Miss Shen ran away after finishing her meal, which angered her short-lived uncle to the point of res

Economic Crime Investigation Bureau, Monitoring Center.

"These two are planting vegetables again."

In front of the monitor screen, investigator Mark ate a sandwich and mumbled indistinctly.

His coffee cup is also printed with the words "World's Best Surveillancer"—a consolation prize from last year's Christmas party.

Anna, a colleague, slid her swivel chair closer, squinting at the screen, and asked, "What did we plant this time?"

In the video, Bo Junxing is squatting in the small vegetable garden in the backyard of his apartment, skillfully turning over the soil.

The electronic ankle cuffs on his ankles gleamed coldly in the sunlight, but they did not affect his work speed in the slightest.

Shen Feiwan squatted down beside her, holding a packet of seeds in her hands, and occasionally handed her a few seeds.

“Looks like…green beans?” Mark said uncertainly. “Didn’t they just harvest tomatoes last week?”

Anna flipped through the surveillance log. "Last month they planted bok choy, the week before last they harvested cilantro, and the day before yesterday they picked chili peppers..." She suddenly looked up. "Wait, where did they get so many seeds?"

Mark shrugged. "A Chinese supermarket? The kimchi-loving suspect I'm monitoring ordered kimchi ingredients online last week."

On the screen, Shen Feiwan suddenly stood up and patted the dirt off her hands. Bo Junxing also stood up and naturally reached out to pluck a withered leaf from her hair.

“Honestly,” Anna said, resting her chin on her hand, “I’ve monitored over a dozen suspects who were being held captive, and most of them were either irritable and easily angered, or depressed and withdrawn. Like them…”

She pointed to the screen, "Growing vegetables, cooking, transporting goods, dancing—this is the first time I've ever seen this."

Mark took a sip of his coffee. "Good attitude. However..."

Before he could finish speaking, the surveillance camera suddenly shook.

A furry figure sneaked in through a gap in the backyard fence.

"Here we go again!" Mark sat up straight excitedly.

It was a small, grayish-brown raccoon with round, wary eyes scanning its surroundings. It crept closer to the trash can at the edge of the vegetable garden, its front paws just touching the lid.

Hey! Little guy!

Shen Feiwan's voice came from the monitor.

The raccoon was startled and darted into the nearby bushes. But soon it poked its head out again, its black nose twitching.

Bo Junxing took out a small bowl from somewhere and poured some cat food into it. Shen Feiwan placed the bowl not far from the trash can, and then the two of them tacitly stepped back a few paces.

"How many times has this happened?" Anna asked in surprise.

“The third time.” Mark flipped through the records. “Last week, this raccoon came to rummage through the trash cans and they found it. It came again the day before yesterday, and they actually built it a little den.”

On the screen, the raccoon cautiously approached the food bowl, sniffed it first, and then quickly grabbed a handful of food and stuffed it into its mouth. Shen Feiwan couldn't help but laugh out loud, while Bo Junxing picked up his phone and started recording.

"They...adopted it?" Anna asked incredulously.

"Pretty much," Mark shrugged. "I saw them researching 'how to tame wild raccoons' yesterday."

Anna suddenly remembered something, "Wait, according to the rules they can't keep pets, right?"

The two exchanged a glance and simultaneously looked at the supervisor sitting in the corner, who was dozing off, his head nodding.

"Let's just pretend we didn't see it?" Mark suggested quietly.

"Let's pretend we didn't see it," Anna nodded.

-

The surveillance footage at dusk was particularly heartwarming.

Bo Junxing and Shen Feiwan sat at a small table in the backyard drinking tea.

The raccoon they named "Grey" was curled up on the mat nearby, happily munching on an apple. The afterglow of the setting sun bathed the three of them (?), gilding them with a warm golden hue.

“It’s been more than half a year,” Anna said softly. “They haven’t argued once, and they even seem happier than most free people.”

Mark paused for a moment, then suddenly asked, "You said... if we were ever restricted in our freedom, could we do what they do?"

Anna did not answer.

The only sounds in the monitoring room were the hum of the machines and the satisfied chewing of the raccoon on the screen.