Zong Zhuoxian was dead.
Just like Ke Xiaobo years ago, she had fallen from the seventeenth floor of a high-rise, dying instantly.
On the rooftop, the officers stood in silence for a long time, the echoes of Zong Zhuoxian’s brutal final confession still lingering in their ears. They had watched as Cheng Xinglang’s eyes reddened, as he nearly collapsed under the weight of it all, and as he clung to Zhu Qing the moment she arrived, holding her tightly like a lifeline.
And then, unexpectedly, the case took a turn.
Zhu Qing brought news—according to records from an international medical organization, eighteen years ago, Zong Zhuoxian had secretly sent away a young boy.
The embrace lasted an eternity.
Only when Cheng Xinglang finally regained some strength did he slowly loosen his arms.
"Feeling better?"
She spoke softly, sharing her latest discovery. The distant sounds of the world rushed back into his ears, and the suffocating silence lifted.
That night eighteen years ago, he had been left alone in the Western-style house in Ho Man Tin. Now, at last, someone had pulled him out of the endless darkness.
His brother had left with Zong Zhuoxian to save his life. As memories surged like a tidal wave, Cheng Xinglang nearly choked on the pain. But with it came a new hope. Zhu Qing told him—he was alive. There could be no more precious news in the world.
"Look." Zhu Qing pointed at the screen of her mobile phone. "It’s a legitimate international organization. They were the ones who took your brother."
Side by side, they pored over the documents, an unspoken shift unfolding between them.
Around them, their colleagues finally exhaled in relief, smiles breaking across their faces.
Xu Jiale and Hao Zai nudged each other with knowing smirks, while Little Sun joined in the teasing.
Zeng Yongshan turned away, hiding a quiet laugh.
"If your eyes are bothering you, go see an optometrist," Mo Zhenbang snapped, though the upward twitch of his lips betrayed him. "If you’ve got nothing better to do, go coordinate with the Organized Crime Unit for the wrap-up!"
……
In the interrogation room of the Organized Crime Unit, the harsh fluorescent lights flickered back on.
Wei Feng instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes, the metallic clank of his handcuffs echoing in the space.
When he learned of Zong Zhuoxian’s death, his body stiffened. He jerked his head up, staring blankly for a long moment before he could speak.
"She… she’s dead?" he rasped.
Memories surged across decades, settling on their childhood.
Back then, they were just kids in a small village in Yuen Long. No luxury cars, no mansions—just pure, carefree laughter. She had been younger, trailing behind him like a little sister. Every time he turned around, there she was, grinning. That smile had stayed with him through the years, a tender imprint on his heart that refused to fade.
"When she was thirteen, her family moved away. In those days, a letter could take weeks to arrive, and I didn’t even have her address. We lost touch."
"By the time we met again, she was a doctor at Ming Tak Psychiatric Center, with a loving husband and a sweet daughter."
The innocent affection of their youth remained in the past. When they reunited, both had families of their own.
Years passed without contact—until Zong Zhuoxian sought him out. By then, she was alone, her husband and daughter lost to illness.
"When she reached out, I was surprised," he continued. "She was the one who made the first connection with that operation. She just needed someone trustworthy to handle logistics."
"I don’t know the details. But Zhuoxian was always capable—just held back by her family."
His confession aligned perfectly with Zong Zhuoxian’s rooftop admission.
"She arranged Cao Xiangbao’s car accident. The only way to silence an uncontrollable madman was to kill him."
"But she spared the child. Zhuoxian’s greatest weakness was her daughter, Xiaoyu. That boy—Cheng Xingyu—shared the same name, the same age, even the same teddy bear. She couldn’t bring herself to hurt him."
Wei Feng had known. He’d tried to talk her out of it, but it was no use.
"Zhuoxian was too sentimental."
"She kept the boy for a while, but hiding a child that age was too risky. She knew he’d be trouble, but she wouldn’t kill him. So she found another way."
In the end, Zong Zhuoxian used an international medical organization to send Cheng Xingyu abroad under a new identity.
For someone with her expertise, it wasn’t difficult.
"Back then, Zhuoxian said she wanted out. She shut down the drug lab. But she didn’t understand—once people taste that kind of profit, they don’t let go. Someone had to keep the business running."
"After that, we barely spoke. Her biggest mistake was leaving Cheng Xinglang alive."
"When she found out he survived, she was furious. At first, the media and police were too close. Later, we figured Cao Xiangbao had already gone after him. Since he was in a coma and saw nothing, he wasn’t a threat."
"Ke Xiaobo even confirmed it with that Professor Yang."
Even now, Wei Feng showed no remorse.
His only regret? Not killing Cheng Xinglang quietly all those years ago.
"Zong Zhuoxian was a fool. She stayed clean for eighteen years. I wouldn’t have given her up. Even if the police came knocking, she could’ve denied everything. No evidence."
Yu Jingying never interrupted.
As the investigation deepened, those so-called partners would’ve exposed the truth sooner or later. Zong Zhuoxian knew she had no way out. So she chose the most final escape—a leap from the rooftop.
"What about the soft-centered chocolates?" Yu Jingying asked.
Wei Feng never imagined those chocolates would become a breakthrough for the police.
"Zhuoxian told me back then—she saw them at the Cheng house. Her daughter loved them. Then she opened the closet and found Cheng Xingyu hiding inside."
"To make it look like Cheng Xingyu had returned for revenge, I had Bao scour Hong Kong for that exact brand."
When asked again about Nurse Lai’s daughter, he frowned. "Didn’t I already say?"
"The girl’s dead. Bao strangled her and buried her."
Wei Feng volunteered the burial location.
"Cheng Xinglang’s brother just got lucky. A fluke. You really think miracles happen that often?"
"All those kids—you think you can save them all?"
The interrogation ended. Yu Jingying closed the file and exchanged a glance with the officer beside her.
Without a word, they walked out.
Behind them, Wei Feng muttered to himself, lost in thoughts of Zong Zhuoxian’s death.
"She didn't have to die..."
...
The O (Organized Crime and Triad Bureau) joint command center was set up at the West Kowloon headquarters.
Sheng Fang was visiting for the first time, tilting his head back to gaze at the imposing building, his little mouth forming a perfect "O" of awe.
Zhu Qing hurried out after receiving a call from A Juan's mother.
She was utterly impressed by the young master of the Sheng family's capabilities—this child had somehow convinced a classmate's parent to personally deliver him here, even coordinating calls with Sheng Peirong, Aunt Ping, and Uncle Hu, the school bus driver, to handle the handoff.
How old was he again?
Zhu Qing thanked A Juan's mother and took Sheng Fang's chubby little hand.
She bent down and whispered in Fangfang's ear, "House Rule Number One: No beating children in front of outsiders."
As A Juan and his mother walked away, snippets of their conversation drifted back.
"Mommy, where will we work when we join the ICAC?"
"The ICAC headquarters is in North Point."
Sheng Fang had two ears—one for listening to A Juan's lofty aspirations and the other for processing Zhu Qing's warning.
He retorted indignantly, "I came to help! Why should I get beaten?"
Then, suddenly remembering his seniority advantage, his tone instantly grew bolder. "Besides, it’s not right for a niece to hit her uncle!"
The scale of the West Kowloon headquarters was incomparable to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station. As Sheng Fang walked further inside, he was dazzled, stopping to touch everything along the way. Though he claimed to be here for "reinforcements," he looked more like a tourist, utterly engrossed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Qing, what mission are you guys on today?" Sheng Fang asked casually.
"Your reinforcements couldn’t have come at a better time," Zhu Qing ruffled his hair. "Dr. Cheng needs your comfort."
At that moment, Cheng Xinglang had just stepped out of the interrogation room.
Compared to his earlier agitation upon learning the truth, he was much calmer now. The Serious Crimes Unit had launched a full investigation into Zong Zhuoxian, uncovering records of a six-year-old boy she had transferred eighteen years ago—a detail corroborated by Wei Feng’s testimony.
His younger brother had been taken in by a legitimate international medical organization and, in theory, should have been properly cared for.
However, medical records in many countries were still paper-based, making cross-referencing time-consuming.
But for Cheng Xinglang, just knowing his brother was alive somewhere in the world brought him immense relief.
As long as he was safe.
Rubbing his tired eyes, he looked up to see a small, round figure sprinting toward him.
Cheng Xinglang lifted Sheng Fang high, pinching his chubby cheeks.
Passing CID officers couldn’t resist teasing them.
"Little Uncle," Hao Zai sidled up. "If you adopt me as your nephew, I’ll tell you a secret."
"What secret?"
Colleagues still envied Zhu Qing for having a wealthy "little uncle."
A few chimed in, joking:
"I want an uncle too!"
"Little Uncle, I’m easy to please—no need for cars or property. How about the latest mobile phone?"
Zhu Qing chuckled.
Amid the noise, her eyes accidentally met Cheng Xinglang’s.
"Maybe hear my intel first before deciding?" Hao Zai saluted dramatically. "Reporting! Dr. Cheng just hugged your niece tightly. End of report!"
"I saw it too!"
"I can testify!"
Zhu Qing’s smile froze on her face.
Why was the joke suddenly on her?
She immediately turned and fled.
Sheng Fang tilted his head, looking at Cheng Xinglang holding him, then at Zhu Qing’s retreating figure.
Though he hadn’t watched TV in a while, he’d been cramming on "grown-up knowledge."
"Are you two dating?" he asked in his childish voice.
Cheng Xinglang didn’t bat an eye. "That depends on whether she agrees."
Their colleagues’ eyes nearly popped out of their heads.
Did he just admit it outright?
Xu Jiale shrugged, smirking. "Seriously? You guys just noticed? I figured it out ages ago."
Meanwhile, the "negotiation" between the two continued.
"I haven’t agreed yet either!"
"Kid, you don’t get a say."
...
The police investigation progressed steadily.
As the evidence chain solidified, the once-arrogant social elites grew restless. Even the best legal teams couldn’t save them—justice would prevail. In desperation, they began turning on each other, a spectacle of rats scrambling to sink the ship.
Investigations confirmed severe irregularities in the transplant evaluation for Zong Zhuoxian’s daughter. Every person involved would face consequences.
Meanwhile, through international police cooperation, a complete list of child victims over the past eighteen years was finally pieced together.
Behind each unfamiliar name was a young face, hopeful eyes waiting for a new family, a life meant to flourish in the sunlight.
The weight of that list left every officer heartbroken.
The shocking case sparked outrage across society. Police leadership took it seriously, media coverage intensified, and welfare institutions underwent sweeping reforms. The bloodstained lesson prompted legal revisions, but the lost lives could never be reclaimed.
One morning, as Zhu Qing was about to leave, she found Sheng Fang already dressed, shoes on, sitting obediently by the door.
"Surprise! It’s the weekend!" Fangfang grinned, every tiny milk tooth gleaming with triumph.
Zhu Qing took him to the hospital.
In the activity room, seven rescued children, guided by police psychologists, drew their feelings with crayons. Despite their trauma, these five- and six-year-olds didn’t fully grasp what had happened. Their drawings burst with bright colors, and when exchanging crayons, shy, tender smiles still graced their faces.
The psychologist exhaled in relief at their innocent artwork.
These children didn’t need to know the darkness of the past—they just needed to grow up healthy and happy.
Later, colleagues visited Uncle Li together.
Sheng Fang scurried up, eyes shining with admiration. "Uncle Li! Qing says you’re super brave!"
Uncle Li grinned ear to ear, waving it off. "I was even braver when I was younger."
Truthfully, his scrapes had healed long ago, but he kept milking his hospital stay. The bandages piled on, and his ex-wife Yu Jingying’s initial concern had turned to exasperation.
Finally, she snapped, putting down the apple-peeling knife. "Enough already. If you’re fine, stop hogging the bed."
Uncle Li took the knife.
Colleagues elbowed each other, winking so hard their eyes might cramp.
"I could peel it for you," he said. "You still can’t cook, can you? Besides apples, my cooking’s improved too..."
"Besides, I've quit drinking—not a single drop."
Their son stood nearby, watching the scene unfold, unable to resist rubbing the goosebumps on his arms.
"Dad! Since when did you become so cheesy? Even the corniest soap operas on Jade TV aren’t this exaggerated!"
"Ah, Little Li, that’s not fair," Inspector Mo teased. "Your dad’s about to blush."
Uncle Li: "I—"
Yu Jingying nudged him. "Shut it!"
No one present had ever seen the usually composed Madam Yu wear such an embarrassed expression, and they immediately started hooting.
"Wow—"
"Looks like there’s hope this time. We’ll be waiting for good news..."
"After all these years, Uncle Li’s finally getting his chance!"
"Isn’t this what they call a blessing in disguise?"
Zeng Yongshan watched the scene, reminded of her own past compromises.
It wasn’t until later that she slowly understood—just as Zhu Qing had said—that a truly healthy relationship shouldn’t be filled with uncertainty, hesitation, or testing.
"What about you?" She gently elbowed Zhu Qing.
"What about me?"
"Don’t play dumb!"
Zhu Qing’s lips curled into a smile. "Last time, didn’t you say you wanted to try Yang’s claypot rice? I’ll go with you."
"Someone’s changing the subject." Zeng Yongshan narrowed her eyes, swallowing hard. "Preserved meat rice with an egg on top, extra soy sauce..."
"And—" she continued.
"Two cups of sugarcane juice!" Zhu Qing finished, her smile widening.
Sheng Fang stared longingly at the half-peeled apple.
No one’s eating it? He kind of wanted a bite.
...
On the day the case was officially closed, Cheng Xinglang finally returned to duty.
The evening breeze brushed across the police station rooftop.
Cheng Xinglang and Zhu Qing sat side by side by the railing, the fading sunlight casting a golden glow over them.
As the sunset bathed everything in warm light, Cheng Xinglang couldn’t help but recall the icy-cold Madam he’d first met.
Now, she was the brightest, warmest presence in his eyes.
"Still no luck contacting my brother," Cheng Xinglang murmured, gazing into the distance. "Don’t even know what name he goes by now, or how he’s doing."
Zhu Qing spoke softly. "But knowing he’s alive—that’s hope."
"Just knowing he’s out there, that we’ll meet someday… that’s enough." His voice was low, calm.
Zhu Qing understood that feeling. Like when her mother was in a coma, and she’d ride the minibus back and forth to Canossa Convalescent Hospital to visit.
As long as there was hope, there was strength to keep going.
"My luck’s been pretty good lately," Zhu Qing turned to him. "Want me to share some?"
Cheng Xinglang held out his palm, and she gave it a light tap.
That brief touch made them both remember the warmth of that embrace.
Cheng Xinglang looked away, carefully unwrapping the oiled paper before squeezing condensed milk onto the steaming-hot waffle.
"Waffles from the alley," he offered. "Want some?"
"The ones from the granny who packs up in five minutes?"
"Not today. I got there early."
Zhu Qing took a bite.
She noticed hers had an extra swirl of honey and condensed milk.
Just like last time.
"Actually, I—" Cheng Xinglang began.
The untimely ring of a cellphone cut him off.
Zhu Qing checked the caller ID. "Inspector Mo’s calling me back to sort files."
As she stood, Cheng Xinglang suddenly caught her wrist.
The unspoken words lingered in the air between them, carried by the breeze.
Finally, he let go gently. "Go ahead."
Zhu Qing’s lips curved upward without her realizing.
A few grains of sugar on the waffle quietly melted away.
...
When Zhu Qing got home, Sheng Peirong was sitting on the living room sofa.
Little Sheng Fang had lined up his Transformers, his tiny face stern as he quizzed them. "Big sis, what’s this one called?"
"Uh… silver Transformer?" Sheng Peirong answered, dead serious.
"Big sis!" Fang Fang was indignant. "I just taught you!"
"Have mercy on me," Sheng Peirong laughed, collapsing onto the couch. "Go test your niece instead."
Zhu Qing immediately raised her hands in surrender. "Spare me too!"
"No!"
Fang Fang spread his little arms, blocking their escape.
Today, he would teach them properly.
They could memorize complicated legal clauses and suspect backgrounds—how could they not remember Transformer names?!
Fang Fang played teacher with great seriousness, introducing each of his treasures one by one.
Meanwhile, Sheng Peirong and Zhu Qing whispered like misbehaving students.
"I heard about the case. Eighteen years of searching finally paid off—that’s wonderful." Sheng Peirong’s voice softened, then shifted. "By the way, Fang Fang says your station’s been lively lately?"
The CID team had been relentless with their teasing.
No piece of gossip escaped Officer Fang’s ears. Every time he returned from his "patrols" at Yau Ma Tei Station, Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping would pounce for updates.
"Coco, sometimes you don’t need to overthink it. Just listen to your heart," Sheng Peirong said carefully. "Don’t be afraid to be sincere."
"If it doesn’t work out, you’re still young. There’s always next time."
The moment she finished, Sheng Peirong paused.
Was that really the best pep talk?
Zhu Qing burst out laughing.
"Sheng Peirong! Zhu Qing!" Fang Fang planted his hands on his tiny hips. "Are you paying attention?!"
"Yes, Teacher Fang," Zhu Qing straightened up immediately.
"Then tell me—what are their names?" Fang Fang pointed at the Transformers lined up on the coffee table.
"Dragonfly, Panther, Leo Prime, Goldbug!" Zhu Qing rattled off flawlessly.
"Good." The little teacher nodded approvingly. "Big sis, you name the rest."
Zhu Qing sat back, smug.
Sheng Peirong stared at the Transformers, utterly lost.
She couldn’t even fake an answer.
When had Coco been studying behind her back?
...
Night deepened as Zhu Qing sat at her desk, her mother’s words lingering in her mind.
Her phone buzzed—a familiar name flashing on the screen.
Lately, they’d spoken often. On the balcony of her Yau Ma Tei apartment, in Berlin hospital rooms, in the gardens of Canossa, by the window in Kadoorie Hill.
This time, Zhu Qing answered.
Cheng Xinglang’s voice was warm and steady, picking up where they’d left off on the rooftop.
"Back when I started investigating," he said quietly, "I told myself—no matter the outcome, once it was over, I’d stop living in the past."
For eighteen years, the truth had been his sole purpose.
Until one day, he realized he’d begun looking forward to her voice on the other end of the line, to catching sight of her around the station.
Zhu Qing drifted to the window.
Her mother had told her to listen to her heart. But the truth was, she’d never pushed him away—maybe that was answer enough.
On the other end of the phone, Cheng Xinglang's confession rang clear in her ears, each word sincere and heartfelt.
Like the fireworks on New Year's Eve, it burst into dazzling brilliance within her heart.
"Is it too insincere to say these things over the phone?" he asked softly.
Zhu Qing was about to reply when her gaze suddenly froze.
Under the glow of the streetlamp on the mountain path, a familiar figure leaned against a car.
The moonlight outlined his tall silhouette as he looked up at her window, the phone still pressed to his ear.
"There are some things I want to say to you in person," his pleasant voice came through the receiver. "May I?"
"If you say no, I’ll just keep pestering you anyway," he chuckled. "A little trick I learned from the kiddo."
The clear glass window reflected the faint smile on her lips, merging with his slender figure in the night.
Zhu Qing turned and dashed downstairs.
"Qing?"
From the crack of the children's room door, a tiny foot peeked out first, followed by Sheng Fang’s fluffy head.
Sharp-eyed, he caught sight of his niece’s retreating figure and immediately gave chase.
But just as he reached the staircase, he was ambushed—Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping flanked him, each grabbing an arm.
Aunt Ping’s hearing had always been sharp, and she’d caught the sound of a car pulling up outside earlier.
Now, after lying in wait, the two of them acted like dutiful bodyguards, firmly restraining the little troublemaker.
"Qing—!"
Sheng Fang’s hands were held tight, his short legs kicking wildly as he jogged in place to no avail.
Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping glanced toward the door.
In the distance, the two figures stood smiling at each other, making tonight’s moonlight seem especially tender.
Meanwhile, Sheng Fang suddenly lowered his head, his round eyes lighting up.
Wow, it’s just like a treadmill!
Instantly energized, he shook his head and kept stomping to the rhythm.
"Pat-pat-pat—"
Just as his aunt and Aunt Ping were about to let go, he deliberately wriggled his chubby little body, pretending to escape.
Sure enough, they tensed and grabbed him again.
Sheng Fang giggled, his eyes crinkling with mischief as he played along.
Let’s do this a hundred more times!
