Chapter 22: A Leisurely Stroll and an Unexpected Encounter

Mary wrote a few sentences on the paper, then asked, “It’s certainly reasonable according to protocol, but on a personal level, I find you remarkably calm. I mean, I’ve seen many officers who are shaken afterward, some even have repeated emotional breakdowns.”

“Perhaps it’s because I believe I haven’t done anything wrong. Every time I fired my weapon, it was justified. If I’m doing the right thing, why should I suffer a mental collapse?”

“You’re saying you don’t feel any guilt towards the people who died?”

Ao Xi thought for a moment and replied, “You’ve read my file. I suppose you know the first time I fired my weapon was because a homeless man was fighting with an officer, trying to seize the officer’s gun and attempting to fire it in the process.”

“I feel no guilt for shooting him. He was a life, yes, but what about my colleagues and the crowd of bystanders—aren’t their lives just as important? If I hadn’t fired in time, an officer might have been shot, perhaps left disabled or lost their life. Would I then owe guilt to the officer’s family? If I could do it all over again, I would still pull the trigger without hesitation. My colleagues are good people; they deserve to continue living healthy lives.”

“The second time I fired, the person shot and killed my homeless friend and tried to take his valuables. This person had already murdered three other homeless men. If we’re talking about guilt, a murderer feels none, so why should I feel guilty for avenging my friend?”

“The third time, the man who had killed his own parents charged at me with a knife. If I were a civilian, I could shoot to defend myself and feel no guilt; but as a police officer, am I supposed to feel remorse?”

“Should good people always have guns pointed at them, always be blamed?”

Mary continued to jot down notes as she listened, then looked up at Ao Xi. “I’m just a psychologist, not Internal Affairs. You don’t have to speak this way. And are you sure you’re a truly good person?”

Ao Xi gave an awkward smile. “Not really. I’ve got plenty of flaws myself, just haven’t had the chance to reveal them yet since I came to America.”

“Let’s hope you won’t get arrested by the police.”

Ao Xi wanted to laugh—how could a police officer be arrested by the police? But then he remembered that here in America, officers answer to different departments, so it was actually possible. He’d better be cautious.

They chatted a while longer about Ao Xi’s life and studies back home, and how he was adapting to life in the States.

There was no doubt Mary was beautiful—a perceptive, engaging conversationalist. Ao Xi felt genuinely delighted, and realized he was more relaxed than he’d been in a long time.

Coming to America alone, living as a homeless man, hunting targets, patrolling as a police officer—he’d been under a lot of pressure. Talking with Mary didn’t solve every problem, but it certainly helped.

After about an hour, Mary said the session was over. Her report would be submitted to Ao Xi’s precinct in a couple of days, and he’d be notified by the department.

They exchanged contact details, but Mary declined his invitation for lunch, saying she already had a boyfriend.

So what if she had a boyfriend? He didn’t want to be her new boyfriend—he just wanted a deeper conversation.

Dating a psychologist—Mary’s boyfriend must have quite the courage.

Leaving the mental health center, Ao Xi drove to Chinatown, where he’d heard of a highly recommended Sichuan restaurant called Lion Pavilion. He was thoroughly impressed by the food.

After lunch, it was still early, so rather than go back to his apartment, he decided to stroll around Chinatown. He hadn’t visited this landmark since moving to Los Angeles, which was almost laughable.

Ao Xi knew the general history of Chinatown, but his first impression was the lanterns overhead—they gave the place a festive air. Then there were the small flags hanging outside shop entrances.

The flags displayed shop names, special items, or services in English or traditional Chinese.

One flag read “Great Qing Goods Center” and “Far East Grand Archway,” prompting Ao Xi to venture inside out of curiosity. It turned out to be full of inexpensive goods made in China, products from Yiwu—he couldn’t help but chuckle.

The architecture here was distinctive as well: the ground floors resembled typical shops, while the upper floors sported the eaves of southern mansions, each with a different design. Even in China, it would be hard to see such variety.

The most extravagant was a bar built to look like a tower—truly imaginative.

“Officer Ao?”

Ao Xi was enjoying his stroll when someone suddenly called out to him. Turning, he saw the international student he’d ticketed yesterday—the one driving a convertible Chrysler.

“Officer Ao, it’s really you! You looked familiar, but I almost didn’t dare to believe it.”

The student was enthusiastic; Ao Xi felt a bit awkward, having forgotten the guy’s name.

He changed the subject, “Shouldn’t you be in class? What are you doing out here?”

“I’m a graduate student, not a kid, okay?”

“Alright, alright. Do you drink bubble tea? There’s a Coco shop—let me treat you.” With that, Ao Xi headed toward the bubble tea store.

“No need, really, I’m not thirsty.”

Ignoring his protests, Ao Xi ordered two bubble teas anyway—he wanted to check the student’s name on his phone. Zhong Yiqiang.

“Xiao Qiang, that’s a good name—right on target.” Ao Xi handed him the drink.

Zhong Yiqiang rolled his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Are you here shopping alone?”

“You’re the one alone, not me. I’m here with my girlfriend—she’s taking a class at a nearby dance school.”

“Is your girlfriend pretty?”

Zhong Yiqiang looked wary. “What are you after?”

Ao Xi smiled. “I just want to see what kind of woman could win the heart of such a talented young man.”

Zhong Yiqiang burst out laughing. “Well, I am pretty gifted, and my girlfriend is quite attractive.”

“Come on, let’s go meet her. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

“That might not be a good idea. My girlfriend’s friends are here too.”

Ao Xi’s eyes lit up—that was even better. “Don’t worry about saving me money—I can afford it!”

Joking and laughing, the two walked to a nearby dance hall called Star Dance Studio. The ground floor was a ballroom for dancing, singing, and drinks, though it was daytime and few people were there.

Upstairs was the dance school, divided into several classrooms. The signs indicated a variety of styles: modern, Chinese dance, and others Ao Xi couldn’t distinguish.

He followed Zhong Yiqiang to the jazz dance classroom, peering through the glass wall. Inside, a dozen or so young Chinese women in tight, revealing outfits moved in rhythm with their instructor.

Anyone knowledgeable would say their dancing was excellent—showing the lively, agile character of jazz, the perfect blend of strength and grace, expressing the freedom and individuality jazz represents.

Ao Xi didn’t know much about dance. What he did notice was how slender their waists were, how fair their skin—some with a healthy tan, even abs visible.