Zhu Qing took the photocopied fax document from Mo Zhenbang’s hands.
The paper still carried the residual warmth of the machine, the scent of ink lingering in the air. She read it quietly, not uttering a single word.
Fragments of the past flashed through her mind—
The peeling walls of the orphanage, her fingers red and numb from washing dishes in the kitchen sink during winter, the nights she worked three jobs to save up for tuition until she collapsed with a high fever…
The director had found her on the orphanage’s front steps.
Back then, she was still swaddled in a blanket, her cries so faint that there was no chance she had wandered off like some careless child. It was clear—she had been abandoned by her family.
As a child, Zhu Qing often stood at the school gates, watching her classmates being picked up by their parents.
Mothers and fathers would hold their children’s hands, asking softly if they had eaten enough, if anything fun had happened at school, if they had done their homework… But Zhu Qing could never even picture what her own parents might look like. All she knew was that she was an unwanted child, never meant to exist in this world.
So she stopped caring. She stopped longing for warmth.
But Zhu Qing had never imagined that she wasn’t born to be abandoned.
She had a mother—that pitiful woman lying in a room at Jianuo’an Sanatorium. And she had a father—Professor Cheng, who, until his dying breath, had been searching for her.
Zhu Qing neatly folded the paper.
She had spent so much effort investigating this case, only to realize in the end that it all traced back to her.
The office was eerily silent.
Little Sheng Fang didn’t seem to grasp the gravity of the situation.
He had been sprawled haphazardly over his desk, gnawing on a pen, but as he noticed his niece’s expression darken, he slowly straightened up.
The other officers’ gazes weren’t exactly shocked or pitying, but they understood—this wasn’t something to envy.
Zeng Yongshan had seen enough TV dramas to recognize the trope—a struggling character suddenly discovering their hidden noble lineage, ascending to greatness, the kind of twist audiences loved.
But reality wasn’t so simple. A rookie cop who had clawed her way up from nothing, only to be told fate had played a cruel joke—that her life could have been smooth sailing from the start. This wasn’t some “stroke of luck” that could be brushed off with a happy ending.
"Zhu Qing." Zeng Yongshan grasped her cold hand.
"It’s fine." Zhu Qing’s throat tightened. She still didn’t know how to respond to such kindness. Meeting Mo Zhenbang’s equally hesitant gaze, she asked, "Mo Sir, are we heading to the interrogation room now?"
...
This was Zhu Qing’s second time interrogating Sheng Peishan.
The monitoring light behind the one-way glass was on. Sheng Peishan had braced herself for accusations, anger, even a breakdown—but none came. Zhu Qing simply placed the case file flat on the table and sat down calmly.
Just like that day when Chen Chaosheng’s body was discovered in the study of his hillside villa.
While the other officers had looked at her with pity, Zhu Qing had stood before her with a notepad, her tone strictly professional. Every question had been precise, not a single wasted word. Almost impulsively, Sheng Peishan had asked her age. When Zhu Qing answered, Sheng Peishan remarked that it was rare for such a young officer to have such composure.
That night, Sheng Peishan had handed the female officer’s details to a private investigator, along with the water glass she had drunk from.
Now, she was finally closing the chapter on that absurd past.
"You’re a lot like your mother," Sheng Peishan said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "She was just as composed when she was young. Back then, we—"
"Shall we begin the formal interrogation?" Zhu Qing cut in briskly.
Sheng Peishan paused, then nodded.
"The first time I saw my sister lose her composure was that day. My brother-in-law had to help her out of the car. She was clutching that half-burnt baby shoe, tears streaming down her face." Sheng Peishan hesitated. "The whole thing… started a week earlier."
In the Sheng family, Sheng Peishan was like a speck of dust—barely noticed.
The only one who ever cared for her was her sister, but after Keke was born, even her sister’s attention drifted away.
"Back then, the driver, Huang Ashui, would take me to the music school every afternoon after class."
"Huang Ashui was a quiet man, not worldly at all. Maybe that’s why I ended up talking so much."
He only spoke when she asked, and even then, he took his time choosing his words.
But Sheng Peishan had so few people to talk to. She craved conversation—both speaking and being heard—so she kept asking, relentlessly.
A week before the incident, they had talked about Huang Ashui’s childhood in the car.
He told her that his biological father had died when he was very young. He and his mother had struggled for years—real hardship, not the kind of "hardship" a young mistress like her could imagine. The kind where meals were uncertain, where survival was never guaranteed. At first, Huang’s mother hadn’t considered remarrying, determined to raise her son alone. But one day, she took him to deliver goods in Kowloon Walled City.
"The alleys there were like a maze. Huang Ashui’s mother was carrying payment for the goods when she got pickpocketed. While she chased the thief, Huang Ashui was snatched by traffickers."
Mo Zhenbang added, "Kowloon Walled City was infamous back then—a lawless zone."
"A man who sold wonton noodles found Huang Ashui and brought him back."
"Later, that man became his stepfather."
Huang Ashui said that even though his stepfather turned out to be lazy, boastful, and riddled with flaws—and the marriage eventually fell apart—his mother never forgot how he had returned her son to her, like a true hero.
At this point, Sheng Peishan fell silent for a long time.
As if struggling to say it, she finally continued, "I wanted to be a hero too."
She was desperate to prove herself.
If she could return with the lost baby, triumphant—maybe then, she would finally be seen.
Sheng Peishan meticulously planned the "disappearance."
Every Saturday, her sister and brother-in-law went to the Jockey Club, leaving the baby with the family’s nanny.
"Keke looked like a little angel when she slept. While the nanny wasn’t looking, I took her, along with the baby shoes left nearby."
"Huang Ashui drove us to an abandoned textile factory near the Yau Ma Tei pier. He said it was safe there."
They agreed that Huang Ashui would leave, while Sheng Peishan stayed out until evening.
Then she would return with the baby, as if she had rescued her from the driver.
"Huang Ashui needed money to open his own auto repair shop."
"And me… No matter how overlooked I was, money was never a concern."
At first, it was like playing house.
Before Huang Ashui left, Sheng Peishan threw the tiny baby shoes and the jade pendant at him, intending to use them as proof of her desperate efforts to protect the child.
"During the struggle for the child, even the shoes and pendant came loose?" Mo Zhenbang scoffed. "Didn’t you two consider what would happen if Sheng Wenchang or Sheng Peirong called the police? Even if everything went smoothly, could Huang Ashui really disappear without a trace?"
Sheng Peishan’s fingers traced the rim of a disposable cup on the table. "We were too young. We didn’t think things through."
What a childish plan.
Mo Zhenbang suppressed the scolding that nearly escaped his lips.
Seventeen and twenty years old—hardly children… What a pair of fools.
"The only thing I didn’t expect was that there were rats in the factory."
When a gray rodent scurried past her feet, Sheng Peishan shrieked and stumbled back, hastily placing the swaddled baby atop a shipping container in her panic.
As she flailed and shouted to scare the rat away, her elbow accidentally struck the warehouse’s side door. The rusted metal door slammed shut, its automatic latch clicking into place.
She screamed, sobbed, and wailed until her voice gave out.
Two hours later, a passing dockworker finally heard her and opened the door.
"The container was empty. Keke had already been taken."
During those two hours, Sheng Peishan alternated between crying for help and collapsing in despair.
Perhaps someone had passed by, seen the child, and assumed it had been abandoned.
That night, Sheng Peishan wandered the streets until late before returning home.
Butler Cui assumed she had stayed late practicing piano and didn’t question her.
By midnight, her sister, brother-in-law, and parents returned with the devastating news—Keke had died in a fire.
"Burned to death? But I was the one who lost her…" Sheng Peishan’s nails dug into her palms. "I didn’t dare speak up. I had no choice but to let the lie stand."
Her little niece was "dead," and her sister lost all her spark overnight.
The entire Sheng family drowned in grief—except for her. Unbelievably, she had escaped punishment.
"Huang Ashui took the blame for everything," Sheng Peishan said. "We let everyone believe he acted out of greed…"
Zhu Qing interjected, "Butler Cui is Huang Ashui’s biological father."
Shock flashed uncontrollably in Sheng Peishan’s eyes.
Butler Cui was his father? No wonder Huang Ashui had always been evasive about his late father. And no wonder Butler Cui had snapped earlier.
"You already know what happened after that."
If she could have chosen, she wouldn’t have wanted her own "rise" to come at the cost of her sister’s downfall.
But it had happened. Unwilling or not, she had to accept it.
At seventeen, Sheng Peishan buried the past deep in her heart.
She ached for her sister, occasionally consoling herself with the delusion that in a few years, they could just have another child.
Later, she stood on the stage of the Miss Hong Kong pageant.
Sheng Peishan had never been the center of attention before. Shedding her awkwardness, the ugly duckling had transformed into a swan.
"The years after that—acting, dating, marriage…"
"Nothing special. Just dull routine."
The turning point came a decade ago.
Everything spiraled out of control.
"Someone suddenly visited my sister." Her lips pressed into a thin line.
Mo Zhenbang slid forward a photograph of He Jia’er. "Her, wasn’t it?"
Sheng Peishan shut her eyes, refusing to look at the image.
"They never planned to have another child. To my sister and her husband, Keke was irreplaceable."
"My sister’s mental state worsened. Her husband arranged for her to stay at the Canossa Retreat. I visited whenever I could, but she barely spoke."
"We hired the best doctors… but her husband said it was a sickness of the soul. She would never recover."
"Then, ten years ago…" Sheng Peishan’s voice turned icy, as if recounting someone else’s story while she remained a detached observer. "A nurse told me a girl had sneaked in with the volunteers to see my sister. Worried it was a reporter, I rushed over—but the girl had already left. My sister clutched a dark green notebook, ecstatically telling me Keke was still alive."
Professor Cheng had long sponsored students from struggling families. He Jia’er recognized him at a journalism event but didn’t dare approach. Later, she overheard someone mention the tragedy in his family and tucked the information away.
Not long after, her father’s gambling debts led to red paint splashed across their door. Forced to repay the debt, He Jia’er began selling drinks at a Wan Chai nightclub.
There, she stumbled upon clues about the Wong Tai Sin fire—the very incident that had destroyed the Sheng family. The journalism student decided to dig deeper.
"You can’t imagine how terrified I was to face my sister after that," Sheng Peishan admitted. "Despite her depression, she was lucid… She knew about my pageant win, my relationships, even congratulated me on my marriage. But the light in her was gone. I stole that from her."
"Yet compared to losing everything and reverting to that ugly duckling, I feared one thing more—my sister discovering the truth."
On the interrogation table, two rings lay in separate evidence bags.
One gleamed coldly. The other, repeatedly scorched in a fireplace, had lost its luster.
They were never meant to be a couple’s set.
They were sister rings.
Mo Zhenbang: "You befriended her to keep her close?"
Sheng Peishan nodded. "I looked into He Jia’er’s background, engineered ‘chance’ meetings, tailored our conversations to her interests. We became fast friends. Back then, close girlfriends exchanged jewelry…"
"And clothes, shoes, handbags… I spared no expense."
"I tried to extract what she knew. But she played the gold-digger while secretly… testing me." Sheng Peishan gave a bitter laugh. "She was smarter."
"I needed privacy to talk. My villa on the Peak was under renovation—noise complaints every night. I contacted Master Gan to reschedule the move for feng shui reasons. That meant the nighttime construction crew could leave early."
"Who’d have thought? The overlooked second daughter of the Sheng family could even convince Daddy." She smirked.
"He Jia’er confronted me."
"I begged her not to tell my sister. I pointed to the Peak’s properties and promised her any one she wanted. But He Jia’er said, ‘A journalist’s duty is to the truth.’"
Even now, Sheng Peishan remembered the look in He Jia’er’s eyes.
That penniless college student, who’d relied on charity for an education, had stared at her with nothing but contempt.
Sheng Peishan stood behind He Jia'er, forgetting when exactly she had raised the hammer from the trunk.
"My reaction made He Jia'er even more certain there was something fishy about what happened back then. I kept begging her, but she never looked back." Sheng Peishan's breathing grew heavy and erratic, the images in her mind suddenly cutting off as she uttered in agony, "I killed someone."
If time could rewind to when she was seventeen, Sheng Peishan would never have orchestrated that meaningless prank. Or, once the prank spiraled out of control, she would have knelt before her parents and sister to confess the truth. If she had sent someone to look for Keke immediately, perhaps there would still have been time.
But time only pushed her relentlessly forward.
In the blink of an eye, she found herself standing in a pool of blood, facing the innocent He Jia'er.
Sheng Peishan was utterly lost. She had no idea how to handle such a scene. The only thing she could think of was calling her husband, Chen Chaosheng.
"Dawn was approaching, leaving no time to move the body. He calmly dealt with the scene and took me away. On the way home, he casually mentioned wanting to do well in the Sheng Group."
Back then, Chen Chaosheng had already joined the corporation, though he wasn’t particularly favored by Sheng Wenchang.
It was only after the incident with He Jia'er that he gradually rose into the upper echelons of the board, gaining some influence within the Sheng Group.
"So Chen Chaosheng blackmailed you?" Zhu Qing asked.
"That’s what I thought at first," Sheng Peishan said. "But later, he treated me so well. Maybe I misjudged him."
Zhu Qing: "He was meticulous in everything, yet he didn’t remove that ring of yours when disposing of the body. That wasn’t an oversight."
"It was to leave evidence in case the truth came out one day—a bargaining chip for his own survival," Mo Zhenbang added, looking at Sheng Peishan. "Chen Chaosheng didn’t commit suicide. Butler Cui was the one who did it."
Over the years, rumors circulated that the second daughter of the Sheng family had stolen the spotlight, establishing multiple charity funds while retreating from public view, sending her husband to high-profile private dinners to secretly gather allies. But in reality, it was always Chen Chaosheng weaving his web of connections in the shadows.
He endured for years, biding his time, playing the humble role—waiting for his in-laws to pass, for his capable sister-in-law to fall into a vegetative state, for his disabled wife to face imprisonment, and for his younger brother-in-law to remain too young to take over... Just a little more, and this second son-in-law would have seized control of the entire Sheng empire.
But in the end, he died at the desk in the study—the very study he had once dreamed of occupying as the Sheng family’s decision-maker.
It was only now that Sheng Peishan finally understood.
After a moment of stunned silence, she let out a quiet laugh, the sound dripping with bitter mockery.
"Where were we?" she murmured absently before answering herself. "Ah, yes… murder. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw He Jia'er’s dying gaze. One day, I drank an entire bottle of whiskey, but the images only grew sharper. Later, I drove out alone—"
Sheng Peishan pointed to her legs. "And ended up like this."
The car crash plunged her into utter despair.
But after the despair, her mind gradually settled… She had done wrong, and perhaps this painful ordeal was her atonement. She didn’t know if it was enough.
Sheng Peishan told herself that life was long, and she had to let go.
At the same time, she hired a private investigator to quietly search for Keke. Though she knew the chances of finding the child were slim, she kept looking—if only to hold onto a sliver of hope.
"Ever since she got that dark green notebook, Sheng Peirong had been waiting for news from He Jia'er. Her spirits briefly improved, and when she heard about your accident, she even returned to the Sheng family to visit you," Zhu Qing paused. "She never imagined she’d never hear from He Jia'er again."
"Yes," Sheng Peishan said, her hands resting on her knees, the shackles clinking softly.
"He Jia'er never reached out to my brother-in-law first. From the start, she went to my sister."
"My sister carried that notebook with her every day. Later, my brother-in-law began to suspect that maybe Keke really was still alive."
"My sister waited—days, months, years… but He Jia'er never reappeared. Her body gave out, and she suffered a sudden stress-induced cardiomyopathy… I took the chance to burn that notebook, pretending it was lost during the move to another ward."
"Until three years ago, when my brother-in-law passed away too."
When asked what was written in the notebook, Sheng Peishan shook her head blankly.
How ironic—that notebook had cost He Jia'er her life, yet after ten years, the murderer couldn’t even remember what was inside.
Likely, it wasn’t even crucial evidence.
But concealing the truth had been so important to Sheng Peishan that she was willing to pay any price to bury the secret forever.
Before seventeen, she was an insignificant shadow under her sister’s brilliance.
After seventeen, she took one wrong step in panic, and the harder she tried to fix it, the deeper she sank.
Mo Zhenbang asked her—
Do you regret it?
Tears welled in Sheng Peishan’s eyes.
If not for that one reckless mistake, Keke would have grown up at home. Maybe now, they’d be sharing afternoon tea, with the child sweetly calling her "Auntie"...
Sheng Peishan looked at Zhu Qing, lips trembling as if to say, "I’m sorry."
But before she could speak, Zhu Qing stood up.
"If the statement is accurate, you can sign it now."
Sheng Peishan took the confession from her.
Zhu Qing lowered her head to organize the case files, her gaze lingering once more on the old Sheng family portrait.
In the oil painting from the hillside villa, an empty space stood conspicuously beside Sheng Peirong and Cheng Zhaoqian.
The first time Zhu Qing noticed this detail, the second young miss had told her that the space was reserved for the child who never came home.
Who could have guessed that twenty years later, that space would finally be filled?
Only, it was far too late.
...
The "Fireplace Skeleton Case" and Chen Chaosheng’s murder were finally solved. Compared to the team’s jubilant mood after the last false alarm, this time, everyone was much calmer. Maybe it was the exhaustion from consecutive overtime shifts—no one was anything but drained at this hour. And given that the truth involved a twenty-year-old infant disappearance case, the weight of it was inescapable.
"In this case, Sheng Peishan’s sole contribution was her acting skills. She admitted that inviting the police to stay was to clear her own name. Chen Chaosheng, however, was displeased—he wasn’t an actor and feared slipping up."
"Sheng Peishan had always wanted to live up to her sister’s image… even in marriage. Whether Chen Chaosheng’s affection was genuine or not, she chose to believe it. She even thought he had truly died for her sake, that his oversight in leaving evidence was accidental—so she forged that suicide note."
The officers exchanged looks of exasperation.
"Alright," Mo Zhenbang said. "Everyone, go back and review the case details one more time. Submit your reports tomorrow. If there are no issues, we can proceed with closing the case."
Weng Zhaolin strode into the Criminal Investigation Division office with light, brisk steps, his leather shoes clicking against the floor.
Everyone still remembered the last time Inspector Weng had pointed at Mo Zhenbang and yelled, "You lunatic!" But this time was different—he draped an arm over Mo Zhenbang’s shoulder, calling him "Ah Bang" with warm familiarity.
Mo Zhenbang didn’t hog the credit. First, he praised the entire B-team for their outstanding work in protecting Sheng Peishan, then specifically highlighted Zhu Qing’s sharp observational skills.
She was the one who discovered that the real culprit behind He Jia'er’s case was someone else, and she was also the one who noticed Butler Cui’s suspicious behavior… Mo Zhenbang had once said that solving cases couldn’t rely solely on intuition and reckless courage, but it seemed he had underestimated this rookie.
"Of course," Mo Zhenbang added smoothly, "the most important factor was Inspector Weng’s brilliant leadership."
His words were flawlessly diplomatic, leaving no room for dissatisfaction.
The officers smirked and crowded around, egging him on.
"Shouldn’t Inspector Weng throw us a victory party?"
"Come on, treat us to something!"
Weng Zhaolin clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "Didn’t we already have one last time? Let’s skip it this time."
The CID office fell silent. Any complaints would have to wait until the big boss left.
But then, a cheeky little voice cut through the quiet.
"How stingy."
The room went even quieter.
Liang Qikai and Zeng Yongshan immediately clapped their hands over Sheng Fang’s troublemaking mouth.
The little young master shook his round head, annoyed, and batted their hands away, puffing his cheeks in disgust.
Gross!
……
As both a superior and a mentor, Mo Zhenbang took Zhu Qing aside before wrapping up for the day.
"It’s understandable that you’re struggling to process everything. Once the case is closed, take a couple of days off to sort things out."
Zhu Qing had been too busy to even think about her own affairs—what next steps? "Sort out what?"
"Sheng Wenchang and Qin Lizhu have been gone for a hundred days, but the will hasn’t been officially read yet. The law firm will definitely schedule another meeting."
"A wealthy orphan inheriting a fortune is easy prey. The Sheng family is truly legendary—even with just a three-year-old left, the drama isn’t over."
Zhu Qing had heard before that if no one in the family could take guardianship of the child, Social Welfare would eventually step in.
Of course, he wouldn’t be sent to an ordinary orphanage. A trust fund would ensure his assets weren’t misused, and a foster family would handle daily care—but the government would still oversee everything.
What a hassle.
"As for your mother…"
That word felt foreign to Zhu Qing.
After a pause, she said, "I’ll visit Canossa Convalescent Home."
"Don’t overthink it. Go home and rest first," Mo Zhenbang said. "The kid’s going home with you today, right?"
Before his niece could answer, Sheng Fang’s little head bobbed up and down rhythmically.
Yes, yes, yes!
……
This was the first time the young master of the Sheng family had ever ridden a minibus.
The late-night bus was nearly empty. He sat by the window, his childish reflection flickering against the glass, his lashes casting faint shadows under his eyes.
Swinging his short legs, Sheng Fang suddenly asked, "What’s your place like?"
Zhu Qing sat down beside him.
What could a school dorm possibly be like? She warned him not to get his hopes up.
After that, neither spoke again.
This had been the most dramatic day of Zhu Qing’s life. Her brain had been running nonstop since she opened her eyes at dawn, grinding to the point of exhaustion, her thoughts sluggish from overwork.
She adjusted into a comfortable position and closed her eyes lightly.
The minibus weaved through the neon-lit streets of Hong Kong.
Sheng Fang wasn’t sleepy at all—his eyes were wide awake.
He stole a glance at the dozing Zhu Qing, then unconsciously clasped his chubby little hands together, his expression solemn.
Zhu Qing was usually a light sleeper, especially during commutes, stirring at the slightest disturbance.
But today was different. She was pulled into a vivid, terrifying dream—a glimpse of the original storyline after her death as the "white moonlight" side character.
The dream was surreal. She saw Sheng Peirong in the convalescent home, the familiar female lead, and…
Zhu Qing jolted awake, instinctively turning to search for the small figure beside her.
Sheng Fang’s round head rested on his pudgy little arm as he leaned against the window, lost in thought.
Noticing her movement, he turned and gave her a puzzled look.
"Just a nightmare," Zhu Qing muttered before facing forward again.
Sheng Fang’s mood was gloomy, his mind adrift.
Staying for a day or two was fine… but could his niece really take him in forever? His future was so uncertain.
"Really?" he asked absentmindedly. "What did you dream about?"
"I dreamed…" Zhu Qing frowned. "That you were a little villain."
In the original plot, the child’s upbringing and eventual fate had chilled her to the bone.
The young master remained melancholy, idly drawing circles on the fogged-up window. "From McDonald’s?"
Zhu Qing: "?"
"Apple pie, taro pie…" Sheng Fang sighed dramatically. "Now they even have little villain pies."
Times sure change fast.
