I Have a Little Space in Siheyuan

“Reporting in!” He walked to the open doorway and called out in a low voice. It wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly into the room.

“Come in,” a weary voice replied.

He Xiuyuan stepped inside. It was a typical local police station: several peeling desks pushed together, faded portraits of leaders and a few slogans reading “Confess and be treated leniently; resist and be punished severely” plastered on the walls. The air smelled of cheap tobacco, ink, and a faint trace of sweat.