“Look at the iPad on his desk—even the cover is carefully chosen, with artistic designs. You need a certain eye for aesthetics to pay attention to such details.” Chief Grant pointed at the tablet on Adam Parker’s desk and laughed. Glancing back at Adam Parker, who looked both embarrassed and a little proud, he added, “Look at the watch he’s wearing—a high-end sports watch. Then look at the brand of his shirt. If we can’t guess his family background from these, then we’re really too clueless to be detectives. I’m just the most inexperienced among the office staff. Real detectives can analyze your general personality just by glancing at you… So, who else wants to sign up?”

Chief Grant gave everyone a rather tricky answer. Seeing the slightly disappointed expressions on the trainees’ faces, he smiled. No matter how impressive the process, once you know the answer, it all seems a bit silly. Waving the few remaining forms, he called out, and sure enough, someone who had been struggling with the decision until the last moment finally made up his mind. A chubby boy, looking a bit dazed, rushed up with his hand raised—me, me, me—and grabbed a form. Apparently, he’d been wrestling with the decision until the very last second, and it was the last form handed out. As Chief Grant left the classroom with a smile, the room erupted in noise. The clearest thing he heard was:

“Mouse, can you run five kilometers? What are you competing for, elite status?”

Then came a burst of laughter and shouts. The scene reminded Chief Grant of his own days at the police academy, when everyone called each other by all sorts of strange nicknames, making it all feel so familiar. He closed the door, shutting in the classroom’s raucous noise.

Chapter 04 Brotherhood

“Exactly, Mouse, you go compete for elite status, and the rest of us won’t feel any pressure.”

A boy with several pimples on his face shouted back. The chubby boy who had just gotten the form and was now being attacked—nicknamed Mouse—looked confused and a bit annoyed, retorting, “You think you’re elite? You’re so full of yourself, you’re oozing it.”

“Yeah, Beast, who are you kidding? Lost your meal card in cards and now you want to win it back? That’s not how it works.” Mouse’s supporter chimed in—it was Ethan. The two were not only buddies, but even looked like brothers. The one called Beast, after being teased by the two, acted as if he had a blood feud, gritting his teeth and saying, “Ethan, don’t get cocky. Tonight, we’ll keep playing. If I don’t clean out your travel money, you won’t know why they call me Beast.”

The two sides exchanged their usual personal jabs. Mouse, Samuel Reed, and Ethan, whose real name was Ethan Cooper, were roommates. Though the pair often ranked at the bottom in academics and training, they were unbeatable at cards. Whether it was Dou Dizhu, Golden Flower, or Speed, they played like pros. Playing cards with them, you’d not only lose money, sometimes even your meal card wasn’t safe.

Unfortunately, their glory didn’t carry over into the classroom. With graduation approaching, worries about internships and jobs grew heavier. Samuel Reed looked at the form, filling it out stroke by stroke. It was simple: name, gender, place of origin, political status, and so on. There was one subjective question: Why do you want to be a police officer? Of course he knew—uphold justice, maintain a harmonious society. Just as he was about to write that, a hand reached over from behind, snatched the form, crumpled it up without even looking, tore it, stuffed it in a pocket, and swaggered off.

It was his roommate at the back, Eric Foster. Mouse saw Eric Foster’s attitude and, dumbfounded, glanced at Ethan Cooper, asking in confusion, “Ethan, what’s up with him? Got a personality disorder or something?”

“Not really, his personality’s fine. It’s the person who’s got issues,” Ethan Cooper replied, laughing. Police academy students often used such professional terms to roast each other.

“Hey, by the way, why didn’t he take a form? For the physical test, even Beast can’t outrun him.” Mouse looked back, suddenly realizing. Ethan Cooper just shrugged, “I didn’t take one either. You’re just talking nonsense. Even if there’s a chance to stay in the provincial capital, it won’t be us.”

“But what if—just what if—the cards in your hand are a straight flush? Wouldn’t that be awesome?” Mouse shook his head, full of hope for the future, his eyes shining. “If that really happened, I wouldn’t have to go back to the countryside. In our town, getting a permanent position could take years, and even then, there’s no guarantee. You know what you’d do if you went back? Patrolling the streets in the middle of the night, suffering for nothing, and not making any money—twelve hundred a month, same as a sanitation worker… Hey, wait for me, why are you running?”

Watching his buddy Ethan get up and leave in frustration, Mouse chased after him. As he walked down the steps of the lecture hall, he happened to see Adam Parker and Emily Brooks, that perfect couple. Mouse smiled at the beautiful Emily Brooks. Everyone appreciates beauty, but his smile was filtered out by her—she didn’t even notice him. That left Mouse feeling a bit down as he walked out.

He caught up with the running Ethan Cooper and Eric Foster, and Mouse, ever the chatterbox, started complaining again, still in that same tone. Even though he knew the chances were slim, what if—just what if—he got lucky? Every year, aside from those whose families were in the provincial capital, few graduates from the provincial police academy got to stay. Most were assigned to the most basic detective squads or police stations. If, by some miracle, what Director Xu said about solving the residency and housing issues came true, it would save them years of struggle.