Chapter 158: That Zhang Ye is Writing a Poem Again?
In the endless night sky.
It was 9 P.M.
Superintendent Song, who had tired himself all day, finally reached home. The moment that he entered his house, he said, “Hurry and make me a bowl of noodles. I can’t take it anymore. I’m starving!”
His wife came out to give him a pair of slippers, “You haven’t eaten?”
“I didn’t have the time.” Superintendent Song sighed, “A troublesome figure came in today. I was busying myself on this small case the entire day. I ran around to do all that, all for what? That Wang Shuixin. I’m definitely not helping him in the future. It’s a thankless, arduous task. If I don’t do it well, I’ll get into big trouble. Thankfully, I can still handle some of that stress, and it’s also giving Old Wang some face.” Superintendent Song laughed and bragged to his wife, “After all, I have been working on the police force for more than a decade. I still can handle the pressure from Zhang Ye!”
His wife disagreed, “I saw the news, too. I think that Zhang Ye is quite a nice person. Don’t make an uproar with him. You mustn’t take things too far.”
Superintendent Song was at a loss of whether to laugh or to cry, “I make an uproar with him? I just need to say a sentence, and he would be dying to retort with ten sentences. And every single sentence pricks a person’s heart, preventing anyone from answering. I’m telling you, just that Zhang Ye’s mouth makes me not feel like talking about it, but I believe that even a corpse could be revived using his mouth. Now, as long as I see him move that mouth of his, I get a headache. You may not know about him coming up with some “My Confession” in front of so many reporters at the yard of our police station. The branch Leader even gave me a scolding on the phone after seeing the news. He blamed me for not doing things well! Tell me, who did I offend? In the future, I’ll never speak to people who are in the broadcasting or literature business. Their mouths are too vicious! Being a policeman for so many years, I have never seen a person who debates so well.”
His wife went to the kitchen to prepare noodles for him, “Since he’s troublesome, why did you arrest him? It’s not a big deal either. If it were me, I would have let him go and that would be it.”
“But he did beat someone, and had done so quite badly.” Superintendent Song consoled, “Don’t worry, I’m just helping Old Wang. I have a sense of propriety. If Old Wang really wants me to help his son right a wrong, I wouldn’t even agree. How can I not settle this problem properly?”
“Yeah, yeah, only you are the one who’s awesome.” His wife laughed with a curled mouth.
“Indeed.” Superintendent Song sat at the dining table, waiting for his meal, “Who do you think I, Old Song, am? Do you think a single Zhang Ye like him can…”
Ring, ring, ring.
The phone rang.
Superintendent Song smacked his mouth and picked up the phone, “Little Sun, I just came home and haven’t even gotten to eating a warm meal. Why did you call again? What happened again?”
The other side was a junior policeman’s voice, “Superintendent! Not good! The reporters came again! This time, there’re tens of them! We can’t even stop them! There are too few people on duty!”
Superintendent Song said, “Just throw all of them out. Is there a need to tell you that?”
“B…But…” The junior policeman was on the verge of tears, “That Zhang Ye, he, he wrote another poem again!”
“What? Repeat that again!” Superintendent Song nearly fell off from his chair when he heard it!
“He wrote a poem again. This time, he wrote it on the small, dark room’s wall with a stone.” The junior policeman hurriedly said, “It’s… It’s called ‘Prisoner’s Song’!”
Superintendent Song said angrily, “How was it written? Quickly repeat it to me!”
The junior policeman said, “I can’t remember it all. The deepest impression I had was of the first two sentences, ‘Shut are the doors for humans, open is the entrance of a dog’s cage… Now, the reporters have taken pictures of the poem on the wall! Some of them have even returned to their offices! It seems that they are going to report it!”
Superintendent Song may be a boor, but these days, few in the civil service were illiterate. He had gone through the education system and knew a bit of literature, hence when Superintendent Song heard the first two lines, he cursed in his heart. He only wished that he could curse all of Zhang Ye’s eighteen generations of ancestors. He immediately said, “Hold the ground! I’ll be there immediately!” Then he shouted into the kitchen, “There’s no need to cook the noodles. I’m leaving!”
His wife came out, surprised, “I’ve already boiled the water. Leave after you eat.”
“What is there to eat!” Superintendent Song wished that he could die, “I encountered a darn hooligan! I got eight generations of bad luck! In the past, people said that eight out of ten scholars were hooligans! I didn’t believe it! But now, I ins