You're just a locksmith! What are you doing catching swindlers at the start?

Old Zhou put the walkie-talkie in his hand on the table.

With a thud.

Everyone shut up at the same time.

Old Zhou's gaze slowly swept over the crowd, finally landing on Lin Zhou.

Lin Zhou was still squatting on the ground, his hands covering his head, looking as innocent as a dog that had been soaked by the rain.

"A locksmith."

Old Zhou said.

"arrive."

"Your live stream,"

Old Zhou pointed to the camera on his chest.

Is it still open?

Lin Zhou glanced down. The comments on the screen were so dense that the words were almost illegible; the number of online viewers had surpassed nine thousand.

"It's on."

Old Zhou was silent for two seconds, then turned to look at a young policeman next to him who was taking notes in a notebook.

"Little Sun."

The policeman named Xiao Sun looked up, his pen resting on the paper.

He looked to be in his late twenties.

The youthful innocence on his face hadn't completely faded yet.

The uniform feels crisp and new when you wear it.

"you go,"

Old Zhou pointed to the camera on Lin Zhou's chest.

"Watch his live stream replay to make sure he didn't film anything he shouldn't have."

Xiao Sun immediately closed the notebook and walked towards Lin Zhou.

He took a couple of steps, then stopped and turned back to ask, "Brother Zhou, what counts as something that shouldn't be filmed?"

Old Zhou opened his mouth.

Before he could speak, the blond-haired boy squatting on the ground raised his hand to answer first.

"It's that kind of content! The kind where the characters wear relatively little clothing!"

Comments flooded in.

"You blondie, you think you know a lot?"

"Isn't he here to learn photography himself?"

"Hilarious, this blond guy is now acting as a legal education pioneer."

Xiao Sun walked up to Lin Zhou, squatted down, and looked at the mini camera.

The camera, only the size of a fingernail, was black and clipped to Lin Zhou's chest, with a small red indicator light flashing.

"How do I operate this?" Xiao Sun asked.

Lin Zhou handed over the phone.

"Click on this, and there's a 'Live Replay' option. It includes streams starting from 4 PM today."

Xiao Sun took the phone and operated it for a few seconds.

The light from the screen shone on his young face, making his glasses gleam.

Old Zhou stood in the center of the hall, his arms crossed over his chest.

Their gaze shifted from Xiao Sun to the two rows of people squatting by the wall.

The blond guy was secretly rubbing his knees.

The man in the plaid shirt was quietly adjusting his squatting posture, while the tattooed man's gold chain swayed under the fluorescent light.

The lobby was so quiet that only the static of the walkie-talkie and the sound of Xiao Sun swiping the screen could be heard.

About ten seconds passed.

Old Zhou suddenly spoke up: "Never mind."

Xiao Sun looked up, her finger still hovering over the screen: "Huh?"

"No need to look anymore."

Xiao Sun paused for a moment, still holding Lin Zhou's phone in her hands.

The live replay interface on the screen has been loaded.

The progress bar stopped at the moment when Lin Zhou had just started broadcasting.

"But Brother Zhou,"

Xiao Sun glanced down at the screen, then looked up at Lao Zhou.

"It's not about confirming whether or not it was filmed—"

"What if he really did something improper?"

Old Zhou interrupted him, his tone as if stating a very simple truth.

"Has the platform allowed him to continue broadcasting until now?"

The hall was silent for a second.

Xiao Sun's mouth was slightly open, and he blinked twice.

Then he said "Oh" and handed the phone back to Lin Zhou.

He stood up and patted off non-existent dust from his knees.

The live chat instantly became lively.

"The police officer's logic is impeccable."

"Brother Zhou: Did I waste my twenty years as a criminal investigator?"

"Platform censorship is stricter than anti-pornography campaigns."

"Hilarious, this reasoning is flawless."

"I took a screenshot of the blond guy's 'sudden realization' expression."

Lin Zhou squatted on the ground, his hands covering his head, and his lips twitched slightly.

The indicator light for the camera on his chest was still flashing, the little red dot flickering on and off.

Old Zhou turned around and his gaze swept over the two rows of people squatting by the wall again.

His gaze lingered on each person's face for roughly the same amount of time.

"You people,"

He spoke, his voice not loud, but everyone in the hall could hear him clearly.

"Their ability to come up with excuses is getting better and better."

He first looked at the blond-haired man: "Photography. Lens maintenance."

The blond-haired man shrank his neck.

He then looked at the man in the plaid shirt: "Market research. Questionnaire."

A glint of light flashed across the glasses of the man in the plaid shirt.

Finally, his gaze fell on Lin Zhou and lingered for two seconds.

"You're here to fix the lock."

Lin Zhou nodded.

Old Zhou didn't say anything more.

The comments section started flooding again.

"The police officer's look: I don't believe you for a second."

"Brother Zhou: Today I believed three words: locksmith."

"The lock-picking king is the only one who told the truth tonight."

"But he was also the only one who was actually fixing locks."

"What you said upstairs is quite philosophical."

"It's quite a sight to find a respectable person amidst a crackdown on prostitution."

Xiao Sun stood back next to Lao Zhou, opened his notebook, and prepared to continue taking notes.

As soon as the pen touched the paper, he looked up and glanced at Lin Zhou, who was squatting by the wall.

"Brother Zhou," he lowered his voice, "why was he in the secret door?"

Old Zhou didn't look at him; his gaze remained fixed on the two rows of people squatting in front of him.

"Because it's locked inside."

Xiao Sun's pen hovered above the notebook for two seconds.

Then he lowered his head and wrote a few words on the paper.

The blond-haired man listened from the side, opening his mouth slightly before closing it again.

He turned to look at Lin Zhou, his eyes filled with a complex emotion that said, "Brother, you're really awesome."

The girl in the black dress, who was squatting next to Lin Zhou, turned her head and whispered, "Handsome young man, you really came here to fix the lock."

Lin Zhou kept his eyes straight ahead: "I already said I'm a locksmith."

The girl in the black dress couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Old Zhou turned around and glanced over.

The girl in the black dress immediately stopped laughing, lowered her head, and her shoulders were still trembling slightly.

Old Zhou picked up his enamel mug and took a sip of tea.

The last line of comments floated by.

"The Locksmith King, a man who fights his way through a sea of ​​lies with the truth."

The farce in the hall lasted for nearly forty minutes.

Old Zhou asked questions one by one, Little Sun took notes one by one, and Yellow Hair chimed in one by one.

Finally, Lao Zhou waved his hand, letting the people whose identities had been verified leave first.

Lin Zhou was the first to be let through—Xiao Sun pulled up his live stream replay, showing the entire process from entering the store to going through the hidden door to unlocking the door to the police breaking down the door. The camera was always pointed at the lock and the ground, and there was no violation of the rules.

Old Zhou glanced at the replay, then at Lin Zhou, and said one word: "Let's go."

When Lin Zhou stood up, his knee made a cracking sound.

My legs went numb after squatting for forty minutes.

He limped toward the door, and as he passed Huang Mao, Huang Mao looked up at him with a mixture of admiration and resentment.

"Hey bro, are you really a locksmith?"

"real."

The blond guy paused for a second, then gave a thumbs up: "Awesome."

Comments flooded in.

"Yellow Hair's biggest takeaway today: met a real locksmith."

"The lock-picking master earned the respect of the blond-haired man through his skill."

"Hilarious! Out of the twenty-odd people in the audience, only the host was telling the truth."

"Yellow Hair: I thought we were all in the same line of work, but it turns out there's someone who actually does the work."