Little Sheng Fang had no idea what Zhu Qing was babbling about, nor did he pay any attention to her words.
At that moment, only one thought occupied his mind: the char siu smelled amazing.
"Qing, Qing," Fangfang's sparkling eyes brimmed with anticipation, "Can we have char siu tomorrow?"
Zhu Qing cupped his round little face in her hands: "How about right now?"
Sheng Fang froze in disbelief.
First, he looked down at his pajamas, then tilted his head up at the wall clock.
The hour hand pointed straight to bedtime for a child.
But their Qing was no ordinary guardian.
"Get dressed," Zhu Qing said, grabbing the remote to turn off the TV. "Let's go!"
"Yay!"
Five minutes later, little Sheng Fang was fully dressed, bursting out of the elevator and excitedly waiting downstairs.
The night breeze, gentle with spring's touch, tousled his hair left and right.
"Wow! We're really going for midnight snacks!" Sheng Fang spun in circles, tugging at Zhu Qing's sleeve as they dashed off.
The night in Yau Ma Tei was just coming alive.
Zhu Qing's large hand held Fangfang's small one as they weaved through the Temple Street Night Market, past bustling crowds, until they reached their destination—
A time-honored roast meat shop.
Sheng Fang stood on tiptoes, his chin resting on the glass counter: "Boss, two portions of honey-glazed crispy char siu, please!"
Zhu Qing added: "And two iced pineapple drinks."
The pineapple drinks arrived first.
Fangfang nibbled the straw, his chubby hands clutching the cold glass before pressing it against his cheeks to warm them.
"So good!"
When the char siu arrived, steam still rose from it, the caramelized edges glistening with mouthwatering glaze.
Little Sheng Fang took an eager bite, his eyes closing in bliss.
But even more satisfying was the sheer joy of getting exactly what he craved—right when he wanted it.
With great solemnity, Fangfang declared this the most delicious char siu in the world.
And the woman before him? The absolute best niece anyone could ask for!
...
The duo's solo living arrangement lasted over half a month.
Finally, Zhu Qing and little Sheng Fang decided it was time to return home.
Now they were just two "kids" dearly missed—one longing for his mom, the other for her big sister. And of course, Aunt Ping, with her ever-steaming, fragrant, heartwarming home-cooked meals.
The moment they opened the door, Aunt Ping hurried out from the kitchen.
She'd already gotten the call about their return, and the house was filled with the aroma of her cooking.
"Lately, even the young mistress hasn't had time to come home for meals. I haven't cooked properly in so long, my skills are getting rusty!"
"Qingqing," Aunt Ping sighed dramatically, still holding a spatula as she looked Zhu Qing over, "You've gotten so thin! Your chin's all pointy now!"
Zhu Qing pinched Sheng Fang's plump cheeks in response: "How come yours isn't?"
Though Fangfang had been away from home with Qing for a while—missing Aunt Ping's delicious home cooking—he never went hungry at the police station. Even when grabbing meals at the canteen, Sister Xiao would always slip extra steamed spare ribs onto his tray.
The little rascal remained as round as ever, not a bit changed.
"The young mistress said she'll be back later," Aunt Ping smiled. "Let's eat first."
The dining table was soon piled high with dishes. Aunt Ping was like a magician conjuring delights from her mouth—just when everyone thought all the dishes had been served, she would somehow produce another plate of their favorites.
Zhu Qing sat down, accepting the bowl of soup handed to her by Aunt Ping with both hands. "It smells amazing!"
Aunt Ping beamed even brighter, continuing her "magic show."
By the end, Zhu Qing waved her hands in surrender. "Aunt Ping, I really can't eat another bite."
"Qingqing!" Sheng Fang adjusted his glasses with exaggerated seriousness. "How can you catch thieves without eating your fill?"
Aunt Ping burst into laughter, nudging her own reading glasses up. "Little master is copying me again."
...
The biggest event of the month in the household was undoubtedly the birthday party for the youngest member of the Sheng family.
Sheng Fang had handed out adorable, heartfelt invitations at kindergarten and then spent days counting down by the calendar.
As time passed, the long-awaited day finally arrived.
On his birthday, little Sheng Fang stationed himself by the door early in the morning. Every time the doorbell rang, his eyes would light up, and he’d scamper over on short legs to greet his little friends.
One after another, tiny guests arrived, arms laden with gifts.
Coconut Baby bounced in wearing the fluffiest dress, its skirt bouncing along with her. Little Goldie was, as usual, decked out in "shiny gold," head to toe in oversized brand logos. Curly Baby met another classmate on the way up the hill, and the two walked in hand in hand—everyone seemed to have forgotten how he used to annoyingly raise his hand to tattle to the teacher, causing no end of trouble for the other kids.
The toddlers of Weston Kindergarten’s smallest class were each other’s best friends.
"Every single one of them came—all twelve classmates, except for the little master himself!" Aunt Ping whispered in amazement. "Such a grand turnout for our young master."
The living room was alive with the energy of tiny mischief-makers. Even the simplest colored balloons kept them entertained for ages, as they jumped and swatted at them, working up a sweat.
"Happy birthday, Fangfang!"
"I picked this Ultraman for you—"
"Look at mine first, look at mine!"
"I brought a present too!"
Amid the chorus of sweet, childish well-wishes, Sheng Fang grinned like a radiant little sun.
A delicate strawberry cream cake stood before him, adorned with four candles. Fangfang sat solemnly in front of it, closing his eyes and clasping his chubby little hands together tightly.
"I’m going to make a wish now!"
His friends had told him he could make three wishes. But wishes had to stay secret in his heart—or they wouldn’t come true.
"No way," Fangfang declared, shaking his head firmly. "Qingqing will make every single one of them happen!"
In his little uncle’s heart, Qingqing could do anything.
Fangfang made his three wishes.
A child’s wishes were simple and concrete—a water gun battle, a morning jogging plan, and keeping a pet snail.
Zhu Qing committed them to memory. "No problem."
Uncle and nephew puffed out their cheeks together and blew out the candles.
At the police station, Zhu Qing’s colleagues often envied her for having such a little uncle.
And the kindergarten kids gazed at them wistfully—if only they could have a niece like her too.
"I want a niece, and I need Grandma’s help!" Little Coconut announced mysteriously to everyone. "My mommy told me!"
The little girl shared that not long ago, she had also wanted a niece, tugging pitifully at Grandma’s sleeve and begging for her assistance.
When Grandma refused, she sat sulking on the sofa, tears welling up in her eyes.
The children’s conversation quickly shifted to how they could convince Grandma to magically produce a niece for them.
Sheng Fang dashed back to the playroom and pulled out a science picture book.
At just four years old, their little brains couldn’t quite grasp the logic, and soon, everything descended into chaos!
"Coconut, your mommy’s wrong! A niece isn’t Grandma’s child’s child!"
"It’s the child of your sister or cousin, like Fangfang’s big sister!"
"But it’s too late to have a big sister now."
"And sisters can also have nephews."
The children immediately shook their heads in solemn disapproval.
No nephews.
The little sparrows chattered away, their tiny voices filling every corner of the living room.
Sheng Peirong couldn’t keep up with their wild imaginations and was completely lost. Clearing her throat, she decided to cut the cake instead.
"One piece each," she said, deftly changing the subject.
The kids obediently lined up, hands on their knees, eyes wide with anticipation.
"Qingqing, have a bite," Sheng Fang scooped a spoonful of cream for Zhu Qing.
Just as she leaned in to taste it, Fangfang mischievously lifted her hand—
A fluffy dollop of cream landed right on Zhu Qing’s cheek.
"Sheng Fang—!"
The cream on Zhu Qing’s face looked like a little cloud, sending the children into fits of giggles.
"No retaliation allowed," Sheng Fang declared seriously. "Wasting food is shameful!"
Sheng Peirong maintained her elegant smile throughout. After helping the little ones finish their cake, she suddenly grabbed her purse.
"Coco, I just got a call," she said. "There’s an emergency at the office—I have to go!"
Zhu Qing grabbed her wrist in disbelief. "Mom?!"
"Coco, things have been really busy lately," Sheng Peirong shrugged innocently, inching toward the door. "Fangfang, happy birthday!"
With that, she vanished in a flash, as quick as the wind.
Sheng Fang explained to the kids, "My big sister has endless meetings every day. My niece is usually busy too, but things have been quiet at the police station lately."
Aunt Ping burst into laughter.
The little master had just cut off his niece’s escape route.
Zhu Qing stood frozen, still processing everything, when the enthusiastic swarm of children surrounded her.
"Niece, play with us!"
"Let’s play the ‘dollhouse’ game again, okay?"
"I want the strawberry from the cake—"
"Me too!"
"No! I asked first!"
"Niece, niece…"
The children crowded around Zhu Qing.
A "flying" niece like her? No grown-up could possibly be more popular!
The basement play area was already set up, and Sheng Fang led the charge downstairs, their cheers echoing through the house.
Under the warm yellow lights, the star stickers on the walls sparkled. The slide, the little swing, the ball pit—it was a miniature fairy-tale kingdom.
Just as Zhu Qing was about to sit down and catch her breath—
"Niece! Come join us!"
"Niece!"
The cheerful, high-pitched voices called her back once more, and the battle resumed.
The slide in the basement wasn’t as grand as the one in the hillside garden from before, but the children clamored for their turns, lining up eagerly, their grins stretching ear to ear.
For three whole hours, the little ones’ chatter filled the air.
"Niece! Da Ming cut in line!"
"Niece! I didn’t cut in line!"
"Niece… Niece…"
Zhu Qing spent the entire time mediating disputes.
She had become Judge Zhu, presiding over an endless docket of cases, and it wasn’t until the last little guest was picked up by their parents that she finally collapsed onto the sofa.
For at least this month, she never wanted to hear the word "niece" again.
"Qing." Sheng Fang, still buzzing with energy, wore a look of reluctance on her little face. "I wish every day could be my birthday."
"Thank goodness birthdays only come once a year," Zhu Qing replied weakly.
Lately, the police station had been unusually quiet, and the most talked-about topic was Sister Xiao’s new menu at the canteen.
After eating the same few dishes for so long, the colleagues had long grown tired of them, often sneaking off to the corner tea restaurant downstairs for a change of flavor. Now, they were all buzzing with excitement, eager to try the new offerings at lunch.
When noon arrived, everyone stampeded toward the canteen.
Cheng Xinglang set his tray down across from Zhu Qing and slid two plates toward her.
"Try the new dishes," Sister Xiao called from behind the counter. "One for Dr. Cheng, and one for Dr. Cheng’s girlfriend!"
The room immediately erupted in teasing.
"That’s not fair! Why do I have to pay for mine…"
"Sister Xiao’s playing favorites!"
"How come we don’t get that kind of treatment?"
The canteen lady’s eyes crinkled into delighted slits. "Alright, alright, everyone gets three curry fish balls on me!"
It was then that the station received a new case.
After lunch, the officers’ footsteps grew hurried.
This was a dismemberment case dating back at least a decade—heavy rain had unearthed bones buried deep in the soil. A group of hikers had accidentally kicked something round, only to realize it was a severely weathered human skull.
By the time the police arrived, Cheng Xinglang was already there, carefully collecting the remains.
"The surface is covered in cracks," he said, turning to Zhu Qing. "At least ten years old."
After securing the perimeter, the two immediately dove into the forensic work.
For the next two weeks, every time they planned to have dinner together, new body parts would surface.
Inspector Mo, however, was thrilled. Since they had started dating, the Serious Crimes Team B had essentially gained a top-tier consultant. The two of them worked together with uncanny efficiency—autopsy reports were completed at record speed, and case analyses were always crystal clear.
Whenever a new case emerged, their work pace seemed to shift into fast-forward.
When the case was finally solved, the truth behind it revealed a story about friendship. They had once been the closest of friends, inseparable. But one of them had been trapped in a cycle of delusion, repeatedly forgiving a violently abusive boyfriend, only to end up battered and bruised time after time. As a friend, she had pleaded, helped, even called the police—but all she ever got in return were empty promises to "let it go."
Until that day ten years ago, when, watching her friend return to that man yet again, face swollen and bruised, she had said calmly, "I’m done with you."
For this very reason, the police never connected these two seemingly estranged individuals during their investigation.
Yet the truth was, on the day she said, "I'll never care about you again," Zhu Qing ultimately turned back.
Not only did she turn back, but she also joined her friend in committing an unforgivable crime against the abuser. Together, they dismembered and buried the body, never seeing each other again afterward.
Now, the two stood face to face outside the interrogation room, silent.
The truth was heartbreaking, but the price of their crime was inescapable.
That night, Zhu Qing leaned against the doorframe of the forensic office, watching Cheng Xinglang as he finalized the case report.
"Case closed?"
"Closed."
Cheng Xinglang stood and walked toward her, gently taking her hand before she could slip it into her pocket.
"Can we finally go on that date tomorrow?"
...
The little villa in Ho Man Tin remained standing in the end.
Too many memories lingered within its walls.
Cheng Xinglang remembered how, as a child, he and his younger brother would press their faces against the kitchen’s glass door, watching their parents bustling inside. His father would always nag about his mother’s clumsy knife skills, and she would laugh, tying an apron around his waist before turning to wink at the boys, whispering that pretending to be bad at cooking meant less work. The brothers would mercilessly expose her—no, Mom really was just terrible at cooking.
Every weekend was an unshakable family day. No matter how busy they were, their parents would make time—for picnics, soccer in the park, or trips to the arcade in Mong Kok. Back then, mechanical gaming machines had just appeared in Hong Kong, and the family would rush to grab a seat at the old pinball tables. The clatter of steel balls against bells was the sound Cheng Xinglang loved most in his childhood.
Later, the house grew quiet.
He filled the walls with bright oil paintings, using vibrant colors to push back against the shadows left by that night.
"Agent Wong recommended a few properties, all near Kadoorie Hill," he said to Zhu Qing. "Let’s go see them this weekend."
"Me?"
"You have more experience."
Zhu Qing pressed her lips together, amused. "Sheng Fang has even more."
They left Ho Man Tin, following the route of their memories through Mong Kok.
The old arcade had long been demolished. The new one was packed with flashy machines and sleek decor, nothing like the old gaming halls with their creaky ceiling fans.
For the first time in months, he spoke about the past.
About the years after his parents’ deaths, when relatives took him in. They were good people too. Like his brother, he had found warmth again with kind-hearted family.
The old pinball machines were obsolete now, and the days of scrambling for seats with his parents and brother were gone.
On the arcade’s outer wall, a faded poster for Street Fighter hung.
Zhu Qing suddenly tugged his sleeve. "Wanna fight for a seat now?"
Cheng Xinglang blinked.
The next moment, two adults dashed like children toward the retro gaming corner.
Zhu Qing slid into the seat first, patting the space beside her triumphantly. "Loser buys soda!"
The arcade buzzed with noise, but no one touched the old Tetris machine in the corner.
They fed two coins into the slot and sat down, shoulder to shoulder.
The cheerful "ding-dong" electronic tones of the game danced in their ears.
Zhu Qing glanced at his focused profile and suddenly remembered their first meeting—back when he was playing a handheld console during a break at the lab, his brows slightly raised, eyes sparkling just like now.
It felt like returning to the beginning, before their story had even started.
The blocks began to fall, and the difference in their gaming speeds quickly became apparent.
Cheng Xinglang's blocks always aligned neatly, while Zhu Qing's screen descended into chaos.
"You're cheating—"
"Focus!"
The arcade's glass window reflected two figures leaning close, moving in sync.
Side by side, they bickered over the childish game before collapsing into laughter together.
...
Weng Zhaolin's wife was an older expectant mother, and her early pregnancy had been unstable. The couple had kept it a carefully guarded secret.
By the time Weng Zhaolin announced the happy news to his colleagues at the Sai Kung Pier, his wife's condition had stabilized—she was already several months along.
Now, the due date had finally arrived.
For days, the CID office was thick with tension under the summer heat.
Weng Zhaolin couldn’t sit still, his brows permanently furrowed. At the slightest disturbance, he’d bolt upright from his chair. Whenever his mobile phone vibrated, he’d answer before the first ring could even finish.
The only one who could briefly ease his nerves was his little confidant.
Sheng Fang would appear at just the right moment, offering a sweet candy or sharing amusing stories from kindergarten, lightening the mood.
But soon, the child would circle back to the same question: "Ah John, what will the baby’s name be?"
Weng Zhaolin would rub his temples, anxiety creeping back in.
That evening, everything seemed normal—until Weng Zhaolin’s phone rang abruptly.
He answered, his face instantly paling, then grabbed his car keys and sprinted out.
After a few steps, he doubled back.
"Who here drives steady?" he asked. "My hands are shaking."
Sheng Fang nearly jumped up, eager to push their family’s "racing queen Zhu Qing" forward.
But Inspector Mo was already stepping up. "I’ll take you."
The office fell silent, everyone holding their breath.
Even after clocking out, there was no news. No one dared to call Weng Zhaolin, but Inspector Mo’s phone rang nonstop.
Little Sheng Fang kept asking about Weng Zhaolin’s situation—during meals, walks, even bath time. Just as the child was about to doze off, Zhu Qing’s phone finally rang.
Half-asleep, Sheng Fang shot upright, tiny hands propping his eyelids open.
"Well? How is it?"
"Inspector Mo knew everyone was worried, so he asked me to update you all," Zhu Qing said with a smile. "Mother and daughter are safe!"
Weng Zhaolin and Zhou Baoxuan’s daughter had arrived, healthy and sound.
The long-awaited little one filled the entire precinct with joy.
Sheng Fang had been counting down the days to meet her.
As soon as Zhou Baoxuan was discharged, the uncle-nephew duo made a trip to the baby store, carefully picking out gifts.
"Qing, Qing, look at this tiny—tiny baby bottle!"
"Wow, the baby socks are as small as my palm!"
Zhu Qing ruffled his little head: "Little Fang Fang was this tiny once too."
Though, she had never seen it herself.
Sheng Fang then stretched out his small arms, mimicking her by patting her head: "Qing was this tiny too when she was little!"
Though, Uncle had never seen it either.
...
Sheng Fang still remembered their promise at the Saigon Pier and made sure to prepare a thick, bulging red envelope with Zhu Qing.
Inspector Weng had officially started his leave, and now, without the sound of his polished shoes "click-clacking" across the office floor or his slicked-back hair in sight, everyone felt a little out of sorts.
After work, the group hurriedly drove to the villa at Repulse Bay.
Sheng Fang was the first to jump out of the car, scurrying to the door and peeking inside: "Ah John! Auntie!"
Weng Zhaolin stood at the entrance to greet the guests.
From a distance, the group couldn’t help but whisper among themselves.
"Is that really our Inspector Weng?"
"Am I imagining things? How did his eyes suddenly look so... gentle in just a few days?"
Zhou Baoxuan, still recuperating, wore a soft smile as she asked the servants to serve ginger vinegar to the guests.
Heartfelt congratulations filled the villa, one after another.
"Ah John," little Fang Fang blinked his big eyes, "where’s the new baby?"
Weng Zhaolin chuckled and led him inside.
At the nursery door, Sheng Fang piped up in his sweetest voice: "Uncle Fang is here to see you!"
But when he tiptoed to peek into the crib, his face fell in shock.
She’s so... wrinkly.
They were supposed to play together—how was this even possible?
Sheng Fang slumped over the crib, his little head drooping: "Little niece, is sleeping all you can do?"
"Waaah—" A loud cry erupted.
His little niece made it clear—of course she could do more than just sleep! She could cry too!
