Sheng Fang’s little mouth hung open in shock, his eyes darting around.
Maybe Daddy hadn’t hired a female bodyguard, but a fortune-telling master—except she hadn’t even lifted a finger to divine anything yet!
The winding terrain of the hillside was like a maze. After being led by the young master Sheng past the third fountain, Zhu Qing finally reached their destination.
Uncle Lin, a veteran employee who had guarded the hillside for over a decade, had grown slick with experience. Hearing footsteps only made him sleep more soundly—until Zhu Qing rapped her police badge against the desk three times, jolting him awake. He smacked his lips, reluctant to part ways with the dreamland of Duke Zhou.
"CID, West Kowloon."
"Have you heard about the skeletal remains found in the Sheng family’s home?"
The young master Sheng’s eyes widened. His bodyguard was actually a policewoman?
Uncle Lin gestured politely. "Madam, please have a seat."
He stood, offering her the comfortable swivel chair while he pulled up a plastic stool, casually grabbing his tea-stained thermos.
The next moment, the short-legged young master clambered onto the swivel chair, sitting primly with one leg crossed over the other like his father. His slicked-back hair had softened into loose strands, but he still looked like a composed little boss.
The discovery of skeletal remains in the Sheng family’s hillside mansion had made headlines. By day, TV stations scrambled for interviews; by night, the news anchor repeated the story in shifts. Colleagues swapping shifts buzzed about the bizarre case, so Uncle Lin had naturally heard all about it.
The villa had no previous owner, the fireplace had no hidden compartments, and no renovations had been reported after construction. The police suspected the body had been concealed during the mansion’s initial construction.
"That was when the hillside villa was first completed… I remember," Uncle Lin mused. "Back then, I heard from old neighbors that the hillside property was hiring security. I’d done lion dancing in my youth, so I went to try my luck."
"The construction crew worked day and night. Some complained about the noise, but Old Master Sheng just waved his hand and threw money at the problem—work continued overnight."
"But then, for some reason, the foreman said Old Master Sheng suddenly refused to allow night shifts. The project dragged on for months."
Zhu Qing noted down "overnight construction" with her pen. "Did you ever see a young woman around five-foot-three, in her twenties, coming and going? Any conflicts, like debt collection or unpaid wages?"
"Impossible! Old Master Sheng was famously generous. Last time I opened his car door, the tip he gave me was this thick." Uncle Lin pinched his fingers to demonstrate, then waved a hand firmly. "He’d never stiff the construction crew!"
"A young woman… The site was full of rough men. The Sheng family hadn’t moved in yet, so they wouldn’t have hired maids or gardeners so early. Besides, Madam, you don’t know—the second wife was a jealous type. Terrified of young girls threatening her position!"
The police had confirmed this with the old butler.
None of the Sheng family’s staff matched the victim’s age, and none had mysteriously disappeared.
"And—what, is this a drama? Even if a rich man killed someone, he wouldn’t stash the body in his own fireplace!"
"What about outsiders?"
"Our security is strict—entry only with signed approval." Uncle Lin subconsciously wiped his mouth, checking for drool in his sleep. "Back then, we had patrols and basic surveillance. Not even a fly could get in without credentials."
He pointed to the logbook. "All the records are here, but you’ll have to wait until 8 a.m. when the manager arrives to get the key to the archives."
Awakened mid-nap, Uncle Lin cooperated eagerly with the investigation, though his eyes kept flickering toward the young master Sheng.
Sheng Fang spun wildly in the chair, letting it snap back until he was dizzy, then repeated the motion over and over.
"Young master," Uncle Lin hesitated, glancing at the clock, "it’s 10 p.m. Does Second Miss know you’re—"
Interrupted mid-spin, Sheng Fang’s chubby face scrunched into a scowl—
Mind your own business!
Zhu Qing noticed something odd—everyone familiar with the Sheng family seemed to orbit around Second Miss Sheng Peishan after the old man’s death.
But logically, Sheng Peirong was the one rumored to take over the family business. Even if people were hedging their bets, why would they all favor the second daughter?
"I heard the eldest daughter didn’t even light incense for Old Master Sheng?"
At this, Uncle Lin had even more to say.
He lowered his voice. "Years ago, the eldest daughter and her husband moved to Shek O."
"Old Master Sheng clung to control, but the eldest daughter was a stubborn woman of leisure."
"Father and daughter became enemies. They hadn’t spoken in years!"
Seeing the policewoman deep in thought, Uncle Lin turned his attention back to Sheng Fang.
"Young master, you should go back. If you stay out like this… I can’t explain it to Second Miss." He looked torn.
"That’s enough for now." Zhu Qing snapped her notebook shut. "We’ll contact you if we need more."
Protecting every taxpayer was the police’s duty. A three-and-a-half-year-old boy couldn’t be left wandering alone—his safety had to be ensured.
Zhu Qing leaned against the doorframe. "Let’s get you home."
The Madam was like a shepherd, blocking the young master’s path to keep him from straying further.
Sheng Fang, unwilling to be locked back in the nursery, trudged past the fountain, kicking pebbles along the mountain path.
"Taking the long way on purpose?" Zhu Qing pointed back the way they’d come and hauled him in that direction.
Sheng Fang’s short legs dangled in the air again.
She’d only walked this path once—how did she remember the way?
The young master fumed, ready to breathe fire at any moment.
He stomped ahead, his designer slippers slapping loudly, head drooping so low he nearly tripped over his own feet. With a dark scowl, as if battling some invisible foe, he stumbled toward home in a frantic dash.
"Want me to ring the bell for you?"
The young master tossed his backpack into the bushes by the side wall and grabbed the drainpipe.
Zhu Qing called out, "Be careful."
Sheng Fang’s forehead light shone blindingly bright as he clung like a koala to a tree. With a soft thud, his stubborn little voice rang out.
"Not your problem."
He slipped into the garden, his small frame vanishing into the dark.
Judging by his skill level, this night-owl kid was a repeat offender. The rust stains on his sleeves suggested that even the maids and bodyguards turned a blind eye.
This young master Sheng… might truly have no one watching over him.
---
The next morning, Inspector Weng stood at the door of the Criminal Investigation Division office, rapping his knuckles against the frame like a harbinger of doom, demanding the day’s briefing.
Several officers turned away, exchanging exaggerated looks and mouthing "good luck" to Mo Shazhan.
Zhu Qing had already received the decade-old visitor and construction logs from the hillside property manager. Stacks of records towered on her desk as she twirled a pen, marking pages with a focused gaze.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tabloid strewn across a neighboring desk.
Uncle Li scoffed. "Butterfly hairpin found with millionaire’s fireplace skeleton? These shameless rags always twist police reports into lurid tales."
The family coming to identify the body in Group Three had arrived.
Mo Shazhan said, "Uncle Li, show the rookie how it’s done."
After leaving the CID room, Uncle Li gestured toward the autopsy lab, lighting a cigarette out of habit. "They’ve been missing for so long, the families could’ve claimed death certificates ages ago. But look—they still cling to hope."
Accepting reality was one thing, but now that the case had progressed, no family wanted the body in the morgue to be their loved one.
The first pair—a mother and daughter—had already cried their eyes red.
"Mom, don’t panic yet. Maybe it’s not Ru?"
"How could it not be? The police said the victim had surgery on her leg. Ru was pierced by a steel rod when she was little..."
Their sobs echoed in the hallway.
Uncle Li had seen plenty of rookies—some vomited bile at their first corpse, others handed in transfer requests after glimpsing skeletal remains, and many, regardless of gender, couldn’t hold back tears when faced with grieving families.
But Zhu Qing was eerily calm.
She handled everything by the book, methodically guiding the families through the identification process.
The body had decomposed to bones, and per protocol, relatives weren’t allowed direct contact.
The skeletal remains found in the fireplace of the Sheng family villa were cross-referenced with medical records of missing persons. The surgical history narrowed it down to a few potential families.
The decade-old hospital records, though preserved, had no digital backups. The paper documents had yellowed, ink fading into illegibility.
Before arranging DNA tests, Zhu Qing double-checked surgical details with the families.
A horrified mother suddenly gasped, her voice shrill: "Wait—Ru’s surgery wasn’t on her left leg, it was the right one!"
"Mom, are you sure?"
The woman burst into relieved tears. "Yes, the right leg! I remember now! These bones aren’t my daughter’s!"
Zhu Qing slid the paperwork toward them. "Sign here, then you’re free to go."
"Madam, my sister Ru ran away after a fight with Mom ten years ago. Mom cried so much her eyes swelled—that’s why she mixed up the legs."
"Ru never came back. Could you please—"
The family clutched at Zhu Qing, desperate.
She withdrew her hand without a flicker of emotion as Uncle Li stepped in.
"Go home and wait for updates."
Leaning back, Uncle Li let his capable rookie handle the rest. By the time he returned from the break room with a refilled cup, Zhu Qing was already facing the third family.
"Officer… when will the report be ready?"
An elderly couple, their temples streaked with gray, hesitated before speaking. They clearly weren’t used to dealing with the police.
They asked about the DNA results, but even after Zhu Qing’s answer, their faces remained heavy. They exchanged anxious glances, then stared at the floor.
Finally, the old woman spoke, voice trembling as if clinging to hope: "Officer, the fishmonger at the market said… there was a hairpin near the body?"
The police had published the skeletal features and belongings in the papers for identification.
But tabloids had twisted the facts for headlines, misleading the public.
"That’s a rumor."
Zhu Qing pushed the evidence log toward them. "The only personal effect found was this."
"Officer, what does it say? We can’t read."
"A plain platinum ring."
The old woman’s cane clattered against the tiles with a sharp crack.
As Zhu Qing reached to steady her, she saw the couple’s clouded eyes widen in shock.
"Were there… English letters engraved on it?"
Zhu Qing turned to Uncle Li, whose expression had turned grave.
"Jia'er never listened…" The old woman muttered, dazed. "Should’ve never worked at that nightclub."
