The interrogation room was thick with tension.
Sheng Peishan sat in her wheelchair, hands gripping the armrests, maintaining an oppressive silence.
Two platinum rings engraved with English letters were slammed onto the interrogation table with a sharp clang.
Initially, the police had assumed Chen Chaosheng, the second son-in-law of the Sheng family, was in a romantic relationship with the deceased He Jia'er—solely based on these so-called "couple rings." But unexpectedly, the initials carved inside the rings matched Sheng Peishan's name far more closely than Chen Chaosheng's Cantonese transliteration. Looking back, there had never been any concrete evidence to prove—
That Chen Chaosheng and He Jia'er even knew each other.
"The luxury car parked outside the nightclub back then—witnesses only remembered it was dark gray, with no recollection of the model or license plate," Mo Zhenbang's voice echoed in the confined space. "But within ten days of the fireplace being completed, a car registered under the Sheng family was secretly scrapped."
Mo Zhenbang leaned forward. "How do you explain this coincidence?"
How could she explain it? A wealthy family scrapping a car could have countless reasons, but Sheng Peishan remained silent.
Her lips stayed sealed, her gaze fixed on the evidence bag the police had slapped onto the table.
"Let me try reconstructing the truth." Zhu Qing tapped the table lightly with her slender fingers. "You delayed moving into the hillside villa, citing feng shui concerns—just to keep He Jia'er at ease, wasn't it? What happened next? Premeditation, accident, or a moment of lost control?"
"And in all this, Chen Chaosheng wasn’t idle either."
"The Department of Architectural Engineering at Hong Kong Polytechnic has always emphasized hands-on training. During their student years, they often dealt with structural anomalies. Sealing a body inside a fireplace? That’s just one of the most basic exercises in concealment."
Sheng Peishan lowered her eyes, her voice eerily calm. "Where’s the proof?"
"Killing someone must weigh heavily on the conscience." Zhu Qing met the Second Miss Sheng’s gaze unflinchingly. "Was the car crash… because your mind was elsewhere?"
"Do you feel any guilt?"
Finally, Sheng Peishan looked up, her eyes locking onto Zhu Qing’s.
She faintly remembered a similar exchange once—except back then, she had been the one asking—
Would Chen Chaosheng feel guilty for killing that innocent girl?
A flood of terrible memories surged through her mind, screaming in her skull.
In those first few nights, she couldn’t sleep at all. Every time she closed her eyes, He Jia'er’s face haunted her. Until that day, when she sped through the dead of night—until the sudden crash, the searing pain—she had felt nothing but relief.
She had gotten her retribution. Could He Jia'er stop tormenting her now?
Sheng Peishan’s hands clenched the fabric of her skirt.
Her face turned deathly pale, the usual elegance and composure gone.
"Do you feel any guilt?" Zhu Qing repeated.
For a moment, Sheng Peishan hesitated.
The female officer stared straight into her eyes—cold, decisive. In them, she saw reflections of a past she knew too well.
The sister she had always looked up to, the one who was ruthless and unshakable.
And because of that, an absurd thought took root in her mind.
That was why she had tested this officer’s age, dug into her background using the name on her badge, even kept the teacup she drank from to run tests.
"Chen Chaosheng was the only one who knew." Zhu Qing stepped closer. "Who could’ve guessed that ten years later, when the fireplace corpse was discovered, you’d poison him to save yourself? Forge a suicide note, stage the scene—make it look like he killed himself out of guilt."
This time, Sheng Peishan’s tone was flat. "I didn’t kill him."
"Then how did he die?"
Sheng Peishan: "Suicide."
...
The interrogation paused only when the Sheng family’s top lawyer arrived.
The police, suspecting interference in the investigation, denied bail and held Sheng Peishan for the standard forty-eight hours.
Behind the double-layered glass, the B-team officers could barely contain themselves.
The moment Mo Zhenbang and Zhu Qing stepped out, they swarmed them.
"If Sheng Peishan really killed Chen Chaosheng, why was she so shocked back then?"
"Come on, she’s an actress! A natural from the start, and now with life experience? Her skills are even sharper."
"Remember when her dog died unexpectedly, and Chen Chaosheng’s brakes failed? She insisted the killer was in the Sheng family, scared everyone with her act… The Second Miss Sheng lulled us into complacency. Otherwise, we’d have caught onto her sooner."
"Could it be… the second son-in-law sacrificed himself to protect someone he loved?" Zeng Yongshan ventured.
"Chen Chaosheng only entered the inner circle of Sheng Corporation after Sheng Peishan’s accident," Liang Qikai countered. "If it was all about personal gain, why would he kill himself for her?"
No matter how they spun it, the case was riddled with holes.
The investigation sprawled in multiple directions. A decade-old skeleton case, with missing records—hard enough as it was. Now they were backtracking to an infant kidnapping twenty years prior. A headache in every sense.
...
Zhu Qing first heard about the Sheng family’s deceased infant from Sister Ping.
Among the few staff who’d worked for the Shengs for over twenty years, Mo Zhenbang had sent her to dig for leads.
Butler Cui, Sister Ping, and Old Zhao stood before Zhu Qing, piecing together fragments of the past.
"I was still young back then," Old Zhao said. "Ah Shui was even younger, barely twenty. A diligent, honest kid—won the master’s favor the moment he arrived. Every driver wanted to chauffeur Master Sheng—he traveled the most, tipped the best… I thought Ah Shui would be my rival. Never imagined things would turn out like this."
According to Old Zhao, the driver—full name Huang Ashui—landed the job by pure luck. Old Zhao’s car had broken down while fetching Sheng Wenchang, and Huang Ashui happened by, fixed it on the spot.
Sheng Wenchang, superstitious as he was, believed the young man was his lucky charm and kept him close.
"Ah Shui was much younger than us," Butler Cui said. "Kept to himself, just worked hard—"
"Who knew a wolf lurked beneath that sheep’s skin?" Sister Ping scowled. "The young mistress was only six months old. How could he?"
"Officers," Old Zhao cut in nervously, "was Ah Shui involved in the… fireplace case too?"
He shuddered before even saying skeleton.
Zhu Qing jotted notes. "What was Huang Ashui’s relationship with Sheng Peishan like?"
"For a long time," Sister Ping confirmed, "Ah Shui drove Second Miss Sheng to school, didn’t he?"
Butler Cui and Old Zhao nodded.
"That’s right."
"That’s all we can recall," Old Zhao admitted. "After what happened to the family, who’d dare ask questions?"
"Understandable." Liang Qikai handed them a card with a polite smile. "If anything else comes to mind, don’t hesitate to call."
As Zhu Qing and Liang Qikai were preparing to return to the police station, a voice called out from upstairs.
"Hey!"
Zhu Qing turned around.
A small head peeked out from around the staircase corner. The child clutched the railing tightly, his chubby cheeks puffed out, clearly wanting to approach but forcing himself to act indifferent.
Liang Qikai said gently, "I'll wait here for you."
Rumors swirled outside—young master Sheng Fang, despite his tender age, already possessed a fortune worth billions, making many envious.
But in truth, for a child, the most important thing was simply companionship.
Zhu Qing took a few steps forward.
Sheng Fang slowly descended and stood at the foot of the stairs, his voice quiet. "Once the case is over, will we still see each other?"
"No."
Zhu Qing paused. "Things are chaotic at home lately. Keep your door locked."
With Sheng Wenchang and Qin Lizhu gone, and Sheng Peirong barely able to protect herself—if Sheng Peishan really was the murderer...
From now on, Sheng Fang would be the only one left in this house.
"Don’t run off to play anymore." Zhu Qing’s gaze swept over the toys scattered across the third-floor hallway before adding, "Take care of yourself from now on."
The child didn’t respond, only lowering his head as he mechanically disassembled the small Lego piece he had just built.
One by one, he put it back together.
As they walked downstairs, Liang Qikai leaned against the doorframe, his expression complicated. "This isn’t easy for you either, is it?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Rich people set up irrevocable trusts for their children. That boy won’t have to worry about his future."
"But... if you’re concerned, you could stay in touch with him. Even just through letters."
Zhu Qing shook her head, not slowing her steps. "Everyone has to grow up on their own."
Liang Qikai didn’t press further, simply standing there, watching her walk away in silence.
Meanwhile, Sheng Fang carried his Lego figure upstairs.
The maid followed closely behind.
His second sister’s bedroom door was still open, and a new email notification popped up on the computer.
Sheng Fang couldn’t read all the words yet, but he recognized the English letters clearly.
"DNA?" The little boy, still upset, licked his lips. "Marisa, is this a new brand of chocolate?"
