Sheng Fang had grown to three and a half years old, yet he wasn’t entirely sure if he had ever seen his eldest sister. Perhaps the encounters had been few and far between, his memories long faded.
But just moments ago, hiding around the corner of the hallway, he overheard his second sister receiving a phone call and rushing out—apparently, it had something to do with their eldest sister.
The second young miss of the Sheng family had limited mobility, and every time she left the house, it was a grand affair.
The little master peeked out with his fluffy head, tiptoeing lightly down the stairs. Making sure his second sister hadn’t yet been wheeled into the elevator, he darted off faster than a rabbit.
Zhu Qing barely had time to react, her hands gripping the doorknob outside the children’s room.
She leaned forward, looking down toward the garage.
With a swift "whoosh," the tiny figure of the young master slipped into the trunk.
It was the exclusive vehicle of the second young miss Sheng, equipped with wheelchair restraints in the back.
Not long after, the visibly exhausted Sheng Peishan was pushed into the garage by a servant.
The wheelchair rolled steadily into the car.
The engine roared to life, and the vehicle slowly pulled out of the garage.
Zhu Qing stood frozen, belatedly realizing—
The young master had gone off to investigate.
And she… had been left behind?
A penniless young policewoman with no car or driver’s license, she wasn’t about to let any clues slip through her fingers.
After all, with her police badge in hand, commandeering a vehicle was perfectly legal when necessary.
The Sheng family’s driver was already waiting by the car but hesitated to start the engine until Butler Cui gave a slight nod through the glass window.
"Madam’s on a case."
The door shut, and Zhu Qing briskly fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat, her eyes locked on the black sedan gradually pulling away ahead.
"Follow them."
Old Jiang’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.
The recent string of upheavals in the Sheng family had left everyone disoriented. His mind was still numb, but two decades of driving experience had ingrained muscle memory into him. The tires crunched over fallen leaves in the hillside villa district, and in the rearview mirror, Butler Cui’s figure shrank into a tiny black dot.
"Madam," Old Jiang couldn’t help asking, "why are we following the second young miss’s car?"
Zhu Qing’s gaze remained fixed on the taillights ahead, her tone unchanged: "She forgot something."
……
The car wound through the serpentine mountain roads for a long while, Zhu Qing’s attention unconsciously drawn to the trunk of the vehicle ahead.
If the young master couldn’t hold it in, wouldn’t he start pounding on the trunk?
Though Butler Cui had mentioned that Sheng Peishan made a monthly visit to see her elder sister Sheng Peirong without fail on the first of every month, Old Jiang knew nothing about it.
Everyone had heard that the eldest Sheng sister had moved to the fresh-aired fishing village of Shek O, yet at this moment, the black sedan ahead turned into the gates of a sanatorium.
Old Jiang was baffled when he heard Madam order him to stop.
The sanatorium was nestled among lush greenery, quiet and desolate. A notice on the wall outlined visitor regulations—unauthorized entry required special approval from the dean.
Security at the private facility was stringent. Zhu Qing only managed to pass the guard’s scrutiny by claiming she was delivering medicine for Sheng Peishan.
Legs couldn’t match wheels for speed. By the time Zhu Qing reached the open-air garage, Sheng Peishan had already been wheeled away by her attendants to visit her sister.
The Sheng family had kept Sheng Peirong’s condition tightly under wraps—just what had happened to the eldest daughter?
"It’s stuffy in here!"
Zhu Qing’s thoughts were abruptly cut off.
By the trunk of the car, Sheng Peishan’s personal driver, Uncle Zhao, stared dumbfounded at the little head poking out.
Uncle Zhao looked utterly shocked, frantically glancing around, but Sheng Peishan was already out of sight.
He stammered, "Young master, I’ll call someone to—"
"Shut it." The tiny voice tried its best to sound commanding. Sheng Fang braced his chubby hands against the edge of the trunk and nimbly flipped himself out.
The young master brushed off nonexistent dust from his hands with exaggerated seriousness before turning to join Zhu Qing.
"Let’s go."
……
For Sheng Fang, this trip felt like an unexpected adventure.
The sanatorium was surprisingly pleasant—shaded by trees, filled with birdsong and floral scents, no less impressive than the gardens of the hillside villa.
Despite his precocious demeanor, the young master was still a child at heart. His steps slowed as his round eyes curiously took in the surroundings.
Zhu Qing alternated between coaxing and dragging, leaving long streaks on the ground from the young master’s stylish sneakers.
During her student years, Zhu Qing had worked countless odd jobs, but playing babysitter was a first.
She wasn’t good with kids, her tone stiff and helpless: "Little Inspector, the case comes first."
A three-and-a-half-year-old might not understand the intricacies of TV crime dramas, but he knew how cool detectives were.
He refocused, his short legs pumping as he hurried to catch up with his second sister, though his eyes still darted around, even stealing glances at the medicine carts pushed by nurses.
The Canossa Sanatorium, Hong Kong’s most elite private medical facility, had security so tight it was staggering. Even the police couldn’t take a step inside without a warrant.
That was why, since Sheng Peirong’s admission, not a whisper of news had leaked out.
Zhu Qing stood at the base of the ward building, lifting her gaze.
Just how many secrets did this seemingly illustrious Sheng family hide? From Sheng Fang’s existence, the death of the eldest sister’s husband, the second sister’s disability, to Sheng Peirong’s concealed hospitalization—each incident was wrapped in impenetrable silence.
All along, the outside world had only ever seen the carefully constructed illusions the Sheng family wove.
The elevator’s digital display remained fixed on the fourth floor, unmoving.
Meaning Sheng Peirong’s room was on the fourth level.
Down the hallway, at the very end, was a private suite with its own garden. The nursing station was set at a distance, monitors displaying vital signs with clinical precision.
Sheng Fang tried his best to keep a straight face, feigning composure. Moments ago, the policewoman had warned him—
No reckless moves.
To avoid surveillance, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang had taken the stairs.
The stairwell window was slightly ajar, the lingering scent of smoke suggesting someone had recently been there.
The young master pinched his nose in disgust, crouching low as he prepared to sneak into the ward—only for the hood of his sweatshirt to be yanked back.
Zhu Qing pressed a finger to her lips in a "shush" gesture.
The conversation from the nursing station carried clearly.
"The patient’s fingers showed slight movement earlier. Dean Luo immediately notified the second young miss Sheng… but now—she’s gone still again."
"The second young miss is with her now, reading the newspaper aloud like always."
The nurses discussed the patient’s condition.
Initially, severe post-traumatic stress disorder had left her catatonic—unresponsive, refusing to speak or eat. It was only her husband’s insistence on tube feeding that kept her alive. But years of depression later led to stress-induced cardiomyopathy. After resuscitation, she remained in a vegetative state.
Zhu Qing leaned against the wall.
If the skeletal remains found in the fireplace were connected to He Jia’er and Professor Cheng, and with Professor Cheng already deceased, Sheng Peirong was the only one left who might hold clues to unravel the mystery.
The nurses’ conversation continued.
"When Professor Cheng was with her in the earlier years, it was slightly better. But after his passing, her vitals have been weakening."
"I heard she was once a steel magnolia—unflinching even at the negotiation table…"
Sheng Fang tugged at Zhu Qing’s sleeve, his small face scrunched in confusion.
Zhu Qing suddenly realized that the widely circulated rumors of a "family feud over inheritance" were completely fabricated. After the accidental death of her daughter, Sheng Peirong had already suffered a mental breakdown. Mr. Sheng had concocted the story of a wealthy family conflict merely to save face.
"Perhaps for a patient like her, being conscious is more painful than being comatose," the older nurse said slowly. "Back then, she would clutch that notebook every day, waiting. She waited so long that the clasp wore down to bare metal, and the dark green leather cover faded to pale..."
A thought flashed through Zhu Qing’s mind.
During the Xiangjiang News Rising Star event years ago, the organizers had distributed notebooks and fountain pens as souvenirs.
In the commemorative photo, He Jia'er had proudly held up the dark green notebook, tucking the pen into her shirt pocket with a flourish.
"What notebook?" a younger nurse asked.
"The one with gold embossing on the cover... It went missing when we moved her to another room."
"She always said it contained news about her daughter..."
A small hand suddenly patted the young master of the Sheng family on the shoulder.
Action!
The nurses whispered among themselves until the sound of approaching footsteps abruptly silenced their chatter.
"Are you—"
Chen Chaosheng’s bizarre death had initially appeared to be a suicide out of guilt.
Yet the scene was too "perfect." The suitcase in his bedroom remained a thorn in Zhu Qing’s side.
Chen Chaosheng, Cheng Zhaoqian, He Jia'er...
What was the connection between them?
Wedged between the pages of the notebook were case documents.
Zhu Qing pulled out the Sheng family’s portrait taken at the completion of their hillside villa and pointed at the second son-in-law, Chen Chaosheng. "Has this gentleman ever visited?"
The nurses exchanged uneasy glances—until a tiny figure suddenly tiptoed up to the nurse’s station, resting his round chin on the counter.
"Nurse-jie," the young master said, blinking innocently—uncharacteristically playing cute. "Second brother-in-law promised to bring me a glowing Iron Man model!"
"Haven’t seen your second brother-in-law here," the nurse replied knowingly, smiling.
At the same time, Zhu Qing "accidentally" let slip the photo from the Xiangjiang News Rising Star event.
The picture spun midair before the older nurse instinctively caught it.
Her gaze froze the moment she saw it. "This notebook—"
Zhu Qing watched her intently.
The nursing home staff strictly adhered to confidentiality rules, never speaking out of turn.
After an agonizing silence, the nurse handed the photo back with a polite smile. "Their notebooks seem to match the pens."
The click of a door lock echoed down the hall.
"Do you need to use the restroom?" Zhu Qing turned at the sound. "I’ll take you."
"Okay, Marisa."
Seizing the opportunity, the young master cheekily assigned her the name of a Filipina maid.
As the pair rounded the corridor, their figures gradually receded into the distance...
Zhu Qing asked, "Has anyone ever told you you’re quite the little actor?"
Sheng Fang, with his childlike face, adopted an exaggeratedly solemn expression—
"You sound like a cop fishing for info."
