Chapter 32: Who Is to Blame for a Lagging Phone?

As time passed, more and more officials entered the shadowy corners of the city.

The robber was carried away by medical staff.

Many of the police officers surveying the scene could immediately tell the injuries were severe, perhaps fatal, and so the proper procedures had to be followed.

“This incident is serious; we must detain you and take you back.”

They had no handcuffs, but the officers insisted, and glanced at the proprietress, saying, “You can't leave either. Please come back with us to make a statement.”

…

By the time they arrived at the police station, night had fallen, the darkness as deep as tea.

Some were eating, some were talking, others handling business, the whole place in chaos.

Ma was not free to move around, but the proprietress was; she went out for a while and returned with a boxed meal for Ma. “Eat quickly. Who knows what they’re up to, wasting time—still keeping us here.”

Ma replied, “Probably because the injuries are serious. Cases like this aren’t usually handled by the station; they’ll wait for specialists from other departments to guide them.”

“What’s there to guide? It was self-defense. People like that deserve to die; the more of them gone, the quieter the world will be.” The proprietress spoke with simple-minded conviction.

Ma, meanwhile, was anxious: If he dies, then I’m doomed too.

Occasionally, the officer who had first arrived at the scene called the proprietress over to ask some questions.

As for the rest, no one paid much attention, and the station remained noisy, so Ma had no place even to sit. He found a relatively quiet corner, leaned against the water dispenser, and began to eat.

A police officer of some rank passed by to fill his cup, his temperament poor and rather arrogant. “Move, move, move!”

Ma did step aside, but then said, “Is saying it just once not enough? Must you repeat it three times as if it’s something important?”

“You…” The officer stared at Ma with impatience.

But Ma enjoyed practicing his gaze; his temper flared, and he met the officer’s look head-on.

After a moment’s confrontation, a flicker of anger crossed the officer’s face, but he said nothing more, finished filling his cup, and walked away. At first, he assumed Ma, with his rumpled clothes, was just some idle person coming in to apply for a temporary permit, but on closer inspection, Ma was dressed quite neatly, handsome, and carried himself well.

The middle-aged officer moved aside and called over a young policewoman, whispering while pointing toward Ma, as if gathering information.

Ma remained carefree, refusing to worry. If things weren’t under his control, there was no use fretting; let them be.

After the officer left, the proprietress came over, adopting the manner of a local. “That’s Zhu Tieming, a real nuisance. He’s the deputy director of this station. He’s been here for years and has a terrible reputation. No matter what business people come to handle, he’s the hardest to deal with. Even trivial matters can end up running you ragged. But rumor has it he’s well-connected, so complaints against him go nowhere.”

Ma agreed; if you encounter an incompetent official, things really can get messy. This situation was already sensitive and complicated. Zhu Tieming didn’t need to be a bad person—just a bureaucrat with poor principles and a tendency to muddle through, and it would spell trouble.

After imagining all the possible outcomes, Ma asked, “Who’s his so-called backing?”

The proprietress shook her head. “No idea, probably some big shot at the district bureau.”

“Oh, I see.” Ma continued in his careless manner…

Later, the proprietress was called in for questioning again.

Afterward, she returned to Ma, her manner naive and inexperienced. “This time the tone of their questioning was strange, and the interviewer wasn’t a police officer. It was a beautiful woman in a professional suit, her badge marked with the national emblem.”

Ma frowned, “She’s from the prosecutor’s office.”

Something felt wrong—since when did a prosecutor intervene so early, before any case details were established?

But rumor had it that Haizhou recently implemented a “prosecution-police” cooperation initiative, with prosecutors dispatched to stations as external agents, allowing them to intervene immediately and better grasp legal nuances.

Of course, that was only talk. Street literature circles saw it as political maneuvering, a struggle for jurisdiction—police powers were being curtailed, and their margin for error reduced.

While imagining, a young policewoman, fresh-faced and just starting out, came over to fill her cup. She seemed to have a good impression of Ma, and whispered, “You’re in trouble. The hospital just called; they issued a critical condition notice.”

Ma wanted to speak further, but she quickly walked away.

In the distance, Zhu Tieming finished conversing with a beautiful woman, then led another officer over and formally cuffed Ma.

“Hey, what are you doing? Catch the robber, not the good guy!” The proprietress, fiery as ever, began to argue.

With so many people present, Zhu Tieming didn’t want to make a scene. He frowned, “Hey, what are you doing? Don’t interfere with our work—that’s breaking the law, you know?”

“I’ve seen all sorts of laws!” the proprietress shouted. “I grew up in this neighborhood. When I was young, if a thief came, it wasn’t unheard of for the neighbors to beat them to death—more than once, even. It was never such a big problem.”

A flicker of contempt and anger flashed in Zhu Tieming’s eyes. He raised his voice, “That was more than twenty years ago. So when you update your phone apps, update your thinking as well. Learn the law.”

“I know nothing! The more you update your phone system, the slower it gets; same with thinking—the more you update, the more morals decay. But you have no choice; phone manufacturers and rapists are alike, forcing everyone to update. You’re just like phone manufacturers, forcing us locals to update our thinking. Updating isn’t the issue, but why does every update slow things down? If the phone’s hardware can’t handle the system, it can be replaced. What about people? Are you going to replace people with these methods?” The proprietress spoke with conviction.

I @#￥

Zhu Tieming and Ma were stunned. They’d thought she was just a hot-tempered beauty with little sense, but unexpectedly, she sounded almost like a philosopher, her ramblings revealing questions that truly provoked thought.

The young policewoman who liked Ma was also half-mouthed in surprise, thinking this woman was formidable. She said phone systems that can’t handle updates freeze, and people are the same. If the system is poorly designed, people become as unresponsive as malfunctioning phones. Phones can be recycled—what about people? The woman had hit the mark. With so many conflicts in society, should we blame the hardware of this generation, or the ineffective codes of the social system?

To the young policewoman, it was clear: Ma, the “heroic youth,” was about to freeze. He was an outsider without connections—his limited “hardware” would soon be overwhelmed by a flood of ineffective code.

After imagining all the outcomes, the young policewoman observed, murmuring, “He’s about to crash. Judging by appearances, he’s about to crash.”

…