The young traffic cop really was a bit wronged. His speech was clear and articulate, hardly the mumble of someone who'd drunk too much. Yet, probably just as he said, it was his natural ruddy complexion—though he hadn't drunk much, his face was so red it looked as if it might bleed.
Actually, the spot he was covering was a remote highway not far from a printing factory. Usually, there weren't many people on this road, and it generally wasn't staffed. It had only been assigned now—that is, just after the holidays—because traffic was lighter, and the young traffic cop stood like a mere decoration. Had it not been for the concern that a sudden incident might occur nearby and police couldn't arrive in time, there really was no need to post someone there.
Old Chang was already in a mood where everything irritated him today. On top of that, the young traffic cop was a bit green and spoke with a certain slickness, which made Old Chang like him even less.
