People always have to learn to grow up; it's impossible to stay in the same place forever, stagnant and unmoving.
Children grow, and adults must keep up with the times. The old tricks that used to work on a three-year-old are no longer effective against Sheng Fang, now four years old.
Sheng Fang patted the grass stains off his knees and leisurely lay back down on the lawn. Crossing his short legs and resting his hands behind his head, his expression—one that seemed to see right through the adults in the family—left Zhu Qing momentarily speechless.
"He's in his own home," Zhu Qing said, straightening the fallen bicycle and propping it up with the kickstand. "Where else do you expect it to go?"
"Well, that's not my problem."
Not long ago, Sheng Fang had been pedaling his tricycle in circles outside the police station like a little patrol officer, treating his ride as his most treasured possession.
But now, unable to master a two-wheeler, even when Zhu Qing suggested reinstalling the training wheels, he stubbornly refused. Even a child has his pride. The whole class knew he had taken the training wheels off—how could he put them back now? Where would Young Master Sheng's dignity be then?
Zhu Qing wanted to reason with this stubborn little boy.
How could such a perfectly good bicycle be cast aside like this?
"It'll be sad."
"Then let it be sad!" Sheng Fang rubbed his tiny arms and legs, puffing his cheeks in frustration. "I'm the one who's sad! It made me fall so many times!"
Aunt Ping, watching from the side, couldn’t help but chuckle.
These two, uncle and nephew, could actually argue back and forth over a bicycle. The once stern Madam had grown so childish after spending so much time with the little master.
"Anyway, I'm never riding a bike again!" Sheng Fang declared, his expression one of utter defiance.
And so, on that day, the bicycle was parked in the garage.
No one knew when its little owner would give it another chance.
……
Though there were only four people in this household, every day was filled with lively commotion.
Aunt Ping had been busier than ever lately, constantly running errands and returning with bags full of groceries, chattering about the latest happenings outside. The supermarket shelves were decked in festive red, New Year’s songs played on loop over the radio, and even Pork Rong at the wet market had started offering discounts, saying he wanted to sell out early and return to his hometown for the holidays.
Sheng Peirong’s routine was as steady as clockwork.
Every morning, just after breakfast, Uncle Nian would already be waiting outside with the car. She had heard how Sheng Fang insisted on buying Coco a brand-new car, refusing to let his niece drive a used one. Yet when it came to her, she could pick any car from the garage at the hillside villa—no such fuss was made. Clearly, her little brother only spoiled his niece.
Sometimes, when work piled up, Sheng Peirong would think about staying late like she used to in her younger days. But without fail, at exactly six o’clock, her phone would ring. Sometimes it was her little brother’s childish voice urging her home, other times it was Zhu Qing’s gentle reminder. Even if she felt her health could handle the extra hours, the uncle-nephew duo wouldn’t allow it. Under their joint supervision, overtime plans were always scrapped.
After all, work would never end, but the precious family time at night was what truly mattered.
"Family time" was a rule established by Sheng Fang himself.
He and his eldest sister were the "family," Zhu Qing was the "child," and the two adults had to play with the most treasured little one in the house. As the youngest in terms of seniority, Zhu Qing had long grown used to being cornered in the living room—ostensibly for "uncle-niece bonding," though in reality, Sheng Fang was the one having the most fun.
These family moments usually lasted until bedtime.
And then came the serious dilemma—should he go to his eldest sister’s room or cling to Zhu Qing’s? No matter where he chose, Sheng Fang would always bring along "Uncle Bear." The poor stuffed toy suffered daily—crushed under his little belly, tossed onto the floor in the dead of night, or occasionally kicked into a corner. Over time, it grew grubby, bearing the marks of time.
"Uncle Bear is getting old," Sheng Fang said mournfully.
Zhu Qing sat cross-legged on the carpet, scissors in hand, giving the well-worn bear a makeover.
"Welcome to Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang’s Beauty Salon," Sheng Fang announced, clasping his tiny hands together. "What treatment would you like today?"
Sometimes, Sheng Peirong wondered if there was anything this child didn’t understand. He had never been to a salon, yet he mimicked the receptionist’s tone perfectly, as if he’d worked part-time at a spa.
Now, in his role as the most professional beautician, Sheng Fang carefully draped a tissue over Uncle Bear like a blanket and placed two small paper pieces over its eyes.
"This is the eye relaxation phase. Even eyes need rest," he explained solemnly. "Otherwise, they’ll get wrinkles."
Sheng Peirong leaned back on the sofa, watching them with a smile.
She had never seen Coco grow up day by day as a child. But now, watching Zhu Qing carefully comb through the tangled fur of the stuffed bear, it almost felt like time was flowing right before her eyes. If Coco had grown up with them, she probably would have played house just as earnestly.
"Let me cut!" Sheng Fang reached out eagerly.
"No," Zhu Qing held the scissors high. "You’ll ruin Uncle Bear."
Sheng Fang could only pout, watching helplessly as Zhu Qing snipped away with utmost caution.
Snip—
The living room fell silent.
"Oh no." Zhu Qing froze.
A patch of fur was missing from Uncle Bear’s head, leaving a bald spot that looked pitiful.
"This is tragic," Sheng Fang gloated, delighted by the bear’s misfortune. "Our Zhu Qing can catch bad guys, but she can’t give a haircut."
The bear, already an uncomfortable reminder of a colleague due to its resemblance, now looked even worse with its botched haircut.
Wordlessly, Zhu Qing set down the scissors and shoved Uncle Bear back into Sheng Fang’s arms.
Better keep it far away.
"Wow! You, Zhu Qing!" Sheng Fang protested on behalf of the bear. "You messed up and just dumped him on me? So irresponsible!"
"What else can I do?" Zhu Qing put away the scissors, unrepentant. "One more snip and he’ll be completely bald."
Sheng Fang covered Uncle Bear’s ears. "Don’t listen, don’t listen! Zhu Qing’s just scaring you."
He gritted his tiny teeth. "Heartless Madam!"
……
Sheng Fang’s holiday had officially begun.
A meticulously crafted schedule was taped to his bedroom door—Sheng Peirong’s carefully planned holiday routine. Even during breaks, he wasn’t allowed to run wild. Phrases like "Time is precious, don’t waste it" were things his eldest sister often nagged about, and he could recite them backward by now.
As for such a schedule, young Sheng Fang chose to ignore it completely. Nowadays, every time he entered the room, he would close his eyes and feel his way forward with his tiny hands. As long as he couldn’t see it, the schedule couldn’t catch up with him.
Sheng Peirong was both exasperated and amused, so she made time to pin the child down at the desk.
How could her little brother be allowed to "waste his time without learning"?
Zhu Qing still arrived punctually at the police station every day. With the New Year approaching, even the station was filled with a festive atmosphere.
The task assigned by Inspector Mo was to organize old case files. These files were spread out across the workstation, and she examined them with great care, jotting down key points in her notebook.
On Thursday afternoon, Mo Zhenbang returned with a cup of extra-strong coffee.
His subordinates, familiar with his habits, immediately exchanged glances. The boss only drank such bitter coffee when he was extremely anxious.
"I heard the inspector exam results came out today."
"Did they release the results?"
"Inspector Mo, how did it go? Did you pass?"
The team quickly gathered around him.
Mo Zhenbang shook his head, forcing a bitter smile.
"No way!" Little Sun was the first to react. "Wasn’t the interview smooth last time? In terms of seniority and case-solving rate, our boss is more than qualified!"
"It makes no sense. Even Inspector Weng said it was a sure thing."
"If the written exam was passed, there’s no reason to fail at the interview stage..."
The office erupted in chatter.
"Listen, Inspector Mo is definitely acting," Zeng Yongshan said. "This kind of cliché plot isn’t even used in TVB dramas anymore!"
"He must have passed."
"Treat us! Inspector Mo, you’re treating!"
The office buzzed with excitement for a while, but the cheering gradually died down.
Mo Zhenbang took another sip of coffee and lowered his head.
"Wait… seriously? He didn’t pass?"
"Rejected at the last hurdle? Boss, did you offend someone?"
Mo Zhenbang’s lips drooped, his face scrunching up like a bitter melon.
Zhu Qing silently handed him a box of sugar cubes. "Inspector Mo, would you like some sugar?"
Mo Zhenbang picked up two cubes and dropped them into his coffee, watching as they slowly dissolved.
"The higher-ups probably think I’m not ready yet," he sighed. "They’ll be assigning a new inspector soon—"
Before he could finish, Weng Zhaolin pushed the door open. "What are you treating us to after your promotion? Pick the most expensive place—don’t let 'Inspector Mo' off easy."
The office fell silent for a moment before erupting into cheers.
Zhu Qing closed the sugar box, muttering that even if Inspector Mo joined a fraud syndicate, he’d still end up as the boss.
"I knew it!" Xu Jiale dashed forward, pretending to jump onto his back.
Zeng Yongshan straightened up proudly, asking Uncle Li beside her, "Uncle Li, how’s my intuition lately?"
"Boss! Ever thought of switching to acting? You wouldn’t even need training—your performance was flawless!"
"Such an old trick, but you made it look real!"
"Treat us! I want the most expensive Japanese place in Tsim Sha Tsui!"
Weng Zhaolin chuckled. "Does that mean everyone’s invited? I’ll bring my wife along."
"Hey, hey—" Mo Zhenbang pleaded. "Are you trying to bankrupt me?"
The colleagues continued their lively banter, and even Weng Zhaolin didn’t stop them, standing aside with a smile.
The winter sunlight streamed through the window, brightening everyone’s smiles. This New Year was bound to be a warm one.
...
At the end of the workday, the door to the CID office creaked open, revealing Sheng Fang’s adorable little face.
His niece was more accurate than Granny Huang at Temple Street—as if she had predicted his arrival, she had saved him an egg tart.
Weng Zhaolin seemed to have anticipated it too, mysteriously beckoning him into his office and pulling out a warm egg tart from a box.
"John, you and Zhu Qing are the best to me!"
The child’s sweet words were like honey. Weng Zhaolin waved him off, pretending to be unaffected, but his lips betrayed him, curling upward. When had he ever been ranked alongside his niece?
Well, effort did pay off.
The entire B-team clocked out on time. As they walked toward the open-air parking lot, Sheng Fang happily munched on an egg tart in each hand, crumbs all over his face.
It had become a habit for the colleagues to hitch a ride home with Zhu Qing. Laughing and chatting, they ran into Ben from the forensics department.
Ben had originally been part of Cheng Xinglang’s team. Since Doctor Ye was reassigned to work with the CID, the B-team hadn’t seen him in a while. During the small talk, Ben couldn’t hide his envy—he longed for the CID’s lively group of young colleagues. At least Cheng Xinglang used to join him for meals, but now he was left alone. The forensics team either talked about twins or diapers and formula, leaving him out of the conversation.
"Didn’t your forensics team used to have happy hours all the time?"
"They’ve all been transferred. Anzai went to the Medical Council, Wen moved to the government lab… Now the whole department is full of family men. I just sit there at meals, staring at them awkwardly."
"You could still sign up for the Police College in Wong Chuk Hang," Zeng Yongshan teased. "Endure 36 weeks of training, and you can join us in CID."
"Please," Hao Zai cut in mercilessly. "With his fitness level? He’d never pass."
"By the way, how’s Doctor Cheng doing?" Xu Jiale asked.
"It’s already been four months," Ben said. "Actually, this trip was at the invitation of a professor who’s collaborated with our forensics department for years. Just the other day, Dr. Chan mentioned on the phone how well Xinglang’s been performing. Even during meetings, Dr. Chan said the kid fits in anywhere—"
Ben glanced at Zhu Qing as he spoke.
Before Cheng Xinglang left for the U.S., their relationship had just begun to blossom. But with six months of no contact, any flower would have wilted by now.
"So he’ll be back in two months?" Zeng Yongshan asked.
Sheng Fang counted on his fingers. "He’ll return in spring!"
On the way back, the conversation naturally shifted to Cheng Xinglang.
Hao Zai suddenly remembered something. "Uncle Li mentioned that every New Year’s Eve, Doctor Cheng would make a reunion dinner at home alone. Now that he’s abroad, at least he doesn’t have to feel the loneliness of the holidays..."
Zhu Qing recalled the tragic case from seventeen years ago.
When she first heard about it, she and Cheng Xinglang weren’t close yet. Uncle Li had mentioned that Doctor Cheng kept a foldable bed in his office—he rarely went home. But it turned out that every New Year, he still returned, preparing everything alone, eating the reunion meal alone, as if his family were still there.
Time slipped away amid laughter and chatter.
By the time they got home, Aunt Ping was busy with the year-end cleaning, directing the helpers to scrub every corner of the house.
She was about to climb up and down to clean the windows with a rag when Sheng Fang and Zhu Qing grabbed her.
Aunt Ping had now been promoted to housekeeper, responsible for giving orders rather than doing the work herself.
After saying this, Zhu Qing handed Sheng Fang a child-sized broom: "Go tidy up the playroom."
The playroom was a mess, with toys scattered all over the floor, making it necessary to tiptoe around.
"But I—"
"No arguments! Do your own chores!"
Sheng Fang widened his eyes in disbelief—
Since when did the young master have to do manual labor?!
……
Finally, the long-awaited New Year's Eve arrived.
Two large red lanterns hung at the entrance of the villa, specially prepared by Aunt Ping.
As she hung them, she murmured auspicious blessings. Seeing her climb so high, Sheng Peirong, who had rushed out in a panic, broke into a cold sweat. But Aunt Ping, ever capable, completed the tricky task with ease.
Early in the morning, Sheng Fang was dressed in a brand-new red New Year outfit, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable.
Pouting, he tugged at the hem of his clothes. "This isn’t cool at all… I look like a red dumpling."
Sheng Fang was determined to be a stylish little gentleman and tried to change into his cool windbreaker instead.
New Year clothes just weren’t cool!
However, when he dawdled out of the playroom—
Sheng Peirong was wearing a red cheongsam, Zhu Qing had a festive red scarf around her neck, and even Aunt Ping had hurried back to the kitchen to tie on a red apron…
All reluctance vanished from Sheng Fang’s heart—the whole family was dressed in red for good fortune!
"And there’s more." Aunt Ping beamed as she pulled out a red knitted hat from behind her back like a magician. "This is a New Year’s gift for 'Uncle Bear.'"
Sheng Fang’s eyes lit up, and together with Zhu Qing, they placed the little red hat on the stuffed toy.
Covering its comically bald spot, the ugly doll instantly became a bit cuter.
Sheng Fang then pestered Aunt Ping to knit more little red hats.
His entire lineup of Transformers, Ultraman, and Ninja Turtles all needed festive makeovers.
"Goodness, spare me!" Aunt Ping couldn’t help but laugh. "Even if I stayed up all night, I wouldn’t have time to knit hats for every toy in your room!"
Aunt Ping had been busy enough lately, with no time to spare. So Sheng Fang and his niece took turns borrowing the little red hat for their other toys.
When Sheng Peirong passed by, she chuckled. "Still, 'Uncle Bear' wears it best. Ugly as it is, the hat suits it."
Zhu Qing covered the stuffed bear’s ears playfully.
"Don’t listen, don’t listen," Sheng Fang squinted at Sheng Peirong. "Big Sis, it’s New Year—no insulting Uncle Bear!"
Sheng Peirong turned away, muttering, "Can’t even speak the truth during New Year."
The festive atmosphere filled every corner of the house.
The kitchen wafted with delicious aromas as the four of them bustled about.
"Sheng Fang! No sneaking bites!" Zhu Qing’s voice rang out from the kitchen.
Then, silence fell.
When Sheng Peirong entered, she found the uncle-niece duo with stuffed cheeks, clearly enjoying their stolen feast. Caught red-handed, they covered their mouths but couldn’t hide their crinkled, smiling eyes.
"Is the cured meat rice ready?" Sheng Peirong leaned in for a sniff. "Let me have a bite too…"
Finally, dinner time arrived, and the family eagerly gathered around the table.
Aunt Ping, who had grown up in the New Territories, brought out the star dish of the night—a grand layered pot.
Stacked ingredients steamed in a special clay pot, with sea cucumber, fish maw, and abalone glistening temptingly.
"Fang Fang, introduce the dishes," Sheng Peirong said.
Sheng Fang recited flawlessly: "Dried oysters symbolize continuous good fortune, pork knuckles mean wealth at hand, abalone represents abundance, and…"
He listed every dish with pride, as if he’d memorized them all.
Zhu Qing listened wide-eyed. "Have you been practicing this?"
"Not for long," the little master waved it off.
Not long—just long enough to dream about reciting these auspicious dish names.
The house buzzed with joy as Aunt Ping dug out an old DV camera.
The TV screen displayed footage from Sheng Fang’s kindergarten performance. Back then, he had hung his head in disappointment—until his "Powerpuff Girl" niece appeared like a ray of light!
The memory filled the living room with laughter.
"Since we’re all so happy today," Aunt Ping smiled, "it’s time for a family photo."
The DV camera had a photo function, but just as Aunt Ping prepared to take the shot, the family pulled her into the frame.
Zhu Qing set up the camera and activated the timer.
Aunt Ping sat awkwardly beside Sheng Peirong, barely managing to compose herself—
Click.
Her eyes suddenly reddened.
She had always had family—many of them. But as the middle child, she had never been the focus. Later, unmarried and older, her family only cared about her salary. For decades, she had sent money home, yet never received genuine warmth in return.
Who would have thought that past sixty, her employer’s family would embrace her as one of their own?
Aunt Ping often said she worked hard while she still could—implying this job wouldn’t last forever. But now, Sheng Peirong held her hand tightly.
"Aunt Ping," Sheng Peirong said gently, "this will always be your home. Stay as long as you wish."
There was no empty courtesy in those words.
Only a promise—that from now on, she would never have to worry about having nowhere to go.
Aunt Ping quickly turned away, pretending to stand up casually. "Oh, I should check on the lotus seed and lily dessert…"
Watching her hurry off, Sheng Fang frowned worriedly. "Qing Qing, Qing Qing, I think Aunt Ping is crying."
"Those are happy tears," Zhu Qing whispered.
When Aunt Ping returned, her face was bright again. This time, she carefully framed the shot to capture the family’s reunion in perfect happiness.
"Let’s take another one," she said steadily, adjusting the angle.
"Ready—"
In the frame, Sheng Peirong held Zhu Qing, while Sheng Fang sat across both their laps, his little bottom fairly divided.
All three smiled brilliantly.
This was the family photo Zhu Qing and her mother had long promised to take.
"Three, two, one!"
The shutter clicked, freezing their joy in time.
……
This was Zhu Qing’s first New Year’s Eve with family.
She thought the warm reunion dinner would mark the end of the day—until one last surprise awaited them.
Sheng Peirong took out two elegant red envelopes.
"This is for Coco," she said, handing one to Zhu Qing. "It’s the New Year’s gift Mom owes you from all these years."
Inside the gilded red envelope lay a sleek black credit card.
Sheng Peirong said the password was the day she and her daughter truly reunited. Zhu Qing would never forget that day in Berlin—after an agonizing wait, her mother was wheeled out of the operating room, safe and sound. From then on, she had a mother again.
"Fangfang gets one too." Sheng Peirong took out another red envelope and ruffled her little brother’s hair. "Buy yourself some toys."
Sheng Fang accepted it with both hands, then suddenly pulled out a clumsily folded "red envelope" from his own pocket.
It was a handmade packet, crafted from colorful paper with glue still clinging to the edges.
Little Sheng Fang, playing the role of the elder, presented his New Year’s gift: "This is for you, Uncle."
"Qingzai." The tiny uncle puffed out his chest, mimicking an adult’s tone. "Go buy toys with it!"
Aunt Ping had also come prepared, though she rubbed her hands sheepishly.
In the past, she might have worried about overstepping—since when did employees give red envelopes to their employers? But now, without hesitation, she solemnly handed over two envelopes.
"Wow!"
"Thank you, Aunt Ping!"
New Year’s red envelopes were all about sincerity and blessings. At some point, Aunt Ping had become an irreplaceable part of the family.
Sheng Peirong didn’t refuse, simply smiling at the scene.
Zhu Qing cradled the stack of envelopes, each one heavy with affection. The gaps left in her childhood were slowly being filled.
That night, little Sheng Fang was allowed to stay up past his bedtime.
Under the clear, bright moonlight, fireworks bloomed in the courtyard, their glow intertwining with the stars above. The sound of laughter between uncle and nephew never seemed to pause, while Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping stood nearby, their eyes occasionally glistening before breaking into even warmer smiles.
They’d promised to stay awake, but soon Sheng Fang’s head began to droop, tiny yawns escaping him. Zhu Qing took him upstairs, settling beside him on the small bed in the children’s room as she flipped through picture books, reading story after story.
Each tale was different, but tonight, every one had a happy ending.
The tadpoles finally found their mother frog. The grand forest concert ended in triumph. Even the fable of "Waiting for Gains Without Pains" got a rewrite—instead of foolishly crashing into a tree stump, the little rabbit circled it once, perked its long ears, and hopped away toward a new adventure…
Once, little Sheng Fang had wished for magic to freeze time. Later, he dreamed of bottling happiness, making sure each day was brighter than the last.
Turns out, a child’s simple wish could come true.
No magic was needed. Every day would be better than the one before, as long as they were all together.
Story after story, Fangfang’s eyelids grew heavier. Even when he propped them open with both hands, sleep came for him anyway.
As he drifted off, the faint ring of a mobile phone reached his ears.
Half-asleep, he saw Qingzai’s lips curve into a soft smile.
At the stroke of midnight, a deep, gentle voice carried through the receiver.
Outside, fireworks over Kadoorie Hill lit up her profile.
"Happy New Year, Cheng Xinglang," Zhu Qing murmured in reply.
Lulled by the sweetness of the moment, Sheng Fang sank into peaceful dreams.
---
This New Year, Zhu Qing had a rare stretch of uninterrupted days off.
Sheng Fang peeled the "Fangfang Schedule" his eldest sister had stuck on the door and hid it under his pillow.
Who cared about the packed "enrichment courses" listed there? His agenda had just one item: tagging along with Qingzai on her adventures!
Winter sunlight slanted lazily over the streets of Central.
Zhu Qing held Sheng Fang’s chubby little hand as they strolled leisurely. Today’s errand was simple—fetching pre-ordered New Year gift boxes from a time-honored bakery for Sheng Peirong. But the little one had insisted on coming, clinging and wheedling until he became her official "little tail."
Rounding a corner, they passed a group of domestic helpers resting by the roadside.
Suddenly, Zhu Qing felt a tug—Fangfang was using her hand as leverage, tiptoeing as his tiny sneakers scuffed the pavement for momentum.
"Ma-ry-sa!"
A booming toddler’s voice rang out.
Launching himself forward with a "whoosh," Sheng Fang became a tiny projectile.
The plump Filipina helper spun around at the sound, her face paling as her lunchbox clattered to the ground. She turned and bolted.
"Stop right there!" Fangfang pumped his short legs in pursuit.
Zhu Qing stood frozen, gaping as the two erupted into a full-blown street chase.
"Young master, don’t chase—don’t chase!" Marysa panted between strides, her Cantonese broken. "I can’t run!"
"Give back my Rail Racer!!!"
"Marysa—"
Last summer, Marysa had absconded with the young master’s prized limited-edition toy.
Now, fate had brought them face to face. Justice would be served by the mighty Inspector Fang!
