Chapter 34: The First Night Shift (Please Keep Reading)

626 Asian Night Market—wasn't this the event the girls from 302 mentioned before? This night market must be pretty legitimate; otherwise, both the Chinese and Mark, who’s white, wouldn't be going for fun. Even legit events can upset your stomach, though; Mark must just have a weak constitution!

Ao Xi asked which hospital Mark was in and decided to go pay him a visit. He thought for a moment, then returned to the supermarket and bought several dragon fruits to help cleanse his system, along with duck necks, duck collarbones, and spicy marinated cold dishes—some proper food to nurture his stomach. He took a cab to the hospital and found Mark lying in bed, groaning and moaning, which delighted Ao Xi no end.

Mark’s girlfriend, Jessica—a perfectly ordinary American girl—seemed totally unaffected and was even in the mood to munch on duck necks, biting into the spicy meat with gusto, giving a thumbs-up and asking for more. Well now, Ao Xi finally found the root cause of Mark’s hospitalization—it was you, Jessica!

Ao Xi hadn’t met many Americans before, but surely there weren’t many who loved duck necks this much. Seeing an opportunity, Ao Xi quickly introduced Jessica to even more Chinese delicacies: super-hot beef tallow hotpot, spicy boiled fish, boiled pork slices, chili chicken, twice-cooked pork, and a host of other spicy dishes.

Jessica’s eyes lit up, promising that she’d definitely drag Mark along next time to try them all. Mark rolled his eyes from his bed, looking utterly defeated. The two of them were chatting so happily—why not just be together? Why am I sabotaging myself?

After chatting for a while, Ao Xi took his leave, promising to visit Mark again next time. Mark’s eyes rolled once more—next time? Never! I, Mark, will never be hospitalized again!

Back at the apartment, Ao Xi snacked while watching American shows, feeling that life was truly complete. In the past, he’d had to hunt for resources to watch his favorite series; now, with a channel subscription, he could watch anything at will—pure bliss.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. He remembered America had late-night pay-per-view channels with all sorts of exciting programs. He quickly shook his head—no, don’t watch those. His readers weren’t interested in such racy shows; they preferred scientific documentaries and evening news.

After eating and drinking his fill, Ao Xi went to bed. He had to work the night shift the whole night, and without catching up on sleep, he could barely endure it.

In Los Angeles, night shift patrols meant officers had to drive around the streets until one or two in the morning. Afterwards, they could return to the station’s duty room to rest, but if the dispatch center assigned a task, they’d have to head out immediately. Given LA’s public security situation, there was hardly any chance to sleep.

As night deepened, Ao Xi braced himself and set out for patrol. Comparing day and night, Los Angeles felt like two different cities: few pedestrians by day, but teeming crowds at night. It was mostly Black and Brown folks—meaning Mexicans and South Americans—who lived by the rule: sleep by day, stir things up at night. As soon as darkness fell, they all came out.

Groups of three or five walked the streets, dressed all in black with hoodies pulled up. From a distance, they looked like shadows come to life. If medieval Europe hadn’t had many Black people, Ao Xi could have sworn vampires were modeled after them: draped in black, flashing white teeth with every grin—a perfect likeness.

It really was best not to go out at night. In just a short while, Ao Xi had to warn several people: some lined up to urinate in the street, others drinking right in the middle of the road. The drinkers were especially problematic—if they got hit by a car, the mess was disgusting, and cleaning up was a nightmare. He also cautioned them not to litter empty cans everywhere, or else they’d be taken to the station to sober up.

He broke up a group arguing loudly over which female celebrity was better. One claimed Avril was the best—smoking, drinking, tattoos, definitely hot. Another insisted Kardashian was superior, with her ample curves guaranteed to break his back. Yet another championed Taylor Swift, saying she’d write him into her songs, loving the drama of a few years’ ups and downs. The argument almost turned into a fight, so Ao Xi told them to go home and take care of themselves.

There were thieves, dealers hawking marijuana in alleyways, streetwalkers—every sort of mischief imaginable. Ao Xi wanted to make arrests, but they had designated lookouts; as soon as they saw a police car approaching, they bolted. After several tries, Ao Xi gave up and just waited for dispatch to assign tasks. As long as they weren’t causing trouble on the main streets, he let them be.

In Temple City, half the population was Chinese—even the mayor was Chinese—but by another logic, that meant a portion of them would also be out stirring things up at night. So, after dark, it really was better not to go out.

Once Ao Xi decided not to venture into the alleys, things improved immediately. He turned on the police lights and cruised up and down the main streets. Seeing the lights, everyone scattered. It was boring, and soon he grew sleepy.

“Police bulletin: a silver-gray SUV has repeatedly run red lights, sped, and refused to stop for inspection. It is currently speeding along Temple City Main Street. Officers nearby may proceed to assist as needed.”

Ao Xi perked up and hurried over. As he reached Temple City Main Street, an SUV sped past him, followed by four police cars.

So many cars are chasing it—should I even join in?

While hesitating, another police car joined the pursuit, making it five cars chasing the SUV.

With so many already, one more wouldn’t make a difference. Ao Xi comfortably joined the chase, and the squad raced down the street.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. Ao Xi was numb. He picked up his radio and switched to a secluded channel—a chatroom night-shift officers from Temple City PD had agreed on. “How long are we supposed to follow him?”

“It’s not permitted to PIT in the city. Just keep after him—he’ll stop when he runs out of gas or gets tired,” replied Wally over the radio.

“I’m about to run out of gas myself. Damn it, I’ve already used up today’s quota—I'll have to pay for fuel out of my own pocket!”

“Haha, you deserve it, Antrim. You always use the police car to haul your family’s stuff; of course your fuel usage is off the charts.”

“You’re no better—you took the police car to the massage parlor for a foot soak last time. I saw you.”

“Antrim, my friend, let’s refuel together. I’ll cover your gas money tonight.”

Laughter filled the radio.

Two police cars turned off and left, but soon others joined the chase. After a while, some would leave, others would join. In the end, with police cars swapping in and out, they’d been running up and down the road for a whole hour.

Ao Xi was completely numb; his fuel indicator was blinking. If only he hadn’t joined this chase—he could’ve just found a spot to rest.

But regret was useless. Ao Xi switched on his turn signal, left the convoy, and went looking for a gas station.

He had no idea where he’d ended up after following the chase for so long. After driving for ages and still not finding a gas station, he had to use the GPS.

He followed the navigation to a gas station and found it quite busy—cars lined up at the pumps, and several people inside the kiosk choosing items.

No empty spots, so Ao Xi parked outside to wait his turn.

A sedan pulled up from the other side and stopped. A Black man got out, walked toward the kiosk, glanced inside, then returned, leaned against the car window, spoke to someone inside, and pointed toward the gas station.