The nursery was intermittently filled with the cries of a newborn. Though Zhou Baoxuan looked somewhat frail, her eyes still sparkled with tender warmth.
"Baoxuan-jie, does the baby look more like you or Inspector Weng?"
"The nose and eyes are mine, but the mouth—" Zhou Baoxuan sighed softly, "takes after her daddy."
"Don’t worry, Baoxuan-jie," Zeng Yongshan comforted gently. "Babies change so much as they grow. She won’t resemble Inspector Weng forever."
No one in the CID could sweet-talk quite like Zeng Yongshan.
The others promptly stopped overthinking and chimed in agreement.
"Exactly! It’s too early to tell."
"She’ll look completely different later!"
"Relax… she won’t end up like Inspector Weng!"
Ears perked up in the nursery.
What were they implying?
Weng Zhaolin strode out with the baby in his arms. "What’s wrong with looking like her dad?"
Sheng Fang, however, remained fixated on the baby’s wrinkled little face.
The longer he stared, the more his expression dimmed.
His niece was already a prodigy—her debut performance was an impressive crying fit, complete with hiccups. Inspector Weng paced around the living room, gently rocking her.
When the others finally got a proper look at the newborn, their gasps of admiration sounded far more genuine.
"Wow, she’s adorable!"
"So tiny, and already so pretty!"
The aroma of ginger-infused pork knuckle stew wafted from the dining table as everyone gathered around, shifting the conversation to the baby’s name.
"Have you picked one yet?"
The new father gazed at his daughter, his smile reaching his eyes. "Since my surname is Weng, we went with a nickname."
"Like 'buzz buzz'?"
Inspector Weng chuckled. "No, we can’t name a little girl that. But it’s related. Weng sounds like the buzzing of a—"
"Bee!" Hao Zai blurted.
Zhou Baoxuan laughed. "Her name is Tiantian."
"Bees collect nectar, and nectar is sweet. But 'Sweetie' is too common, so we went with a homophone—'Tiantian'."
The naming logic was so convoluted it could give anyone a headache.
Sheng Fang, utterly baffled, propped his chin in his hands and studied the doll-sized niece in Inspector Weng’s arms.
This Tiantian wasn’t any fun at all.
He’d been hoping for a new playmate, but his wish had backfired. Just last night, Zhu Qing had read him an idiom story—now he had the perfect phrase for this disappointment: "things don’t always go as planned."
Zhu Qing ruffled his hair and offered another idiom: "There’s always tomorrow."
Tiantian would grow up eventually.
And when she did, Uncle Fang would introduce her to Transformers, Ultraman, and Ninja Turtles!
Sheng Fang clenched his tiny fist and lightly bumped it against the baby’s. "Deal!"
......
The birthday wish he’d made had long faded from Sheng Fang’s memory. A child’s mind was a whirlwind of ever-changing ideas, each one brighter than the last, painting his childhood with endless wonder. Even if old wishes were replaced by new ones, Fangfang never felt regret—because life was an adventure, and the next chapter was always more exciting.
But Zhu Qing remembered.
A promise was never just words to her. If she’d agreed to fulfill Sheng Fang’s wish, she’d see it through.
So, after closing a case, she finally turned her attention to his birthday bucket list.
Sheng Fang’s first wish: an epic water gun fight.
Zhu Qing arrived armed with two high-tech water blasters, and the aunt-nephew duo faced off in the yard.
Fangfang warmed up with great ceremony—stretching his stubby legs, rotating his wrists, a whole routine of exaggerated moves.
"It’s scorching out there," Sheng Peirong muttered from the air-conditioned living room, watching through the floor-to-ceiling windows as the pair baked under the sun. "They’ll turn into lobsters before they’re done."
"Ready to start?"
"Let the battle begin!"
Aunt Ping, now equipped with a custom whistle courtesy of Zhu Qing, gave a sharp blow before retreating indoors.
Neither Zhu Qing nor Sheng Fang cared about the blazing heat. The arcs of cool water from their guns were refreshment enough!
The yard was spacious, the ball pit stashed away in the basement—nowhere to hide. Fangfang sprinted as fast as his little legs could carry him, yet Zhu Qing’s aim never missed, drenching his back every time.
"Qing-jie! You’re cheating!" Fangfang whirled around, his hair plastered to his face, dripping like a drowned kitten.
Or more accurately, a drowned uncle.
"Am not," Zhu Qing said, wielding her gun one-handed. "Is someone being a sore loser?"
Madam Zhu was a top-tier detective—how could she possibly lose to a tiny opponent like Little Inspector Fang?
Usually, she let him win, and the kid had started believing his own hype. Now, no matter how he zigzagged, he couldn’t escape her shots. His frustration was reaching boiling point.
"But you’re an adult!" Fangfang huffed, clutching his water gun.
His round cheeks were flushed pink from the sun.
Zhu Qing stepped closer, softening her tone. "Xiao Jiu-jiu, so now I’m an ‘adult’ again?"
The next second, she seized the moment—squirting a direct hit to his forehead.
"Bullseye!" Madam Zhu crowed.
"Ahhh—!" Fangfang spun in furious circles until his eyes landed on his tiny bike leaning against the porch. A lightbulb went off.
He scrambled onto his "police bike," and the tides of battle shifted instantly. With his trusty steed, Fangfang became a blur—zipping around, pausing just long enough to fire, then vanishing before retaliation.
Zhu Qing played along, dodging dramatically, much to Fangfang’s delight.
"Qing-jie! Qing-jie! Ready to surrender?"
"Never!"
And so, round two began.
Sheng Peirong never left her post by the window.
The sound of laughter, bicycle bells, and summer cicadas blended together, making even the sweltering heat feel a little less oppressive.
"Qingqing, young master…" Aunt Ping emerged with a tray of ice-cold watermelon. "Come take a break! It’s sweet and crisp!"
A temporary truce was called—though both kept a wary eye on each other as they grabbed slices and scarfed them down before bolting in opposite directions.
"Sheng Fang! Round three!"
"Bring! It! On!"
......
Sheng Fang’s second birthday wish: a morning jog.
This one was easy. Summer again, 6 a.m., Zhu Qing appeared at his bedside.
The little uncle who’d vowed to wake up early was now curled around "Uncle Bear," mumbling into his pillow, "Don’t wanna get up…"
"Five more minutes, pleaaase."
Normally, it was Fangfang who’d clamber onto Zhu Qing’s bed, cupping his hands like a megaphone to yell, "Rise and shine!"
Now, the tables had turned.
"Up you go."
"Fangfang, no more sleeping!"
"That's morning jogging—it's really fun."
Zhu Qing kept chattering in his ear, and after who knows how long, the little boy finally sat up, dazed in the middle of the bed.
Before she could say anything, he flopped back into the soft blankets with a "thud," his messy bedhead sticking up in all directions.
Still wearing that same groggy expression.
"Sheng Fang, I want to go running!"
"Ask Aunt Ping to go with you!"
Aunt Ping came upstairs with the young master's workout gear, laughing. "Oh, you little troublemaker, spare this old lady. My bones can't handle more than a few steps."
Fangfang buried his face in the blankets, and finally, the noise around him stopped.
But as the seconds ticked by, his hair grew damp with sweat, and he kicked his little feet under the covers in protest. "The AC!"
Zhu Qing turned off the air conditioning and waited leisurely by his side, casually pulling open the curtains to admire the scenic morning view of the mountain path outside.
Sheng Fang sat up again.
Zhu Qing was such a mean grown-up! He never should have let her out of Fangfang Prison last time!
At 6:30, the aunt-nephew duo finally stepped outside.
On the mountain path, Zhu Qing paused now and then to wait.
Fangfang had a towel draped around his neck but forgot to wipe his sweat. His chubby little cheeks jiggled with every running step.
Once upon a time, Sheng Fang’s dream was to join the Wong Chuk Hang Police Academy. Now, that plan had suddenly accelerated—it felt like he was in a special training program for toddler cops, with motivational chants of "Don’t give up!" floating in his ears as he clenched his tiny teeth and pushed through.
The reward after the morning workout was a sticky rice dumpling from a street-side breakfast stall.
The intersection buzzed with life—the newspaper vendor at the kiosk neatly arranging the morning editions, office workers rushing by with briefcases, and old neighbors haggling at the market entrance—all blending into the lively morning atmosphere.
The fragrant aroma of the sticky rice dumpling filled the air. As he peeled back the lotus leaf, steam wafted up.
Sheng Fang ate with gusto, grains of rice sticking to the corner of his mouth, his small frame suddenly brimming with big ambitions.
"Zhu Qing, Zhu Qing, let’s come again tomorrow!"
"Think you can wake up?"
Sheng Fang beamed. "I can do it!"
Future Inspector Fang was starting his training now.
How could he catch bad guys if he couldn’t run fast?
...
Sheng Fang’s third wish was to raise a little snail.
And this wish was granted by Cheng Xinglang.
It was an evening just after a heavy rain. Two figures—one big, one small—squatted by a flower bed.
Sheng Fang clutched a tiny telescope, his face serious as he whispered, "Dr. Cheng, is it really here?"
"Why isn’t it coming out?"
"I don’t see it..."
"Dr. Cheng, say something!"
Cheng Xinglang turned. "Huh?"
"Shhh!" Sheng Fang hissed. "It’ll run away if it hears you—"
"Kid, snails don’t have ears."
Fangfang tilted his head and suddenly yelled, "We’re coming to get you!"
"There’s one," Cheng Xinglang said abruptly.
Sheng Fang followed his finger and froze, holding his breath—but his grin stretched ear to ear.
That day, Fangfang got himself a tiny pet.
In the days that followed, Sheng Peirong would often find her little brother whispering secrets to his new friend.
"Little Snaily, did you eat enough today? Don’t be picky."
"I’m going to tennis class now. Be good and wait for me, okay? See you tonight."
"If you’re bored, ask Aunt Ping to turn on the TV. You can watch animal documentaries."
"Big Sis, Big Sis, do you want to say good morning to it?"
Sheng Peirong stared at the slimy little creature, goosebumps rising on her skin. What made it worse was the kid insisting that next year’s family photo had to include Little Snaily.
Then, one morning, Sheng Fang padded barefoot around the house, circling over and over, crouching low to search every nook and cranny.
"What’s wrong?"
"Big Sis," he sniffled, his face crumpling. "Little Snaily ran away from home."
"Great!" Sheng Peirong blurted, her eyes lighting up before she quickly coughed. "I mean—oh no, that’s terrible."
Sheng Fang eyed her suspiciously. "Why are you smiling?"
"Of course I’ll miss it," Sheng Peirong said solemnly. "But Little Snaily belongs in nature. We should be happy for it."
Fangfang sighed softly and made a new wish.
He hoped that after leaving home, Little Snaily would grow up safe, happy, and free.
...
Days passed.
Now that it was summer break, Sheng Fang visited the Yau Ma Tei Police Station even more often. In the CID office, Inspector Weng had just returned from paternity leave, though his mind was still on his wife and newborn daughter at home.
These days, Inspector Weng loved sharing parenting stories with his colleagues. No one could’ve guessed that the same boss who used to dodge buying afternoon tea had now become generous—ordering stacks of food and drinks from the nearby Lucky Café and holding impromptu chats at his desk, gushing nonstop about his little girl.
"Last night was a battlefield," Inspector Weng said, miming the way he cradled his baby. "Baoxuan and I took turns holding her—total chaos."
"She’d cry the second we put her down, then giggle as soon as we picked her up. Finally, she fell asleep curled up on my stomach!"
Though they had plenty of help at home, the new parents wanted to handle everything themselves.
Inspector Weng painted such a vivid picture—nights filled with diaper disasters, tiny socks lost in laundry piles, and two exhausted but adoring parents laughing through the madness.
The office erupted in laughter.
Sheng Fang listened intently, his little face serious, realizing he couldn’t give Inspector Weng any advice now. Who knew newborns were like this?
Sipping his coffee, Inspector Weng mused, "Honestly, waiting to have kids was the right call."
In their younger days, he and his wife hadn’t planned on being child-free. But Inspector Weng came from humble beginnings, frugal by nature, while Zhou Baoxuan was busy climbing the career ladder. Kids just hadn’t been a priority.
Now, with stable careers and a strong marriage, they could focus on family—and it turned out to be the perfect timing.
"We can give Tiantian the best life now, and we have more time to watch her grow."
"Though, we did cut it close—Baoxuan had a tough pregnancy. She joked last night that we should’ve aimed for the ‘geriatric pregnancy’ deadline."
The colleagues nodded in understanding.
Most relatives nagged about "the sooner, the better," but Inspector Weng’s perspective was refreshingly wise.
The man had changed. The priciest toys from baby stores now piled up at home—even though the baby could barely grip anything yet. In the end, most became gifts for his little confidant, Sheng Fang.
"I wonder if Baoxuan is managing alright at home..." Weng Zhaolin couldn't help checking his watch again.
"Tomorrow's Qing's day off!" Sheng Fang suddenly raised his hand excitedly.
Zhu Qing often spent her free time reviewing old case files.
At this moment, she absentmindedly twirled her pen before looking up from the documents: "Right—"
"We can help babysit!" Sheng Fang declared proudly, patting his little chest.
With a clack, the spinning pen fell back onto the office desk.
"..." Zhu Qing slowly turned toward the enthusiastic child, responding tactfully, "Huh?"
...
Though the baby herself wasn't particularly entertaining, taking care of her together with Zhu Qing felt just like playing house—utterly delightful.
True to his word, little Sheng Fang arrived bright and early the next morning at Inspector Weng's living room in Repulse Bay, ready to serve as the newborn's temporary nanny.
Zhou Baoxuan welcomed them inside as if seeing saviors.
With this composed madam present, she could finally relax properly without needing to remain constantly on high alert.
In the nursery, Zhu Qing sat cross-legged on the carpet, studying the instruction manual.
Before her lay scattered parts of a newly delivered stroller. She assembled them methodically, flipping components until click—the wheel snapped into its groove.
The tiny infant only knew how to sleep soundly or wail loudly.
The moment her eyes fluttered open, Sheng Fang immediately mimicked the parenting coach, gingerly poking her little hand.
"Little niece, can you talk yet?"
"Can you call me Uncle Fang?"
The baby waved her tiny fists, blinking up at him with wide eyes.
"After all these days, you still haven't learned to speak?" Sheng Fang sighed dramatically. "You need to try harder."
The nearby parenting coach stifled a laugh.
"Sweetheart, she's only one month old. Of course she can't speak yet."
"Right now, Tiantian can't even roll over, let alone sit, crawl, or walk..."
"That's why parenting is such hard work."
Pouting, Fangfang picked up the rattle from the bedside and played with it himself.
Jingle-jingle—
Tiantian's ink-black eyes darted around curiously, searching for the source of the sound. Noticing this, Zhu Qing also took a rattle and shook it gently to capture the baby's attention.
"She likes this sound." Zhu Qing's gaze softened.
The infant strained to turn her head toward the noise, tiny hands reaching for the rattle.
She had just arrived in this world, with countless wonders awaiting her discovery.
As her elder "uncle," Sheng Fang resolved to introduce his little niece to life's marvels.
"Qing, when's your next day off?"
Zhu Qing crouched down, resting both hands on his shoulders: "I'm not telling you."
...
On the release day of the limited-edition Transformers figure, Cheng Xinglang appeared punctually at the child's doorstep as promised.
Dawn hadn't yet broken; even the summer cicadas slumbered soundly.
Though Fangfang played the mature elder around his niece, he reverted to his carefree toddler self with Zhu Qing and Dr. Cheng.
Dressed neatly with his tiny backpack, he bounded forward: "I'm ready to go!"
A drowsy Zhu Qing trailed behind, rubbing her eyes in protest: "I don't want to."
Sheng Peirong chuckled, patting her shoulder: "Go have fun, Koko."
Zhu Qing genuinely couldn't fathom the appeal.
Even the models lining their walls didn't interest her—why wake before sunrise just to queue?
When had these two developed so many little secrets without her knowledge?
With Cheng Xinglang holding her left hand and Sheng Fang tugging her right, she was dragged out the door.
The pair shared one conviction—
Life is about experiencing endless novelties!
A long queue already snaked around the mall entrance. Finding a spot, they settled in.
Sheng Fang and Cheng Xinglang came prepared—folding stools, handheld fans, pineapple buns for snacks, and Fang's treasured vintage limited-edition Transformer.
Just as Zhu Qing wondered why he'd brought it, she saw him animatedly discussing it with fellow collectors.
"Is yours a limited edition too?"
"Yep!"
"These are really rare—how'd you get it?"
"Dunno." Sheng Fang shook his head. "Big Sis had someone reserve it."
Truthfully, Sheng Peirong could have arranged this purchase too, but where was the fun in that?
In the queue, Cheng Xinglang sat on the stool with Sheng Fang nestled in his lap.
Both focused intently as slender fingers and chubby hands danced across the handheld console, accompanied by cheerful game sound effects.
At daybreak, staff began distributing stickers.
Tilting his face up, smack—a shiny Autobot emblem now adorned Sheng Fang's right cheek.
Matching stickers were pressed onto the backs of Zhu Qing and Cheng Xinglang's hands.
She studied the character, struggling to recall its name. She'd definitely learned this before...
This outing taught a lesson in patience and companionship.
As the sun climbed higher, their laughter continued, and Sheng Fang added another first to his experiences. When the mall doors finally opened, crowds surged forward.
The line now stretched around the street corner—clearly, they'd arrived too late.
Serious collectors had camped overnight in tents, but the sweltering summer made all-night vigils impractical for a four-year-old.
"So many people," Zhu Qing murmured to Cheng Xinglang, eyeing the crowd. "We might not make it."
As if performing magic, Cheng Xinglang produced pre-reserved mall passes with a flourish.
The adults had planned this surprise meticulously, while Fang remained blissfully unaware, charging ahead excitedly.
Under the scorching sun, Zhu Qing felt herself turning into "Roasted Qing."
This familiar summer heat reminded her of last year's reunion with Sheng Fang.
That cocky little young master playing with go-karts had become her most cherished family. Everything changed afterward—she'd taken the pampered child on minibuses, made silly noises at electric fans, and raced to shower queues at the police academy...
"Cheng Xinglang," Zhu Qing said, "summer's the season for reunions."
"Going to share your luck with me again?" Amusement colored his voice as he extended his palm.
Her hand met his in a light slap.
That fleeting contact felt just like their springtime moment on the police station rooftop.
"Me too!" Sheng Fang piled his small hand atop theirs.
In that instant, they believed their combined luck could achieve anything!
"They're letting people in..."
"Hurry!"
As the trio rushed toward the exhibit, Fangfang's voice piped up behind them: "Qing! Qing! Grab the Grimlock metal reissue if you see it!"
"I don't know which one that is!"
"The coolest-looking one!"
"None of them look cool—"
This remark drew disapproving glares from nearby veteran collectors.
Little Uncle Fang spread his hands apologetically: "Forgive her—our kid doesn't know any better."
The aisles jammed with shoppers, Zhu Qing dove into the overwhelming merchandise displays.
The clamor of voices echoes in my ears, yet it feels so warm and far from bothersome.
This is what every day spent watching Fangfang grow up feels like.
Ordinary moments, trivial yet priceless.
