Murong sighed helplessly. “Miss always reminds us to stay calm and not make loud, disruptive noise — this girl never manages to remember.”

“But I’m just happy!” Jing Zhi paid no mind to Murong’s scolding and presented a paper box with great pride, as if offering up a treasure. “Miss, this was sent over by Captain Zheng.”

“Zheng Yun?” Yan Qing’s thoughts went to that stern and handsome captain of the military police.

“That’s the one.” Jing Zhi flashed a row of bright white teeth. “Captain Zheng said it’s a thank-you gift from Director Shi for Miss, in appreciation of her assistance to the military police during the Liao He dismemberment case.”

Yan Qing opened the beautifully wrapped paper box to reveal two kraft paper bags inside. Each bag was sealed with a thin cord, its mouth pressed with a red stamp.

The characters for “Little Deer Coffee” were clearly legible.

“It’s coffee!” Jing Zhi cried out excitedly. “Isn’t Little Deer Coffee that new foreign coffee shop that just opened on Chang’an Street? I’ve heard a single cup costs two yuan.”

In this era, a newspaper cost three fen, one yuan could cover a month’s subscription, one yuan could treat someone to a Western meal, one yuan could buy twenty tickets — so a cup of coffee selling for two yuan was truly a luxury among luxuries.

And this was not just one cup. These hand-ground coffee beans were enough to brew at least fifty cups.

“Director Shi is certainly generous with Miss.” Jing Zhi marveled. “These two packs of coffee grounds must come to several hundred yuan.”

Murong chimed in: “Miss helped the military police crack such an important case — receiving two packs of coffee grounds from Director Shi is only fitting.”

“That may be so, but receiving such a valuable gift from someone never sits quite right with me.” Yan Qing thought for a moment. “Let’s do this — I’ll keep one pack, and send back some pastries along with it as a gesture of…”

Before she could finish, she noticed two lines of small writing on the back of one of the coffee packs — bold, sharp strokes entirely consistent with their author’s character.

*”The coffee was a gift from a friend — I am merely passing flowers along to the Buddha. Consider it a small token of goodwill. There is no need to return it!”*

Yan Qing couldn’t help but smile. How like Shi Ting — he had clearly anticipated her refusal and planted this note in advance, cutting off her retreat. If she still insisted on returning it now, she would only look petty and small-minded.

Since he had taken the trouble to give it, why couldn’t she simply accept with grace? Besides, she was someone who practically lived for coffee.

Yan Qing had barely finished one cup when Father Yan arrived.

He had been away on a trip recently, and the moment he returned home, dust still clinging to him from the road, he came straight to see his daughter.

To Yan Qing, though Father Yan was not her biological father, the care and protection he showed her warmed her deeply.

For as long as Yan Qing could remember, it had been her second uncle and second aunt who raised her. She had asked about her parents before, but the two of them were clearly unwilling to discuss it, always steering the conversation elsewhere. Later, after she became a forensic physician and joined the public security department, she had the connections and resources to investigate the truth of her parents’ deaths — but for reasons she couldn’t quite name, she had never done so. Perhaps, somewhere in the depths of her heart, she had always been deliberately avoiding a truth she wasn’t ready to accept.

“The Marshal’s birthday?” Yan Qing was using a small pot to brew coffee for Father Yan. At those words, her hand paused.

Father Yan smiled. “The Marshal sent an invitation, asking me to bring family and attend the birthday banquet. Your mother and I talked it over, and we plan to bring you, Yan Qin, and Yan Qi along.”

—