At the end of January this year, it was the Spring Festival. Qiu Sheng returned to Jing City in mid-January ahead of time.
She had connected with a self-media team in Jing City whose creative philosophy and photography work aligned well with her own ideas.
Moreover, Qiu Sheng had long admired a master craftsman specializing in cloisonné, whose video channel was managed by this very team. However, the artisan, now advanced in age and having fallen ill last year, had stopped updating the channel.
As a result, this self-media team became available again, and they were actively seeking new artisan collaborations. After preliminary online discussions, both sides showed strong interest in working together.
Qiu Sheng’s early return to Jing City was primarily to meet this team in person.
Secondly, she had discussed matters with Zhong Jin.
If they were to suddenly introduce Little Tong to her parents, she couldn’t predict how they might react—worried that their potential shock or overreaction might frighten the child.
So Qiu Sheng decided to return first, find the right moment to confess Little Tong’s existence to her parents, and soften their emotions before Zhong Jin brought the child to meet them.
With Qiu Sheng gone, the task of combing Little Tong’s hair in the mornings fell to Zhong Jin.
The little girl’s hair was thick and silky. When Qiu Sheng did it, the strands seemed to effortlessly transform into various styles. But for Zhong Jin, it felt like his hands had turned clumsy.
After much struggle, he finally managed to gather the slippery strands into a small ponytail—though the top remained slightly messy. He didn’t dare adjust it further, afraid that if he loosened his grip, he’d never get it back together.
Holding the tiny ponytail atop Little Tong’s head, his next challenge was finding a hair tie. After searching the bathroom counter to no avail, he asked, “Where are your hair ties?”
Little Tong thought for a moment. “Maybe in the bedroom.”
Still clutching her hair, Zhong Jin guided her like pulling a radish sprout into the bedroom. With one hand occupied, he rummaged through the nightstand with the other. “Not here.”
“Maybe in the studio?” she suggested.
He towed her into the studio, but the cluttered space left him at a loss.
Retreating to the living room, he grabbed his phone from the coffee table and called Qiu Sheng for help.
After the call, he led Little Tong back to the studio, where—following Qiu Sheng’s directions—he located a makeup bag in the second drawer of the worktable. From the third compartment inside, he fished out a handful of colorful hair ties.
Thank goodness for that call—otherwise, even a thief wouldn’t have found these well-hidden ties.
Zhong Jin tied her hair and said, “Alright, go brush your teeth now.”
Little Tong scampered to the master bathroom, climbed onto her stepping stool, and peered into the mirror. The slightly lopsided, messy ponytail stared back at her.
With a decisive yank, she pulled the tie out, preferring her hair loose over what she deemed an ugly little bun.
Zhong Jin, having finished brushing his teeth in the other bathroom, came to check on her and found her hair undone again. Assuming he’d done a poor job earlier, he picked up the comb for a redo.
Standing on her cartoon step-stool in frog-shaped slippers, toothbrush in mouth, Little Tong waved him off. “Never mind, I’ll just wear a hat. Don’t torture yourself, ‘kay?”
Zhong Jin: “......”
When it was time to leave, Zhong Jin found her a rooster hat with an attached scarf—one of Qiu Sheng’s handmade creations—to cover the unruly hair.
This hat came in pairs: Little Tong’s was red, while Sang Biao’s (the family’s mischievous chick) was blue.
Sang Biao, currently in its rebellious phase, strutted around in diapers, up to no good. It would chirp incessantly by Little Tong’s ear during her naps and parade before the TV during her cartoons.
It even claimed her dog bed, refusing to budge.
Now it was Little Tong’s turn to avoid childcare duties. She adamantly refused to stay home with Aunt Liang, insisting on following Zhong Jin to the police station every day.
When Aunt Liang suggested sending Sang Biao to the countryside, Little Tong—with guilty hands raised—declared, “All kids go through a naughty phase. We still love it, ‘kay?”
Zhong Jin saw right through her. She was probably afraid that if Sang Biao got sent away, she might be next.
The tables had turned: where Little Tong once tormented the household, now Sang Biao kept her in check. Father Zhong and Mother Qiu couldn’t help but feel amused.
As year-end approached, the police station organized visits to support elderly residents living alone. A truckload of supplies—rice, oil, flour—arrived one morning, and Hu De led a group of young officers in unloading the goods into storage.
Spotting the activity, Little Tong raced to assist in her uncle’s gifted Ferrari toy car.
Her little sports car was too big—it had been sitting at home with no space to run around, and she was worried about making noise that might disturb the neighbors. So Zhong Jin simply brought it over to the police station. The station had a spacious courtyard where she could go wild without any restrictions.
On the first day Little Tong drove her sports car into the station, everyone initially thought it was just some child's toy and didn’t pay much attention.
Later, Rao Shishi noticed how intricately designed the car was and decided to look up its price online, thinking she might buy one for her nephew during the Spring Festival.
But when she checked—it cost over 80,000 yuan.
Never mind.
What’s more, the car’s weight capacity was surprisingly impressive—according to the online specs, it could carry up to 500 kg. So the “heavyweight” officers at the station took turns playing with Little Tong’s car. And Little Tong? She was quite the entrepreneur.
She pulled out a timer from her little backpack: ten minutes per person, payable in snacks.
Eventually, their underground trade was discovered by Chief Zhong, who sternly ordered the officers to stop buying snacks for Little Tong. If anyone was caught, they’d be transferred to the city management team to unclog sewers.
Besides, after a few rounds, the novelty of the tiny sports car wore off, and Little Tong’s black-market business collapsed.
But today, the car actually came in handy when the station needed to transport supplies.
Between the front courtyard of the police station and the back storage room, there was a narrow stretch where the delivery truck couldn’t pass, so everything had to be carried in by hand.
Little Tong skillfully maneuvered her little Ferrari, making trip after trip to haul bags of rice, flour, cooking oil, and other groceries to the storage room, where Hu De and the others waited to unload them.
By noon, they had finally moved half a truck’s worth of supplies.
Little Tong parked the Ferrari neatly in the designated spot under the eaves—her assigned parking area by Zhong Jin. After pressing the button to open the electric door, she hopped out and toddled back into the station on her short legs.
With her little satchel bouncing on her back, she dashed into the chief’s office, pushing the door open with her head. “Dad, I’m thirsty!”
Zhong Jin picked up her sippy cup and noticed the water inside had gone cold. He stood and walked to the water dispenser, adding some hot water to warm it up.
Handing the cup back to her, he saw her tiny hands were red from the cold.
“Where are your gloves?” he asked.
Little Tong gulped down half the water before answering excitedly, “I was driving to haul rice and flour! I took them off and put them in my bag.”
She proudly patted her messenger bag to show they were safe inside—not lost.
“What kind of family are you from, driving a Ferrari to transport groceries?” Zhong Jin teased, lifting her onto his lap and tucking her hands under his sweater to warm them up.
Little Tong slid her hands under the hem of his sweater, resting her round head against his chest. Cozy and content, she yawned widely, then promptly dozed off.
Zhong Jin glanced down at the chubby child who had fallen asleep in seconds. Ever since her uncle left and kindergarten went on break, this little one had been living the good life—utterly carefree.
He reached for a jacket draped over the chair and spread it over her.
Because of her midday nap, Little Tong missed lunch at the station canteen. Zhong Jin, who had been holding her the whole time, hadn’t eaten either.
Once she woke up, he took her to a nearby restaurant for a hot pot stew.
The restaurant faced the kindergarten directly. Through the fogged-up window, they could see the school’s main gate—deserted and quiet now that winter break had started.
Little Tong scooped up a tofu puff with her spoon, and Zhong Jin helped pierce it open with his chopsticks. The filling was scalding hot, so he told her to blow on it ten times before eating.
Pursing her lips, she obediently blew on the tofu puff—then suddenly perked up, eyes wide. “Dad, is there any way to just… shut down the kindergarten for good?”
Zhong Jin: “...No.”
Little Tong sighed in disappointment, then asked another question: “How many times did I blow just now?”
Zhong Jin: “Times, not ‘how many.’ And it’s ‘how many times,’ not ‘how much.’”
“How many times did I blow?”
The tofu puff was already cool, but Zhong Jin played along. “I don’t know. Start counting again.”
Little Tong groaned and began all over again.
In the afternoon, Mao Feixue was leading a team to visit elderly residents living alone and asked if Little Tong wanted to tag along.
Older folks who spent most of their time alone loved lively company, especially children. Bringing Little Tong would surely brighten their day.
Zhong Jin bundled her up in a hat, scarf, and gloves, reminding her sternly not to take them off outside, then sent her off with Mao Feixue and the others.
The officers carried bags of supplies, so Little Tong didn’t ask to be carried. Instead, she trudged steadily through the snow in her boots, keeping up with the group on her short legs.
When they reached Minsheng Community, they encountered a slippery slope—shaded from the sun and partly iced over from the freezing temperatures.
Little Tong took a couple of steps forward, but her shoes slipped, and she landed squarely on her bottom.
Hu De reached out to pull her up, worried the child might cry, and quickly said, "Bad floor! Making our baby fall. Let’s hit it."
Holding Hu De’s hand, Little Tong glanced back at the spot where she’d fallen, then crouched down and picked up a small pebble.
She studied it seriously for a moment before announcing with utmost gravity, "A naughty rock boy. It poked my butt!"
The police officers burst into laughter, and Mao Feixue was so amused she set her things down and clutched her stomach, tears welling in her eyes.
"This silly kid."
After laughing for a while, Mao Feixue dabbed at her teary eyes with a tissue and said to Hu De, "This path is too slippery. It must be really inconvenient for the elderly. Later, go talk to the property management and have the road repaved. Maybe even add some stainless steel handrails along the side."
Little Tong accompanied the officers to visit the elderly and didn’t return until evening.
Winter nights came early, and by just past six, darkness had already fallen. The door to the chief’s office was wide open, and Zhong Jin kept glancing outside, waiting for Little Tong to come back.
Eventually, he set aside his work, stepped out of the station, and stood by the entrance, waiting.
After standing in the cold wind for about twenty minutes, he finally saw the police vehicle appear in the distance. Only then did he feel a little more at ease.
He didn’t know why—even though he knew Little Tong was safe with the officers, and that they’d contact him immediately if anything happened—not seeing her all afternoon had left him feeling hollow inside.
When the small, chubby child was lifted out of the car and came wobbling toward him, her little satchel bouncing with each step, Zhong Jin finally felt settled again.
He bent down to scoop her up, checking that her hat, scarf, and gloves were all properly in place before gently touching her cheek—still warm.
Back in the office, Little Tong squirmed to be let down.
Zhong Jin set her on the floor, and she dug into her coat pockets, pulling out two handfuls of candy, which she then placed on his desk on tiptoe.
"Where did these come from?" Zhong Jin asked.
Little Tong kept her head down as she rummaged through her pockets. "The grandpas and grandmas gave them to me." As she spoke, she produced more treats—sunflower seeds, peanuts, and other dried snacks.
Once her pockets were empty, she took off her little satchel, turned it upside down, and shook out even more candies, snacks, and even a few yogurt bottles.
Just when Zhong Jin thought she was finally done, Little Tong turned her back to him and said, "There’s more in my hood. Help me get them."
Zhong Jin reached into the hood of her coat and pulled out an apple, an orange, and a banana.
He could easily picture the scene—the elderly folks eagerly stuffing snacks and fruits into the child’s pockets.
Zhong Jin teased, "Were you there to offer condolences or to plunder the people’s hard-earned treasures?"
Little Tong handed him a gummy candy to unwrap and said, "I really like old people. Their smiles are like flowers."
She pinched her own cheeks and added, "Their faces scrunch up like this—just as pretty as petals."
