Sheng Fang's little face scrunched up like a chili-stuffed dumpling, his temper flaring.
Anyone who refuses to cooperate with the police can't be up to any good, right?
Arrest them! Take them in for questioning—they'll talk soon enough.
Meanwhile, Zhu Qing's gaze swept over Zhou Meilian's face once more.
That day, when she and Mo Zhenbang arrived in Sham Shui Po and saw the corpse "seated" at the breakfast shop table, her mind immediately jumped to the massacre case involving the Zeng family from the original storyline. But their homicide unit dealt with murders all the time—even if this case was particularly brutal, it didn’t necessarily connect to the original plot. At the time, Zhu Qing’s suspicion had been nothing more than a passing thought.
Now, however, she had heard the evening news broadcast with her own ears. Zhu Qing didn’t own a pager, and once she left the station, unless she called in herself, her colleagues and superiors had no way of reaching her. That afternoon, she and Sheng Fang had taken three hours off to visit the Sheng family regarding a will. Unexpectedly, while they were gone, the station received a new report—another male body had been discovered in an abandoned tenement building in Mong Kok.
Rain. A serial killer. Those two keywords locked into place in Zhu Qing’s memory.
This was the case from the original storyline.
As for the red clothing… Zhu Qing’s eyes drifted past Zhou Meilian, lingering briefly behind her.
Red clothes were common enough. Now that a second victim had been found, confirming this as a serial killing, she no longer suspected Zhou Meilian.
Zhou Meilian was too small.
Standing just over five feet tall and weighing no more than ninety pounds, how could she have overpowered a six-foot-tall victim in that breakfast shop? Sure, it wasn’t impossible for someone petite to be strong, but then there was that useless intuition Mo Zhenbang always talked about—Zhou Meilian was afraid.
Not of the murders, though. Her unease was tied solely to Feng Yaowen.
Her uncle was still just a baby.
Oblivious to the adults’ thoughts, he used his tiny hands to prop open the door for his niece, helping with the investigation. It never occurred to him that his small frame posed no real threat—if Zhou Meilian slammed the door, he’d go flying.
"Who is it?" A man’s impatient voice came from inside. "Knocking nonstop—can’t a man sleep?"
Only then did Zhu Qing notice someone lying on the couch.
From her angle, she could see his thinning hairline. Clearly, he’d been napping in front of the TV and was now grumpy from being disturbed. Zhou Meilian’s urgency to shut the door earlier had been because of him.
"Who are they?" The man eyed the two at the door.
Zhou Meilian’s face flushed as she forced out, "This officer is here about Feng Yaowen."
The man frowned, then smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes.
After giving Zhou Meilian a loaded look, he turned away and plopped back onto the couch, turning up the TV volume.
Zhou Meilian’s expression shifted before she sighed. "Go ahead and ask."
She had divorced last year and remarried in the first half of this year.
The last time she’d seen her ex-husband was during the divorce proceedings. They’d parted amicably, given they shared a son.
"I haven’t seen him since the divorce."
"Enemies? Unlikely. He was stubborn, but any conflicts were just verbal. Nothing that would lead to murder..."
Feng Yaowen had been domineering, expecting Zhou Meilian to wait on him hand and foot. When she discovered his affair, she’d mustered the courage to file for divorce.
As the guilty party, he hadn’t fought her over the settlement. She walked away with a sum of money and soon met her current husband, whose kindness convinced her to remarry.
"I was definitely home sleeping early yesterday morning. My husband can vouch for that." Her eyes widened. "Officer, you don’t actually think I killed Yaowen, do you?"
"Just routine questions."
Zhu Qing then brought up their son, Feng Junming.
"Junming rarely visits. It’s… not convenient. We usually meet at the diner where he works, in Central."
"They argued often, but he’d never kill his own father!"
At first, she kept her voice low, glancing back to ensure her husband wasn’t listening. But when it came to her son, Zhou Meilian’s tone grew fervent, her face tense.
As her husband stood with a scowl, she turned away, humiliation flickering across her lips.
"Junming would never do this," she murmured.
Zhou Meilian had learned of her ex-husband’s death from the news.
Even pixelated, she recognized that old shop in Sham Shui Po. When the report aired, she’d been clearing dishes and nearly dropped a porcelain bowl, barely catching it on the table. Her husband had only glanced at her before asking how much the property was worth.
She’d shown grit in leaving her first marriage, only to stumble blindly into another trap. Now, all she wanted was for the police to clear her son’s name.
Zhu Qing and her little uncle didn’t enter the apartment.
After the interview, they turned to leave—until Zhou Meilian suddenly called out.
"Officer!"
"Any chance your colleagues have already found Junming?"
When Zhu Qing and the kid had left the station, Feng Junming still hadn’t been located.
But hours had passed—maybe there were updates.
Once outside, Sheng Fang piped up, "See? This is why we need pagers."
The station corridors were always buzzing with pages, while Zhu Qing’s belt loop stayed empty. Communication devices were undeniably useful for police work.
She’d even considered requesting one from the finance department if they ever became standard issue.
Instead, before the station could equip its officers, her outrageously wealthy little uncle had taken matters into his own hands.
"Qing, pick one that lights up!"
Zhu Qing knew the kid was loaded.
But those eye-popping sums were all in the bank.
"I have money."
"No, you don’t."
"I do!"
With that, the little boy swung his backpack off and unzipped it dramatically.
Earlier, at the Sheng residence, he’d gone upstairs alone.
At that time, Zhu Qing was discussing guardianship application matters with her lawyer when she noticed him running up the stairs step by step, the sound of his footsteps echoing—"tap, tap, tap." She thought he was just reluctant to leave the house and wanted to take his favorite toy with him.
Who would have guessed that Young Master Sheng was actually going back to loot the family's "treasures"?
Now, his backpack was stuffed with stacks of cash.
He was practically carrying a fortune on his back.
And he had been bouncing around with that backpack the whole way here?
"I know the safe's password," Sheng Fang declared proudly.
Amid the bustling crowd, Madam Zhu swiftly zipped up the backpack.
"Can we go buy a pager now?" the little master asked eagerly.
...
The Sheng family's legal case had been closed for days, and the reading of the will was already settled.
Zhu Qing had submitted her application for her uncle's guardianship to the court. The lawyer said it was highly unlikely to be rejected. Life needed to return to normal—she couldn’t bring the child to work with her every day. Other colleagues with kids at the police station managed to balance family and work, but no one else had a little troublemaker running around the CID office daily.
On this front, Sheng Fang had more experience. Without hesitation, the young master took it upon himself to find a nanny.
Marysa, the Filipina maid, had already left, but there was still someone in the household who hadn’t run off. After some discussion, they settled on the best candidate.
Aunt Ping never expected to suddenly find herself employed again.
Her job was simple: once the little master started kindergarten, she would handle his pick-up and drop-off. As for the rest, she hadn’t received further instructions yet, but she guessed she probably wouldn’t need to live with the "uncle and nephew" pair... After all, it was clear that Madam didn’t like being disturbed. Allowing the young master to live with her was already an enormous concession.
Zhu Qing asked—
"How much does a nanny cost?"
The little one shrugged, refusing to tell her.
Though he had no real concept of money, he knew it must be expensive. Some things were better left unknown to children.
Zhu Qing spent the evening sorting out childcare arrangements, and the next morning, Aunt Ping arrived right on time for her shift.
In the past few days, the little boy had gradually adjusted to the "high-intensity" rhythm of riding the minibus. By now, he was completely at ease. Not even four years old, he stood there swaying like a little penguin, his chubby hands clutching Zhu Qing’s sleeve for balance. When the bus braked suddenly, he wobbled along with it, his head cushioned by his niece’s palm to prevent him from knocking himself silly. Other passengers found the child utterly adorable, and on every trip, someone would offer him their seat. At that point, Sheng Fang would always stand by the seat, beckoning his niece over with a little wave and calling out in his tiny voice, "There’s a spot here!"
But now, the little one wasn’t by Zhu Qing’s side.
It was too quiet.
As the minibus rounded a corner and suddenly braked, the passengers grumbled in complaint.
Zhu Qing gripped the handrail, her body swaying violently, when she suddenly remembered the lunchbox she had packed. Inside was today’s lunch—leftovers from the police academy canteen the night before when she and Sheng Fang had barely made it before closing. She wasn’t sure if the food had spilled.
She opened her bag and pulled out the lunchbox.
Her first instinct told her something was off—the box was too light, as if it contained nothing but its own weight. With a "snap," she opened it. The food was gone, replaced by stacks of cash.
She had no idea when the kid had pulled off this little heist—probably early that morning. He had even rinsed the lunchbox...
Though not very thoroughly. It was still greasy.
Beneath the neatly folded bills was a colorful sticky note. Sheng Fang’s Chinese lessons hadn’t been in vain—he could recognize simple characters and remembered how to write them, though his strokes were often crooked, missing a line or adding an extra one, making it a struggle to decipher.
On the note, three large characters stood out—
"Eat better!"
The young master wanted her to have better meals. Next to the words was a poorly drawn, gluttonous little figure.
A faint smile tugged at Zhu Qing’s lips as she closed the lunchbox again.
...
Zhu Qing was used to arriving early. When she entered the Criminal Investigation Division office, none of her colleagues had shown up yet. She poured herself a glass of water in the break room, returned to her desk, and pulled out next month’s duty roster that Zeng Yongshan had given her earlier.
In the original storyline, the Zeng family had been murdered on a rainy night—a night when the original female lead was on duty.
Zhu Qing didn’t know the weather forecast for the coming days, but she could at least note down Zeng Yongshan’s shifts. She marked the dates on her desk calendar with symbols only she could understand, set down her pen, and—since there was still time—dug into her pocket.
Her colleagues trickled in one by one. Zeng Yongshan and Hao Zai arrived right on time, bumping into Liang Qikai just as he was leaving the cafeteria.
"Freeze!" Hao Zai raised a hand and snatched the paper-wrapped cake from Liang Qikai’s grip. "Confiscated!"
Zeng Yongshan muttered that the cafeteria lady was playing favorites—always spoiling Inspector Liang with new menu items before anyone else.
"Sharing is caring," Liang Qikai chuckled. "Sister Xiao even said she’ll make fried wontons next time."
"Wow, insider info! You heard him—sharing is caring!" Zeng Yongshan held out her hand to Hao Zai. "Gimme some."
The soft sponge cake melted on their tongues, its sweetness simple yet distinctive. All it needed was an iced milk tea to complete the perfect combo.
"Doesn’t this taste a lot like the paper-wrapped cake from Ah Wah Café in Central?"
"Maybe the cafeteria lady ran into Feng Junming when he came to the station yesterday and picked up some tips."
The previous afternoon, Hao Zai had finally tracked down the victim Feng Yaowen’s son.
Feng Junming usually worked as a waiter at Ah Wah Café in Central. After his late shift the night before, he had gone bar-hopping in Lan Kwai Fong with friends until dawn, then crashed at home. By the time he woke up, he learned his father had been murdered. He rushed to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station to complete the formalities before being taken to the morgue to identify the body.
Seeing Feng Yaowen’s corpse in person was a shock.
Outsiders claimed the father-son relationship was strained. But faced with his own father’s lifeless body, Feng Junming’s legs gave out, and he collapsed on the spot.
Later, the police took his statement. At the time of Feng Yaowen’s death, Feng Junming had a solid alibi—his friends from Lan Kwai Fong could all vouch for him.
Feng Junming couldn’t possibly be the killer.
"Another dead end," Zeng Yongshan sighed. "After going in circles, we’re back to square one."
"And then there’s the Mong Kok case—" Hao Zai added. "I heard the boss say last night’s meeting pointed to a possible serial killer."
"The news already warned people to be careful at night," Zeng Yongshan said.
Liang Qikai muttered, "Let’s hope it stops here... No more—"
"Knock on wood!" Zeng Yongshan cut him off. "Don’t jinx it!"
The three of them chatted as they walked, but the moment they stepped into the office, their footsteps halted. Hao Zai pressed a finger to his lips, and even their movements turned stealthy.
"Shh..."
All three pairs of eyes turned toward Zhu Qing’s desk.
It was the height of summer, and the sun was scorching. The road outside the police station was baking hot.
But as soon as one stepped through the police station's main entrance, the air - conditioning enveloped them, and all the sweltering heat and restlessness in one's heart seemed to vanish in an instant.
Zhu Qing was sitting by the window. The sunlight filtered through the blinds and slanted down on her.
The light was glaringly bright, yet there was an inexplicable coolness about it.
Zhu Qing had her eyes lowered, fiddling with a small gadget in her hand.
The sunlight fell on her eyelashes, casting a fine shadow on her porcelain - white cheeks.
She was studying the buttons on the small gadget intently, tapping them one by one with her fingertips. She didn't even look up when she heard the footsteps.
She was like a child who had just gotten a new toy.
This was the pager that the little boy had dragged Zhu Qing to the electronics store to buy last night.
Different from the numeric pagers, the screens of Chinese pagers could display Chinese characters. They were more popular and also more expensive. Sheng Fang waved his hand and didn't even consider the price. He just paid the money right away. It was the first time he was giving a gift to his niece, so he had to pick the best one.
At this moment, Zhu Qing was learning how to use her new pager.
Before they left home, they had agreed to go to Jiano'an Sanatorium in the evening. It was already a settled matter, but the nagging little boy still had to remind her. The beeping sound was the little boy sending a signal to his niece.
"Did you buy a new pager?" Zeng Yongshan walked in quickly. "Give me the number right away!"
Zhu Qing wrote down her new number for her.
"I want it too." Hao Zai pushed a small piece of paper over.
Liang Qikai also smiled and said, "Count me in."
There were a lot of people gathered around Zhu Qing's workstation.
She lowered her head and wrote down her pager number again and again. When she looked up, she happened to meet the gentle gaze of the original male lead.
Zeng Yongshan noticed his expression from the corner of her eye and turned her head.
At the same time, Mo Zhenbang was holding a stack of files and knocked on the meeting room door. "Is everyone here? Let's have a meeting."
...
Yesterday afternoon, also around the time when work was about to end, the police received another report call.
The weather had been changeable recently. An elderly cleaning lady was dragging a scrap cart past an abandoned tenement building in Mong Kok when it suddenly started to rain.
She complained as she went inside to take shelter from the rain. She was brushing the rain off her body with her hand and stepping backward when she suddenly kicked something. She stumbled and then turned around to find that it was a sitting corpse.
"The second victim, Zhang Zhiqiang, is forty - three years old and works as the front - desk manager at Xinjing Hotel."
"When the cleaning lady found the victim, the body was in a sitting position with one leg bent. His eyebrows had been shaved off, his lips were smeared with bright lipstick, and there was exaggerated blush on his cheeks."
"The forensic identification department tested the lipstick on the lips of the two victims. Both the color and the production batch number were the same."
There were photos of the crime scenes pasted on the whiteboard.
The only difference was that when Feng Yaowen was found, he was sitting at the table, and the blood underneath him had already dried.
That was the blood he shed when he resisted violently and was attacked by the murderer with a blunt object nearby.
Yesterday, less than an hour after the second body was found, the general headquarters had already notified them to hold an emergency meeting. The meeting room was filled with cigarette smoke. The two murder cases were combined into a serial murder case, and a special task force was established for the investigation.
"In both cases, there were no signs that the bodies had been moved. They were both the first crime scenes."
"Both victims had resisted violently when they were attacked. Feng Yaowen, the owner of the breakfast shop, was physically strong. He worked in the shop personally and could knead dozens of catties of dough by hand... While Zhang Zhiqiang wore a suit and worked in an office. He was no match for the murderer at all."
The superiors were putting pressure on them again. When they learned about the so - called deadline for solving the case, the meeting room fell into silence.
This second vicious murder case was very likely committed by the same murderer. If a third similar murder case occurred...
Mo Zhenbang said, "Will we all have to hand in our guns then?"
Everyone could tell the importance of the matter, and no one laughed with him.
The dull sound of leather shoe heels hitting the floor sounded again, coming from the other end of the corridor, getting closer and closer.
Obviously, Inspector Weng was coming again.
Mo Zhenbang cleared his throat -
"Pay attention. According to the preliminary process, investigate the background of the second victim."
"Hao Zai, go to the homes of both victims and see if you can find anything. Especially Zhang Zhiqiang's home. Pay special attention to his wife and check their marital relationship."
"Jiale, focus on investigating the common activities of Feng Yaowen and Zhang Zhiqiang in the past six months."
"Yongshan and Qikai, go to the personnel department of the hotel to get the shift schedule and see the list of guests that Manager Zhang received last."
"Uncle Li, Doctor Cheng called just now. The autopsy report is out. Go to the forensic department to confirm it." After he finished speaking, his eyes swept over Zhu Qing, who was organizing the files. "Zhu Qing, go with him. Just record the details of the two reports."
Just as Inspector Weng stepped into the meeting room, Mo Zhenbang wrapped up the meeting.
"The meeting is over."
Several police officers exchanged glances quietly.
Although he was really annoying, would it be too disrespectful to the senior inspector if they left now?
There was a "bang" sound, which was the sound of folding a chair.
It was Zhu Qing who folded it.
She picked up the materials and looked up, thinking: Why are they all looking at me?
...
In the forensic office, Uncle Li and Zhu Qing pulled out the chairs in front of the desk and sat down.
Maybe it was because of the atmosphere in the morgue downstairs, but it always felt like the air - conditioning here was blowing even louder.
Doctor Cheng placed two neatly bound reports in front of them.
"These are the specific autopsy reports of Feng Yaowen and Zhang Zhiqiang." His well - defined fingers tapped the bottom of the report. "This is the preliminary conclusion."
"There are obvious circular strangulation marks on the necks. They both died of mechanical asphyxiation. The murder weapon should be an electric wire or a climbing rope."
"Zhang Zhiqiang's time of death was between one and three in the morning. He was killed only one day, or even less than twenty - four hours, after Feng Yaowen."
Uncle Li clicked his tongue. "The murderer committed consecutive crimes. How arrogant! Is this a provocation to the police?"
After he finished speaking, he tapped the desk with his hand and placed the two autopsy reports side by side for comparison.
The wrinkles between Uncle Li's eyebrows deepened, and he asked, "Did the murderer attack from behind?"
There wasn't even a single fiber left on the necks of the two victims. The murderer wore gloves when committing the crime, which showed that he was cautious enough.
But the strangulation marks didn't lie. When the murderer exerted force from behind, the murder weapon would tighten diagonally upward, causing the strangulation marks to have an upward - pulling angle.
At the same time, because the murderer's elbow pressed against the victim's back while exerting force, the bruise on the back of the victim's neck was deeper.
Zhu Qing suddenly leaned forward, and her hair fell on the edge of the photo.
She looked at the left and right heights of the strangulation marks in the autopsy photo and whispered, "The murderer's dominant hand is the right hand."
"That's right." Doctor Cheng stopped twirling his pen and suddenly asked, "Uncle Li, do you remember that case at the container factory last year? The angle of the strangulation marks is almost the same as this time."
"The container factory?"
"The victim was a middle-aged man who was strangled from behind and died of asphyxiation. When the forensic identification department was collecting physical evidence at the scene, they found a small knife. After investigation, it wasn't the murder weapon but a beauty product," Zhu Qing mused. "An eyebrow razor?"
"Remembered!" Uncle Li suddenly slapped his thigh. "It was also early in the morning. Suddenly, someone came in, and I almost saw the murderer. But the murderer was cunning, knowing the factory area like the back of their hand, and escaped through the back door of the container factory. Until now, the case is still unsolved."
"I should have kept the newspaper clippings," Doctor Cheng said, getting up and walking towards the filing cabinet against the wall.
When he reached up to take the top folder, Zhu Qing saw a corner of a handheld game console sticking out of his white coat pocket. The specially customized metal buttons and the limited-edition serial number on the side were faintly visible.
She couldn't tell the model, but Sheng Fang said yesterday that this console was a very hard-to-buy limited edition. The little guy had seen it on TV once and had been longing for it ever since. But before, he couldn't clearly describe the game console model and didn't know where to send the servants to queue up. He could only be anxious.
Doctor Cheng used it to play Tetris and fought until he cleared the level.
Doctor Cheng opened the folder.
The folder contained newspaper clippings of many cases collected according to years and specific times. He looked like the kind of person who would hum a song on the autopsy table, but in fact, he was very meticulous. The reports were cut into small pieces and pasted neatly, with no wrinkles at the edges. It made sense. After all, a forensic doctor who held a scalpel could also use a utility knife to make equally precise cuts.
"Here," Doctor Cheng said.
Following Doctor Cheng's line of sight, Zhu Qing's gaze stopped on the newspaper clipping. "A rainy night?"
"If this case is related to the two cases that happened this year..."
"Didn't the murderer have time to make up the victim because they were interrupted?"
It was also a rainy night a year ago.
The murderer almost got discovered and could only leave an unfinished "ritual."
"Thank you, Doctor Cheng," Uncle Li suddenly stood up, and the old swivel chair made a noisy sound as it was pushed.
Doctor Cheng nodded slightly. "I hope it can help you."
"Zhu Qing," Uncle Li made a crisp gesture. "Go to the archives to look through the old cases. Maybe the case of Wenji Breakfast Shop isn't the starting point."
Zhu Qing hurriedly followed Uncle Li out of the door. When she casually reached out to close the office door, she heard a "beeping" sound. She looked back and saw that the forensic doctor had nestled in the swivel chair, his long legs casually crossed, and his fingertips dancing on the buttons of the handheld game console.
His desk was as messy as if a typhoon had passed through, looking so careless. But the analysis data in his autopsy reports were extremely precise and detailed.
"Uncle Li," Zhu Qing asked. "Does Doctor Cheng keep so many case newspaper clippings for work needs?"
Zhu Qing was a bit puzzled. Just then, her sight swept across the metal sign outside the office -
Forensic Department, Senior Forensic Officer, Cheng Xinglang.
"Him..." Uncle Li's back paused for a moment. Remembering that they were in a hurry to go to the archives, he didn't stop walking. "I'll tell you another day."
...
Uncle Li took Zhu Qing to the archives and greeted the archivist, then found an excuse to slip away. As a new recruit, it was inevitable for her to do trivial things like staying in the archives and dealing with the dusty old cases for an afternoon.
The case files couldn't be taken out of the police station. Zhu Qing borrowed them and brought them back to her workstation. She quickly flipped through them before getting off work and copied some useful information into her notebook.
By the time she got off work, she still hadn't found much. Her pager had already started beeping.
Zhu Qing could imagine that the young master had been watching the clock all day. As soon as it was five o'clock in the afternoon, he couldn't sit still. However, she didn't expect that as soon as she walked out of the police station gate, she saw this familiar figure.
"Uncle's here to pick you up -" Sheng Fang tilted his head, giving his niece a surprise.
Aunt Ping followed Sheng Fang and stepped forward. "I said you were busy with work and didn't want to bother you... But the young master insisted on coming. He said you were going to visit the eldest miss at the nursing home later."
After a pause, she added nervously, "I thought it should be on the way, so I brought the young master to you."
In the past at the Sheng family, Aunt Ping had to ask the master's opinion for everything and didn't dare to make her own decisions.
Now that she had changed jobs, she was afraid of offending her new employer. Then she heard the little guy say that he was the one who paid her salary, and she didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, both the uncle and the niece were nice and didn't make things difficult for Aunt Ping.
After she delivered the young master, she let out a sigh of relief. Although she didn't need to punch in and out, her work for the day was done, and she could go home.
As she turned around, Aunt Ping looked at their elongated figures in the afterglow of the setting sun.
For a long time, the young master always put on a show of bravado, imitating the appearance of a mature adult... It seemed that she had never seen him so dependent on anyone before.
After the great changes in the Sheng family, two people who had no intersection before were forced to be together.
But they seemed to rely on each other and became a source of comfort for each other.
...
After Aunt Ping left, Sheng Fang changed from a cool little guy to a talkative and chatty kid again.
"We had egg noodles for lunch!"
"Aunt Ping said that the food in the canteen isn't as delicious as what she cooks herself."
"Then we went back to the mansion on the Mid-Levels to pack up my toys."
The dormitory at the Wong Chuk Hang Police College was really too small. Sheng Fang doubted that he couldn't even roll around on the concrete floor a few times.
The little boy missed his toys so much that he still couldn't help but pack some small ones and stuff them into his schoolbag.
"The Ultraman Tiga doll, the Iron Man figurine..." Every time Sheng Fang wanted to be praised, he would raise his head, his chubby little face blinking his eyes. "They're all small."
Zhu Qing used to like the quietness and enjoy that peace.
But now, it was as if there were a hundred little sparrows living in her ears, chirping non-stop.
The little sparrows in her ears were standing with their hands on their hips, fighting.
Only the one that won could get the trophy for the champion of nonsense.
"The laser sword is so big, this - big."
"The mask of Ultraman Tiga needs batteries. Qingzi definitely doesn't know how to install them."
"I brought the dim sum cart model. It can sing!"
Sheng Fang imitated the sound of the dim sum cart singing.
"Shrimp dumplings - Steamed pork buns - Chicken feet!"
"Egg yolk buns, barbecued pork buns..."
The little boy talked in a rambling way.
Zhu Qing had seen the young master's dim sum cart model. It could make the sound of a street vendor, and the shrimp dumplings and steamed buns could be disassembled. It was very amazing.
After all, a child was a child. When talking about these things, his eyes would shine.
"I didn't bring the Lego castle. It's too big," the young master said.
Just as Zhu Qing was about to say something, she heard him add.
"It's bigger than your steamer," he sighed.
"..." Zhu Qing asked. "Where are your toys?"
Sheng Fang lowered his head and looked at his two little hands.
Then he used his two little hands to pat his shoulders.
Where were his toys? The dolls, the small figurines, the alloy toy cars...
It was packed into a small schoolbag and carried by Aunt Ping all the way. Now, it was brought back to the mid - levels by Aunt Ping again!
The young master's mouth opened wide in a circle, looking a bit on the verge of collapse.
Zhu Qing raised her eyebrows, a faint arc curving her lips, and then turned to look out of the window.
The little boy's milky voice rang in her ears again.
"Qingzi, after work tomorrow, go to see the houses with the real - estate agent."
The lawyer had inventoried the Sheng family's properties. Whether it was the houses under Sheng Wenchang's name or those under Sheng Peirong's name, they could move into them. But Zhu Qing had looked at the list. The houses rich people liked to buy were always in some flashy locations. You had to walk several blocks to catch a minibus, and the transportation was even less convenient than in Wong Chuk Hang.
Moreover, the houses were very big. There were multiple layers inside and outside, front gardens and back gardens. In short, they were not suitable for just the two of them.
"Can you even make an appointment with a real - estate agent?"
"It was Aunt Ping who helped!"
The minibus moved forward and then stopped, its manual door creaking as it opened and closed.
Zhu Qing looked at the street view outside the window. She clearly knew what the destinations of the next stop, the stop after that, and the one after the next were. But she always felt that something was quietly changing.
Compared with the unchanging life before, there was more anticipation in the current small life.
There was someone waiting for her. There was the mischievous kid who would cause her trouble, and there was also her mother lying quietly in a coma in the hospital bed.
Although she knew that Sheng Peirong would never wake up, and although it took a lot of time to go to the Garneau Nursing Home round - about, Zhu Qing was happy.
It was as if there was still hope for everything.
...
The young master, Sheng Fang, was naturally a smart kid. He knew that just talking was useless when his abilities were insufficient. But if he mentioned the balance in his bank account when speaking, he could immediately enjoy an ultimate service experience.
When Aunt Ping helped to make an appointment to see the houses, the real - estate agent, Agent Wang, mysteriously leaned in and told them that the building he recommended had a great view, faced south with the north at the back, and it only took a five - minute walk to the police station. You could see the sunset every day!
It sounded like a super - awesome property!
Although the little guy didn't know why they had to see the sunset...
After visiting his elder sister, he took his niece back to the "steamer" (a small and stuffy room), and they were sweating like crazy in front of the electric fan.
"Does Agent Wang like to brag?" he thought seriously.
On the desk, there was a pile of materials. Zhu Qing always did things in an orderly manner. The documents on her police station desk were neatly arranged. But at this time, the table in the "steamer" was too small, so the materials could only be piled up one on top of another. With just a touch of the hand, they might all come crashing down.
Sheng Fang was thinking about important matters in life, his small fleshy hand propping up his chin, and his cheeks squeezed into two glutinous rice dumplings.
"I'm going to the canteen to get food. What do you want to eat?"
"A hamburger."
"There are no hamburgers."
"French fries?"
"There are no French fries."
"Frozen lemon - cola!"
"The soda machine is broken."
What on earth was there in this lousy place?
Sheng Fang puffed out his cheeks: "I'm not eating."
The young master of the Sheng family was spoiled everywhere, except in this "steamer".
After he said this, his cold - looking niece just replied with an "um" and then directly turned around.
The little uncle was stunned. It took him a long time to react, and then he started to sulk.
He ignored her!
...
Zhu Qing was just starting to get in touch with kids and had no idea how to get along with them.
She didn't know what was wrong with the little ghost. When she was going out, he had already turned his back. His chubby little back seemed to be radiating anger.
"Is he facing the wall to reflect?" Zhu Qing murmured to herself and closed the door.
On the way to the canteen to get food, she was also thinking about important matters.
In the Tong Lau in Sham Shui Po, the Tong Lau in Mong Kok, and the container factory... the three middle - aged men who were killed were a breakfast shop owner, a hotel manager, and a container worker respectively.
On the surface, the only common point among the three victims was their similar age.
If the case a year ago, where the murderer didn't have time to put on a strange makeup for the victim, was the starting point of this serial murder case... Why did the murderer strike each time?
Maybe it was a special date or the weather.
Zhu Qing quickened her pace.
It started to rain again. The raindrops fell into the puddles, making a pattering sound.
A rainy night...
In the original plot, the four words "Red Dress on a Rainy Night" were firmly engraved in Zhu Qing's mind.
Since there were no obvious features on the victims' clothes when they were killed, could the "red dress" be what the murderer was wearing?
Maybe the witness a year ago saw something.
Zhu Qing quickly returned to the dormitory.
She vaguely remembered that in the witness's testimony of the case file she had looked through in the archives in the afternoon, there was some scribbled writing left, which should be a phone number.
Did she copy it down?
"Click", Zhu Qing pushed open the door.
The little boy in front of the desk was holding his niece's pager in one hand and her notebook in the other.
The ink bottle had been opened at some point and was teetering on the edge of the table. The little boy pushed it back with his chubby chin.
The playful little uncle had caused trouble. When he heard his niece's footsteps, he immediately felt guilty.
He was so flustered that even his eyelashes were trembling, and his mind went completely blank.
If the ink bottle spilled, would he turn into a stupid squid?
Zhu Qing was also panicked. Seeing that the ink bottle was about to fall, she didn't know whether to save the pager or the notebook first.
"Put it...," she took a big step forward, "put—"
Zhu Qing was stuck.
There was no suitable place to put it. Every corner of the desk was in a high - risk situation.
Little Sheng Fang turned around.
He wasn't going to talk to her either, but...
His niece took the initiative to make up and even gave him a nickname -
Fangfang!
