Chapter Forty: Unwelcome

After returning from Jiangkou District to the city, An Changpu drove straight to a small restaurant not far from his unit. Whenever they worked overtime and couldn't get home for meals, this place was practically the Major Crimes Unit’s “canteen,” and they’d often buy boxed meals here.

Qin Ruonan, having only recently transferred from City B, was still unfamiliar with the area and remained a fresh face, whereas An Changpu was her complete opposite. Though he’d been away for over a year on a peacekeeping mission, the moment he walked in, he was greeted enthusiastically by everyone from the owner down to the waitstaff. The few young women who had worked here for some time, in particular, immediately flocked around An Changpu, asking after him and fussing so much that he found it hard to cope and felt a bit awkward—though he had often been sent to fetch food as the youngest member of the Major Crimes Unit, he’d never really formed any close relationships with the owner or the staff. Now, to be fussed over by these almost strangers, and to have Qin Ruonan left to one side because of it, struck him as very odd indeed.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be a magnet for attention even in a humble little restaurant like this?” By the time An Changpu finally finished exchanging pleasantries, Qin Ruonan had been idly scanning the menu for quite a while.

His face reddened at her teasing, and he quickly coughed into his hand, shooting her a slightly annoyed glance. “Are you mocking me?”

“Not at all. I’m merely marveling at the power of your personal charm.” Qin Ruonan feigned innocence, her lips pursed, and raised a hand to signal the waitress.

Even though it was Qin Ruonan ordering, the young waitress seized every opportunity to chat with An Changpu. Perhaps because of Qin Ruonan’s earlier teasing, An Changpu seemed especially mindful of the phrase “magnet for attention,” which was hardly a compliment, and so he remained polite but unresponsive throughout.

After Qin Ruonan ordered two dishes, the waitress couldn’t help herself, twisting around to face An Changpu. “You can’t have just one person ordering for both, can you? Officer An, what would you like to eat?”

“I’m not picky. Anything is fine,” An Changpu replied, pushing the menu back toward Qin Ruonan. “Just pick whatever you think is good.”

His words left the waitress, who’d been trying to look out for him, a bit at a loss, and she flashed an awkward smile at Qin Ruonan.

Qin Ruonan set the menu aside. “Isn’t he a regular here? If you remember what he usually orders, just add it to the order.”

The waitress nodded, swiftly and skillfully adding another dish before hurrying away.

“That girl’s got a good memory. Before I left for my peacekeeping mission, I did come here and order that dish quite a bit,” An Changpu said, surprised that she remembered his usual choices. “Though, to be honest, I was always ordering it for Tian Yang.”

“Memory isn’t always about how good it is—sometimes it’s about who it’s connected to. So, you see, having a good face isn’t so useless after all. Wherever you go, people tend to look after you.” Qin Ruonan blew on her tea, her words laced with a cool detachment.

“Listen to you—are you saying I make a living off my looks like some kept man?” An Changpu found her remark grating, his expression cooling.

Qin Ruonan hadn’t expected him to be so sensitive about his looks. For a moment, she was caught between amusement and exasperation, so she simply fell silent. The two sat in wordless company—one absently fiddling with a phone, the other poring over the menu as if it were a research project.

Fortunately, the food soon arrived. They ate in silence, devouring the meal with the voracity of people who’d been busy all day, their hunger making up for the lack of conversation and sparing them further awkwardness.

After the meal, there was still one last task to complete before heading home to rest: returning the rat poison to the station for further fingerprint analysis and toxicity testing.

With that final task done, their long, tiring day drew to a close. When An Changpu offered to give her a lift home, Qin Ruonan politely declined and set off alone.

Her transfer to City C was still recent, and she hadn’t yet had the chance to buy a home or settle down. For convenience’s sake—and to accommodate the unpredictable hours of a detective—she’d rented a temporary place about a twenty-minute walk from the police bureau. She walked to and from work every day, and since it wasn’t far, she hadn’t found it to be much trouble.

But tonight felt different. People often share one trait: when busy, they don’t notice discomfort or fatigue, but when things finally quiet down and they relax, it all comes rushing in.

As Qin Ruonan wrapped herself in her coat and walked through the cool autumn night, the pain in her side became painfully distinct. Every step tugged at her waist and abdomen, and no matter how small her stride or how slowly she went, it was no use. The short journey home seemed to stretch on endlessly, each step an ordeal. She longed to leap straight to her apartment or simply stop moving altogether.

Beep, beep—

Two sharp honks startled her. She turned to see a car hugging the curb, crawling along behind her. When she stopped, the car did too.

The window rolled down. It was An Changpu. They’d been using police vehicles for work lately, so Qin Ruonan immediately recognized his personal car.

“Something wrong?” She straightened at once, her posture crisp and alert.

“Not really. I just realized I almost forgot to give you this!” An Changpu picked up a box from his seat and tossed it out the window to her.

Qin Ruonan caught it—a can of Yunnan Baiyao spray.

“It’s not new. I’ve used it a few times before—hope you don’t mind. It’ll help with the pain, at least a little.”

“All right. Thank you.” Qin Ruonan nodded at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride? It’s on my way, and I noticed you—” An Changpu stopped mid-sentence. When he’d followed her by car, he’d seen her limping, clearly uncomfortable. But knowing her stubborn, competitive nature, he hesitated to point it out.

“No need. I’m fine.”

As expected, her answer was a refusal. Seeing this, An Changpu didn’t insist. He nodded, rolled up the window, and drove off.

Qin Ruonan cradled the box of Yunnan Baiyao in her hand as she walked on, watching the taillights recede until they were swallowed by city traffic.

She sighed. The pain in her waist made her stoop again, and her fingers traced the box lightly. She wondered in resignation when she would finally change her unyielding ways.

Unable to please others, and the suffering fell only on herself.

Oh, Qin Ruonan, you really are a silly girl.