Wang Qingsheng

No new cases came in today, so he left work right on time at six and headed home. For a police officer, being able to clock out on schedule was its own kind of happiness.

As soon as Han Bin opened the door to his parents’ house, he sensed something was amiss—the place was far livelier than usual. He glanced down and noticed an extra pair of cloth shoes outside the shoe cabinet. With just a look, Han Bin knew who had come.

“Well, look who’s here—Binzi’s back!” a man’s voice called out.

A large, burly figure emerged from the dining room. The man was about Han Bin’s height but much broader around the waist. He sported a slicked-back hairstyle, and his hands were still dusted with flour.

“Uncle, when did you get back?” Han Bin greeted him.

This man was Wang Qingsheng, Wang Huifang’s younger brother. Though his build was nothing like Han Bin’s, there was a familiar resemblance in their eyes and brows.

“I just got back today, came here especially to see you, and brought you a gift,” Wang Qingsheng said with a broad grin.

“Qingsheng, didn’t you say you came just to see me?” Han Weidong shouted from the kitchen.

Wang Qingsheng was about ten years younger than Han Weidong. When Han Weidong married Wang Huifang, Qingsheng was still just a boy, hardly in his teens, and Han Weidong had always treated him half as a junior.

“I’m seeing everyone—my sister too. I’ve brought a gift for each of you,” Wang Qingsheng declared with a flourish.

“Uncle, you’ve been away quite a while this time. Where’d you go?” Han Bin asked.

“Ah, just making a living. I made the rounds in a few neighboring provinces, but there weren’t many good finds this time,” Wang Qingsheng sighed. “In this business, you have to rely on luck.”

Wang Qingsheng traded in antiques, often traveling out of town to acquire stock. Sometimes he’d be gone a week, sometimes a month or two. No matter how much he traveled, though, it never seemed to thin him out.

“We’ll chat later, Qingsheng. Come here and help roll out the dumpling skins—we’re running short,” Wang Huifang called from the kitchen.

“Well, thanks to Uncle, we get dumplings tonight,” Han Bin said with a smile.

“Don’t say that. Every time you’re off work, haven’t I always made something good for you?” Wang Huifang huffed.

“How come you’re home so early today? Did you solve the case?” Han Weidong asked.

“I did.”

“What was the charge?”

“Murder.”

“You guys are really something—this case caused quite a stir. I heard it even got the city bureau leaders’ attention,” Han Weidong remarked, as he shaped dumplings.

“What case was it? Tell me about it,” Wang Qingsheng pressed, eager for details.

“They found a woman’s body near Golden Sands Beach.”

“Binzi, were you in charge of the case?”

“I was.”

“I overheard people talking about it on the train. They said the woman had her hair loose over her shoulders—gave everyone a fright. Half the tourists at Golden Sands left in a hurry,” Wang Qingsheng said.

“It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as that,” Han Bin replied with a smile.

As Han Weidong wrapped dumplings, he asked, “Solving this case must’ve made Captain Zheng look good. Did you get any rewards?”

“Our Third Squad was named an Outstanding Collective this month, and I was awarded Outstanding Individual. Just the bonus alone was over three thousand,” Han Bin replied.

“Well now, your pay this month even beats mine,” Han Weidong joked.

“Captain Zheng said if I get Outstanding Individual for two consecutive months, he’ll nominate me for a third-class merit,” Han Bin added.

“Well done, Binzi. You’ve only been with the Criminal Investigation Unit two or three months and you’re already being recognized. I was worried at first that you might not adapt,” Wang Qingsheng praised.

“Since I became a detective, I’ve been working overtime every day. If I didn’t get some recognition, I might as well go back to being a beat cop at the police station,” Wang Huifang grumbled.

“What do you know? It would take you ages at a police station to earn a third-class merit,” Han Weidong scolded, then turned to Han Bin, “Son, work hard. Achievements give you backbone.”

Han Bin just smiled. Of course he’d work hard—he still had a mountain of merit points to earn.

After the dumplings were wrapped, they prepared four cold dishes: cucumber salad, peanuts, pig’s ear, and mantis shrimp. Han Bin brought out a bottle of Luzhou Laojiao, and sat with his father and uncle for a few drinks.

Wang Qingsheng picked up a mantis shrimp and said, “Nothing like the shrimp back home. The ones out there just don’t taste the same.”

“Knowing you love them, I made a special trip to the seafood market,” Han Weidong replied with a grin.

“For that alone, brother-in-law, I have to toast you,” Wang Qingsheng said, raising his glass.

Han Weidong never refused a drink. These days, he rarely attended banquets outside, so he looked forward to a little liquor at home.

Han Bin topped off their glasses. “Uncle, was your trip smooth this time?”

“It was alright. I made a run to Panjiayuan again. Seeing how lively their market is makes me envious. If I didn’t miss you all so much, I might not have come back,” Wang Qingsheng said wistfully.

“You aim too high. There aren’t many places like Panjiayuan in the whole country. Being able to hold your own on Qindao Antique Street is more than enough,” Han Weidong said.

“Your brother-in-law’s right. Don’t always chase after big things. Settle down, find yourself a wife, and live a peaceful life—that’s what really matters,” Wang Huifang chimed in from the kitchen doorway, slotted spoon in hand.

“I’m just saying. After so many years at Qindao Antique Market, I know everyone and everything. If I really went to Panjiayuan, I’d be completely lost—I could be sold off and not even realize it,” Wang Qingsheng said, clinking his glass against Han Weidong’s.

“As if you haven’t been swindled enough already. I can’t even be bothered to call you out,” Wang Huifang snorted, heading back to the kitchen.

“Brother-in-law, see, my sister’s bringing it up again.”

“Eat, eat. Just listen to her and don’t talk back,” Han Weidong said helplessly—what else could he do?

Wang Qingsheng took a bite of pig’s ear and put down his chopsticks. “Almost forgot—I haven’t given my eldest nephew his gift yet.”

He walked over to the entrance, took a wooden box from his bag, and carefully opened it. Inside was a brown bead bracelet.

Wang Qingsheng took out the bracelet and handed it to Han Bin. “Being a detective means dealing with criminals all the time. Whether you earn merits or not, safety comes first. This string of Buddhist beads is an old piece—I had it blessed at a temple. Wear it for peace and protection.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

Han Bin examined the bracelet. The beads were uniform in size and had a beautiful luster—twelve in all, one of which was decorated with a tiny pagoda. The overall look was exquisite.

Han Weidong took it, gave it a look, and said, “This bracelet looks much fancier than the gift I got.”

“They’re all about the same,” Wang Qingsheng replied offhandedly, though he thought to himself, This is for my own nephew, after all.

“Time for dumplings,” Wang Huifang announced, carrying out two plates from the kitchen. “Son, your uncle gave it to you—wear it. Whether it works or not, it’s for peace of mind.”

Han Bin didn’t stand on ceremony. He took the bracelet from his father and slipped it onto his left wrist, then got up to fetch the dumplings from the kitchen.

“No need to bring them all out yet. You two start eating—Qingsheng and I will have a few more drinks,” Han Weidong said, waving them off.

“That’s right, Sis, come sit down and eat. I have an announcement to make,” Wang Qingsheng said, sitting up straight with a solemn expression.

Wang Huifang glanced at her brother, eyes lighting up. “Qingsheng, have you found a girlfriend?”

Han Bin smiled to himself. As soon as his uncle came home, someone else was there to take the pressure off him.