The Little Police Beauty of Hong Kong Inherits the Tycoon’s Young Heir Chapter 31

The elder aunt looked at her niece with satisfaction. No matter what, the child had expressed her gratitude.

So open and gracious—what a good girl!

With such solemnity, the colleagues exchanged glances until Zeng Yongshan was the first to chuckle.

“Why say thank you? We’re all family here.”

Soon, the others chimed in as well.

“Exactly, no need to be so formal…”

“Don’t stand on ceremony!”

The abandoned dormitory of the police academy didn’t even have an elevator, and cardboard boxes were piled up like mountains. If Zhu Qing had to move all by herself while also keeping an eye on a child, she might not have settled into her new home even by nightfall.

But with her colleagues’ help, the boxes seemed to teleport—one moment they were on the floor, the next they were already loaded into the trunk of the car outside.

Earlier, Zeng Yongshan and Liang Qikai had arrived together, chatting about little Sheng Fang along the way. The innocent and lovely child was the one topic they could easily bond over. They joked that when it came time to move, Sheng Fang would surely volunteer to help, only to accidentally topple a box or spill the contents of a bag, leaving his niece to clean up the mess while he stood by innocently.

But reality turned out quite differently. When the adults teased him, Sheng Fang simply waved them off. He couldn’t help—not just because he was a child, but also because the little young master had no intention of working up a sweat in the summer heat.

Liang Qikai carried boxes back and forth, and on one trip upstairs, he brought Sheng Fang an ice cream. “Bought it from the corner store. Not sure if you like this flavor.”

There wasn’t a single ice cream flavor Sheng Fang disliked.

Peeling off the wrapper, he sat on the lower bunk of the bunk bed, playing supervisor while savoring each bite with half-lidded eyes.

Back at the Sheng family home, he’d tasted countless delicacies—many of which ordinary children wouldn’t even get to try. But the young master had privileges. A single stomp of his foot, and Marysa would conjure up whatever he desired, as if by magic.

Yet strangely, looking back now, little Fangfang only remembered the times he ate ice cream in this cramped pigeon cage of a dorm.

The tiny room forced him and his niece to move carefully, lest they bump into each other. There was only one rickety electric fan. If they sat in opposite corners, they’d have to adjust the fan’s oscillation knob and wait forever for it to swing their way—only to be greeted by a blast of warm air, which always made him huff in frustration.

In such miserable heat and dreadful conditions, a simple ice cream became a memorably delightful experience.

The child suddenly grasped a profound truth—no wonder adults always reminisced about hardship before savoring the good times. After suffering, even the most ordinary ice cream felt like a luxury.

The cardboard boxes in the dorm dwindled steadily.

The dorm supervisor knocked on the door, offering assistance. Zhu Qing handed her a small cooking pot, and the woman beamed, turning it over in her hands and praising how shiny the lid was.

Zhu Qing had bought the pot not long ago. On late nights, she’d use it to boil instant noodles—though unlike Doctor Cheng, who took the time to add eggs and sliced sausages, she considered the job done once the noodles were cooked. By the time Cheng Xinglang finished his elaborate preparations, she’d have already washed the pot.

Her new home in Yau Ma Tei had a fully equipped kitchen. The little pot wouldn’t be needed anymore, but at least it found a new purpose with the dorm supervisor.

Kneeling by a box, Zhu Qing checked for other items she could leave behind.

By the time the small appliances were all sorted out, Sheng Fang had finished the last bite of his ice cream.

A tiny figure, weighed down by big emotions.

“I don’t wanna leave,” he said in his childish voice.

Zhu Qing’s hands paused mid-task.

In the original storyline, even at the moment the young antagonist was riddled with bullets, he’d shown no emotional reaction—as if he’d calculated it all beforehand. But now, he was genuinely sad to leave this shabby dorm behind.

“After all, I’ve never lived anywhere this rundown before,” the little young master sighed, shaking his head as if pitying himself.

Being an uncle wasn’t easy.

What kind of hardship was he enduring just to accompany his niece?

Zhu Qing: “…”

Her gaze flicked to the bedside, where the Sheng family’s young master kept his prized possession. “Keep complaining, and I’ll toss the mantis into the trunk.”

“Qing!” Sheng Fang jumped up. “This is the Thunderclaw Steel Armor Mantis. Its blades will get crushed in the trunk!”

The Thunderclaw Steel Armor Mantis had an absurdly long name—one Zhu Qing had heard countless times but never managed to remember.

This mechanical mantis, with joints crafted like precision machinery, would never be relegated to the dark trunk. Other toys might be temporarily abandoned, but this one—

It deserved a seat on his lap!

Hugging the mantis, Sheng Fang walked past her and shook his head meaningfully. “You just don’t appreciate quality.”

At last, the dorm was completely cleared out.

Zhu Qing gave it one final check before stepping out, then turned for a last look. Her memories lingered on the days just before graduation, when she’d petitioned tirelessly for special permission to keep living here. Back then, she’d researched the application process for disciplined services dormitories and prepared for months of commuting.

Yet now, she was moving out ahead of schedule.

“Qing!” Sheng Fang called from the stairwell, pausing at the landing. “Let’s go!”

With a click, Zhu Qing closed the dorm door behind her.

She quickened her pace, catching up to her little uncle, who was already scampering ahead on his short legs.

Off they went!

...

The colleagues arrived in two cars.

Xu Jiale and Hao Zai were borrowing Inspector Mo’s vehicle, while Sir Liang drove his father’s car. The two cars sped toward Zhu Qing and little Sheng Fang’s new home.

Plenty of unpacking awaited them, but since it was a day off, the colleagues quickly devised excuses even before stepping into the elevator.

“I promised a friend I’d catch a movie.”

“My girlfriend’s been waiting forever—we’re finally going to ride the Ferris wheel at Ocean Park today!”

“I have to help my dad and older brother pick out paint. They said I could choose the color this time, so I need to supervise.”

Only Liang Qikai made a move toward the elevator.

With so much to organize and a three-year-old who’d undoubtedly lounge around enjoying the AC, could Zhu Qing manage alone?

“I—” Liang Qikai took a step forward, ready to offer his help.

“Heading back to the station?” Zhu Qing supplied an excuse for him. “To file reports.”

Liang Qikai coughed awkwardly. “...Right.”

Having witnessed little Uncle Fangfang’s earlier display, Zhu Qing made sure to thank everyone even more loudly this time.

Both aunt and nephew meant it sincerely—without the others, the move would’ve cost them far more effort.

After seeing off the colleagues, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang began hauling the remaining items into their new home.

The assortment of daily necessities seemed scattered, but organizing them turned out to be less troublesome than expected. Zhu Qing stood in front of the large wardrobe in her room like a commander, while her little uncle, Sheng Fang, became her eager assistant, dutifully fetching clothes for her to hang on the hangers. The efficiency of their teamwork made the task effortless.

As a plainclothes police officer, Zhu Qing had never worn her uniform in front of Sheng Fang before. Today, however, he saw her in the impressive police attire for the first time, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

"PC..." Sheng Fang stared at the badge number on her uniform. "What's this—"

"PC33196," Zhu Qing replied. "My police ID number."

Sheng Fang had only seen such numbers on TV. The little boy understood that it was a string of digits carrying profound significance.

"I want a police number too," Sheng Fang said, tilting his head up expectantly.

It was such a small request that Zhu Qing saw no reason to refuse.

"Should I make one up for you?"

Following the pattern of police badge numbering, the numbers adjacent to Zhu Qing’s likely belonged to other officers. After a moment’s thought, she was about to suggest one when Sheng Fang excitedly raised his hand.

"I’ve got it!" he declared, making an enthusiastic gesture. "PC8888!"

Of course—being the young master of a wealthy family, even his imaginary police number had to be the luckiest digits possible.

"..."

"Is that okay?"

"Sure, why not?"

When they first moved into the new home, Zhu Qing had been surprised at how cooperative Sheng Fang was, diligently helping with the cleaning. But that cooperation didn’t last long. By the time they started wiping windows and cabinets, the little boy had clearly lost interest.

"Qing, let’s hire a cleaning lady!"

"Why do we have to do this ourselves?"

"Isn’t Aunt Ping coming?"

"I don’t do housework!"

The little master plopped down on the messy living room floor, arms crossed.

Honestly, did they really expect him to clean? Back at the Sheng family mansion, even the maids had to tread carefully around him. If they accidentally "tidied up" his toys or made too much noise while he was drawing, the young master would throw a tantrum.

"Sheng Fang," Zhu Qing said firmly, "the past is the past. You’re not in the Sheng household anymore."

The little boy stubbornly turned his head away.

"Right now, you’re in—"

Sheng Fang glared at her indignantly.

"Our home," Zhu Qing finished, sweeping the corners of the room with a broom. "If you refuse to help with chores, things are going to get difficult."

She certainly wasn’t going to trail after a spoiled little master, picking up his socks and washing his clothes. But living together in a pigsty wasn’t an appealing alternative either.

No matter what, household responsibilities had to be divided fairly.

After spending some time with him, Zhu Qing had learned not to expect a three-year-old to grasp logic in one conversation. She planned to influence him gradually through daily routines. Just as she resumed sweeping, the broom was suddenly snatched from her hands.

Humming a children’s song, Sheng Fang happily wielded the oversized broom, sweeping with exaggerated motions.

Zhu Qing had said it—this was their home!

Theirs!

Since leaving the mansion, Sheng Fang had been staying with Zhu Qing. But for the first time, it dawned on him that this wasn’t just temporary.

He had a real home now!

……

Before officially moving in, Zhu Qing had often dropped by after work to tidy up the place.

So on moving day, all they had to do was organize their belongings, sweep and mop the floors, and lay out fresh bedsheets—

Instantly, the new place felt like home.

Exhausted, Zhu Qing and her little uncle collapsed onto the plush sofa.

They sank into the cushions, then exchanged glances before standing up and flopping back down dramatically.

Zhu Qing realized—this sofa was so soft, it felt like a hug!

And with such a huge TV, was there even a difference between this and a movie theater?

The coffee table was still bare, but that didn’t stop the two from daydreaming about their future snack-filled movie nights.

"Qing, let’s buy tons of chips! We can watch soccer together!"

"No thanks..."

"Then cartoons! Do you like Doraemon?"

"You mean Dingdang?"

"Qing, are you talking about Doraemon?"

No child could resist the temptation of balancing on the sofa’s backrest like a tightrope.

Barefoot, Sheng Fang tiptoed along the edge while Zhu Qing fiddled with the remote, finally landing on a channel airing Doraemon.

The cartoon’s nostalgic theme song transported Zhu Qing back to her childhood.

Back then, before Sister Xinxin was adopted, she would always drag a small stool over and urge Zhu Qing to hurry up so they could sit together in front of the orphanage’s TV, eyes glued to the screen.

Sheng Fang was fascinated to learn that Doraemon had once been called Dingdang.

"The theme song was different too," Zhu Qing said.

His eyes widened. "Can you sing it?"

Zhu Qing, who usually refused to sing, surprised him by softly humming the old tune.

"Everyone hopes to achieve, my happiness touches the sky."

"Magic and wonder, just a thought away."

"Dingdang, loved by all, even cats feel proud."

Onscreen, the cartoon continued playing.

The old and new theme melodies blended in Sheng Fang’s ears.

For Zhu Qing, Dingdang was a fragment of her childhood.

But for Sheng Fang, this very night became his happiest memory.

……

No matter how energetic a child is, exhaustion eventually catches up.

At first, Sheng Fang had only wanted to test the softness of his new bed. But after bouncing around for a while, his movements slowed, his eyelids grew heavy, and before long, he was fast asleep.

Zhu Qing placed his kindergarten admission documents neatly on his desk, then turned to find him curled up, his little face flushed with sleep.

The previous owner had designed this room specifically for a child—the walls were a soothing sky blue, and the ceiling was adorned with glow-in-the-dark stars that transformed the room into a miniature galaxy at night.

Though Sheng Fang often acted like a little adult, in sleep, he reverted to a tiny, vulnerable bundle. Zhu Qing gently tugged the blanket from under him, and the little boy rolled over, burying his face into the pillow.

After tucking him in, she left the door slightly ajar.

Her own bedroom was right next to his.

Whether in the orphanage or the police academy dorm, she had never experienced the luxury of spacious sleeping quarters. Back then, lying stiffly on a narrow bunk bed, she could barely stretch an arm without hitting the railings.

But now—she had a massive double bed, where she could sprawl out like a starfish.

Moving to a new place meant buying many new things, like bedsheets, which Aunt Ping had thoughtfully picked out.

Aunt Ping wasn’t entirely sure about Zhu Qing’s preferences, but the bedsheets she chose were far from the cold, rigid tones Zhu Qing usually favored. The color was soft, the fabric was soft, and they had been washed on a sunny day, carrying the pleasant scent of sunlight.

Zhu Qing buried herself under the covers, only to emerge moments later.

She tossed and turned, unable to settle, and finally gave up, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. It all felt too unreal—how could she possibly sleep?

This time, it wasn’t because she was overanalyzing a criminal’s motives that kept her awake all night. She was simply too giddy with joy. Her cheeks ached from smiling, so she got up again and wandered around the house.

When she passed Sheng Fang’s room, she peeked inside.

Under the glow of the living room light, she watched her little uncle sleeping soundly.

He looked adorable like this.

His little face was flattened against the pillow, like a pancake.

...

Uncle and niece spent their first night together in their beautiful new home.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the children’s room. The little boy reached out to touch the Thunderclaw Mantis action figure by his pillow, content to laze in bed for a while longer.

After a few minutes, he realized something was off—there was no noise.

Back at the police academy dorm, he’d always been woken up by the "clatter and bang" of his niece getting ready for work. No matter how grumpy he felt, he had to swallow his complaints.

Had Zhu Qing already left for work?

Sheng Fang rolled out of bed and padded barefoot to knock on Zhu Qing’s door.

When Zhu Qing sat up, two strands of hair stuck up stubbornly on her head.

She rubbed her face with both hands and blinked.

Nope, definitely not a dream.

"I barely slept until dawn."

"Why?"

Zhu Qing hugged her pillow, still groggy. "I’ve never lived in such a big place before."

Too excited.

When she said this, she hadn’t fully opened her eyes yet, completely forgetting about her brief stays at the luxury villa on the hillside.

Last night, she had wandered around their new home for hours before finally collapsing into bed as the sky lightened.

Sheng Fang gazed at his niece with fond indulgence.

A mere 1,500-square-foot apartment? Just wait—life with Uncle was only going to get better.

With a grand wave of his hand, he declared, "No big deal."

"Did you review the interview materials?"

Sheng Fang froze.

His niece had mentioned that Inspector Mo had approved two days off for her—yesterday was for moving, and today was...

The kindergarten interview!

Sheng Fang had never been fond of home tutoring, with its packed schedule of dull lessons. Now that he finally had some freedom, his niece was piling on more academic pressure. The little boy was ready to bolt.

"Zhu Qing, you should sleep a bit more. I’ll just..."

He turned to make a run for it.

A sharp command cut through the air.

"PC8888!"

The little boy snapped to attention, his face serious. "Here!"

...

The kindergarten Zhu Qing had chosen was in Kowloon City.

It was an international school, and the interview process alone was a whole ordeal. Aunt Ping had been a huge help—Zhu Qing was new to parenting and hadn’t considered many details. Now, the little master was dressed for the occasion in a crisp white shirt, a dark gray vest, and a tiny bow tie, looking every bit the little gentleman—all thanks to Aunt Ping.

Yellow school buses were parked outside the kindergarten.

Zhu Qing explained to Sheng Fang that if he got in, he’d wait by the roadside every morning for the bus, just like the other kids, while she headed to work.

Sheng Fang frowned. "Zhu Qing, don’t their families have drivers?"

A few curious glances turned their way. Zhu Qing kept a straight face and covered the boy’s mouth with one hand.

Sheng Fang pressed his lips together.

Got it. Shutting up now.

The interview took place in the principal’s office.

Outside, a waiting area was set up for parents. This high-end kindergarten spared no expense—even the lounge was designed like a whimsical playground.

Most of the waiting parents exchanged polite nods or struck up light conversations. But as they stole glances at Zhu Qing, whispers began.

She looked too young to be a mother.

Some murmured guesses—maybe an older sister? Or a tutor?

Zhu Qing sat stiffly, avoiding eye contact.

If anyone cornered her, she’d have to admit she was here with her uncle. How embarrassing.

The hushed chatter shifted topics.

"No idea what the principal will ask. Our Kelly’s been preparing for days—she even recites answers in her sleep."

"Besides the interview, there are tasks too. Like building blocks, identifying flashcards, color sorting games..."

"I heard the principal loves symphony concerts. I took my kid to one last week for practice."

"Oh no, I forgot to bring a handkerchief for my daughter! They say the assistant might give out cake, and kids need to use a handkerchief for etiquette..."

Zhu Qing: ?

Parents went on about how competitive admissions were at this Kowloon City kindergarten.

Everyone had done their homework—except Zhu Qing. Her only prep was printing out an interview guide, which the kid hadn’t even glanced at.

Raising a child was far more complicated than she’d thought. This interview was like an elite competition, with every parent armed with strategies.

They speculated on possible questions.

"If they ask why we chose this school, how should we answer?"

"That’s easy—just say we admire their aristocratic approach to education."

"Or that we value character-building and global exposure."

"Whatever you do, don’t say it’s because the bus stop is downstairs."

Zhu Qing sighed.

Great. Sheng Fang would definitely say it’s because the bus stop is downstairs—she’d just mentioned it.

"And the principal might switch to English mid-conversation!"

"Are you prepared?"

"My English is barely passable for daily talk—"

Only now did Zhu Qing realize—parents had to be interviewed too.

Did guardians count?

The weekend dragged on as Zhu Qing spent half the day at the kindergarten.

When the principal’s door finally opened, children streamed out like cheerful little fish. Sheng Fang emerged leisurely, looking utterly unruffled.

"Next week is the parent interview," he announced. "The week after is results day!"

"A three-year-old has to wait for an acceptance letter?"

Even Inspector Mo’s promotion exams weren’t this intense.

Sheng Fang, ever precise, held up three fingers, then added his littlest one.

"Three and a half," he corrected.

...

After leaving the kindergarten, Sheng Fang was ready to take his niece to prepare food for tonight's housewarming party.

"Tonight?"

"Did I forget to tell you?" The little master tilted his head.

This kid—not only had he invited everyone to the housewarming party without consulting her first, but what was even worse was that she only found out about the date of the party at the last minute.

"We need to buy more snacks." Sheng Fang pulled out a small note from his pocket. "Aunt Ping said there's a supermarket around here."

For the housewarming party tonight, they’d surely have friends over to eat and have fun. Back when Sheng Wenchang and Qin Lizhu were still alive, they often hosted guests at home. Aunt Ping was very experienced—she’d prepare all the dinner ingredients in advance.

As for the niece and uncle, their only task was to buy snacks and drinks from the supermarket, since Aunt Ping, being older, wasn’t familiar with what young people liked these days.

According to the address on Aunt Ping’s note, the supermarket should have been nearby. But after circling Kowloon City several times, they still couldn’t find it. After asking a passerby, they learned that the supermarket had moved—not far, just two streets away.

Sheng Fang’s steps grew slower and slower.

Finally spotting the supermarket entrance, he said, "Qing Zai, our poor feet must be suffering."

This was the first time hosting guests in their new home, and the little master had proudly declared that he wanted to give his friends the warmest welcome.

Ten minutes later, the shopping cart was packed to the brim. Zhu Qing was already worrying how they’d carry all those bags back when the little master flashed a sweet smile at the cashier: "Miss, can we arrange for delivery?"

"Of course, with this much stuff," the cashier replied with a smile. "Just leave us an address."

When they stepped out of the supermarket, their hands were empty—they weren’t carrying a thing.

Sheng Fang returned to their earlier unfinished conversation.

"We weren’t done talking earlier."

"About what?"

"Our. Feet. Suffer!"

He had a point—feet were so pitiful, being stepped on every day… They deserved better treatment.

The uncle-niece duo had been incredibly busy lately.

With so many things to arrange, they were practically running around nonstop, handling one task after another.

"Qing Zai, let’s sign up for driving lessons."

This time, the niece obediently agreed.

At the police station, if an emergency arose and they couldn’t drive the available patrol car, it would seriously hinder their efficiency.

Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang rushed in and out—they hadn’t researched where to sign up for driving lessons, but luckily, the taxi driver took them straight to the Transport Department office in Wan Chai.

At the supermarket checkout, it was "swish-swish-swish" as they counted cash. Now, stepping out of the taxi, it was another round of "swish-swish-swish." And when paying for the driving license application? Yet another "swish-swish-swish."

The little elder wore a satisfied smile.

The cashier at the payment counter tossed them a copy of The Road Users’ Code. "Complimentary. Study it when you have time."

After receiving the receipt and submitting the application form, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang left the Transport Department.

The little one was far more excited than his niece. Once Qing Zai learned to drive and they got a car, he’d have his own personal chauffeur, and she’d have her own ride—making investigations and visits much easier.

"And you can drive to work too!"

Zhu Qing seriously considered this.

Walking to the police station took three minutes. How long would driving take?

...

Since it was still early and they were already in Wan Chai, the little master didn’t want to go back yet.

That iced lemon tea from the real estate shop the other day—cool as it slid down his throat, chilling his little belly.

Iced lemon tea without tea? Wasn’t that just sweetened lemon water? Tart and slightly bitter—how good could it be? What the young master really enjoyed was the feeling of holding a cup and pretending to be grown-up.

"Let’s go buy iced lemon tea!" Sheng Fang, reminiscing about that taste, dragged Zhu Qing off to find a cha chaan teng.

Though she’d never raised a child before, Zhu Qing knew you couldn’t always indulge them.

After all, in the original storyline, everyone had spoiled the little villain—and his fate served as a cautionary tale.

Spotting a shop at the street corner, Zhu Qing pointed. "Over there."

A cheerful old lady greeted them. "Takeaway or—"

"Drink it now!" Sheng Fang stood on tiptoe, eagerly waiting, when a strange scent drifted past his nose.

Zhu Qing paid and handed him the drink the old lady prepared.

The little master took a sip, and his whole face scrunched up.

"Hey! What is this?!"

Was it that bitter? Maybe kids had extra-sensitive taste buds.

Zhu Qing feigned innocence. "Herbal tea."

The old lady smiled. "Clears heat and cools the body. Come back next time—"

Sheng Fang puffed out his cheeks.

There wouldn’t be a next time.

The day Zhu Qing first met the young master of the Sheng family, she never imagined they’d one day be strolling the streets of Wan Chai together.

The child had seen much of the world, yet everything still fascinated him.

Passing through a flea market, they saw vendors selling toys Sheng Fang had never seen before.

At the bookstore, Zhu Qing browsed the professional bookshelves while the little one squatted nearby, flipping through a sample comic book.

Zhu Qing wondered if she should buy him some children’s books.

"Qing Zai, I can’t read." Sheng Fang closed the comic and waved the cover at her. "I only look at the pictures."

Leaving the bookstore, the niece had another haul.

The little uncle kept urging her on, patting his bulging pocket whenever she hesitated.

Zhu Qing knew—if she delayed even a second longer, the young master would loudly declare his status as the rich uncle in front of everyone!

After the bookstore, they continued wandering.

Sheng Fang stopped in front of a love hotel, studying the promotional text.

"Qing Zai," he turned and asked, "what does 'couple’s room for 200 dollars' mean?"

"It means the room costs 200 dollars," Zhu Qing dodged.

"But what’s a 'couple’s room'?" The little one pressed. "You didn’t explain."

How was she supposed to answer that…

"..." Zhu Qing pointed in the opposite direction. "If you can read, maybe we should go back and buy those children’s books."

The kid bolted faster than anything.

Little Fang was full of energy, darting through the crowd like a cheetah.

Afraid he’d get lost, Zhu Qing hurried after him.

With a ding, the glass door of a music store swung open, and two people stepped out.

Thud—the child crashed into someone and landed on his bottom.

Rubbing his nose (still intact, thankfully, and now filled with the strong scent of perfume), he looked up.

Tiny as he was, his collision had zero impact. The person merely blocked him with a hand, barely noticing, as the music store’s door slowly closed behind them.

"You go ahead, I’ve got this," a woman’s sweet voice drawled.

"What kind of lesson did you even book? Do you even know?"

"Relax, would you? Don’t you trust me?"

A man and woman stood outside the music store, deep in conversation.

The woman had a slender figure, dressed in an exaggeratedly padded shoulder blazer paired with a short skirt, her hair pinned up with a few loose strands framing her face.

The man was much older, at least sixty, smiling as he handed over the affairs of the piano shop to her. Before turning away, he pinched her cheek playfully.

"Ugh—" she coquettishly turned her back, but once the man left, she paused, reaching into her pocket.

Sheng Fang had been lying on the ground for a while now.

Luckily, his thoughtful niece stepped forward to help him up.

"Does it hurt?" Zhu Qing asked, her gaze inadvertently catching the face of the woman at the piano shop entrance. Her eyes locked onto her.

The woman’s makeup was bold, her nails a striking red, a freshly lit cigarette between her fingers as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Amidst the haze, their eyes met.

"Sister Xinxin?"

Sister Xinxin had been Zhu Qing’s only friend in the orphanage.

When they saw the stars, she would say, "Qingqing, the stars in the sky are your parents missing you." If other children tried to take their spot in front of the orphanage’s TV, she would whisper firmly, "No, Qingqing sits here."

Later, Sister Xinxin was adopted by a wealthy family who treated her as their own.

They never saw each other again.

In Zhu Qing’s memory, she had been a timid, soft-spoken sister.

But now, smoke curled around her as she flicked ash off her cigarette and raised an eyebrow. "What Sister Xinxin? You’ve got the wrong person."

After a few drags, she tossed the cigarette onto the ground—unceremoniously unextinguished—and swayed her hips back into the piano shop.

Zhu Qing was tugged along by Sheng Fang, but she kept looking back.

How could she be mistaken?

...

The moment Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang stepped through the door, Aunt Ping followed right behind, a basket of groceries in hand.

Fresh from the market, she chattered cheerfully about today’s prices. For Aunt Ping, receiving a generous salary for such light work left her restless. Now, bustling about preparing dinner for the household, she was in high spirits, enthusiastically listing off her planned menu for Zhu Qing.

"This is the housewarming celebration for the young master and little miss!" Aunt Ping beamed, claiming she was soaking up the good fortune. She wandered around, admiring the house’s layout and orientation, nodding in approval.

Once in the kitchen, Aunt Ping was in her element.

Before long, a supermarket delivery arrived with fresh ingredients. Zhu Qing stashed sodas in the fridge, mentally tallying what was still missing.

"Aunt Ping! Did you get the game console?" Sheng Fang asked.

"Ordered it this morning! The guy at the electronics store said it’ll be delivered by four."

A game console to entertain guests?

That was purely Sheng Fang’s own agenda.

Zhu Qing checked the fridge and called out from the kitchen, but the little one didn’t hear.

"PC8888—"

"What about the lychee soda?"

"Here!" Sheng Fang saluted with his chubby little hand.

No surprise he was from a family of cops—the kid had an uncanny familiarity with command protocols and followed them with military precision.

"Qing, Nannan doesn’t drink cold soda."

"You even know that?"

Sheng Fang puffed out his chest proudly. "The long arm of the law—"

Aunt Ping chuckled. "Young master, that’s not how you use that phrase. You just overheard them talking."

When the electronics store delivered the game console, the little uncle eagerly urged his niece to set it up.

As the game’s opening animation flashed on the TV, his mouth formed a tiny "o," hands gripping the controller tightly.

"Let me try too." Zhu Qing sat down.

Aunt Ping bustled in and out of the kitchen. The first time she emerged, the young master was sprawled on the couch gaming. The second time, Zhu Qing had joined him, both leaning forward, eyes glued to the screen.

By the third time, they had shifted positions, legs crossed, practically pressed against the TV, utterly absorbed.

Aunt Ping shook her head with a smile.

Both of them were just kids.

"Ding-dong…"

When the doorbell rang, Aunt Ping turned from the stove, spatula in hand. "Someone get the door—my hands are greasy!"

The kitchen was fragrant with the sizzle of soy sauce chicken, the rich aroma of stir-fry filling the air.

"Coming!" Zhu Qing set down the controller, mentally running through the guest list as she headed for the door.

Likely the usual crew from the Serious Crimes Unit—Xu Jiale, Hao Zai, Little Sun… Zhu Qing wasn’t particularly close with them, but they were still her people.

The door swung open, and her colleagues filed in with gifts.

"Inspector Mo will be here soon."

"He’s picking up his wife and daughter—they’re on the way…"

Before the door could close, the elevator dinged again from the hallway.

When Zhu Qing saw the forensics team’s Sir Zhong and Little Bai at the door, her vision darkened.

Next came Doctor Cheng from the medical examiner’s office.

Finally, even that forgettable traffic officer showed up.

Acquaintances arrived. Strangers followed.

Zhu Qing stood frozen in the entryway, the guests lingering at the threshold. In the awkward silence, she forced a stiff smile.

Thankfully, the little elder of the house knew how to handle these situations.

She took a step back, ushering them in, then calmly called, "Sheng Fang."

No pattering footsteps.