Jade Sanyuan cigarettes are 5.1 yuan a pack, Red Plum are 3.8 yuan a pack, and Camellia are 4 yuan a pack—these are considered some of the more presentable cigarettes in the Public Security Bureau.

David Carter tossed the cigarettes back. “I don’t smoke, but I have some in my bag. Let’s just smoke mine.”

David Carter turned around, took out a pack of Ashima, tore off the foil at the top, and pulled one out to toss over. Ashima costs 6.5 yuan a pack, and generally, only the mid-level cadres with long serial numbers in the bureau smoke them. Today was David Carter’s first day reporting to the Jiangmiao Police Station. He had originally planned to grit his teeth and buy a pack of Hongtashan, but then thought, since he was coming down here under unclear circumstances, buying too expensive a cigarette might give the station leaders a bad impression, so he switched to Ashima instead.

Charles Wilson’s eyes lit up as he took the cigarette, struck a match to light it, and greedily took a deep drag. Pale blue smoke slowly drifted out from his nostrils.

“David, I just regret not studying hard back in the day. Look at how well you’re doing now. Sigh, Ashima… Heh, I usually only dare to look at them at the cigarette stand. A pack would cost me a week’s worth of cigarette money.” Charles Wilson took two quick puffs, finally satisfied after getting his fill.

“Charles, don’t think the Public Security Bureau is all that great. I don’t even smoke. Isn’t today just my first day reporting to Jiangmiao Police Station? I had to carry a decent pack to make some connections. You think just anyone in the bureau can smoke Ashima? If only it were that easy.”

David Carter explained with a wry smile. This guy always has to make associations about everything. How did he become so sentimental, almost like a woman? Could it be that the factory is so full of women that the men working there have all become a bit effeminate? Charles Wilson wasn’t like this before.

“Hmph, don’t think I don’t know. Even those security auxiliaries at your Jiangmiao Police Station smoke Red Plum and Jade Sanyuan, and they don’t even have to pay for them. Every day, people coming to the station for business hand out a round to each of them, and that’s enough to keep them well supplied.”

Charles Wilson lifted his head and shook it, the bloodshot in his eyes even more pronounced. “When they walk out, who wouldn’t give them some face? Walk around the street once, and both ears are stuffed full of cigarettes—enough to last you half a day. If you run into someone you know, you might even get a meal and some drinks. Isn’t that a carefree life?”

Of course, David Carter knew he was telling the truth. The auxiliaries at the station were already a notch below the police officers, with lower benefits and pay. If they couldn’t even get these little perks, who would want to do the job? But David Carter also knew how hard the auxiliaries worked—whenever something happened, the tough, dangerous, and thankless jobs were never left out for them. If the police did it, they did it too; if the police didn’t want to do it, they still had to.

“All right, let’s not talk about this. You said Grace Collins and the others are all back working at the factory?” David Carter changed the subject.

“You rascal, I knew you’d ask about that.” Charles Wilson grinned mysteriously. “Grace Collins didn’t get into Jiangmiao Middle School, so she went to the county high school for two years of remedial classes, but still didn’t get in. She had no choice but to return to the factory. Now she’s settled in the personnel department.”

David Carter scratched his head a bit awkwardly. Back in the third year of middle school, Grace Collins was the class beauty. At the time, the energetic David Carter had a bit of a crush on her, but she never showed any interest.

Later, David Carter did well in the high school entrance exam and got into Jiangkou County High School, while Grace Collins only got into Jiangmiao Middle School. During the three years of high school, David Carter didn’t keep in touch much with her. When he went home, they’d just greet each other, and after getting into the police academy, they basically lost contact.

“Oh, what about John Foster?” John Foster and David Carter had always gotten along well, but in the past six months, David Carter had been so busy with the criminal police team that he barely had time to go home, always working overtime on cases, so they hadn’t kept in touch. He only knew that John Foster had also joined the factory, but didn’t know where he was working.

“Sigh, don’t mention John Foster. He’s really had a run of bad luck. You’d never guess where he got assigned.” Charles Wilson sighed.

“Where was he assigned?” David Carter was startled. It sounded like something had happened to John Foster.

“The boiler room!” Charles Wilson said, enunciating each word.

“What? The boiler room?” David Carter couldn’t believe his ears.

The boiler room in the textile factory was nothing like those in other factories. The female textile workers worked in three shifts: day, night, and middle shift. The day shift was normal working hours, the night shift was from 4 p.m. to midnight, and the middle shift was from midnight to 8 a.m.

Because the women worked with lint and dust every day, and the workshop was hot and dusty, almost all the women finishing their shifts needed to shower. The boiler room had to be busy 24 hours a day, also running on three shifts. It was a tough and exhausting job, usually filled by outside hires. How did a factory kid end up there?

“Yeah, the boiler room.” Charles Wilson’s face looked a bit grim too. “His dad got into trouble and was dismissed. He happened to be joining the factory at that time, so he became the scapegoat.”

“What happened to his dad?” David Carter knew that John Foster’s father was the head of the factory’s vehicle fleet, in charge of dozens of vehicles, and had good relations with the leadership—he was quite a figure.