When the knocking on the door of the police station—no, the residential police station—echoed, I was teaching Ziwei how to drink cola with a straw. She had just wrinkled her nose at the sting of the carbonated water when the security door was pounded so hard it rattled.
"Community police! Check temporary residence permits!"
Ziwei's cola can clattered to the floor, the brown liquid splashing onto her newly bought jeans—yesterday, while browsing the mall, she had been awestruck by this "fabric that bends and stretches."
Chapter 234