The precinct's Criminal Investigation Division office.
Shen Xin had one foot propped up on a chair.
"I'm telling you, that bullet... WHOOSH! It flew right past my face."
"I'm not kidding you guys. I heard it. First, it hit the wall—three, maybe four meters away from me, tops. Then it ricocheted, probably zipped right past me, and slammed into an electric scooter."
Shen Xin gestured dramatically.
His colleague, Old Xing, said, "Shen Xin, are you sure it didn't just graze your scalp? In the movies, when you hear that 'whoosh,' it's always skimming right past their head."
"Old Xing."
Shen Xin glared at him. "I'm just stating the facts. If I said the bullet grazed my head, that would be bragging, wouldn't it?"
Shen Xin didn't like to brag.
But after going through something like that, being so scared you piss your pants, so shaken you can't even speak straight or walk properly... well, that would be a little damaging to one's pride.
