At that moment Henry could honestly, willingly admit he was happy.

              He loved the feeling of the hot air of the summer afternoon left on his face exposed to the sun, when he cycled fast, with all the power he had in his muscles, manoeuvring swiftly between other people (who never understood that bicycle paths were meant for bicycles), cutting his way through the lawns, rushing to his violin classes. The sweet weight of the violin case on his back reminded the boy about the purpose and destination of this ride and, in consequence, of his greatest dream – to pass the final exams with excellent results and then start a solo career, become a performer in the word’s fullest meaning.

              He couldn’t see himself as a part of an orchestra. He couldn’t imagine teaching kids how to play, either. He dreamed of becoming a soloist, of being in the centre of everyone’s attention, to express the beauty of classical music with careful yet passionate moves of his bow against the strings, melting into the music completely, feeling everybody’s eyes on him and giving the best out of him in gratitude for their attentiveness.

              As much as he loved playing the violin, there was another thing he throve on. Cycling. Ever since he first learned how to ride when he was five, he loved cutting through the air, feeling his muscles working when he climbed up a hill on his bicycle or letting go of the pedals when he dashed breakneck down. He didn’t mind the tiredness after getting of the back, because it was a happy exhaustion, the one that gave satisfaction and kept you coming back to the cause of it.

              With his earphones plugged into his iPod and stuck in his ears he pedalled quickly, reaching the familiar pedestrian crossing, humming his favourite rock band tune and smiling as the lights turned green. He knew what he was going to do wasn’t allowed, but he felt so good on his bike, why get off and cross the street walking? So without further hesitation he flashed across the street on his bicycle, in the corner of his eye catching a white car passing by on a parallel road, about ten metres from him.

              What happened next made his heartbeat accelerate and reach the speed of his bike. He heard a short siren sound that made him look to the left. There was a police car, the same white automobile that he saw seconds ago. Henry quickly tore one hand away from the handlebars and snatched the headphones from his ears. A voice strangely reminding him of his homeroom teacher echoed in his head. Riding with headphones presents an obvious safety risk. It compromises a cyclist’s awareness of cars and other warnings, such as shouting pedestrians, honking cars, opening car doors. And by the time the front glass rolled down, revealing a man in a uniform, Henry was covered with cold sweat. It wasn’t everyday that he was being stopped by the police when you broke a rule.

              The policeman made a motion with his hand, ordering Henry to turn right into a small street and come to a halt there. Henry nodded to show he understood the command and followed the police car that stopped on the edge of the pavement, definitely too close to another pedestrian crossing, according to the regulations. Hypocrites.

              There were two men inside, one of them, the one who sat behind the steering wheel, being a corpulent, dark-skinned man in his forties with eyes even smaller than Henry's (which was quite an achievement). He had a rather imposing presence, sealed with his stern look and mouth pursed in determination. Whilst the other man...

"Zhou intern," the driver said with an unexpectedly high and a little squeaky voice, "please go on with the procedure and..."

              Henry didn't hear the policeman's next words. He was too busy staring at the younger officer (who definitely looked too young to actually be one). He blinked, seeing the car door opening slowly, and the next moment he was eyeing a one mile long leg emerging from the car, followed by the rest of the man and whoa, all of him was long, Henry thought, taking in the whole of the body in front of him and examined, gliding his eyes from the long legs, through a slim waist broadening into a nice torso and then shoulders clad in a close-fitting uniform, up to a very handsome face with long, straight nose and wide sparkling eyes. Yum.

               Henry noted that the officer in front of him was... nervous. He kept clearing his throat, fumbling through the pages in his Highway Code book, and shifting from one foot to another. He looked utterly adorable and Henry's anxiety evaporated somewhere in between the other’s actions. Henry smiled seeing the awkwardness the man in front of him was desperately trying to do his duty right. After a minute or two he looked at Henry and asked, pointing at the boy's bicycle,

"Where were you going so fast?"

Henry looked at a large, old, red brick building visible above other, smaller buildings on the other side of the busy street. Then he patted his right shoulder, where the violin case rested. "To school. My afternoon violin class starts in a minute or so, officer."

"I'm not a police o-officer, I'm an intern in Traffic P-Patrol Bureau" the other replied quietly with effort. Henry gawked.

"Zhou intern, please hurry up!" The other man's voice bellowed from the car.

"Ah, r-right. So, d-do you know what you did wrong?" He stammered.

How cute, Henry thought. He really must be a beginner. "I've ridden across the street on my bike instead of getting off and wheeling it through the pedestrian crossing, sir," he said politely.

‘Zhou intern’ nodded and finaly managing to find the right page in the small book, shoved it in Henry's face. The younger took a step back, surprised by the man's sudden movement.

"P-please read point six in paragraph one hundred and six," the intern said.

               Henry looked at him stunned, not exactly believing his ears. Is this some sort of a joke? He thought. I broke the regulations, admitted to it, so fine me and we'll part ways in peace! I don't have time to play kindergarten with the police. Henry shook his head but obeyed and lowered his gaze to the letters on the page in front of him. It said,

‘Do not ride across pedestrian crossings, as they are for the people walking only. Do not ride across a pelican or zebra crossing. Dismount and wheel your cycle across. For disregarding the rules above a fine of 100 yuán at most may be appointed by an authorized person. ’

Henry nodded and looked up at the man having read the last word, curious about what was going to happen next. The whole situation started to amuse him.

“Did you understand what you just read?”

“I did, sir.” He said with a smile.

The other smiled back, “I’m glad to hear that. Um…”

“ZHOU INTERN, WHAT’S TAKING YOU SO MUCH TIME?”

Time. Right, time. Henry glanced at the old watch on his left wrist. He was doomed. His violin teacher didn’t like it when he was late. “Um… sir? Can we… finish it quickly? I rode across the crossing for a reason, I need to-“

“I understand. This time you will not be fined, I give you an oral warning. But I’m afraid I have to note down your personal data and inform your parents about this, if you’re underage, that is.”

“I’m turning eighteen in two months, officer.”

“I said I’m not an officer.”

                Henry laughed helplessly, realising the absurdity of the situation. I’m being interrogated by a policeman who isn’t a policeman and I’m gonna miss half of my class. Awesome. “Great, sir, okay. You’re not an officer, I get it.” He could feel  irritation building inside him. “So, can I give you my data already?”

“No need to be so angry,” the intern replied.

“Sir, I’m in a hurry!” Henry shouted, losing control. “My class has already started and I’m stuck three hundred meters away from my school because a policeman who claims not to be one can’t-“

“Name?” The other cut him off.

“Henry.”

“Surname?”

“Lau.”

“Address?”

Henry gave his address.

“School?”

Henry huffed. “The one across the street." The other scribiled in his notebook. 'No, wait, did you really put it down, sir?” he chuckled, seeing the taller crossing the words out. He was rewarded with a glare. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Phone number?”

Henry gave the number.

“Great. That would be it. Remember, follow the Highway Code in the future.” The ‘Zhou intern’ hid his notebook in the pocket of his dark green jacket, saluted, his heels and got back into the car in a blink of an eye. Have a nice afternoon!” he added, taking the last look at Henry before the other officer tuned on the engine and they drove away.

                Henry blinked and hopped onto the bicycle and turned back, pedalling in direction of the school. He deliberately rode across the last pedestrian crossing that separated him from the building. Pinning his precious bike to a post at the bicycle parking on the school’s courtyard, he smirked.

                He didn’t said whose number to give him, did he?