French fries are edible, and Qing Zai was in a good mood now—no matter how much her little uncle tried to act up, it didn’t matter.
Sheng Fang and Aunt Ping went downstairs to buy fries and brought back plenty of ketchup, squeezing packet after packet, dipping and eating. Zhu Qing only realized belatedly what Sheng Fang had meant earlier when he stretched out his ten short fingers—it was a reference to the fries.
"Qing Zai, do you want some?" Fangfang asked.
"No, thanks."
Qing Zai didn’t eat. She was busy.
Busy solving the case, racking her brains so hard that she actually figured it out.
Sheng Fang watched her with satisfaction.
"Then I’ll eat them all by myself," Fangfang said, munching away.
The little boy, who had been talking about fries all night, took small bites with his front teeth, savoring each one.
A bite with the left front tooth, a bite with the right front tooth, and even a bite with the molars—everyone got a turn, no need to rush.
Aunt Ping couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Back in the Sheng household, she had mostly worked in the kitchen, rarely getting the chance to personally attend to the young master.
In those days, the pampered little master could get whatever he wanted with just a word. She knew the child wouldn’t make things difficult for her, but the mistress doted on him—if the boy threw a tantrum, she’d be displeased. So Aunt Ping had always been on edge, constantly trying to cook up new dishes, afraid the young master wouldn’t like them.
But now… it was just a simple serving of fries. Fangfang clung to Zhu Qing’s arm, blinking his eyes and acting cute, so adorable it was impossible to refuse.
Strangely enough, it was these hard-won snacks that he seemed to enjoy the most.
What surprised Aunt Ping even more was how, under Zhu Qing’s influence, the child had learned to share.
The sound of tiny footsteps pattered over as Fangfang brought Aunt Ping a fry: "For you."
Aunt Ping froze for a moment before accepting it.
"You have to say thank you."
"Thank you, young master. How generous of you to give me a fry."
Sheng Fang was the kind of child who couldn’t handle praise.
The moment he was complimented, his little chest puffed up with pride.
He immediately gave her a few more fries: "No big deal."
Aunt Ping suddenly felt her eyes grow hot and blinked rapidly.
She thought it must be her age. When you got older, it was like this—after enduring so much hardship in her youth without shedding a tear, now even the smallest warmth could bring her to the brink of tears.
"Young master, let’s not disturb Qing Qing while she’s working."
Aunt Ping coaxed Fangfang out of the room.
Once the direction shifted, the mystery that had been troubling the police was solved in an instant.
From the very beginning, Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun had deliberately put on a clumsy act—these two suspects wanted to ensure they remained under suspicion. For example, why were the foreign sleeping pills provided by Li Ziyao found in the victim’s system? Why did Fang Yayun call Fang Songsheng from a public phone booth to invite him out? As long as these doubts persisted, the police would remain fixated on them, yet unable to convict them.
This way, the real culprit could remain free forever.
...
It was a completely new angle.
The next day in the meeting room, when Zhu Qing presented this theory, a brief silence fell before everyone’s eyes lit up with realization.
"So cunning—presumption of innocence?"
"As long as we’re still investigating Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun, the real killer can rest easy. We’ll just keep staring at these two suspects, but what does it matter? They’ve never killed anyone, so they have nothing to fear."
"But who is the person behind all this?"
"Over the years, Fang Songsheng must have hurt more than just Ni Fangrun and Zhou Lingyi… A scumbag like him deserved to die—"
Mo Zhenbang cut her off sharply: "Yongshan!"
Zeng Yongshan shut her mouth, though she still looked indignant.
"No need to detain them anymore—twenty-four hours, forty-eight hours, it’s pointless."
"We’re clearly not getting anything else out of them. Let them go."
"Sir, are we just giving up?"
"Who said we’re giving up?" Mo Zhenbang said coldly. "We have all the time in the world to wear them down."
...
The police quickly adjusted their investigative approach and redeployed their resources.
Early the next morning, Team B received new orders—they were split into two task forces, assigned to conduct round-the-clock surveillance on Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun.
Zhu Qing, Zeng Yongshan, and Liang Qikai staked out Li Ziyao’s apartment building.
They were supposed to avoid alerting their target, so Zhu Qing pulled her cap low—only for Zeng Yongshan to flick the brim.
"You look like you’re about to commit a burglary."
Zhu Qing adjusted her cap.
Did she?
"Is this the kind of hardship paparazzi go through? If she doesn’t even step outside all day, won’t we have wasted our time?"
"Can’t be helped. Sir Mo wants us to keep eyes on her until she makes a move."
They waited until one in the afternoon when Zeng Yongshan, who had been lazily leaning against a railing at the street corner, suddenly straightened up.
She signaled in two different directions, and Liang Qikai and Zhu Qing also spotted Li Ziyao finally emerging. Keeping a safe distance, they followed her separately.
Li Ziyao resumed her normal routine.
Still wearing heavy makeup, her long curls loose, sunglasses perched on her head, she immediately hailed a cab. For the rest of the day, the three of them tailed her nonstop. Her first stop was a beauty salon, where she spent about three hours before heading to a restaurant in Central.
Li Ziyao chose an outdoor seat, and when her food arrived, she picked up her knife and fork, eating with delicate precision.
Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan swallowed hard, pulling out two cold sandwiches from their bags.
As they chewed on their sandwiches, Liang Qikai hurried over from a payphone.
"Little Sun’s been tracking Li Ziyao’s pager records. From the moment she left the station until now, she hasn’t contacted anyone."
"As for Fang Yayun, that’s even less likely. Yesterday morning, Sir Mo timed it so that Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun were released from their interrogation rooms almost simultaneously. When they crossed paths, they just exchanged a glance before quickly looking away in disgust. Even now, they’re still acting."
"They’ve always been careful. Every employee at Yayun Music Store says the boss’s fiancée and daughter are like oil and water."
At this point, Liang Qikai suddenly perked up with interest. "I think Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun still don’t realize we’ve pegged them as accomplices."
"This is interesting. All this time, we’ve been the ones exposed while the enemy stayed hidden. Now, the tables have turned."
Zeng Yongshan smirked. "Bet you they won’t figure it out anytime soon."
Zhu Qing shook her head: "Who knows? They're so clever."
The three officers watched Li Ziyao from a distance as she elegantly enjoyed her delicate meal, then glanced down at their own sandwiches and sighed in unison.
"If from now on, Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun cut off all contact and never interact with the killer again... could this case really end the way they want, letting the murderer go free?"
"What they're doing is actually a gamble—staking their own lives on it."
"For the sake of a scumbag, is it worth ruining themselves?"
Now, Li Ziyao seemed to be living a peaceful and stable life.
They wondered—if they didn’t interfere with this case, could she keep living like this?
But was that what she truly wanted?
...
For three consecutive days, the police had been tailing Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao.
In the meeting room, everyone reported their progress.
"Fang Yayun leaves her house at exactly 4:30 every morning to go to the rehearsal studio. Around noon, or at the latest by 2 p.m., she finishes practice and leaves. Her fiancé, Henry, picks her up every day, and they go out to eat before heading home."
"It’s clear that Fang Yayun and Henry are deeply in love. Maybe because they were separated for years before reuniting, they cherish their relationship even more now."
"These past three days, Fang Yayun and Henry have been practically inseparable—sometimes holding hands to visit her grandmother, or going to the market to buy groceries before cooking at Henry’s place."
Mo Zhenbang leaned against the whiteboard, reviewing the photos submitted by his team.
In every picture, they were hand in hand, their faces glowing with happiness.
"Fang Yayun is so close to her grandmother—why hasn’t she moved her in?" Xu Jiale asked curiously.
"She probably still hasn’t told her about Fang Songsheng’s death. How could she even bring that up?"
"I get it. When my aunt passed away, my family kept it from my grandpa for the same reason—worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the shock."
"No matter how evil Fang Songsheng was, to his mother, he was still her only son. Losing a child like that… it’s unbearable."
Mo Zhenbang turned his attention to Zhu Qing. "What about Li Ziyao’s side?"
Zeng Yongshan and Liang Qikai immediately flipped through their records.
"Shopping at department stores, buying clothes, getting facials at the spa… these past few days, Li Ziyao’s routine has been pretty uneventful."
"Last night, she went out just before midnight—to pick up Luo Weiwei. Given Luo Weiwei’s job, getting drunk out of her mind is nothing new. Li Ziyao seemed really worried when she went down to get her."
"Gotta admit, Luo Weiwei’s acting is impressive," Hao Zai chimed in. "When Zhu Qing and I first went to her place, the way she talked made it seem like they weren’t close at all."
These days, Zhu Qing, Zeng Yongshan, and Liang Qikai had taken turns keeping watch.
The night before, Zhu Qing and Liang Qikai had been stationed outside Li Ziyao’s apartment when they saw her step out. Luo Weiwei was completely wasted, her gaze unfocused as she leaned against a lamppost, vomiting repeatedly. Li Ziyao crouched beside her, patiently patting her back before running to a convenience store to buy her water.
From a distance, Zhu Qing could just make out Li Ziyao’s soft voice urging Luo Weiwei to find another job—her body wouldn’t hold up like this.
"Oh, one more thing," Liang Qikai added. "Dai Feng has visited her a few times these past days. Back at the station, he claimed Li Ziyao threw herself at him, but now it’s clear that was just anger talking. Love and hate—relationships are complicated."
"One time, Liang and I saw Dai Feng bring Li Ziyao a huge bouquet of roses!" Zeng Yongshan said, shaking her head regretfully. "Too bad she didn’t seem willing to accept it. If Li Ziyao really has nothing to do with this case, I wonder if they’ll ever get back together."
"Honestly, Dai Feng’s resentment was always about Li Ziyao dumping him to marry that old man. But if she was just using it to get revenge on Fang Songsheng… then there’s no real conflict between them."
"Could it be that Dai Feng and Henry worked together? Maybe Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao planned everything, knowing the police would focus on them, while their boyfriends carried it out?"
"Impossible. Dai Feng’s alibi matches Li Ziyao’s perfectly. And Henry? We already checked—he was out of town that day. Mo even had us verify his travel records. Those don’t lie."
At this point, the case had entangled far too many people.
An ex-boyfriend, a fiancé, Amy (Cai Huimin) the thief who stole the watch and money, Li Ziyao, her roommate Luo Weiwei, Fang Yayun…
After repeated verification, every single one of them had an alibi.
"None of them could be the killer."
"Could the real murderer be someone hidden in the shadows, someone who appears completely unrelated to Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun?"
"An outsider with no visible ties to either of them—"
Meanwhile, the police were also considering another angle.
Twenty years ago, Fang Songsheng had preyed on girls in their late teens.
Had he stopped since then?
"A dog never changes its habit. Once he got a taste, why would he stop?"
"When Zhou Lingyi jumped to her death, he was supposedly heartbroken—lost so much weight, according to the neighbors. What an act. He was probably already scouting his next victim."
"There must be others besides Ni Fangrun and Zhou Lingyi."
The scope of the investigation quietly expanded.
Over the years, as a piano teacher, Fang Songsheng had countless students. Whether from his private tutoring days or his academy, any of them could have been victims.
As for Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao—
On the surface, they seemed cleared of suspicion. But behind the scenes, the police never stopped digging, peeling back layer after layer to examine every possible connection.
"Maybe it’s someone else, just like Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao—another child of a victim."
"But what if the killer left Hong Kong—or even the country—right after committing the crime that morning?"
"It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. If the real culprit has never shown their face or left any trace, how are we supposed to investigate—"
The investigation had hit a dead end, and the police were completely stumped.
A heavy atmosphere hung over Team B.
Surveillance efforts continued, but everyone was lost, spinning their wheels in place.
Zhu Qing thought of the idiom story she had told Fangfang that night—waiting by the stump for a hare.
They had combed through every suspicious surveillance frame, every potentially useful detail, every person who had crossed paths with the police, screening them over and over until there was nothing left to pursue. They were at a complete loss.
"The net of justice is vast; there’s no way there aren’t any flaws..."
"They must have left some trace behind. We just haven’t found the breakthrough yet."
"There’s no such thing as a perfect crime in reality. The killer must have slipped up somewhere."
They muttered these words, unsure if they were trying to reassure themselves or boost morale.
"Mo Zhenbang." Zhu Qing suddenly spoke up.
Mo Zhenbang looked up from the case files. "Got a lead?"
"No. I need to take the afternoon off."
Mo glanced at his watch. "Almost forgot about that."
Zhu Qing had requested the leave days ago and already informed Mo Zhenbang.
Though Weng Zhaolin had passed by the Criminal Investigation Division office earlier with a sour expression, Mo, as the head of Team B, had shouldered the pressure without flinching.
No solved case, no favors.
When Zhu Qing left, Weng Zhaolin shot her a cold glare, none of the usual affable smile remaining.
...
Little Sheng Fang couldn’t stay home forever—he had to go to kindergarten and experience group life.
Lv Qiyun had given Zhu Qing the wrong documents last time but corrected them the next day. Still, the thick stack of interview questions had only been glanced at once so far.
Zhu Qing felt a pang of guilt.
She had memorized Li Ziyao and Dai Feng’s testimonies to the point of reciting them verbatim, but the parent interview prep? Barely touched. Now, standing by the roadside trying to hail a cab, she flipped through the pages, quickly refreshing her memory.
"It’s fine, Qing Zai." Sheng Fang waved a small hand understandingly. "The case comes first."
The little uncle had no desire to attend kindergarten.
Rumors about the Sheng family painted the eldest daughter and her husband as idle rich folks... Fangfang thought that description suited him perfectly. These past days, he’d been living in absolute comfort.
He’d reflected on his mistake—during the first round of interviews, he’d forgotten to control his scores and aced everything by accident. Now, if his niece performed well in the interview too, he’d be enrolled without a doubt on results day.
Fangfang had no intention of going to school.
He’d much rather stay home as a pampered little idler.
"Qing Zai, don’t overwork yourself." Fangfang tugged her sleeve. "Take a break."
But Qing Zai wasn’t resting.
She studied the interview questions while trying to flag down a taxi. For some reason, no empty cabs were passing by today.
Zhu Qing checked the time.
Fangfang cheered, "Are we going to be late?"
But Qing Zai wouldn’t let him have his way.
His niece was always meticulous, rarely flustered. If she remembered the interview today, she’d have prepared for every contingency—traffic delays, bus hold-ups, or the lack of taxis.
"We won’t be late." Zhu Qing said flatly. "Give it up."
Her solution today? Leaving early.
Fangfang huffed in mock exasperation. "Listen to you—"
Before he could finish, he stood on tiptoe. "Qing Zai! Look, someone we know!"
Zhu Qing suspected half of Yau Ma Tei were Fangfang’s acquaintances. Some "familiar faces" she didn’t even recognize, yet the kid would greet them effortlessly, all smiles.
She followed his gaze.
A car pulled up beside them.
Fangfang had seen Dr. Cheng’s car in the police station parking lot before. The little genius villain from the original plot had a photographic memory—not just the model, but even license plates stuck in his mind after a single glance.
Now, he recognized Dr. Cheng’s car instantly and flagged it down like a taxi.
"Madam?" Cheng Xinglang rolled down the window.
"What a coincidence." Zhu Qing sounded surprised. "Where are you headed?"
Dr. Cheng lifted a thermal box. "Dropping off a blood sample at the Hung Hom lab. And you?"
"Weston Kindergarten in Kowloon City."
"Mind if I give you a lift?"
Cheng Xinglang: "I can make it work."
Before his niece could respond, Fangfang tugged her toward the car. "He said yes!"
Time wasn’t tight, so Zhu Qing reviewed her notes in the backseat.
Meanwhile, Fangfang studied Cheng Xinglang’s car, then declared, "Qing Zai, you really need to hurry up and learn to drive!"
"This one’s not bad." Fangfang added. "Let’s buy one for our family too."
She’d paid for driving lessons ages ago, but so far, his niece hadn’t so much as touched a steering wheel.
The copy of The Highway Code at home? Not a single page turned.
Fangfang nagged relentlessly, urging her to get her license ASAP.
All the family drivers had fled after the Sheng household’s downfall, and now he desperately needed a personal chauffeur.
He couldn’t wait to go cruising with Qing Zai!
The little one kept pestering.
Cheng Xinglang glanced at the rearview mirror.
The madam ignored the kid’s chatter, buried in her interview prep.
Yau Ma Tei Police Station wasn’t far from Weston Kindergarten in Kowloon City. Proximity had been a key factor in choosing it, aside from its stellar reputation.
When they arrived, Cheng Xinglang pulled over.
Though the niece-uncle duo moved briskly, they still seemed more at ease than the other parents and children strolling leisurely into the kindergarten.
Even their hurried steps carried an air of calm.
"I’ll be back from the lab in about half an hour." Cheng Xinglang rested an arm on the wheel, leaning out the window. "Want me to pick you up?"
Fangfang yelled, "Yes! It’s on the way!"
Cheng Xinglang chuckled. "Give me your number then."
Little Master Fangfang stood a short distance away, hands in pockets, waiting.
Honestly, colleagues at the police station and they haven’t even exchanged pagers? How’s that efficient for work?
Several minutes passed—such a delay. Fangfang turned to look.
Her eyes widened instantly.
When Zhu Qing returned, the little boy exclaimed in shock, "Qing Zai, he actually has a mobile phone!"
During their last trip to the electronics store to buy a pager, the young master had immediately taken a liking to the high-end mobile phones.
But his niece had said she hadn’t seen anyone at the police station using one—it was too flashy. So he had to compromise and bought the kid a pager with a Chinese-character display instead.
Who would’ve thought Dr. Cheng actually had a mobile phone!
Qing Zai’s reaction, however, was completely unfazed.
"You said he has a limited-edition gaming console, didn’t you?" She quickened her pace. "What’s so strange about him having a mobile phone?"
Sheng Fang lagged behind, lost in thought.
"No," he shook his head firmly, then jogged to catch up with his niece. "Our family needs to get a mobile phone too."
Fangfang’s round little face was tense, deadly serious.
If other kids had it, then Qing Zai should have it too!
...
The young master of the Sheng family was somewhat pleased with his new driver.
He and Qing Zai had just finished their interview at the kindergarten when they saw Cheng Xinglang already waiting outside.
Dr. Cheng and the madam were heading back to the police station together, while Sheng Fang—whose home was just five minutes away from the Yau Ma Tei Police Station—would be picked up by Aunt Ping at the station entrance later.
On the way back, no longer needing to cram for the interview questions, Zhu Qing seemed much more relaxed.
"Confident?" she asked.
"Absolutely!" Sheng Fang nodded vigorously.
They had just gone through the first round of parent interviews and the second round of student interviews.
The three-year-old had charmed the principal with his articulate answers in the office, earning a thumbs-up that left other parents green with envy.
"Looks like school’s starting soon…" Fangfang sighed, a little mournful.
Everyone said this kindergarten had an extremely low acceptance rate, but Sheng Fang was brimming with confidence.
Zhu Qing asked, "Because you aced the assessment?"
"Nope," he drawled, a hint of smugness in his tone. "I promised them—"
Zhu Qing’s eyelid twitched.
This scene felt eerily familiar.
"Promised to donate a library?" she ventured, following his lead.
In the original storyline, the little antagonist had paved his way with money—donating libraries, buildings, computers, equipment… He donated so much that the principal and board turned a blind eye, leaving no one to steer him back on the right path.
If this were the real world and history repeated itself, the niece would definitely need a stern talking-to.
Zhu Qing cleared her throat, about to launch into a lecture, when the little boy tilted his fluffy head and blinked at her innocently.
"Wrong guess! I promised to lend them my niece."
"Free police lectures, courtesy of us!" Sheng Fang declared passionately.
"…Who agreed to that?!" Zhu Qing was stunned.
"Your uncle’s going to their kindergarten—you’ve gotta pitch in!" Sheng Fang retorted. "Otherwise, I’ll just ask Zhaolin—"
"You go ahead and try," Zhu Qing shot him a look. "I don’t have that kind of pull."
"And stop calling him Zhaolin!"
The bickering between the two in the backseat had Cheng Xinglang stifling a laugh.
The already short trip felt even shorter, and before they knew it, they were nearly there.
A left turn would take them straight to Yau Ma Tei Police Station, smooth sailing, but the straight-ahead lane was stuck at a red light, so Dr. Cheng idled in the straight lane.
Either way, the station was close enough that both routes would get them there.
As the light turned green and Dr. Cheng pressed the accelerator—
"Wait!" Zhu Qing suddenly called out.
Fangfang saw his niece staring out the window.
Fang Yayun’s car was parked outside an old-fashioned Chinese medicine shop.
Zhu Qing leaned forward, but couldn’t make out Fang Yayun inside.
The shop wasn’t small, but its layout was open—if she went in, Fang Yayun would definitely spot her.
Was Fang Yayun alone?
"Dr. Cheng, have you ever met Fang Yayun?" Zhu Qing asked. "The daughter of the victim from Yayun Music Center."
"No."
The police were still tailing her, but Zhu Qing didn’t see any colleagues around.
As a known officer, showing up at the shop might spook the suspect—but Dr. Cheng could go in without raising suspicion.
The day the body was discovered, Dr. Cheng had arrived on-site, conducted a preliminary examination, and left the rest to his assistants. Fang Yayun had only shown up over an hour later, so their paths hadn’t crossed.
"I want to know if Fang Yayun came to the medicine shop alone," Zhu Qing said. "If she’s with someone—"
Dr. Cheng turned to Sheng Fang. "Kid, wanna play undercover?"
Fangfang’s eyes lit up like lightbulbs. "Going undercover?"
"Professional cop," Dr. Cheng said, opening the car door. "Let’s go."
Sheng Fang had only met Li Ziyao, not the other suspect.
But before getting out, his niece gave him a quick description. The moment the kid stepped into the shop, he recognized her.
Cheng Xinglang acted casual, hauling the boy over to the herbalist.
"Kid can’t sleep," he said. "Get him some herbal tea."
Sheng Fang’s jaw dropped.
No, he couldn’t!
Dr. Cheng subtly shifted half a step closer to Sheng Fang, his gaze sliding past the crowd to lock onto Fang Yayun.
As for her companion…
He grabbed a plastic basket by the entrance, meandering through the shelves like he was just browsing.
His fingers skimmed over rows of medicine boxes, casually tossing a few vitamin packs into the basket.
Meanwhile, Fangfang was trapped in front of the herbalist, wrist extended, tongue out.
The awful memory of that bitter herbal tea from the Wan Chai shop came flooding back.
"No way!" He clamped his mouth shut, refusing to cooperate further.
...
The undercover mission complete, Cheng Xinglang and Sheng Fang walked out of the shop.
By the car, Dr. Cheng asked, "Where’s your niece?"
Zhu Qing was hiding.
After shadowing Li Ziyao with her team for days, it had become muscle memory—the suspect hadn’t even noticed, but she’d already tucked herself out of sight.
As Cheng Xinglang and Sheng Fang got back in the car, Zhu Qing peeked out. "Done?"
"She was with—" Dr. Cheng started, but then Fang Yayun emerged from the shop too.
Zhu Qing immediately looked through the window toward Fang Yayun.
The woman walked to her car parked diagonally across the street, opened the door, and pulled out a jacket before hurrying back inside.
"No need…" a kindly voice floated from the shop. "I’m not cold."
"The AC’s strong in here—better put something on," Fang Yayun replied warmly.
Finally, Zhu Qing got a clear look at Fang Yayun’s companion—and her heart sank with disappointment.
Fang Yayun had accompanied her grandmother here—there were no new leads at all.
Cheng Xinglang noticed the shift in her mood but had no idea how far the case had progressed.
He said, "She brought the old lady to get some traditional Chinese medicine for regulating qi and blood—a two-week dosage."
Inside the herbal pharmacy, Fang Yayun carefully draped a coat over her grandmother’s shoulders.
The medicine preparation would take a while, and catching a chill would only complicate things.
"She’s about to go abroad for a performance tour," Zhu Qing remarked. "That’s probably why she stocked up on extra medicine."
She knew Fang Yayun would be leaving the country in a few days for her performances.
Day after day of rehearsals had all led to this moment—to shine on an international stage. The pianist was the core of the orchestra, wielding absolute authority. Every note she played carried weight, and this time, she was sure to deliver another unforgettable performance.
For days, the police had pursued every possible angle in their investigation but had turned up nothing.
No new leads. They were certain Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao were involved, but without evidence, they couldn’t make an arrest.
Superintendent Mo hadn’t pressured the team, but everyone had heard it—Weng Zhaolin’s furious outburst in the office that day.
If Fang Yayun seized this opportunity to leave and never return, the case would likely go cold.
From what they’d gathered indirectly, Fang Yayun’s fiancé, Henry, had already begun looking into immigration procedures. So this wasn’t just a far-fetched possibility.
Fang Yayun could vanish at any moment.
Her fiancé was willing to flee with her, and as for her grandmother—if she couldn’t bear to leave her behind, she could always take the old woman along.
After all, the grandmother would eventually learn the truth about her son’s death.
It was impossible to hide forever.
Everyone knew the investigation had hit a dead end.
No one was willing to accept it, but what else could they do?
Sheng Fang piped up, "Why aren’t you asking anything?"
Dr. Cheng and little Sheng Fang had embarked on a reconnaissance mission, with the kid making a great sacrifice—emerging with a whole bag of herbal tea Dr. Cheng had insisted he take. The doctor had whispered in his ear that a proper little spy had to be convincing.
But now, their contact wasn’t asking any questions.
Fangfang refused to let his efforts go to waste.
If Qing Zai wouldn’t ask, he’d speak up himself.
"Qing Zai, the old lady is a regular at the herbal pharmacy."
"And she’s distantly related to Aunt Ping—same family name five hundred years back!"
Zhu Qing, distracted, still found it amusing. "You even know about shared lineage?"
"He told me," Sheng Fang said, pointing at Dr. Cheng in the front seat.
Last time, Qing Zai had lectured him about manners—he couldn’t be disrespectful to everyone just because he wasn’t everyone’s uncle.
So today, Fangfang avoided calling him "Tetris" or "Ah Lang," though he still stubbornly referred to him as "he."
"Aunt Ping—" Zhu Qing began, then suddenly frowned. "Wait, isn’t Aunt Ping’s surname Yan?"
"Yeah! Yan Ping!"
"Fang Yayun’s grandmother’s surname is Yan?" Zhu Qing asked Dr. Cheng.
Cheng Xinglang was a forensic examiner, not a detective.
He wasn’t familiar with police procedures, but when the superintendent had sent him into the pharmacy to gather intel, his first instinct was to focus on the suspect’s companion.
He’d circled behind the old woman and spotted the name written on the prescription.
"Correct," he confirmed. "Her surname is Yan."
"Dr. Cheng," Zhu Qing said urgently, "let me borrow your mobile!"
The car’s confined space wasn’t ideal for a police discussion, and standing outside the pharmacy risked drawing the suspect’s attention.
Cheng Xinglang started the car, turned the corner, and pulled over.
Just then, Zeng Yongshan called back. Zhu Qing immediately stepped out with the phone.
After briefly explaining their encounter with Fang Yayun at the pharmacy, Zeng Yongshan laughed.
"I knew it! Hao Zai is such a slacker—the second he slacks off, he gets caught," she gloated. "He sneaked back to use the bathroom earlier and insisted there was nothing new to uncover since Fang Yayun was just accompanying her grandmother to the pharmacy."
"Yongshan, last time you mentioned Fang Songsheng’s mother was Grandma Shen."
Zhu Qing distinctly remembered Zeng Yongshan referring to her that way.
"Yeah, I checked the victim’s mother’s name. Calling her ‘Grandma Shen’ sounded more polite," Zeng Yongshan said, puzzled. "Why bring that up now?"
"That’s wrong. Her surname is Yan."
Zeng Yongshan was baffled. "What do you mean?"
As Zhu Qing explained, she was also piecing together her own thoughts.
Back at the victim’s home, when they’d discussed Fang Songsheng ironing after a phone call and "Grandma Shen," she’d unwittingly played along with Fang Yayun’s subtle nudges, feeding the police misleading clues.
But because Grandma Shen was Fang Songsheng’s mother, no one had ever doubted her.
After all, what mother would be involved in her own son’s murder?
Zhu Qing said, "What if she wasn’t Fang Songsheng’s mother at all?"
"That’s impossible," Zeng Yongshan argued. "There was a photo in the victim’s house—Fang Yayun as a child with her grandmother."
Inside the car, Fangfang and Dr. Cheng watched as the brilliant detective worked.
Noticing her little uncle’s intense gaze, Zhu Qing turned away.
"Not her grandmother—her maternal grandmother," she corrected firmly. "She’s Zhou Lingyi’s mother."
All the clues snapped into place.
Fang Yayun had claimed her grandmother raised her, while Li Ziyao had said Fang Songsheng insisted on living with his future mother-in-law, leading to constant tension between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law.
Every detail in their testimonies had been carefully planted to mislead.
And the truth?
The "victim’s mother" had a newly hired maid. The house had just been renovated, and even Fang Songsheng had only recently moved in. The neighbors barely knew him, let alone recognized his mother.
No one would ever question the fact that this old woman had appeared out of nowhere—she’d never lived with the father and daughter before.
It had all been an act, fooling everyone.
"Zhou Lingyi’s mother didn’t have the strength—she needed sleeping pills to pull it off."
"Zhou Lingyi was fifteen years younger than Fang Songsheng, meaning her mother wasn’t as old as she appeared. That strange smell we noticed in the living room—"
"Wasn’t from medicinal ointment," Zeng Yongshan realized. "It was hair dye!"
To widen the apparent age gap between herself and Fang Songsheng, the grandmother had dyed her hair white and hunched her back.
The police had long suspected that more women than just Ni Fangrun and Zhou Lingyi had been victimized by Fang Songsheng.
They’d investigated every possible female victim—or, like Li Ziyao and Fang Yayun, the children of victims.
The one person they’d overlooked was the silent mother behind the victims.
"It's her." Zhu Qing's mood suddenly grew heavy. "This is the third person Fang Yayun and Li Ziyao have been desperately protecting."
She had been wrong.
It wasn’t just the two girls shielding Grandma Yan…
Grandma Yan, too, was doing everything she could to build a final barrier for them.
They were still young, their lives just beginning.
If blood had to be spilled—
Better it stain her own aged, wrinkled hands.
Zhu Qing knew the buried past was about to resurface.
At this moment, she was finally closer than ever to the truth.
...
In the driver’s seat, Dr. Cheng Xinglang casually rolled up his shirt sleeves, his well-defined forearm resting lazily against the window frame.
In the backseat, Sheng Fang pressed his childish little face against the cool window, swaying left and right.
"Kid, your niece cracked another case."
Sheng Fang cocked his chin up proudly. "Of course."
His niece was a cop—Madam solved cases faster than lightning!
But then again…
Who was he calling "kid"? Fangfang glared fiercely at Dr. Cheng.
"Don’t call me that," he growled in his tiny, fierce voice. "Or else—"
Cheng Xinglang raised an eyebrow. "Or else?"
How dare he poke the tiger in the mouth!
Sheng Fang didn’t respond. Cool boys kept their words few.
He clenched his little fist, then slowly twisted his wrist with deliberate menace.
The young master’s chubby face was ice-cold. "Got it?"
It might’ve lost some of its edge.
The baby frowned and corrected himself. "Understand?"
