Chapter 3: Resignation?

Xiao Shan District People’s Hospital.

When Lin Qing arrived at the ward, his cousin Chen Yanan had already been moved out of the operating room and was now lying on the hospital bed.

She who had once been tall, strong, and physically robust now radiated obvious weakness—her face pale, her usually neat and tidy short hair messy and matted, her body wrapped in thick bandages everywhere.

His aunt sat beside the bed, her eyes still red and swollen from crying, peeling an apple in her hands.

Her brother Chen Ruizhe stood with his back to the door, gazing silently out the window at the distant urban ring under the night sky, his suit still on, clearly having come straight from work.

The ward was silent, the atmosphere heavy.

“Sis.”

Lin Qing closed the door and walked to the bedside, frowning. “How are you? How did you get so badly hurt?”

Chen Ruizhe turned around, glanced at Lin Qing, sighed silently, and said nothing.

“It’s nothing,” Chen Yanan frowned slightly. “You, though—why are you here alone in the middle of the night?”

“Enough,” his aunt said, her eyes red. “You’re in this state yourself—why are you worrying about Xiao Qing?”

Lin Qing knew his cousin always treated him like a younger brother; this was just a distraction. He didn’t take it to heart.

He frowned. “Sis, you’re so skilled, you’ve trained in ‘Combat Methods,’ and you’re armed—how could this happen on just a temporary mission?”

The Morning Sun Dojo’s “Morning Sun Training Method,” as a foundational martial art for physical conditioning, was widely promoted—almost everyone was expected to learn it.

But the actual combat techniques, the ‘Combat Methods,’ were rarely taught.

Regulations strictly forbade anyone outside the martial arts academies, public security forces, or military from learning ‘Combat Methods.’

Violators ended up sewing machines.

The reason was simple: ‘Combat Methods’ were too powerful, posing a serious threat to public order.

As patrol team captain, Chen Yanan—who had trained in ‘Combat Methods’—could easily take on a hundred armed thugs alone.

Yet now she was this badly injured? Chen Yanan paused, then said: “The night’s clearance operation was going smoothly—until we accidentally uncovered an escapee from Qinghu Island Prison.”

“Qinghu Island Prison?” Lin Qing’s eyes shifted slightly.

Qinghu Island Prison was one of the nation’s three highest-security prisons—walls high, electric fences dense, security impenetrable, armed forces and high-tech equipment countless.

This wasn’t a century ago—escape had long since become a fantasy reserved for movies.

Not even Qinghu Island Prison, let alone lower-security facilities, could be breached by inmates with bare hands.

Someone actually escaped from Qinghu Island Prison? “It’s not what you think—the escapee didn’t get out on his own.”

Chen Yanan leaned back against the bed, shaking her head. “But he’s terrifying. I had no chance against him. If not for my team’s fire support, I wouldn’t have just these injuries.”

Lin Qing knew some public security matters were classified—he understood his cousin couldn’t say more.

And from the 0.3-level Order Rating, he realized this world was far more dangerous than he’d imagined.

“Just these injuries?”

His aunt turned to her daughter, voice trembling with emotion, tears streaming. “You were this bad last night—the doctors said if you’d been brought in any later, they couldn’t have saved you. We still don’t know if your leg will recover—and you’re acting like it’s nothing?”

“Mom.” Chen Yanan sighed helplessly, with no reply.

Only then did Lin Qing notice: beneath the white blanket covering Chen Yanan’s right leg, there was not a single wrinkle, no outline visible at all—the empty blanket seemed designed only to conceal a limb that no longer existed.

“Sis, your leg…” Lin Qing couldn’t help asking.

Though he’d only inherited the original body’s memories, after full integration, those memories inevitably affected him.

The original owner had deeply cared for Chen Yanan—right now, bursting into tears would have been normal.

“That leg was kicked to pulp by the escapee. But he took two bullets from me—he’s either dead or in agony.” Chen Yanan shook her head. “I’ll just get a mechanical prosthesis.”

Lin Qing frowned. “Current prosthetic tech isn’t mature yet—neural connection rates are still low. This…”

His cousin had always aspired to martial mastery; with a mechanical leg, her strength might plummet, and further progress would be nearly impossible.

“What are you thinking? Even standing on one leg, I’ll still beat you senseless.”

Chen Yanan glanced at him, then smiled faintly. “But Xiao Qing really has grown up—so much more level-headed. I thought you’d be crying your eyes out.”

“...Sis.” Lin Qing sighed. “Think about your leg.”

“Try to get a better mechanical prosthesis.”

At that moment, Chen Ruizhe spoke, frowning. “I have a med-school classmate working at the Third People’s Hospital in the Coastal Urban Ring. I’ll ask him.”

He looked at his sister’s amputated leg, voice grave. “And since your injury happened on duty, I checked—your work injury insurance cap is 800,000. Add the maximum disability allowance from the patrol system—sixty months’ salary—and we can scrape together enough for a high-end prosthesis.”

Lin Qing pondered.

His cousin earned 12,000 per month. At sixty months, that’s 720,000—combined with work injury insurance, it might cover a decent prosthesis. But he’d heard the truly high-end models started at millions, even tens of millions.

Still, his cousin’s family couldn’t afford that—only recently had their finances improved, after Chen Yanan was promoted to patrol team captain.

“See? Problem solved.”

Chen Yanan smiled. “Relax. Technology’s advancing fast—maybe in a few years, mechanical limbs will be indistinguishable from real ones. Maybe even regenerate like salamanders.”

“Stop being so careless…” His aunt wiped her tears, glaring at her daughter.

“You should be careful.”

Chen Ruizhe added grimly. “Replacing a mechanical limb is complicated. Re-adaptation can cause neurological damage—so get it right the first time. I’ve got over 300,000 saved I can contribute.”

“Bro, isn’t that your wedding fund?” Chen Yanan frowned. “Just get me something decent.”

“Look at the divorce rates these days—why even get married?” Chen Ruizhe glanced at her. “Shut up. Do as I say.”

Chen Yanan helplessly rubbed her head.

Lin Qing watched silently, knowing his few thousand yuan wouldn’t help at all.

“By the way, Xiao Qing.”

Chen Yanan suddenly turned to him. “The day after tomorrow—wait, it’s already Sunday night, so Monday morning—remember to apply for resignation at the Patrol Bureau.”

“Resignation?” Lin Qing blinked.

“I can’t serve as captain anymore,” Chen Yanan said. “There’s no suitable replacement in the team—upper management will likely send in a new officer to temporarily take over.”

She studied Lin Qing. "You know—even as an unofficial temporary patrol officer, you're unqualified. When I was captain, I could let you tag along. But once the new acting captain arrives, he'll want to solidify his position—and he might use my past mistakes against you. You get it?"

Lin Qing nodded slowly.

Chen Yanan was injured and temporarily unfit for command—even if her mechanical leg recovered well, it’d be months away.

If the acting captain performed well, permanent appointment would be normal.

In short, they were rivals.

The acting captain could either earn credit himself—or find fault with Chen Yanan’s tenure—to secure his position.

And Lin Qing, the temporary patrol officer shoved into the team, was a liability.

“But I’m already in the patrol team—even if unofficial, won’t resignation leave a record?” Lin Qing asked.

“There’s an official record,” Chen Yanan nodded. “But since you’re only temporary, it’s not a big deal. If you resign before the new captain arrives and aren’t caught in the act, nothing will happen—and you’ll avoid being targeted by him.”

Chen Yanan nodded, “But you’re only temporary, so it’s not a big issue—as long as you quit before the new captain arrives and aren’t caught in the act, nothing will happen, and you’ll avoid being made to suffer by the acting captain.”

But he knew the record already existed—it couldn’t be erased.

His cousin’s real goal was to protect him from the new captain’s retaliation.

So, her main goal was to spare him from being tormented by the new captain.

He’d already decided to pursue the patrol path.

“...I understand.”

Lin Qing nodded slightly, not refusing.

Even if he claimed he could be promoted to Patrol Bureau rank, his cousin and her family would only urge him to give up.

He couldn’t mention the Entropy Reversers—so there was no point arguing.

He couldn’t reveal the existence of the Entropy Rebels, so there was no point in objecting aloud.

Chen Yanan suddenly said. “A new criminal gang called the Blue Scarves has appeared on Tieshi Street—very active. The Patrol Bureau and police have both taken notice. Their leader’s got real skills. Don’t go out alone at night.”

Chen Yanan suddenly said, “Recently, a new criminal gang called the Blue Scarf Gang has appeared on Tie Shi Street—they’re quite active. Both the Patrol Bureau and the police have taken notice. Rumor has it their leader has some real skills—try not to go out alone at night.”

He asked: “Sis, given your current condition—if any of your old enemies…”

He asked again, “By the way, sis, given your current situation, if any enemies from your old job…”

Before he finished, Chen Yanan cut him off, pointing upward with subtle meaning. “There’s protection already.”

Lin Qing didn’t fully grasp her meaning—but it likely involved patrol system secrets he wasn’t authorized to know.

Lin Qing didn’t quite understand her meaning, but it likely involved secret matters of the Patrol System—probably something he wasn’t authorized to know.

Chen Yanan closed her eyes. “I just had surgery—I need rest. Don’t overthink it. Focus on your studies.”

Chen Yanan closed her eyes, “I just had surgery—I need to rest. Don’t overthink it. Just focus on your studies.”

(End of Chapter)