Before I even stepped out of the bank, my phone rang. It was my Third Uncle calling. He spoke for over twenty minutes, but the message could be summed up in one sentence: take leave and come home.
Something big had happened back in my hometown. My Third Great-Grandfather (my grandfather's third uncle) was about to celebrate his 110th birthday. With this, the old man had officially become the longest-living person in the county's recorded history.
To support the tourism development project along the Xiao Qing River—last year, an out-of-town company had invested in developing its tourism potential—our county magistrate had already made the decision to revive the long-lost Boat River Opera, which had disappeared for over a century, using Great-Grandfather's birthday as the occasion. My grandfather also made a statement: all male members of the Shen clan working outside the county must return before the celebration to honor Great-Grandfather's birthday.
Considering that I was one of the few working as a government official outside the province (a division-level officer, theoretically cadre rank), my grandfather gave me a bit of leeway: even if I couldn't make it on the birthday itself, I had to be back in time for the opera performance.
After hanging up, I felt the bank card hidden under my undershirt and thought to myself—it's been more than a year since I last returned home. Maybe it's time. Coincidentally, Sun Fatty had just finished handling the wire transfer of four million yuan (≈ USD 560,000) to Wu Rendi (credit to him; if it had been me, I probably would've carried the cash to Nanjing myself).
Outside the bank, during some casual chatting, I told him about the situation back home. Sun Fatty looked at me with a strange expression—awkward and a bit stiff. That's when I realized I'd said the wrong thing. Fatty didn't have many relatives left. Talking about my big family back home might've hit a sore spot.
Just as I was about to change the subject, Sun Fatty looked at me seriously and said, "Take me with you."
Back at the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation, we headed straight to Room One. We looked around but couldn't find Director Hao. With no other choice, Sun Fatty and I sought out Pojun. Compared to us, he was a veteran at the Bureau. We asked him whether investigators like us could take a week off.
To our surprise, Pojun grinned and said, "Why ask for leave? You two still have half a month of unused vacation."
Pojun explained that, according to Bureau policy, after handling major cases like the one in Qilin City, investigators could apply for five days off to recuperate. In special cases, multiple cases in a row could accrue more vacation time. Including the previous desert case, and factoring in weekends and statutory holidays, Sun Fatty and I had a full half-month of leave.
But how come no one had told us about it before?
Just then, Director Hao wandered back into Room One. When he overheard us talking about leave, he looked surprised, "You two haven't taken time off yet? Seriously? You know how busy we leaders are—if you don't remind us about your leave, we'll forget."
We weren't in the mood to argue. We filled out the leave paperwork and got it processed. I started calling a friend who worked at the train station to book two train tickets back to my hometown. After a few minutes of chatting, Sun Fatty snatched the phone from me and said, "Train? Let's fly."
Sun Fatty had the connections. He pulled a few strings and got us two plane tickets for the next afternoon—a direct flight to Tieling. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, just waiting for tomorrow's flight. Still, I couldn't shake a nagging feeling—like I'd forgotten something.
Then Sun Fatty said, "It's your great-grandfather's birthday—shouldn't you prepare a gift?"
That was it! The one thing I couldn't remember—what to bring for the birthday. But it was already late. The downtown mall would likely be closed by the time we got there. I'd have to handle the gift tomorrow.
There was another technical issue, though—what were we going to do with our gear? Leaving it in the dorm didn't feel safe, but taking it with us? That wouldn't look right. After all, we were going home to visit family. Carrying handguns and batons? No way. We'd never make it past airport security.
Unfortunately, Director Hao and Pojun had gone out for dinner, and we had no one to consult. After thinking it through, we figured—our gear came from Room Five, so we should return it there. Just a few days of storage—surely they'd be okay with that?
So Sun Fatty and I grabbed our gear and headed straight to Room Five. Thankfully, Ouyang Pianzuo was still there. But no matter how much we begged, he wouldn't budge.
"Not my department," he said. "We only issue gear. Storage isn't our problem."
With no other option, I explained our situation and asked him what we should do.
Director Ouyang chuckled, "You two... Just take the guns and batons with you. They're not that heavy."
Sun Fatty immediately shook his head. Even though he had been undercover, he used to be a police officer and knew the rules. Even legitimate law enforcement personnel working out of town needed to carry authorization papers and official documents to carry firearms. And we—working for an agency we couldn't even publicly name—often had to flash IDs from other departments just to get by.
"Scared now, huh?" Ouyang Pianzuo's eyes twitched mischievously. He chuckled and said, "Wait here, I've got something good for you."
He disappeared into the side room of Room Five. A few moments later, he emerged holding two police uniforms.
"Perfect size for you two," he said with a smirk. "Consider yourselves lucky."
When he got a good look at the insignia on the uniforms, Sun Fatty's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Director Ouyang, are you serious?" he exclaimed. "Second-Class Commissioner and Second-Class Superintendent? You're having me and Lazi wear these? Who's gonna believe that?" (Note: A Second-Class Superintendent is roughly equivalent to a Senior Inspector or Deputy Chief in a U.S. police department. A Second-Class Commissioner corresponds to a Deputy Commissioner or Assistant Chief, typically part of the senior command echelon.)
I had no idea what "Superintendent" or "Commissioner" meant, so I turned to Sun Fatty and asked, "Are those high ranks?"
He gave me a look and said, "Not that high, but a Commissioner outranks a county magistrate by two levels. A Superintendent is two levels below that."
From his tone, I caught on and turned to Ouyang Pianzuo. "Director Ouyang, isn't this a bit much?"
"Take it or leave it," Ouyang snapped, clearly in no mood for discussion. "Look at you two cowards—what's there to be afraid of? If the sky falls, Gao Liang's the one holding it up. Besides, do you think these are fakes? Let me tell you, these are the realest police uniforms you'll ever see."
He went on to explain: although the Bureau of Paranormal Investigation had officially separated from the Ministry of Public Security back in the early 1980s, for the sake of efficient operations, the Bureau still had embedded personnel across almost all major government departments, including the Ministry itself.
The two uniforms he handed us came from the Fifth Office's long-term storage. The Superintendent uniform belonged to Gao Liang, but the Commissioner one—it wasn't clear whose it had been. Ouyang only had the idea to pull them out after hearing about our situation last night.
Based on his explanation, Sun Fatty and I technically counted as part of the Ministry of Public Security. With that in mind, it didn't sound too crazy to put on these uniforms just to keep up appearances.
And since Sun Fatty's body shape was close to Gao Liang's, he ended up scoring the more impressive Commissioner's uniform.
Early the next morning, Sun Fatty and I got everything ready and headed out. Before going to the airport, though, he dragged me straight to a Chow Sang Sang jewelry store downtown.
At first, I was puzzled—why were we buying birthday gifts in a jewelry store?
Then he pointed at a 24K solid gold peach in the display window, priced at 88,800 yuan (approx. $12,300 USD), and said, "Lazi, what do you think of this? Pretty grand, huh?"
I circled the golden peach and said, "You want me to give this? Isn't it a bit too flashy? My great-grandfather's never seen anything like this—what if he gets scared?"
"I think it's not flashy enough," Sun Fatty snorted. "Think about it, Lazi—your great-grandfather's sitting at the head of the table during his birthday celebration, and this golden peach is right beside him. Everyone coming up to pay their respects will know it came from you. Imagine what your grandfather will think. Your third uncle. Even your parents..."
I cut him off. "I don't know what they'll feel, but I do know that when it's their turn to have a big birthday celebration, I'll have to give something just as extravagant."
"How many people live long enough to reach your great-grandfather's age?" Sun Fatty said leisurely. "Come on, don't hesitate—we'll miss our flight. Besides, it's not like you're short on cash. You could buy twenty of these gold peaches and still be sitting pretty."
Worried about missing our flight, I looked at the smiling clerk behind the counter and clenched my teeth.
"This one, please. Wrap it up nicely, okay?"
At the airport, the uniforms really did come in handy. On top of that, Director Ouyang had also given us official exemption paperwork and a license for carrying weapons on board. With all that in hand, we breezed through the VIP security lane and straight onto the plane.
Two hours later, we landed at Taoxian Airport in Shenyang. (Tieling doesn't have an airport, so we had no choice but to land in Shenyang.)
Luckily, Sun Fatty had connections there. He got someone to arrange an Audi to pick us up.
Another hour on the road and we reached Tieling city. But we weren't done yet—almost another full hour's drive brought us to my hometown: Xiaoqinghe Village, Daqinghe Township, Qinghe County.
As luck would have it, the moment we stepped out of the car at the village entrance, I spotted my third uncle carrying a giant steamed peach bun, clearly on his way to my grandfather's house.
I hadn't seen him in over a year—he'd lost weight, his back was hunched… clearly life after retirement hadn't been easy.
"Uncle!" I called out.
He turned around and froze when he saw me. Probably didn't recognize me right away in uniform.
"Lazi?"
"Of course it's me! After all these years calling you Dad, now I finally call you Uncle, and you won't even acknowledge me?" I teased, grinning as I walked over.
He finally smiled, but before I could even introduce Sun Fatty, my uncle had already spotted something off.
"I thought you said you worked in an office? How come you're dressed like a cop now?"
"We're under the police system," I replied.
My uncle used to be in the armed police, so he was sharp-eyed about ranks.
"Second-Class Superintendent?" he asked. "Lazi, whose uniform are you wearing?"
"It's mine. Just got promoted."
I knew we couldn't keep going down this topic, so I quickly changed the subject and brought Sun Fatty into the conversation.
"Uncle, let me introduce you. This is Sun Desheng—Deputy Commissioner Sun."
(I had assigned Sun Fatty the rank of Deputy Commissioner of a provincial Public Security Department.)
Uncle looked stunned. A guy like this was a deputy provincial police chief?
But Sun Fatty had been through this kind of situation countless times. He handled it like a pro.
With a beaming smile, he greeted my uncle:
"Hello, Uncle! I served with Lazi in the army—back then, he always talked about you. Said his third uncle was like a second father to him. I'm honored to finally meet you today. You've got that soldier's bearing—at first glance, I thought you were Lazi's older brother!"
Sun Fatty kept talking circles, and my uncle got more and more confused. But when he heard the words "Director Shen," he turned and whispered to me:
"Who's Director Shen?"
"...That's me," I muttered.
"You're... a Director?" My uncle looked completely shocked. I had never once lied to him in my entire life—and now I had no idea what to say.
Just then, someone called out from behind him:
"Yuanchao! What are you standing around for? Mayor Gan is on his way to pay his respects. We're just waiting on your longevity peach!"
It was my grandfather—still going strong at his age.
"Grandpa, it's me—Shen La!" I shouted.
"Little Lazi!" Grandpa's smile was so wide his eyes practically disappeared.
"I just said this morning, you ought to be coming back soon. And now look, you're here already! Is that your friend with you? Come on, let's go home—don't just stand around."
Back at Grandpa's house, the place was filled with Shen family members, lively and cheerful.
Grandpa didn't really understand what police ranks meant. All he knew was that his grandson had become some kind of big shot, and he couldn't stop grinning.
Sun Fatty seized the moment. "Grandpa, take a look at the birthday gift Director Shen brought for his great-grandfather."
He unwrapped the box and revealed the gold peach.
The room went silent.
Even Grandpa, who had seen a thing or two in his life, stared at me and said,
"Are you... corrupt?"