Twenty years ago, Sheng Peirong and Cheng Zhaoqian’s newborn daughter mysteriously vanished. Fearing a repeat of the shipping tycoon’s son’s kidnapping and murder, Sheng Wenchang immediately sealed off the news, forbidding anyone from alerting the police.
The Sheng family conducted a covert investigation, with every clue pointing directly to the suddenly missing driver, Huang Ashui. By the time they arrived at Huang’s dilapidated home in Wong Tai Sin Village, he had already been burned to a crisp. Amid the ashes, Sheng Wenchang recovered two pieces of evidence: a mutton-fat jade pendant he had personally fastened around his granddaughter’s neck during her full-moon celebration, and half of a charred baby shoe upper, its delicate embroidery stitched by his second wife, Qin Lizhu, to curry favor with her stepdaughter.
The bones of infants and adults differ in water content—no intact corpse remained. The remains had long fused with the metal bed frame. When questioned about the fire, the villagers clammed up, and the case went cold. Years later, a drunken confession revealed the truth: that day, the intoxicated driver had stumbled back alone, muttering repeatedly—
"This time, we’re really going to strike it rich!"
"The villagers kept silent about the fire because of illegal building extensions. If the police investigated, it wouldn’t just implicate Huang Ashui."
"So, the driver never kidnapped the child."
"A dead man carried the blame for twenty years?"
What He Jia'er uncovered in the nightclub might have been this buried truth.
"Is it possible this was never just a single case?"
"The driver’s 'kidnapping,' the skeletal remains in the fireplace, Chen Chaosheng’s poisoning… On the surface, they seem unrelated, yet there’s a thread connecting them."
Zeng Yongshan chimed in, cradling her coffee cup: "More thrilling than a TV drama about inheritance battles. He Jia'er, Chen Chaosheng, Sheng Peishan… This wealthy family's feud—who’s next?"
"Such a fan of TV dramas," Uncle Li teased, rolling up a newspaper to tap her head. "If you weren’t on the police force, you could apply to TVB’s artist training program and study screenwriting."
…
Tomorrow marked the final deadline for reading Sheng Wenchang’s will, a hundred days after his passing.
Though Sheng Peishan remained in custody, the police made an exception, allowing her to return home under heavy guard.
In the interrogation room, the second daughter of the Sheng family had been eerily composed, even serene—but her eyes were hollow. Every word exchanged with her lawyer was monitored, yet she seemed indifferent to whether she’d be convicted. She only emphasized two things:
First, Sheng Peirong’s illness must be treated, no matter the cost.
Second, find a safe place for Sheng Fang.
Zhu Qing couldn’t make sense of it.
Sheng Peishan admitted her connection to He Jia'er but refused to reveal the truth. What was she hiding? If she was waiting for the police to convict her, why deny poisoning Chen Chaosheng when the outcome would be the same?
…
Countless mysteries loomed.
Under tight security, the police escorted Sheng Peishan to the Sheng family’s hillside mansion. The atmosphere was tense, every officer on high alert.
The will-reading hadn’t yet begun. The lawyer stood stiffly, gripping the sealed document, his expression grave.
Seated in a wheelchair, Sheng Peishan turned to Aunt Liu. "Where’s my brother?"
"The go-kart his late father-in-law ordered for him arrived today. Young Master was testing it in the backyard earlier."
An eerie calm hung over the Sheng family’s grand hall. Officers were stationed throughout, nerves taut.
Zhu Qing and Liang Qikai stood by the sofa, scanning every detail.
On the coffee table sat Sheng Peishan and Sheng Fang’s usual teacups.
The second daughter’s cup wafted the aroma of black tea.
The young master’s drink was a child-friendly fruit punch, complete with a colorful straw, a paper umbrella, and animal-shaped cookies.
Startled by the police presence, Butler Cui instructed a maid, "The tea’s gone cold. Take it away and brew a fresh pot."
Sheng Peishan raised a hand. "No need—"
With a clatter, Butler Cui fumbled, knocking over the cups. Tea spilled across the table and onto the carpet. "How clumsy of me."
He hastily gathered the teacup and the fruit punch, retreating to the kitchen with the tray.
Zhu Qing watched intently, a frown forming.
Fragmented clues suddenly connected in her mind.
"What’s the use of changing the feng shui? Heaven isn’t fair."
"Sheng family staff must have spotless backgrounds—no romantic entanglements, and their family histories scrutinized for three generations."
He Jia'er, Chen Chaosheng, Sheng Peishan… This aristocratic feud—who’s next?
When the twenty-year-old driver was mentioned, Old Zhao and Sister Ping sneered, but Butler Cui remained neutral, calling Huang Ashui a hardworking young man.
If Zhu Qing recalled correctly, Huang had appeared when Sheng Wenchang’s car broke down.
Too convenient.
Her gaze fixed on Butler Cui’s retreating figure.
What was his connection to Huang Ashui?
Had the hastily removed tea and punch contained the same toxins found in Chen Chaosheng’s glass?
"Zhu Qing." Liang Qikai nudged her elbow, noticing her pause. "What’s wrong?"
At his voice, Butler Cui stiffened, the cups on his tray clinking as he swayed.
The old butler’s behavior was off. Every hidden suspicion converged, and Zhu Qing’s mind cleared.
At the same moment, the plot of a novel flooded her thoughts.
She was a minor character, destined to die early—a reclusive woman saved, healed, and warmed by the original male lead… only to sacrifice herself protecting him in a critical moment, becoming his eternal white moonlight.
In the silence, Butler Cui slowly turned, locking eyes with Zhu Qing.
A maid carrying a fruit platter bumped into his shoulder.
The tray tilted, and a fruit knife clattered to the floor.
Time froze as Butler Cui stared at Sheng Peishan.
This was his last chance… Decades of suppressed rage twisted into desperate madness. He bent to pick up the knife.
Acting on instinct—to defy the original plot—Zhu Qing kicked the male lead aside. "Look out!"
Liang Qikai stumbled, bewildered, but reacted swiftly. As Butler Cui lunged at Sheng Peishan with the knife, Liang shoved a mahogany chair forward. The blade sank into the leather backrest.
Hao Zai and Zeng Yongshan drew their guns in unison.
"Freeze! Hands up!"
Chaos erupted among the servants. Sheng Peishan clutched her mouth, knuckles white with terror. The police moved seamlessly—some shielding the second daughter, others encircling Butler Cui.
The butler stiffened, then slowly raised his hands.
The relationship between Sheng Peishan and He Jia'er, the lingering mystery of the skeletal remains by the fireplace, Chen Chaosheng's death, the identity of that driver from twenty years ago... The truth was now laid bare before them, and they stood on the brink of revelation.
As the chaos finally settled into silence, an inexplicable roar echoed from somewhere unknown.
Originally, the young master of the Sheng family had already fallen out with Zhu Qing again.
But as an elder, could he really hold a grudge against someone younger?
Sheng Fang, driving a tiny go-kart with all the arrogance of a young lord, executed a sharp drift, blocking Zhu Qing's path. His expression was cold as he scrutinized her.
"You seem to be my eldest niece."
