going to the hospital," Zhong Jin saw right through the little ruse.

Sure enough, as soon as he said that, Little Tong burst into a coughing fit, her eyes watering, sweat beading on her forehead and the tip of her nose.

Seeing her in such discomfort, Zhong Jin knew they couldn’t just ignore it. He decided to take her to a traditional Chinese medicine practitioner.

Zhong Jin had been skeptical about TCM before, but the last time, an old doctor had cured the child’s stubborn cough with just a few pots of yam-infused water—something that had left him deeply impressed.

So this time, when Little Tong fell ill again, his first thought was to visit the TCM clinic.

Besides, Little Tong knew TCM didn’t involve injections or IV drips, so she wasn’t as resistant to the idea.

The only problem was—it was the middle of the Lunar New Year. He wasn’t sure if the clinic would even be open.

When they drove over, however, he spotted a long line outside the clinic from a distance—just as crowded as last time.

Drawing from his previous experience, Zhong Jin had Qiu Sheng take Little Tong to a nearby convenience store to wait while he stood in line. When their turn was close, he’d message her to bring the child over.

As the doctor checked Little Tong’s pulse, Zhong Jin suddenly remembered something.

Last time, the doctor had prescribed him herbal medicine for a mammary gland issue, advising him to return for a follow-up after finishing the course. But then Qiu Chen had visited, and Zhong Jin didn’t want them finding out about his condition. The delay had made him forget all about it.

He glanced at Qiu Sheng sitting beside him—she was too busy nervously watching the doctor examine Little Tong to pay him any attention.

What if the doctor mentioned his mammary gland problem in front of her? How embarrassing would that be?

Then again, Zhong Jin reasoned, the doctor saw so many patients daily—there was no way he’d remember every case, right?

Still uneasy, he leaned over and whispered to Qiu Sheng, "I’m stepping out to make a call."

"Okay," she replied absentmindedly, her focus still entirely on Little Tong.

Just as Zhong Jin stood up to slip away, the old doctor cleared his throat and called out, "Did you finish your last prescription? Why haven’t you come back for your follow-up? Don’t wander off—I’ll check you after I’m done with her."

Zhong Jin: "..."

Hearing that Zhong Jin needed a follow-up, Qiu Sheng grew even more anxious. "Doctor, are you talking about my husband’s insomnia? Is it serious?"

The doctor replied gravely, "Very serious. I’m not trying to scare him, but if he doesn’t take care of it properly, it could develop into breast cancer."

Qiu Sheng was stunned into silence.

Zhong Jin felt all strength leave him. He was already contemplating where he’d bury himself after this social suicide.

The diagnosis for Little Tong was the same as before—a common cold caused by wind and cold. The doctor performed acupressure on her, and she sneezed several times immediately after. The doctor explained that sneezing was a sign of dispelling the cold.

He also prescribed herbal foot-soaking packets to help drive out the chill.

As for Zhong Jin, his condition remained unchanged—though slightly improved, he was still prescribed several large bags of herbal medicine for another course of treatment, followed by another check-up.

This time, the doctor added massage therapy to the regimen: pressing specific acupoints like Sanyinjiao and Taichong on the feet, as well as Tanzhong, Qimen, Rugen, and Tianchi on the chest, three to five minutes per point daily.

The old doctor could tell Zhong Jin was stubborn and might not follow instructions, so he turned to Qiu Sheng instead.

"Make sure he takes his medicine and does the massages. If necessary, help him with it yourself. You’re married—no need to be shy."

Qiu Sheng nodded firmly. "I’ll supervise him. Thank you."

On the drive home, Qiu Sheng spent the entire trip scolding Zhong Jin.

"How could you hide something this serious from me? And then skip your follow-up? Were you waiting for it to turn into a major health crisis? What would happen to Little Tong? What would happen to this family if something happened to you?"

Zhong Jin didn’t dare argue.

From the rearview mirror, he saw Little Tong slumped in her car seat, mouth open as she breathed, grinning mischievously at him. He glared at her.

In response, she pulled down her lower eyelids with two fingers and stuck out her tongue. "Nyeh!"

Back home, Qiu Sheng refused to let Zhong Jin lift a finger. She dug out the medicine pot from the bottom of the cabinet, rinsed it clean, and added the herbs before preparing to soak them in water.

After bustling around the kitchen, she hurried out holding two bowls—one large, one small.

"The doctor said to add six bowls of water and boil it down to three. But does he mean six large bowls or six small bowls?"

Zhong Jin had actually pondered this before. Back when he brewed the medicine himself, he’d opted for the small bowl—fewer bowls meant less bitter liquid to drink.

"Small bowl," he said confidently.

Qiu Sheng rushed back to the kitchen.

Curious, Zhong Jin followed and saw her carefully filling the small bowl under the faucet, each time precisely to the brim.

After pouring three bowls into the clay medicine pot, she marked the water level on the outside with a fabric chalk pencil before adding the remaining three.

Zhong Jin frowned. "Why are you marking the pot?"

"The doctor said to boil it down to three bowls. Without a mark, how will we know when we’ve reached that point?"

When Zhong Jin and Aunt Liang had brewed the medicine before, they’d always eyeballed it—adding water and boiling until it "felt" right, whatever the final amount.

But Qiu Sheng approached it like a scientific experiment, meticulous to the last detail.

The scene felt oddly familiar.

After a moment, it hit him—Little Tong fed Sang Biao the same way, leveling every scoop of millet to the exact milligram.

When Qiu Chen was around, even feeding chickens was done with the same meticulousness.

It seemed Little Tong’s serious and diligent personality was inherited from her mother’s side.

Qiu Sheng set the traditional medicine to boil on the stove when a knock came at the door—a delivery person had brought the foot-soaking tub she ordered.

The household had never made a habit of foot soaking before, so they didn’t have the right tools. Qiu Sheng had hastily ordered a small wooden tub for Little Tong.

Zhong Jin watched as Qiu Sheng rummaged through cabinets for a pot to boil the medicinal foot soak for Little Tong and said, “Her medicine can wait till evening. Soaking her feet will help her sleep better.”

This chapter is updat𝙚d by freeweɓnovel.cøm.

Hearing this, Qiu Sheng stepped out of the kitchen.

She paced around the house, occasionally checking on Little Tong, who was napping under a small blanket on the sofa. Qiu Sheng used a thermometer to check her ear temperature—36.5°C, no longer a low-grade fever.

A little later, she went back to the kitchen to see how Zhong Jin’s medicine was coming along.

When Zhong Jin and Little Tong had fallen ill before, she hadn’t been this anxious. Perhaps the old Chinese doctor’s warning to Zhong Jin had gotten to her—she was worried he might actually develop breast cancer, so she was extra tense.

Zhong Jin set down his book and walked into the kitchen, finding Qiu Sheng watching the medicine pot intently.

“It’s on a timer. You don’t have to keep an eye on it—it’ll turn off automatically,” he said.

Seeing she was still unsettled, he added, “That doctor was just trying to scare me. The first time I saw him, he mentioned emotional distress, not breast cancer. Probably because I didn’t go back for a follow-up, he decided to frighten me.”

He continued, “Besides, the police station just did a health check before the New Year. I’m perfectly healthy.”

Here was Zhong Jin, the supposed patient, comforting her instead. If he really were seriously ill, she’d probably collapse before he did.

Once Qiu Sheng seemed a little calmer, Zhong Jin suggested, “Why don’t you get back to work? Didn’t that media team in Jing City ask for samples of your past projects?”

Before the holidays, Qiu Sheng had tentatively agreed to collaborate with a Jing City-based media group, and they’d recently requested images of her previous work.

She had planned to send them after the Spring Festival break, but Zhong Jin, wanting to distract her, encouraged her to focus on work.

After Qiu Sheng retreated to her studio, Zhong Jin returned to the sofa and resumed reading. It was a serious book on criminal psychology, yet at some point, he chuckled to himself.

A while later, Qiu Sheng emerged from the studio and handed Zhong Jin a printed acupressure chart.

“I recorded the doctor’s instructions earlier and marked the points on this diagram. When you massage them, follow the markings to stimulate the right spots.”

Zhong Jin took the chart, where several red dots were marked over the chest area of a human figure.

Qiu Sheng asked, “Do you need my help?”

Her tone was earnest, her expression solemn—no hint of teasing or embarrassment despite the sensitive area.

Zhong Jin, however, felt awkward. Holding the chart like it was scalding, he replied calmly, “No, I can reach these spots myself.”

When Qiu Sheng remained standing there, staring at his chest, he quickly added, “I’ll do it before bed. For now, I’ll just keep reading.”

As bedtime approached, Qiu Sheng poured the cooled medicinal liquid into the small wooden tub and carried it to the living room. She seated Little Tong on a stool, removed her socks, and let her chubby feet soak in the herbal mix.

Little Tong rolled up her sleeves, bent over, and cupped the water in her hands, murmuring to herself,

“Dis water look like cola.”

The moment she said it, Zhong Jin anticipated her next move—sure enough, the mischievous child lifted a handful of foot soak toward her mouth.

“Don’t drink the foot bath!” Zhong Jin barked.

Disappointed, Little Tong let the water trickle back into the tub.

The doctor had said to soak until she broke a light sweat, but even after a while, Zhong Jin felt her forehead—still dry. The water had cooled, so he heated a little more and added it to the tub.

Little Tong lifted her feet, her round toes gripping the edge as Zhong Jin poured the water in.

This time, the warmth worked—soon, a faint sheen of sweat formed on her forehead, and her little feet turned rosy and warm.

Zhong Jin picked her up while Qiu Sheng wiped her brow and slipped thick wool socks onto her feet.

Now cozy and comfortable, Little Tong wriggled out of his arms and dashed to her toy corner to ride her little cart.

She returned with a silk-stuffed toy dog in tow, intending to give it a “foot bath.” Zhong Jin caught her mid-act and scolded her again, sending the troublemaker pedaling away sulkily.

With Little Tong gone, Qiu Sheng reminded Zhong Jin, “Time for your massage.”

Zhong Jin: “......”

Qiu Sheng: “Need my help?”

“No, I’ve got it.”

He grabbed a mop to clean the water splashed on the floor, then headed to the master bedroom. Qiu Sheng followed, but he blocked her at the door.

“I’ll handle it. You can’t watch.”

She lingered outside for a moment before quietly cracking the door open to peek inside—only to find the room empty. He must’ve gone into the bathroom.

Was he secretly doing the massage in there?

Tiptoeing in her soft slippers, Qiu Sheng crept to the bathroom door and pressed her eye against the frosted glass, but it was privacy-proof—she couldn’t see a thing.

She then pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear if he was properly following the acupressure routine.

Little Tong, spotting her mother’s sneaky behavior, assumed something fun was happening and zoomed over on her cart, loudly announcing, “Mama!”

Qiu Sheng quickly turned and covered Little Tong’s mouth, whispering with a wink, “Shh, Mama’s observing Papa.”

Little Tong pried her hand away. “But, Mama—”

Qiu Sheng clamped her mouth again. “No talking. Don’t let Papa find out.”

Qiu Sheng was crouching by the door, eavesdropping, when Zhong Jin emerged from the walk-in closet. Adjusting the buttons on her pajamas, she walked over to the bathroom area, bent down to peer inside, and delivered a soul-searching question:

"What are you doing?"

Qiu Sheng: "......"

Tactically pressing his eye against the keyhole, Qiu Sheng muttered under his breath, "......This lock seemed a bit faulty earlier. I was just checking it."