Asked you to write a book, not to confess your criminal record!

Chapter 31: Besides writing books, do you have any other side jobs?

“Handsome guy, the cartoon pattern on your girlfriend’s shirt is our ‘doll’ here, just hit 20 bullets right on and you can take it home,”

The stall owner was keen on doing business and took out a little yellow duck plush from the box, pitching it to Lin Chuan.

Lin Chuan took a look.

Printed on Shen Qianqian’s white T-shirt was a cartoon little yellow duck, identical in design to the one the stall owner held in his hand.

“Boss, we’re not…”

Lin Chuan hadn’t finished speaking.

Old Wang placed the imitation gun in Lin Chuan’s hand: “Qiqi got a Doraemon, see if you can help Officer Shen nab a little yellow duck.”

Lin Chuan looked at Shen Qianqian.

Just as a boy can’t refuse a gun, it seemed Shen Qianqian had a particular soft spot for the little yellow duck.

At that moment,

she had already picked up the imitation gun, smiling as she said, “Boss, hit all 20 bullets, right?”

The stall owner laughed: “Right.”

Shen Qianqian raised the gun, squeezed the trigger.

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

As expected of a criminal police officer, her marksmanship was accurate.

The high ponytail swayed slightly with each pull of the trigger, her beautiful eyes intensely focused, her stunning features now displaying a hint of valiant grace.

The corner of Lin Chuan’s mouth twitched slightly.

This was the Shen Qianqian he remembered, with her cool and aloof temperament!

When she was in pursuit of criminals, she must have been landing headshots with every shot, right?

However,

Shen Qianqian was evidently not used to these kinds of imitation guns, and the grip wasn’t quite right, so she missed by a bit on her last shot.

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19 out of 20 bullets hit the mark.

Old Wang, acting as the behind-the-scenes facilitator of Lin Chuan’s love life, immediately pushed Lin Chuan to the table front: “Officer Shen, let him have a try.”

Shen Qianqian smiled and looked at Lin Chuan: “Do you think he can do it?”

Chuan, Officer Shen is asking if you can do it?”

Old Wang said smilingly.

A man can’t say he can’t do it.

Lin Chuan pondered for a moment and said, “I should be able to.”

Normally, when faced with the question of whether they can do something, men would never hesitate.

But the person asking the question was a criminal police officer.

Lin Chuan always thought that what Shen Qianqian was really asking was: Is it a crime or not?

Of course it’s not a crime!

But shooting at balloons isn’t the same as shooting at a target, and it isn’t illegal, Lin Chuan reminded himself.

Old Wang and Xue Qiqi watched the scene with amusement.

Shen Qianqian’s beautiful eyes flickered with interest as she watched Lin Chuan.

Lin Chuan then weighed the imitation gun in his hand.

As soon as the gun was in his hand, he felt something special, like reuniting with an old friend after a long time apart.

Lin Chuan recognized the gun; it was a mock version of the Type 56 semi-automatic rifle, commonly used in shooting games at street stalls, harmless to people.

Out of habit, Lin Chuan’s first step wasn’t to load bullets or pull the trigger hastily, but to check the gun.

The imitation firearms at street stalls, after being used by many people, vary in condition.

Lin Chuan thought that Shen Qianqian’s last shot had missed possibly because of an issue with the gun.

Therefore, Lin Chuan proceeded with a simple check of the gun.

But just this simple action attracted Shen Qianqian’s attention: “Seems like you know quite a bit about guns.”

After checking the gun, Lin Chuan made an excuse: “I like to read about firearms sometimes, so I just imitate what I see.”

“I thought writers just sat at home and did nothing,”

Shen Qianqian joked, and they all laughed.

Subsequently,

Lin Chuan held the gun with his left hand under the aiming scale and his right hand on the neck of the gun, his index finger rested on the trigger. His upper arm was held nearly vertically. Both hands worked together to press the gun against his shoulder. His head leaned slightly forward, displaying the standard posture for holding a Type 56 semi-automatic rifle.

Old Wang and Xue Qiqi exchanged a glance and muttered: “Didn’t expect Old Lin to look the part.”

Laymen watch the excitement; experts watch the technique.

Shen Qianqian immediately noticed Lin Chuan’s highly professional stance, her eyes narrowing with interest: “Comrade Lin Chuan, you’ve got some skill.”

Immediately after,

She saw Lin Chuan gazing straight ahead, his eyes sharp as if he were staring at prey.

Pop!

The gun was cocked, and he pulled the trigger.

A headshot!

A pink balloon burst on cue.

Lin Chuan kept on shooting.

Pop, pop, pop, …

All 20 shots hit the target!

Shen Qianqian slightly furrowed her brow, her face showing surprise.

Not surprised by Lin Chuan’s 20 perfect hits, but because, in Lin Chuan, she seemed to see a well-trained sniper.

At least ten years of experience with guns!

“Officer Shen, thank you for subscribing to my entire novel,” Lin Chuan said as he handed over the rubber duck to Shen Qianqian.

Shen Qianqian, her beautiful eyes fixed on Lin Chuan, smiled and said, “Comrade Lin Chuan, are you really a writer?”

“No,” Lin Chuan shook his head.

“Then what is your real identity?” Shen Qianqian asked, slightly startled.

Lin Chuan smiled and said, “An influent author is called a writer; I’m just a no-name writer.”

Shen Qianqian covered her mouth with a smile, “I mean, besides writing, do you have any other side jobs?”

Lin Chuan scratched the back of his head, “I sometimes pretend to be a certain animal.”

“What animal?”

Lin Chuan took a rare moment to be humorous, “A single dog.”

Shen Qianqian burst into laughter, taking the rubber duck, her face unable to contain the mirth.

In sync, a few dog barks sounded out from inside Riverside Square, as if responding to Lin Chuan.

The evening breeze was cool.

The greenery by the river gently swayed in the wind, the rustling sound like the whispering murmurs between lovers.

Above, was a canvas of fine, dense stars against the dark satin sky, spreading out slowly, the scintillating starry specks intertwining to weave a heady dream.

Lin Chuan returned to his rented apartment in Happiness Community in the eastern part of the city, opened the metal gate, stepped into the familiar but simple one-room living space, and lay down on his bed.

From fantasy, he returned to reality.

That night, after getting the rubber duck, Lin Chuan did not continue to follow Old Wang’s advice but stopped abruptly instead.

He felt that he was still too far away from Shen Qianqian, this ideally perfect policewoman.

Love during one’s student days could be blind.

But as an adult, it’s known that wealthy people often end up together.

Xia Zhu might not care about money, but every moment Wang Duoyu moved her, it involved spending money, and without the inheritance from Elder Wang, Wang Duoyu wouldn’t even know who Xia Zhu was.

Was this Cupid’s arrow?

Of course not!

This was the power of cash!

The power of cash, pew pew pew, more accurate than Cupid’s arrows!

So, making money was still the primary goal!

Average Subscription had begun; using it only for dating would be such a waste, right?

Make money!

…

The next day was cloudy.

The overcast skies seemed to be covered with a veil, the occasional cool breeze blowing through the window.

Lin Chuan got up early.

Because the novel “This Assassin Is Too Professional” had already been exported and completed.

[Work: This Assassin Is Too Professional.]

[Current Status: Unpublished.]

[Popularity Value (Average Subscription): 0/3000.]

Lin Chuan opened the chat box of editor Youyou and sent a message: “Youyou, my new book is here.”

“Is it Swindler II?” Youyou replied.

Lin Chuan smiled and typed two characters: “Assassin.”

Youyou was somewhat surprised: “You really wrote about an assassin?”

Lin Chuan replied, “Yes, I’m serious!”

On the other end of the internet.

Youyou revealed a helpless smile, moved her fingers, and replied to Lin Chuan, “Send me the beginning first, let’s see if it’s exciting enough.”