Chapter 139 I'm Actually a Policeman
Su Yingxue couldn't wait to take a bite—first the crispy outer layer, then the burst of juice from the fat, followed by the tenderness of the lean meat, and finally the rich flavor of the mutton fat. All the flavors exploded in her mouth, like a carnival for her taste buds.
She closed her eyes, sighed contentedly, and even her tongue trembled involuntarily in rhythm.
Just then, a commotion broke out at the three-way intersection downstairs. Several men wrapped in black coats stood in front of the barbecue stall, their noses twitching as if they were searching for something.
The man in the lead took off his hat, revealing a sharply defined face. His gaze pierced through the hazy night and locked onto Su Yingxue's barbecue stall—the aroma had already penetrated the cold air, like an invisible hand pulling him over.
"Boss, twenty skewers of lamb!" he shouted, his voice filled with barely suppressed anticipation.
Su Yingxue opened her eyes, looked at the strangers at the stall, and smiled slightly. She picked up a few perfectly grilled skewers of lamb and placed them on a plate—tonight's business might be different because of these lamb skewers.
The aroma of cumin, mutton fat, and honey wafted up on the night breeze, swirling and lingering in the alley, like an invisible thread binding several dark figures downstairs to the barbecue stall.
"Please wait a moment, it's freshly baked, still piping hot." She placed the plate on the greasy wooden table, her fingertips brushing against the trembling oil droplets on the bamboo skewers. The leading man couldn't wait to reach for it, but his black leather glove ripped off with a "rip" and stuck to the skewer—he hurriedly pulled off the glove, revealing a section of his palm with red knuckles, as if he had been badly burned.
"Hiss—" He gasped, ignoring the pain, and brought the lamb skewer to his mouth. The moment the glistening meat touched his lips, the aroma seemed to come alive, rushing into his nostrils. The fat was grilled to a crisp on the hot plate, and with a "crack," the scalding juices splattered out, bursting with the sweetness of honey and the spiciness of cumin on his tongue. The lean meat was incredibly tender, falling apart at the slightest pressure of his teeth, mixed with the rich, creamy flavor of lamb fat, like a dense mist filling every crevice.
The man's eyes lit up instantly, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He finished the skewer in a few bites, not even letting a sesame seed crumb on the bamboo stick go to waste, carefully licking it clean with his tongue. His three henchmen behind him had been unable to contain themselves any longer, craning their necks to stare at the plate like wolf cubs who hadn't eaten for half a month.
"Boss, any more? Five more skewers, please!" The man wiped his mouth, his voice unusually urgent, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table—the rhythm reminded Su Yingxue of Old Li's excitement when he got a good hand while playing mahjong at the alley entrance.
She smiled and turned back to the kitchen, but out of the corner of her eye she caught the man taking out his phone from his pocket and quickly pressing a few buttons. The light from the screen reflected on his face, revealing a faint scar that ran diagonally from the corner of his left eye to his cheekbone, as if it had been cut by a sharp object and then scabbed over.
In the kitchen, the hot plate was still warm as Su Yingxue deftly flipped the remaining lamb skewers. A splatter of oil burned her hand, leaving a small red dot, but she didn't notice. Her mind was filled with the look the man had given her earlier—that look was so familiar, so like the look of a seasoned gourmand she used to see when she worked in the south, always crouching in a corner of the market, secretly checking the freshness of the ingredients. But why would several men in black coats be in such a hurry for a skewer of lamb in the middle of the night?
She suddenly remembered what Aunt Zhang had said that afternoon: "There's been a group of young men sleeping in those bungalows across the street lately, I wonder what they're thinking... Could they be a group of thieves?" Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the bamboo skewer.
"Boss!" a man's voice came from outside, urging, "Make it a little spicier! Just like that red powder you sprinkled on it earlier!"
Su Yingxue responded and grabbed the chili jar, sprinkling out another handful—wild mountain chilies she had specially brought from Yunnan, ground into powder for a potent kick without masking the lamb's natural flavor. As she carried the five freshly grilled skewers of meat out, she found the man staring blankly at the condiment bottle in the corner of her stall, his gaze fixed on the bottle of honey, his eyes burning with intensity.
"Young lady, this honey of yours..." He licked his lips, "was it collected by your own bees?"
Su Yingxue was taken aback, then smiled and shook her head: "It's from the supermarket, but it's acacia honey, which goes best with roasted lamb skewers."
The man stared at her for two seconds, then suddenly grinned, revealing a canine tooth. That smile made him look much more relaxed, as if he had been freed from some heavy burden. He grabbed a skewer of meat, took a big bite, and mumbled, "Boss, with your skills... if you opened a shop in a night market, you'd definitely be a hit."
"Let's not talk about whether it's popular or not," Su Yingxue pushed the plate towards him, "Eat it while it's hot, it'll taste fishy when it gets cold."
The man stopped talking and focused on gnawing on his meat skewers. His three henchmen followed suit, wolfing down their food without even noticing the sesame crumbs falling on their clothes. Leaning against the stall, Su Yingxue watched them feast and suddenly felt that the night breeze didn't seem so cold anymore.
Just then, the man suddenly stopped eating, took out a crumpled business card from his pocket, pressed it onto the plate with a bamboo skewer, and pushed it in front of her.
“Boss, if… if you want to change your stall location, you can call this number.” He paused, lowering his voice, “The night market on the west side of Hecheng has cheap stall fees and a large customer flow.”
Su Yingxue picked up the business card and glanced at it in the streetlight—it only had a phone number printed on it, no name, no address. The man had already stood up and waved to her: "I'm leaving, see you tomorrow."
He turned and strode away, his three henchmen hurriedly following, taking the remaining half-eaten skewer of meat with them. Su Yingxue watched their figures disappear at the end of the alley, touched the business card that still held her warmth, and suddenly felt that the lamb skewers tonight seemed to have a different flavor.
Who are they? Su Yingxue felt a little dizzy, but she couldn't quite make out whether they were neighbors or guests.
On the other side...
Lin Zhiyuan, deputy director of Hecheng Police Station, still felt he hadn't had enough of the lamb skewers. He said to his three colleagues behind him, "These lamb skewers are amazing. They look like they're new here."
"It's delicious, really. Lin, look at that girl's eyes, doesn't she think we're bad guys?" Several colleagues ignored him, pointing at Lin.
"You mean... I look like a bad guy?" Lin Zhiyuan pulled down his hat.
The two colleagues behind him shook their heads first, then looked at Lin's scars and remained silent.
“I told you, we can’t use fake scars. They look a bit fierce.”
"This isn't about the scars, is it?" Several colleagues exchanged glances.
"Alright, alright. I'll have Xiaoman come tomorrow." Lin Zhiyuan shook his head and continued patrolling. But the delicious lamb skewers he had just eaten kept replaying in his mind.
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