Weng Zhaolin looked utterly baffled, his puzzled gaze turning to Zhu Qing. "What little mouth? Did someone just mention that?"
There was no way Madam would side with her little uncle to scold her superior at a time like this.
Zhu Qing cleared her throat and shook her head. "No idea."
Her niece might not know, but her uncle certainly did!
Sheng Fang tilted his earnest little face up. "Mm—"
His tiny mouth was covered again, and Zhu Qing calmly declared, "No talking."
Weng Zhaolin was even more confused. Midway through reprimanding his subordinate, his words were abruptly cut off, leaving him momentarily at a loss for how to continue.
He restarted the car, the engine roaring to life, and was about to drive off when the little boy raised his hand, eager to speak.
"Can you take us somewhere?" Fang Fang leaned forward.
This was Zhu Qing’s first time riding in Weng Zhaolin’s car.
It was also Weng Zhaolin’s first time driving a subordinate. Seated in the driver’s seat, he listened to the hushed whispers of his two passengers behind him, unable to join the conversation. He suddenly understood the plight of a taxi driver—this pair was treating him like one!
"Qing, when are you planning to get your driver’s license?"
"After I get through this busy period."
Weng Zhaolin perked up, finally catching a snippet of their conversation.
So the rookie from the Serious Crimes Unit was preparing for her driving test. He chimed in, offering some tips from his own experience, and couldn’t resist showing off at the end.
"When I got my license back in the day, it was nothing like now. Back then, I was the only one in the entire station who could drive!"
Sheng Fang whispered again, "Once you get your license, Uncle will buy you a car."
Of course, Weng Zhaolin knew about his subordinate’s background—the long-lost granddaughter of jewelry tycoon Sheng Wenchang, reunited after twenty years. Who in the Yau Ma Tei Police Station didn’t know?
Rumors had it she’d recently bought a place, and many from the station had visited—except him. Not that Weng Zhaolin cared much for socializing with the younger crowd, but when the topic of buying a car came up, his expertise kicked in.
"Buying a car, huh?" Weng Zhaolin patted his steering wheel proudly. "This one here—"
"That one won’t do." Sheng Fang cupped his little hands over his mouth.
Weng Zhaolin’s smile stiffened.
He didn’t ask why. The young heir of a wealthy family had grown up with chauffeurs and luxury cars—anything he said now would only invite humiliation.
Smoothly changing the subject, Weng Zhaolin asked why they were heading to the orphanage.
"The deceased, Fang Songsheng’s fiancée, Li Ziyao," Zhu Qing explained. "She grew up in an orphanage and was only adopted at fourteen."
This detail hadn’t been mentioned in Mo Zhenbang’s report.
Weng Zhaolin seemed surprised. Learning that Zhu Qing and Li Ziyao had another connection, his fingers tapped absently on the steering wheel.
"You said she was adopted by a well-off family. So why did she drop out of school?"
"Back then, orphanages didn’t have advanced systems. Records were handwritten, and even if the staff did their best to vet adoptive families, the information wasn’t always accurate. In the end, it all depended on the family’s conscience."
"A fourteen-year-old girl living with strangers… if they had ill intentions, her life must’ve been hell."
Weng Zhaolin’s words echoed Zhu Qing’s own thoughts.
Had her adoptive family forced her to quit school and work as a beer girl? Or had Li Ziyao—once known as Xinxin—chosen to earn her own keep, finding it safer than relying on parents who shared no blood with her?
"The orphanage should still have records from that time," Zhu Qing said.
"Any lead is progress. Follow this trail for now. By the way, given your connection to Li Ziyao, should you recuse yourself from the case?" Before she could answer, Weng Zhaolin shook his head. "Never mind. Childhood friends shouldn’t cloud your judgment."
While they discussed the case, Sheng Fang listened intently.
After all, Weng Zhaolin hadn’t risen to senior inspector on luck alone—he had real skill. The media spotlight and his flashy appearances on Police Magazine might’ve overshadowed his investigative work, but now, as he dissected the case with Zhu Qing, Sheng Fang was captivated.
A sudden brake jolted him back to reality. Weng Zhaolin’s car pulled to a stop by the roadside.
Sheng Fang’s attention was immediately seized by the orphanage’s weathered sign.
Was this where his niece had grown up?
It looked… run-down.
"We’re here." Zhu Qing reached for the door. "Thanks, Weng Sir."
Weng Zhaolin waved dismissively, only realizing belatedly how far out of the way this detour was. He shouldn’t have let the kid’s pleading sway him!
As he watched them walk away, something clicked in his mind—
The little one mentioned a "little mouth," and the older one told someone not to talk…
Who exactly wasn’t supposed to speak?
Once Weng Zhaolin’s car was out of sight, Sheng Fang remarked cheerfully, "Qing, Zhaolin really isn’t the petty type!"
"Call him Weng Sir. Or Uncle Weng."
Zhu Qing made a mental note to visit the bookstore again soon.
The children’s section probably had picture books on familial titles—
Dad’s dad is Grandpa, Mom’s sister is Auntie…
At home, he could play the uncle, but outside, he wasn’t everyone’s uncle!
…
Xinxin had become Li Ziyao after her adoption.
Oddly, Zhu Qing could find almost no records of her under that name.
The adoptive family had registered her new identity, taken her abroad, and left barely a trace.
"Qing, I don’t like this place," Sheng Fang muttered, wrinkling his nose.
He’d seen orphanages on TV—bright, spacious places full of children. But this building was small, shrouded in silence, its air thick with something oppressive. Even a carefree kid like him felt it.
Zhu Qing reassured him that newer orphanages were much better.
"This one’s old," she said. "I heard they might relocate it a few years back."
As they walked toward the director’s office, Zhu Qing paused by the worn-out play area and dormitories, explaining their significance.
To her, the cafeteria had been a battleground. Older kids, hungrier and stronger, would steal food from the younger ones. The small and weak had no choice but to hide in corners, wiping away tears on empty stomachs. Sometimes the staff intervened, but most times, they turned a blind eye—after all, these skirmishes were a daily occurrence.
"The first time I wanted to be a police officer was back then," Zhu Qing said. "To arrest all the older kids who stole food."
Sheng Fang found this amusing. "You're so silly. Police can't just arrest people randomly."
Past the cafeteria and further ahead lay the dormitory area.
In the early days, all the children lived together in one dormitory, and where there were many people, a small society formed.
Back then, her bed was right next to Xinxin jiejie's, their heads facing each other.
The two little girls would pull their blankets up to cover their mouths, whispering secrets they could never seem to finish.
"Later, they split us into two separate dorms," Zhu Qing said. "The older kids stayed in one room, and the younger ones in another."
When the news of the dormitory split first came, little Zhu Qing and Xinxin had been frantic, the two girls refusing to be separated. But before the dormitory adjustments were even completed, Xinxin had left the orphanage.
Soon, they arrived at the director's office.
"Qing Zai, does Director Guo still recognize you?"
"Of course. I only moved away after I grew up."
Director Guo of the orphanage had watched Zhu Qing grow up.
The elderly director was a kind woman, burdened with endless worries, her brows perpetually furrowed, her exhaustion barely concealed behind thick glasses.
Though Zhu Qing had given her "little uncle" a heads-up before entering, the heavy atmosphere in the office was overwhelming for a child. Sheng Fang fell silent, placing his small hands obediently on his knees, not uttering a word.
As he quietly observed, Sheng Fang understood.
No wonder his niece's throat seemed clogged with bubblegum—Director Guo's was too.
She was, indeed, a woman of few words.
"Xinxin?" Director Guo frowned. "I remember her."
Speaking of the past, the director became slightly more talkative.
Slowly, as the little one nearly dozed off, she finally warmed up to the conversation.
"That couple wanted to adopt a well-behaved, pretty girl. They were quite particular."
"I recommended children under seven. Xinxin was never even considered."
"But unexpectedly, the woman took a liking to her at first sight."
"It’s rare for a child that old to be adopted, so I had reservations."
"However, the woman was very sincere, and Xinxin wanted to leave, so the paperwork was completed quickly."
Director Guo recalled that the couple was well-dressed, refined, and involved in international trade, frequently traveling between countries. Their marriage seemed strong, and they had come to the orphanage because, after years of being childless, they felt a void they hoped to fill.
"I thought Xinxin was meant to be with them. Poor child—fourteen isn’t too late. If she could have a stable life and love, I’d be happy for her."
"Normally, after adoption, the orphanage and the family don’t keep in touch. Those days at the orphanage… adoptive parents usually want their child to move on completely."
"But Xinxin’s case was special, so I followed up more closely. For a while, her adoptive mother wrote to me."
That letter, though old, had been well-preserved by Director Guo, tucked inside a book on her shelf.
It was a parenting guide, first published in the 1980s.
Years ago, Director Guo had pored over it, taking notes and studying diligently.
The aged letter had yellowed, even the envelope. Director Guo’s wrinkled hands trembled slightly as she retrieved it.
The slow movements made Sheng Fang fidget impatiently.
Zhu Qing stepped forward to help.
In the office, only the rustling of paper could be heard.
After a long silence, Director Guo finally spoke again.
"Did Xinxin… not have a good life with them?"
Zhu Qing’s hand, holding the letter, froze.
Her eyes traced the delicate handwriting and the attached photo of Xinxin with her adoptive parents.
"It’s my fault. If only I’d visited more, asked more questions back then…" Director Guo’s grip tightened on the thick parenting book. "What does a child know? She just wanted a place to sleep peacefully."
All fourteen-year-old Xinxin had wanted was a home.
……
From the moment they left the orphanage, Sheng Fang’s steps grew livelier.
Once home, the little one kicked off his sneakers and slid across the smooth floor on his knees, landing comfortably on the living room carpet.
It felt good to be back.
Even better—Qing Zai had left that awful place too!
Sheng Fang was too young to fully grasp what his niece’s life in the orphanage had been like, or how to put it into words. But it must have been like the children he’d just seen—lifeless, unsmiling, flinching at footsteps, their timid eyes darting toward unfamiliar faces.
At the orphanage, Sheng Fang had asked if the children thought they were potential adoptive parents.
Zhu Qing had nodded.
She remembered those eager, cautious, obedient gazes…
Once, Xinxin jiejie had been just like that—desperate for someone to take her away, desperate for a home.
Years ago, the family that adopted Xinxin had sent a letter.
Now, that letter sat on Zhu Qing’s desk, within easy reach.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to read it again.
"Qing Zai—" Sheng Fang’s little voice called from the kitchen. "Time to cook!"
The young master was, after all, a young master. Growing up, even mealtime required coaxing—his royal highness would reluctantly open his mouth for a few bites. As for cooking? Sheng Fang had never imagined the day would come when he’d stand on a kitchen stool, apron on, spatula in hand, preparing his own dinner.
The apron was too long, dragging on the floor. The little lord shuffled, accidentally stepping on the hem and nearly toppling over.
Zhu Qing steadied him while tying her own apron.
Orphanage cafeteria, police academy canteen, precinct mess hall… For years, her meals had been eaten in places like these. Sometimes three meals shrank to two—whatever was quickest. But now, here she was, pulling ingredients from the fridge with Sheng Fang, figuring out how to make a proper home-cooked meal.
Little uncle and niece formed an assembly line in the kitchen. He washed the vegetables, passed them to her to chop, and by the time she finished, he’d already repositioned himself, ready to stir-fry.
Usually, this led to a long debate—Qing Zai insisting kids shouldn’t play with fire, the kid arguing her cooking lacked flavor… Somehow, amid the chaos, they managed to produce three dishes and a soup.
The soup, lovingly prepared by Auntie Ping, only needed reheating. Its rich aroma filled the air.
The other three dishes were prepared by the uncle-niece duo and placed on the dining table next to the slow-cooked soup, looking quite presentable.
"Let's eat!" Zhu Qing announced.
Sheng Fang nodded vigorously, rubbing his little hands together.
Little Fang had eaten countless meals before, but never had he looked forward to one as much as today.
He served himself a bowl of fluffy white rice, grinning so widely his eyes turned into crescents as he raised his spoon. "Dig in!"
Sheng Fang took a bite of rice.
Wow—undercooked.
He tried a bite of the home-cooked dish and tilted his head. "Qing, this tastes awful."
"How?" Zhu Qing exclaimed in disbelief. "Let me try."
Within two minutes, the anticipation in the eyes of little Sheng Fang and his niece vanished without a trace.
They turned into a pair of bewildered geese—uncle and niece—frowning in confusion.
"Why does it taste bad?"
"It doesn’t make sense. Nothing’s burnt."
"We added salt, and it simmered for ages..."
"Could it be because it cooked too long?"
As the two pondered, they sipped Aunt Ping’s slow-cooked soup, savoring it carefully.
The chicken soup had also simmered for a long time, so why was it so delicious? Unreasonable.
Zhu Qing refused to accept defeat. "Let’s try again."
"No—"
She slowly put down her chopsticks. "If we fail today, we’ll succeed tomorrow."
The niece gave her little villain of an uncle another lesson.
She poured out some soup wisdom: "A philosopher once said, setbacks are the stepping stones to wisdom."
The little uncle tilted his head, only half-understanding, as he stared at the sad-looking dishes on the plate and sighed quietly.
So these terrible dishes… were all stepping stones?
Their first attempt at cooking ended in failure, but at least the food was edible—barely.
They complained about the taste while still serving each other more.
Zhu Qing covered her bowl. "Enough, enough!"
Sheng Fang did the same, wary of his niece’s sneak attacks.
By the end of the meal, they were too exhausted from laughter to care. Only then did Zhu Qing glance at the wall clock.
The hour hand had moved far—they’d been eating for ages.
The day’s stress, worries, and unease… all chased away by the laughter echoing through the house.
"Alright," Zhu Qing stood up. "I’m full."
She turned to head to her room.
But her little uncle was quicker, grabbing her sleeve.
"Hold it! We’re washing dishes together!"
Zhu Qing sped up, trying to escape. "You love playing with bubbles, don’t you?"
The little elder nagged behind her.
"Don’t run right after eating, slow down..."
"No vigorous exercise!"
"This kid, I swear!"
...
In the murder case of Fang Songsheng, owner of Elegance Piano Studio, the police have temporarily identified a suspect.
The first person to discover the body was piano teacher Amy—Cai Huimin.
Early the next morning, Cai Huimin was brought to Yau Ma Tei Police Station.
"Officer, I already told you—I just had a momentary lapse in judgment and stole that watch and nine thousand dollars..."
"But murder? How could I dare?"
The interrogating officer wasn’t interested in her excuses. "Since when do murderers admit they’d kill someone?"
Cai Huimin insisted, "I had no deep-seated grudge against him. He was my boss, the one who paid me... Why would I kill him?"
"We’ve checked your financial records. Maxed-out credit cards, every single one overdrawn."
"Recently sold a property and are currently renting."
"You’ve asked the victim for a raise twice, but he refused both times. The way you slammed his office door—plenty of people heard it."
"You’ve taught at Elegance Piano Studio for years. The name ‘Teacher Amy’ is well-known. People whisper that your skills aren’t worse than Fang Yayun’s—you just lack a stage to prove yourself."
"That international piano competition—Fang Songsheng signed up his daughter, Fang Yayun. We heard you registered too, but withdrew your application soon after. Was it because you were forced to step aside for the boss’s daughter?"
"No. I withdrew because..." She bit her lip, unwilling to continue.
The officer rapped his knuckles on the interrogation table. "Nine thousand dollars and a watch—worth a life?"
"I didn’t do it," Cai Huimin’s voice suddenly sharpened. "I didn’t!"
The officer flipped open the case file. "Where were you between 5 and 6 AM last Wednesday? Who can vouch for you?"
Cai Huimin’s hands clenched under the table.
Then, her brow smoothed.
"That time—" Her voice steadied. "My mom was on night shift at the hospital. She forgot to bring clean towels and gloves in her rush, so she called me."
"Your mother’s a nurse?"
Cai Huimin pressed her lips together.
Her expression turned uneasy as she averted her gaze. "A nursing aide. Night shift aide."
At this point, there was no point hiding it.
"I withdrew from the competition because something happened at home."
"Call it a fall from grace. My dad ran off, leaving us with debt."
"My mom... a once-elegant lady, considered all kinds of jobs. But she’d never worked a day in her life—no respectable company would hire her."
"Used to never lift a finger, now she empties bedpans and does the dirtiest work in the hospital."
Cai Huimin had never wanted anyone to know.
The gap—the once poised piano teacher with princess-like curls, now struggling for money—was too much to face.
But some truths, once spoken, became easier to say.
"Every Wednesday... the studio gives a small bonus. Not much, but I needed it." Cai Huimin said. "That day, I went in early, waiting for students, when I found Mr. Fang’s body. Nine thousand dollars and a watch would’ve kept us afloat..."
"I admit I asked for a raise. Mr. Fang was the only one at the studio who knew how bad things were for us. He patted my shoulder and said he ran a piano studio, not a charity—he couldn’t just give me more money for no reason."
"How is it ‘no reason’? Teachers with my experience elsewhere earn far more."
Cai Huimin insisted hospital shift logs were strict—all visitor records could be verified.
Then, softer: "I needed money, but I wouldn’t kill for it."
"My dad already ran away."
"My mom... she’s counting on me."
...
The efficient Serious Crimes Team B soon verified Cai Huimin’s alibi.
According to the night-shift nurse, Cai Huimin arrived at the hospital at 4:50 AM that Wednesday.
She’d only come to deliver towels and gloves but stayed when she saw her mother looking unwell.
"That day, Mrs. Cai had a backache. Her daughter told her to take leave, but she refused—one day off meant docked pay."
"The nurse said Cai Huimin is very filial—she always carries medicinal ointments for bruises. Cai Huimin went downstairs to buy her mother a bowl of plain congee, urged her to eat it quickly, and then helped massage the ointment into her skin."
"They stayed seated in the hallway outside the ward until around 5:45 AM, when the patient under Cai’s mother’s care pressed the nurse call button, forcing Cai Huimin to leave… The nurse station has detailed records of this."
"I calculated the distance from the hospital where Cai’s mother works to Wan Chai’s Elegance Music Store. Even if Cai Huimin could fly, she wouldn’t have made it to the store by 6:00 AM, let alone committed murder."
After verification, Cai Huimin’s murder suspicion was cleared. However, she did steal the victim’s watch and cash from the front desk drawer.
Zeng Yongshan asked, "Uncle Li, doesn’t this still count as theft? Will she go to jail?"
At the time, Zeng Yongshan and another officer were interrogating Cai Huimin in the interrogation room.
Her eyes were filled with remorse, her gaze lowered in shame as she pleaded with the police not to inform her mother. For some reason, that scene left Zeng Yongshan with a lingering unease.
"Even if the stolen items were returned afterward, the crime was already completed—it doesn’t affect the conviction," Uncle Li said. "Additionally, the theft interfered with the police investigation—"
Here, Uncle Li glanced at the younger officers and chuckled. "Look how tense you all are. Since it’s her first offense, and assuming she cooperates fully with no damage to the stolen property, she’ll likely just get community service."
Zeng Yongshan let out a relieved sigh.
Mo Zhenbang shot her a look. "How many times have I told you all? Don’t let emotions interfere with investigations."
He dropped a thick stack of case files onto the conference table and asked, "Any updates on the victim’s fiancée? Did you follow up on the lead at her residence?"
"Reporting, sir!" Zeng Yongshan straightened. "You instructed us to inspect the victim’s home, not his fiancée’s!"
"Enough with the backtalk," Mo Zhenbang snapped.
Liang Qikai smirked. "Pretty sure that task was assigned to Zhu Qing and Hao Zai—to visit Li Ziyao’s place."
Mo Zhenbang slammed the table. "This case is going nowhere! All of you, focus!"
---
The task of visiting the victim’s fiancée’s home fell to Zhu Qing.
Since this was just routine preliminary investigation, Mo Zhenbang assigned it to her after Weng Zhaolin mentioned that Zhu Qing and Li Ziyao were acquaintances. But in reality, their past connection provided no help in cracking the case.
Standing outside Li Ziyao’s apartment, Hao Zai asked, "Hypothetically… if she really is the killer, would you—"
"Arrest her according to the law," Zhu Qing replied without hesitation.
But she hoped the case had nothing to do with Li Ziyao.
Knock, knock, knock—
The sound echoed through the apartment hallway, growing more urgent with each rap.
Just as the officers assumed no one was home, a woman in pajamas yanked the door open, her tousled waves of hair a mess as she rubbed her eyes irritably. She introduced herself as Li Ziyao’s roommate—clearly just woken up at 4:00 PM. After understanding the police’s purpose, she grabbed a shirt to throw on and perched on the sofa, crossing her legs.
"Got home past 4:00 AM, had a late-night snack, and by the time I went to bed, it was almost dawn."
"You think we’re all like Ziyao, living the cushy life of a soon-to-be rich wife?"
"Though, even after landing a wealthy husband, it’s pointless now—old man kicked the bucket before she could enjoy it." The roommate flicked her hair back, reaching for a cigarette box on the table. "Mind?"
Hao Zai gestured for her to go ahead. "Is Li Ziyao not home?"
"Her?" The roommate scoffed. "Probably at the insurance company again."
"Mind if we take a look inside her room?" Hao Zai asked.
The living room was thick with the smell of secondhand smoke.
"Go ahead. Not my room."
The apartment had two bedrooms, with Li Ziyao and her roommate each having their own space, sharing only the living room and bathroom.
With their doors shut, neither disturbed the other.
"The kitchen’s all hers. Always making soups to bring to the old man—so devoted, constantly researching recipes."
"We met in our teens at Lan Kwai Fong, then moved in together, splitting rent. Not long ago, she got that job at the music store. Less than a month in, she came home handing out wedding pastries."
Zhu Qing asked, "Were you home between 5:00 and 6:00 AM on Wednesday? Was Li Ziyao back then?"
"I was drunk, running in and out of the bathroom to puke." The roommate paused, then stated firmly, "Her shoes weren’t by the door. She wasn’t home."
According to Li Ziyao’s statement, she returned from work Tuesday night, bought dessert upstairs, ate it, and slept straight through till morning.
But now, the roommate led Zhu Qing to the entrance.
"This shoe rack is where we both keep our shoes. I hate clutter, so we agreed only one pair per person by the door. When I got back, I saw her shoes here. But when I went to the bathroom near dawn, only mine were left. I checked the time—it was just past 5:00 AM."
"So she sneaked out." The roommate lowered her voice, eyes gleaming with gossip. "Officer, you don’t think Ziyao killed the old man, do you?"
"Zhu Qing!" Hao Zai called from the bedroom, waving her over.
When she approached, he pointed at an insurance policy on the desk and a small photo frame at the corner.
"The beneficiary’s name is Dai Feng."
Zhu Qing picked up the frame—a photo of Li Ziyao with a man.
"Li Ziyao’s insurance beneficiary is her ex-boyfriend. The old man changed his policy to name her." The roommate clicked her tongue. "Poor old fool."
Earlier, she’d mentioned Li Ziyao was at the insurance company again—likely checking if the policy had taken effect.
"Greedy. She’s lost it. The wedding flat’s already in her name—wasn’t that enough? Now she’s after the insurance payout too…"
"Or did she suddenly refuse to marry him?"
"He wouldn’t let her back out, so she killed him?"
"Tsk. You made your bed, now lie in it. Who told her to get involved with this mess?"
---
From the moment they left Li Ziyao’s apartment, Hao Zai couldn’t stop talking.
"If they hate each other so much, why live together? I didn’t hear one nice thing about Li Ziyao from her. How do they share a roof without fighting?"
"I see... Maybe at first, they got along fine—after all, they'd known each other since their teens. But later, when Li Ziyao hooked up with Fang Songsheng and was about to climb the social ladder, her roommate couldn’t stand it."
"No wonder Li Ziyao never mentioned her roommate last time. Even if she went home, she probably locked the door and pretended to live alone."
"Such fragile friendships!"
Zhu Qing was still holding a photo of Li Ziyao with her boyfriend, Dai Feng.
Or rather, her ex-boyfriend.
"Why didn’t she put the photo away?" she wondered. "Did she know Fang Songsheng would never come to her place?"
Hao Zai shook his head mysteriously. "Who knows? Maybe she never really broke up with Dai Feng. Could be a setup."
Fang Songsheng’s insurance policy listed Li Ziyao as the beneficiary, and the marital home was also under her name.
Add to that the roommate’s testimony that Li Ziyao wasn’t home between 5 and 6 a.m. on Wednesday—these interlocking pieces of evidence were enough for the police to formally bring her in for questioning.
By the time Li Ziyao was taken to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station, the sky outside had darkened.
In the hallway outside the interrogation room, she and Zhu Qing stopped at the same time.
After what felt like an eternity, Li Ziyao’s lips curled slightly. "I never thought you’d actually become a cop."
This was the first time "Xinxin-jiejie" had acknowledged her since their reunion. Her tone was light, almost teasing, as if she were joking with a stranger.
There was no trace of nostalgia for their shared childhood memories.
...
Mo Zhenbang didn’t let Zhu Qing participate in this interrogation.
She stood in the observation room next door, watching Li Ziyao’s every expression, listening to her every word.
"The house is in my name—so what? I’m so much younger than Songsheng. Asking for security isn’t unreasonable."
"That insurance policy was security too. You saw how his daughter looked down on me. Without these safeguards, if something happened to Songsheng, I wouldn’t get a penny."
Fang Yayun’s disdain for her father’s fiancée was obvious to anyone with eyes.
"I’m still young. Back then, I thought—if he kicked the bucket one day—"
"But I never expected it to happen so soon."
"I’ve suffered enough, been poor enough. What’s wrong with securing my own interests?"
The image of Xinxin-jiejie in Zhu Qing’s memory was hard to reconcile with the Li Ziyao before her now.
Maybe she was right—after enduring hardship and poverty, she was just scared.
"But murder? No way. Murder means prison."
"Between 5 and 6 that morning, I was with my ex-boyfriend. We were still asleep."
"What happens between consenting adults is our business. I wasn’t married—why should I stay ‘pure’ for Songsheng?"
When asked how she contacted Dai Feng, Li Ziyao shrugged.
"I can’t reach him. He always comes to me."
"Dai Feng usually hangs around Lan Kwai Fong. Try your luck there?"
...
Little Sheng Fang had eaten his fill before heading out.
Auntie Ping had made dinner, and after eating, the little uncle pestered his niece to take him to buy a Ninja Turtle. To his surprise, she actually agreed.
"Xing Ji Toys?" Zhu Qing muttered. "How do people even find these hidden alley shops?"
"We enthusiasts have our ways," Sheng Fang said, putting on a worldly air.
After buying the Ninja Turtle model, they walked through the alley, the noise growing louder the further they went.
Lan Kwai Fong at night was a neon-lit spectacle.
The air was thick with the scent of alcohol. It was still early, and the nightlife was just beginning—men and women could still walk in straight lines.
The kid excitedly looked around, tugging at Zhu Qing’s sleeve. "It’s so lively here!"
There wasn’t anything a three-year-old didn’t want to be part of.
When Zhu Qing took out the photo of Li Ziyao and Dai Feng and asked if he wanted to try their luck, Sheng Fang agreed without hesitation.
"We’re looking for this man," Zhu Qing said, letting the future officer memorize the man’s features in the photo. "He’s her boyfriend."
Since they were already in Lan Kwai Fong, they might as well do some detective work.
Zhu Qing’s gaze swept over the street corners until, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dr. Cheng and a few colleagues pushing open the glass door of a bar.
At lunch in the canteen, Zhu Qing often heard colleagues talk about their evening "Happy Hour." She hadn’t expected to run into it tonight.
Cheng Xinglang seemed to sense her gaze and turned. "Madam?"
He walked toward her, his usual lazy smile playing on his lips.
"Tetris!" the little master said, raising an eyebrow.
Cheng Xinglang ruffled his hair. "Loser."
Sheng Fang waved his tiny, harmless fists in the air.
Cheng Xinglang chuckled. "Alright, alright."
That smile made Zhu Qing think of Uncle Li’s hesitation the other day.
Uncle Li had sighed and said that about Dr. Cheng, he’d tell her more another time.
Zhu Qing steadied herself and cut to the chase. "Any progress on the lab results?"
When the victim’s body was found, there were bruises around his mouth. The initial theory was that the killer, panicking, had covered his mouth to muffle his cries.
"No DNA from the skin flakes," Dr. Cheng said, his tone turning serious. "The killer’s palms were sweaty—oil mixed with sweat—"
"What about fingerprints? Any luck?"
"With the HKPD’s ancient equipment?" Cheng Xinglang shrugged. "Dynamic friction from covering the mouth—no usable prints left for comparison."
"Hey!" Sheng Fang, who didn’t understand a word, jumped up. "No work talk!"
Cheng Xinglang laughed and crouched to his level. "Ninja Turtles, then?"
Fangfang puffed out his cheeks.
Dr. Cheng always treated him like a kid. How insulting.
The little master held up the Ninja Turtle’s ID card and waved it in front of Cheng Xinglang, deadpan. "See this? Senior Inspector, Sheng Fang."
Zhu Qing turned her head, unable to suppress a smile.
"My apologies, Inspector Sheng," Dr. Cheng said, barely holding back a laugh. "Raid on Lan Kwai Fong—treasure hunting?"
The little senior inspector kept a straight face, ultra-cool. "Qing’s here to find her boyfriend."
Zhu Qing: ?
