"Mary—sa!"
Little Sheng Fang chased relentlessly down the street, his short legs moving at lightning speed.
Usually, when Zhu Qing played chase with him, she’d let him win most of the time. If they were serious, Sheng Fang couldn’t even outrun Inspector Mo’s daughter Nannan, let alone an adult. But today was different—Marysa had never been one for exercise, her plump figure clumsy and uncoordinated as she wobbled along, no match for Sheng Fang’s agility.
After rounding a few corners, Sheng Fang only grew more energized, sprinting with the determination of an elite police cadet, as if he’d time-traveled to the final exam at Hong Kong’s Police College, breaking records on his way to claiming the academy’s highest honor.
Occasionally, when Marysa clearly struggled to keep up, he’d pause to catch his breath, leaning casually against a wall and fanning himself with his chubby little hand. The smug look on his face made it seem like this debt-collection mission was just another round of make-believe.
Once Marysa had put some distance between them, he’d charge forward again: "Stop right there! CID on the case!"
"No running—!"
His scolding voice was adorably fierce—though he said "no running," what he really meant was, "Let’s keep playing!"
Zhu Qing followed at a leisurely pace, letting the little officer have his fun. As long as he didn’t dart into traffic, she was happy to indulge his cop fantasies.
"Young master, please—stop chasing me!" Marysa gasped, glancing back every few steps, completely out of breath.
Marysa never imagined that, after nearly a year, she’d still be hunted down by her "little creditor" in broad daylight.
Last year, the Sheng family had been hit by one disaster after another—first, skeletal remains were discovered in the fireplace, then the second son-in-law "committed suicide," followed by the second young mistress being taken in for questioning, and finally, the seemingly kind and steady old housekeeper suddenly snapped and tried to kill someone. Terrified, Marysa had packed her bags and fled overnight, taking a few toys with her as she left. Little did she know, they were all limited-edition collectibles.
After returning to her hometown, Marysa handed the toys out to the local children.
Spring
She then bounced between several households as a maid, never lasting long. Lazy and fond of long phone calls, she’d gotten away with slacking off at the Sheng residence because the young master was too little to notice, and the adults were too busy with work. But her new employers were far more demanding. Forced to mend her ways, Marysa gritted her teeth and worked hard, ending each day sore and exhausted with no one to complain to.
Today was her rare day off, spent chatting with fellow domestic workers over takeout boxes—until Sheng Fang spotted her.
Marysa’s legs were jelly, and she slumped against a wall, panting.
Who would’ve thought the mischievous little Sheng heir would join the police force in just half a year? Now, he pursued her like a real officer, relentless and unwavering.
The street chase ended with the suspect collapsing from exhaustion.
Sheng Fang lunged and grabbed Marysa’s sleeve, his face stern as a seasoned detective: "Take her away!"
Zhu Qing, who had been following at a distance, finally caught up just in time to hear the little one’s command.
Since when was she his subordinate?
Meanwhile, Marysa looked up and paled at the sight of Zhu Qing.
Wasn’t this the same madam who’d investigated the Sheng family last year?
Sheng Fang planted his hands on his hips: "Confess, and you’ll be treated leniently!"
"Madam, I admit it! I was wrong!"
"My kids had never seen toys like these before…"
The interrogation unfolded right there on the sidewalk.
Marysa wept, mixing English and Cantonese in her desperation, explaining how her children, unaware of the toys’ rarity, had dismantled them beyond repair. Where was the Iron Dragon Express now? She truly couldn’t return them.
By the end, Sheng Fang’s little lips quivered before he launched into a lecture.
This time, he’d let it slide—but from now on, she’d better keep her hands clean at work!
This was Little Officer Sheng’s first solved case. Though it had spanned the New Year, it was finally closed—even if the stolen goods were lost forever.
After "releasing" the suspect, Sheng Fang slipped his hand back into Zhu Qing’s, unable to suppress a grin as they turned away.
From today onward, he was an officer with an impeccable record.
A 100% success rate!
……
The aunt-nephew duo had originally set out to pick up the New Year gift box Sheng Peirong ordered from the old bakery. Only now did Sheng Fang realize he’d chased Marysa two blocks away.
As they walked back, he bragged nonstop about his flawless case record. Suddenly, he stood on tiptoe, drawn to a bustling crowd ahead.
"Zhu Qing, go see what they’re selling over there!"
Zhu Qing, who had been his superior just moments ago, was now demoted to his errand girl.
She jogged over to ask a passerby before returning with a salute: "Reporting, Officer Sheng—it’s the Lunar New Year flower market."
There wasn’t a crowd Sheng Fang could resist.
He tugged his niece’s hand and dove straight into the throng.
Vibrant blooms dazzled under the festive lights as vendors shouted their wares.
Sheng Fang pointed decisively: "Buy this!"
"What do we need flowers for…?"
But Sheng Fang, already digging into his pockets, handed over cash for a pot of golden kumquats.
"And that one too!" He gestured to a delicate pink blossom nearby.
"Peach blossoms—for good luck in love!" the vendor chirped.
"Zhu Qing, Zhu Qing, this one’s pretty! Take it home!"
When had his requests ever been denied?
Zhu Qing, now balancing the kumquats in one arm and peach blossoms in the other, warned: "I can’t carry any more."
Before she finished, Sheng Fang was already queuing at an elderly calligrapher’s stall.
Sheng Peirong never bothered with traditional decorations, so Aunt Ping had only hung two red lanterns by the door. Now, Sheng Fang watched the old woman’s brushstrokes with wide-eyed fascination.
When his turn finally came, the calligrapher smiled.
"Little one, what would you like? ‘Wealth and Prosperity’?"
"No need," Sheng Fang waved his hand. "My home’s already full of treasures."
"Then ‘Academic Success’?"
He shook his head like a rattle-drum: "No studying during the New Year!"
Zhu Qing peeked through the peach blossoms, arms full.
"I’ll tell you what to write," Sheng Fang declared. "Two scrolls!"
Rising onto his toes, he whispered to the old woman, who chuckled and penned two unique couplets in bold, flowing strokes.
Back home, the new scrolls remained unposted.
The mother and daughter were in the living room reviewing a special gift list. These handcrafted, custom-made New Year gifts were personally prepared by Sheng Peirong for the board members who had watched her grow up. As for the holiday gifts for other business partners and company employees, her assistant handled them according to tradition.
"Where’s Fangfang?" Sheng Peirong asked.
Aunt Ping smiled and replied, "The little master has been upstairs the whole time—probably taking a nap."
Zhu Qing glanced upstairs.
Would Sheng Fang really be obediently napping on such a lovely day?
"Impossible," she said.
By evening, Uncle Nian arrived right on time.
He carefully loaded the exquisitely wrapped gift boxes into the car, along with the other presents Sheng Peirong had prepared, to deliver them to the senior members of the group. Sheng Peirong gave a few extra instructions before watching the car drive off, then turned to go back inside.
Sheng Peirong tried holding onto the railing as she slowly made her way upstairs.
Her weekly rehabilitation sessions, insisted upon and strictly supervised by Zhu Qing and her little brother, had never been missed. The doctor had suggested she could try using the stairs as a form of exercise. Taking a deep breath, she cautiously took her first step.
Sheng Fang, who had been absent for a while, suddenly appeared when he heard the faint rustling sounds.
The little one spread his short arms wide, blocking his big sister’s path.
"Big Sis! Why are you climbing the stairs?"
"No no, you can’t…"
Sheng Peirong pretended to agree, but the moment he turned away, she quietly held onto the railing and continued upward.
When she reached the second-floor hallway, she suddenly understood why her little brother had been acting like a tiny supervisor.
On the door of the children’s room, the holiday schedule she had made for him had been taken down. In its place was a festive spring couplet—
"Lots of toys."
And next door, on Zhu Qing’s door, another couplet prepared by the little one read—
"Less overtime."
Sheng Peirong leaned against the doorframe, laughing.
With a click, the children’s room door opened, and a fluffy little head popped out.
"Wow, you broke your promise."
Sheng Peirong tapped his forehead lightly. "You’re the one playing the victim first."
Sheng Fang immediately put on his sweetest, most innocent voice.
"Big Sis, you can’t scold kids during New Year, you know."
……
During the holiday, the most meaningful thing Zhu Qing did with little Sheng Fang was developing their precious family photo.
They picked out a beautiful frame, and the striking portrait was solemnly placed on the round table beside the sofa.
In the photo, Aunt Ping had been reluctantly pulled to sit beside Sheng Peirong, her hands properly resting on her knees. Unlike her usual cheerful self, she looked a bit stiff in the picture, but the warmth in her eyes was still full of affection.
After arranging the family photo in the living room, Zhu Qing put a finger to her lips, signaling Sheng Fang to stay quiet.
The little one immediately understood, tiptoeing after his niece as they sneaked into Sheng Peirong’s bedroom.
Sheng Peirong emerged from the kitchen with a teacup and stood at the doorway. "What are you two up to?"
Before she could finish, a pair of warm hands suddenly covered her eyes from behind.
"Walk slowly."
Zhu Qing’s voice whispered by her ear.
Sheng Peirong chuckled. "Is this some kind of surprise for me?"
"Ready!" Sheng Fang announced in his tiny, adorable voice.
With that, he scampered over in little steps and took his big sister’s hand.
Sheng Peirong’s eyes were still covered by Zhu Qing, her hand held by Sheng Fang. But in this room she had lived in for months, she could sense every corner perfectly. Now, she realized she was standing in front of the bedside table.
Zhu Qing’s hands gently lifted away.
The soft light in the room made Sheng Peirong blink as she opened her eyes. Just as she was about to speak, her gaze landed on the bedside table.
There had originally been a single photo frame there—a picture of Sheng Peirong and her late husband.
Though he was gone, he had never truly left her heart. Countless nights, she had held that frame, reminiscing about the beautiful moments they shared. Those memories weren’t sorrowful—they gave her strength, making every step she took steadier and more assured.
But now, the frame had been renewed.
One side held the original photo of the couple, while the other was a new family portrait with Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang—seamlessly merged together.
As if time had overlapped, it felt like he had always been there.
Sheng Peirong’s eyes welled up without her realizing it. She held the frame tightly, unable to speak for a long moment.
"The whole family is together now!" Sheng Fang declared. "Just missing 'Uncle Bear.'"
Sheng Peirong traced each smiling face in the photo with her finger. "At least your ugly doll wasn’t in the picture."
"You—" Sheng Fang gasped in exaggerated disbelief. "How can someone so pretty say such mean things?"
Sheng Peirong laughed through her tears, pinching his chubby cheeks.
Zhu Qing was smiling too, her eyes lingering on the family photo, taking in the gentle warmth in her father’s gaze.
Every person he had cherished and cared for was living happily, carrying his memory with them.
She thought—Dad would surely be at peace.
……
After the New Year, Sheng Peirong hired a renovation team to start work in the basement.
Though they had lived there for a while, the spacious basement had remained empty. When they first bought the house, the real estate agent had suggested turning it into a home theater or a play area for the kids. Sheng Peirong had never met this agent, but now she took part of his advice—the basement would become a space just for the children.
Except, the "children" in this house weren’t just one.
The basement was split into two sections: one side a colorful playground, the other Zhu Qing’s professional "case-solving room."
When they moved last year, the whiteboard from their old apartment in Yau Ma Tei had been left behind because it was too cumbersome to transport. Now, in Zhu Qing’s dedicated workspace, an entire wall was fitted with a custom-made whiteboard—big enough to hold all the clues she could ever need.
Little Sheng Fang made it his daily mission to squat by the staircase, supervising the workers.
Even as dust flew everywhere, he covered his mouth with his chubby hands, but his eyes sparkled with excitement, already imagining the wonders of this secret base.
As the holiday ended, Sheng Peirong and Zhu Qing returned to their busy schedules.
Happy times always felt too short. Sheng Fang didn’t even dare complain about being "so bored" at home—lest his big sister notice.
So, the little one resumed his adventures with Aunt Ping, wandering around the house all day.
Then, just before school started, inspiration struck. He dug out his kindergarten contact list.
Sheng Fang began making phone calls, enthusiastically informing every one of his friends—
"My house has a playground now!"
The toddlers from Weston Kindergarten’s little class, apparently just as "bored," eagerly accepted his invitation.
By evening, one after another, tiny figures arrived.
"Fangfang, does your house have a super—big slide? A twisty one?"
"Yep!"
"Is there a swing? The kind that goes really high?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Fangfang, can we play hide-and-seek?"
"Sure…"
Jin Bao and Baby Yesi exclaimed excitedly, "Take us there now!"
The other children were equally eager to join in.
Even the most composed Juan couldn't hide the spark of anticipation behind his round glasses.
Sheng Fang tilted his little head and said, "But it's not finished yet."
The kids froze for three seconds before cheering and dashing toward the backyard ball pit.
With a series of thumps, the little ones leaped into the sea of colorful balls.
Bright plastic orbs flew everywhere, accompanied by the sweet, bubbly laughter of children.
Aunt Ping stood at the staircase, holding a tray of juice, shaking her head in amusement.
They say a fish’s memory lasts only seven seconds—though who knows if that’s just another TV myth...
But one thing Aunt Ping could say for certain:
A child’s memory? Three seconds, tops.
Zhu Qing had assumed Sheng Fang would dread the end of vacation.
To her surprise, he couldn’t wait for school to start.
That day, after the kids had worked together to gather all the scattered balls and return them to the pit, Sheng Fang began counting down the days on his fingers.
He missed his friends at kindergarten too much.
He wanted to hang upside-down on the monkey bars with Yesi and Jin Bao, play "human mops" with Juan, and join in the ever-changing make-believe games.
After what felt like forever, the day before school finally arrived. Sheng Fang swiftly packed his backpack, placing it neatly by the entrance as if it, too, was eager to be carried by its little owner.
This time, no coaxing was needed. Even Sheng Peirong had to give him an approving thumbs-up.
"No thumbs," Sheng Fang declared. "That’s useless."
He lifted his chin, his face practically spelling out unimpressed.
"So you want real encouragement, huh?" Sheng Peirong raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"
Sheng Fang tugged at Zhu Qing’s sleeve, swinging her arm. "Three bedtime stories tonight."
Such a simple request was impossible to refuse.
But the little trickster kept demanding "three more" after each round. By the time he finally dozed off, Zhu Qing mimicked his "ant-moving" game, hauling stacks of picture books to the storage room.
All these books were supposed to nurture his love for reading—so why am I the one stuck reading them? she grumbled inwardly. Hide them all!
On the first day of school, Sheng Fang predictably woke up before the alarm.
He hurried Zhu Qing through breakfast, then bolted to the car, climbing into the backseat.
"Let’s go!"
The drive from Kadoorie Hill to Kowloon Tong Kindergarten felt unfamiliar after so long. Sheng Fang chattered nonstop in the backseat, rolling down the window to let the wind rush in.
The breeze carried less of winter’s bite now.
Once the SUV parked, Sheng Fang eagerly hopped out—only to find the school gates crowded with tearful children.
Their faces were puffy from crying, snot bubbles inflating to comical sizes as they clung to their parents’ legs.
Sheng Fang shook his head, strutting through the gates with pride.
"Bye, Qing!" he called, waving dramatically under the awestruck gazes of his peers.
At last, he was a real student—no longer the idle layabout at home!
After dropping off Sheng Fang, Zhu Qing returned to the police station.
Colleagues trickled in, and soon enough, Uncle Li strolled into the CID office right on time.
But today, he looked different.
Gone was his crisply ironed shirt, replaced by a faded jacket. His hair, usually slicked back with pomade, was now a disheveled mess.
"Uncle Li, no styling today?" Zeng Yongshan teased.
Uncle Li just waved her off, too tired to even lift his eyelids.
"Don’t tell me…" Xu Jiale scrutinized him, adopting his detective tone. "Madam Yu turned you down?"
After the Wei Huasheng case, everyone had noticed Uncle Li’s renewed interest in his ex-wife, Yu Jingying. A decade-long separation, fueled by misunderstandings, had ended in tragedy—yet it seemed to rekindle something in him.
But now, his visits to the Organized Crime Unit had stopped. The "reconciliation mission" was officially scrapped.
The office erupted in chatter.
"No way! Madam Yu’s that heartless?"
"Her loss! Our Uncle Li’s a catch!"
"Need tips? I can teach you a move or two."
"Ask Little Sun—he nearly broke up with Ah Ling but patched things up…"
"Ugh, and here I was hoping for a free meal!"
Uncle Li chuckled dryly. These jokers weren’t sympathizing—they were just here for the drama.
He leaned back in his chair. "She didn’t technically reject me."
He’d never outright confessed, and Madam Yu had never said no.
That day, she’d simply sorted through the mountain of reports on her desk, glanced up, and asked—
"Don’t you have work to do?"
That was enough for him to retreat.
Kids reject by shouting "No!" Young adults say "Maybe later." But at their age? A single look sufficed.
"Let it go," Uncle Li muttered.
The office gradually quieted.
Rumors about his divorce swirled, but the truth was mundane. No bitter feuds—just two people who didn’t fit.
Back then, Madam Yu was a workaholic, topping the division’s solve rates. Uncle Li? To him, CID was just a well-paying job. He’d rather cook a gourmet meal, uncork a bottle, and savor life after clocking out.
They were incompatible from the start. The divorce was inevitable; his drunken blunder (a minor one—he’d merely felt unwell during a stakeout) was just the final stroke.
Before leaving, Yu Jingying had told him he’d never make inspector by fifty.
Turns out, she was right.
Uncle Li was lost in reminiscence when someone suddenly pushed the door open.
"Two bodies have been discovered at Zhengqin Tower. Preliminary judgment points to homicide."
Before the words even settled, the officers who had been joking moments ago rose to their feet in unison.
In an instant, all thoughts of romance were cast aside. Their expressions turned grave and focused as they swiftly grabbed their scattered badges from their desks and headed out.
...
The police car screeched to a halt outside the apartment building.
Mo Zhenbang was the first to step out, followed closely by the officers of the Homicide Unit B.
The scene was already cordoned off with police tape. The person who reported the crime was a milk delivery worker.
"Mr. Liu, please recount how you discovered the scene."
"I came to deliver milk around five this morning," he said, taking a deep breath. "As usual, I placed two bottles of fresh milk in the milk box."
He pointed to the milk box by the door. "But when I returned at eight to collect the empty bottles, I noticed the two bottles from earlier were still there. Normally, by this time, the residents would have finished the milk and returned the empty bottles. That’s how it’s been all this time I’ve been delivering here."
"The alarm clock inside was ringing nonstop, so I knocked on the door. Just as I found it odd, I suddenly noticed traces of blood seeping from under the door—dried bloodstains. It was terrifying. I called the police immediately."
The officer took notes and pressed further, "When you delivered the milk at five, did you notice anything unusual?"
"Sir, it was still dark at that hour! We deliver milk building by building on a tight schedule. If we’re late, we get complaints and deductions. Who has time to look around carefully?"
Outside the cordon, a crowd of curious neighbors had gathered, peering in.
From their fragmented conversations, the police pieced together key details. The female victim was a nurse at a hospital, while the male victim worked as an ambulance driver at a rescue center.
Officers held them back. "Step back, keep your distance!"
Inside the apartment, a heavy metallic scent of blood filled the air.
Camera flashes illuminated the room, revealing signs of struggle everywhere—on the sofa, coffee table, walls. Two bodies lay in pools of dried blood, their faces mutilated beyond recognition, the scene gruesome.
A forensics colleague, gloved, carefully lifted a shoe print.
"Size eight and a half, stride even, weight distribution natural. We can rule out the killer wearing ill-fitting shoes to mislead. Based on the pressure points, this is their usual size." After a pause, Forensics Officer Ma added, "Gait analysis suggests the suspect is at least six feet one inch tall."
By then, Doctor Ye from the medical examiner’s office had arrived, crouching beside the bodies.
"Repeated blunt force trauma, skulls shattered. Judging by the blood loss, the killer watched as they slowly bled out from their injuries."
"Rigor mortis suggests time of death was between 1:00 and 3:00 a.m."
Mo Zhenbang knelt beside Doctor Ye, his eyes tracing the horrifying trail of blood leading from the center of the living room to the door. A bloody handprint marked the final struggle—the victims had tried but failed to reach the doorknob.
Outside, the murmurs of neighbors grew louder.
They huddled nervously, straining to hear the officers’ voices and the clicks of camera shutters.
"I—I just greeted Mr. Bao yesterday… How could this…?"
"Officer, is our building safe? Could the killer still be…?"
"Don’t scare yourselves," a younger neighbor interjected. "This was definitely personal."
The crowd stirred, everyone breaking into a cold sweat.
"Strange, I didn’t hear a thing last night."
"Didn’t you know? Their walls are lined with soundproofing foam. They got complaints years ago because their daughter’s piano practice was too loud."
Zhu Qing whirled around. "Daughter?"
"Yeah," the property manager nodded. "They have a daughter, about to start elementary school. But… where is she?"
"Yesterday afternoon, I saw Mrs. Bao picking her up from school. The child should’ve been home."
"You don’t think… something happened to her too?"
The police combed through every room, each one in disarray—overturned furniture, scattered belongings, and smears of blood silently narrating the victims’ desperate struggle.
But when they pushed open the final door, everyone froze.
It was a child’s bedroom. A pink bedsheet lay perfectly smoothed, a small pillow neatly placed at the headboard—a stark contrast to the carnage outside.
Mo Zhenbang approached the wardrobe. In this compact apartment where space was maximized, the closet inexplicably had a gap, with only a few empty hangers dangling.
"Clothes were taken?" His fingers brushed the rod.
Meanwhile, the officers’ attention was drawn to a photo frame on the desk. Inside, a little girl with pigtails beamed, clutching a brown teddy bear.
"Where’s the bear?" Zhu Qing murmured.
They searched every corner of the house, but the stuffed animal was nowhere to be found.
"Lost? Sent for cleaning?"
"Look here…" A forensics officer crouched, using tweezers to pick up a strand of brown fur.
The officers exchanged hushed words.
"Where’s the child?"
"Was she taken?"
"Clothes missing, bear gone, but valuables untouched. It’s like the killer packed her a ‘suitcase.’"
"Uncle Li," Zhu Qing suddenly turned, "this scene…"
It felt eerily familiar, identical to an old case buried in the archives.
The killer had been merciless with the adults, yet showed unsettling care toward the child.
Uncle Li’s brow furrowed. "It’s exactly like the Cheng family case… the same method."
...
Sheng Fang sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of the classroom activity area, bewildered as he watched his classmates sob uncontrollably.
Wow, they’ve been crying forever. Can’t they stop?
"Take a break!" he said to Little Mei beside him.
Little Mei blinked tearfully at him before turning away.
In the corner, Teacher Ji knelt, gently patting one child after another on the back.
She’d braced herself for this. The first two days of school were always tough. Even though the little ones were technically a year older after the holidays, they were still just babies at heart.
After such a long break wrapped in their parents’ warmth, being abruptly dropped off at kindergarten had plunged the classroom into separation anxiety.
Laughter was contagious—but so were tears.
From every corner of the room, the children’s cries rose and fell like waves, unrelenting.
Baby Yesi pulled out a photo of her mom from her little backpack, eyes brimming with tears: "I want Mommy!"
Hearing this, Jin Bao buried his face in his knees, shoulders trembling as he sniffled softly: "I want Mommy too!"
"Didn’t you bring a photo?" Yesi wiped her tears and handed the picture to Jin Bao. "Do you want to borrow mine?"
Jin Bao shook his head soberly. "No, thanks."
In the classroom, Sheng Fang twirled around cheerfully.
Full of energy, he bounced around encouraging everyone—be strong, cheer up, the most important thing for kids is to be happy!
The children’s tears pattered down as they sobbed, turning into little weepy messes.
Sheng Fang, the lone beacon of sunshine, chirped: "Come on, let’s play!"
