The Chief Prosecutor Is Writing Another Self-Reflection Report Today

The day I went to a matchmaking date, rain came down in torrents.

The matchmaker said he was the youngest deputy director-general at the procuratorate, ten years older than me.

He stood at the teahouse entrance with an umbrella and asked, “Why does your resume say you worked as a rural volunteer teacher?”

Later, his mother clung to my hand. “This girl has the smell of mountain winds in her eyes.”

Everyone laughed that the procurator general had fallen for a rural schoolteacher.

Only I knew how serious he was about everything:

He stayed up late annotating the reports I wrote, and secretly practiced his handwriting by copying the homework he graded.

He even personally cut the ribbon at the Civil Affairs Bureau’s plaque-unveiling ceremony.

Just after our marriage certificates had warmed in our hands, he suddenly pressed his forehead against mine.

“Reporting to you, Teacher Lin: Suspect Jiang requests a life sentence.”

Outside the window, his parents were pressed against the glass, secretly taking pictures of us in our wedding clothes.