Weng Zhaolin and the little kid Sheng Fang almost became sworn brothers despite their age gap.
Weng Zhaolin didn’t rise to his current position easily—countless sleepless nights and hardships paved his way. Yet, the folks at the police station seemed to think all he had to do was slick back his hair, straighten his tie, and flash a smile for the cameras.
Only this young master of the Sheng family would notice the dark circles under his eyes and remind him to rest.
Somehow, this child saw through the frustrations no one else understood. Now that the kid needed help, Weng Zhaolin wouldn’t hesitate to step in.
"Me?" Zhu Qing pointed at herself.
"Or should I go?" Weng Zhaolin’s sharp gaze swept over her. Noticing everyone staring, he suddenly slammed his hand on the nearby workstation.
"Enjoying the show?"
"Do you even realize how many days have passed?"
"Still no suspect? Did you even properly investigate the victim’s social connections?"
"Why are you all looking at me? You think clues are written on my face?"
The scolding left the office in stunned silence.
When Sheng Fang locked eyes with Weng Zhaolin, he received the only warm look the man spared at that moment.
The subordinates were used to Weng Zhaolin’s thunderous temper, but Aunt Ping was so startled she nearly went deaf.
"Young master, everyone’s busy with the case. We should catch the school bus now," Aunt Ping said, bending down to adjust his little bowtie.
Sheng Fang nodded obediently and even waved goodbye to everyone before leaving.
The way his colleagues looked at him had completely changed.
This kid—if even the most unapproachable Weng Zhaolin made exceptions for him, was there anything he couldn’t handle?
The child’s small figure grew distant, shrinking into a tiny black dot.
Then, suddenly, the dot expanded again—he turned and sprinted back to Zhu Qing’s side.
Little Uncle couldn’t forget his important mission.
He was here to deliver a bracelet to Qing!
"Here."
Zhu Qing’s palm was filled with a string of beads. She looked down—multicolored plastic pearls, glittering and bright.
"Wear it!" Sheng Fang shoved it into her hand and dashed off, calling over his shoulder, "It’s for good luck!"
The plastic bracelet sat in Zhu Qing’s grip.
Clearly, the kid had carefully arranged the colors—no two beads the same, transitioning from light to dark, playful and adorable.
She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile as she figured out how to put it on.
Meanwhile, Sheng Fang’s short legs had already carried him out of the police station.
Aunt Ping said, "Young master, you’re incredible—that senior inspector actually listens to you?"
Sheng Fang waved a hand mysteriously. "Easy."
A three-year-old had no ulterior motives.
He and Weng Zhaolin became friends because they genuinely understood each other.
Weng Zhaolin understood that no one picked him up from school, so he let Qing leave work early…
As for Sheng Fang? Of course he knew the pressures of standing at the top.
After all, he’d be a senior inspector someday too—just like Weng Zhaolin. They had plenty in common.
……
The first piece of jewelry Zhu Qing ever owned was the protective bracelet from her little uncle.
The plastic bracelet’s presence felt unfamiliar, making her unconsciously twist her wrist.
But every time she glanced down and saw the string of beads, filled with Sheng Fang’s heartfelt intentions, she’d pause, gently running her fingers over the tiny, colorful pearls.
Veterans in this line of work always had their ways. Zhu Qing had seen it before—Mo Zhenbang tracking down leads, whether it was digging up the old driver from the Sheng family’s past or contacting the journalist who once interviewed Fang Yayun…
Now, Uncle Li worked his magic too, slapping an address onto his desk.
Xie Donghui, the victim You Minmin’s so-called "boyfriend," was holed up there.
The younger officers had since learned to drive, and the police car sped to the scene smoothly.
Uncle Li leaned back in the passenger seat, eyes closed, massaging his temples.
"Still no progress. What a headache."
Zhu Qing: "Let’s hope Xie Donghui gives us something new."
Just as the record store clerk had said, Xie Donghui was indeed a troublemaker. Lately, he’d gone into hiding, shacking up with a woman with a shady background. The police found them in a subdivided flat in an old tenement building. They knocked for a long time before someone answered.
The door opened to a pitch-black room—no windows, a metal bed taking up most of the space, dirty clothes piled at the headboard. The cramped rental reeked of takeout.
A woman leaned against the doorframe, raising a brow. "Cops, huh? What’s it this time?"
She paused, then called over her shoulder in a mocking drawl, "Ghost calling?"
Xie Donghui seemed to have expected the police. With a lazy smirk, he asked them to wait while he threw on some clothes.
Uncle Li and Zhu Qing stood in the hallway. Moments later, Xie Donghui emerged in a wrinkled floral shirt and jeans, his greasy hair tied back, strands dangling over his forehead.
As the officers urged him to hurry, he deliberately slowed down, buttoning his shirt. "No need to rush. I’m not running."
……
In the interrogation room at Yau Ma Tei Police Station, harsh light glared onto Xie Donghui’s face.
He squinted, shielding his eyes with a hand, legs crossed arrogantly.
"Officers…" He cut straight to the point. "That woman’s business has nothing to do with me."
"You don’t actually think I was dating that simpleton, do you?"
Xie Donghui met You Minmin at the record store where she worked. Hired to move stock, he noticed that whenever melancholic tunes played, it was always that girl with her head perpetually bowed.
He started "accidentally" brushing against her wrist while she sorted inventory. Each time, her ears would turn red, and she’d jerk her hand away.
"Don’t give me that ‘smooth talker’ crap. I barely tried—just a few sweet words, and she fell for it. Who knew she’d take it so seriously?"
"Honestly, just a touch on the wrist made her blush. What a naive girl."
Zhu Qing’s voice turned icy. "So you targeted someone like that?"
"Officer, is flirting a crime? She’s the one who caught feelings."
"Then one day, she brought me homemade cookies. Said—" Xie Donghui slouched in the chair, suddenly pitching his voice high, mimicking her meek tone, "‘Brother Hui, I don’t know if they’re any good… If you don’t like them, just throw them away.’"
His imitation was eerily accurate—the hesitant eyes, the trailing voice—identical to You Minmin’s tone during the radio call.
"I ate it all—neither sweet nor salty, absolutely disgusting. What a cruel joke."
"Some people have no self-awareness. How dare they give something so awful as a gift?"
Uncle Li: "So that's when you started 'borrowing' money?"
"She was the one who offered," Xie Donghui said with a twisted smirk, his shoulders hunching exaggeratedly. "She said she knew I was tight on cash and told me to take it... As thanks, I picked a random wildflower from the roadside, and she treated it like treasure."
"Seriously, a free flower, and she took it home! Even bought a vase specially for it."
"Then it got even funnier... She actually thought we were dating. She clung to me, followed me everywhere, believed every word I said."
Xie Donghui admitted he gave her a copy of his apartment key.
After that, You Minmin often went over to clean his place, do his laundry, and cook for him.
"A free maid—why not take advantage?"
The cruel irony? He couldn’t even remember her name correctly, mixing it up with "Wenwen" or "Lili"... It wasn’t until the supernatural radio broadcast spread like wildfire that Xie Donghui learned she was dead—and finally remembered her full name.
When asked about the day of the incident, he said, "That day, I was with Qiang and Ah Jin, selling CDs from folding tables on Apliu Street. Two big boxes—plenty of neighbors saw us. Go check if you don’t believe me."
"And when was the last time you saw the victim?"
"Last time? A few days ago, when she came to collect my laundry. Must’ve been..." He counted on his fingers. "Last week."
Xie Donghui’s statement matched what the record store clerk said.
Three days before the incident, You Minmin had stopped by his place before work to gather the clothes he’d left drying on the rooftop. While folding them into his closet, she accidentally found loan agreements in a drawer.
"She found out I’d borrowed money and started going on about interest piling up... Like it was any of her business. She wasn’t even my girlfriend."
That night, Xie Donghui turned on her, snatched back the key, and hurled insults, warning her to stay away.
You Minmin ran off in tears, took leave from the record store the next day, and returned with swollen, red eyes.
To Xie Donghui, the victim was just a pitiful, love-starved girl.
He spoke of her with detached scorn.
"Honestly, women like her are the worst. Average looks, boring personality—embarrassing to be seen with."
"Always so gloomy. If she wasn’t so easy to manipulate, who’d bother with her?"
"Maybe if she made good money, I’d humor her... But a record store clerk? What’s she earning?"
Xie Donghui leaned on the interrogation table, legs jittering. "Anyway, you’re saying she wasn’t dragged under by some water ghost?"
This wasn’t his first time at the station. He knew the drill.
"I don’t even know where she lived," he said. "Her parents could’ve come back anytime. What if I ran into them? I never planned to meet her family."
He knew he had to lay it all out now, or the cops would keep hauling him in for "questioning."
"Officers, clingy women are trouble. I was avoiding her—why would I seek her out?"
"Once it’s over, it’s over. I’d have forgotten her if you hadn’t brought it up. If anyone was obsessed, it was her—" His voice cut off abruptly.
"Guilty conscience?" Zhu Qing leaned in suddenly. "Don’t worry. She’ll ask you herself tonight."
Her gaze shifted past his shoulder. "She’s already here."
The interrogation room lights flickered.
There was something chilling about how calm the detective sounded—it made the threat feel real.
Xie Donghui’s hair stood on end. He toppled his chair scrambling back, voice hoarse. "Stop lying! That bitch turning into a ghost has nothing to do with me!"
"Sit down!" Uncle Li slammed the table.
The screech of metal followed as Xie Donghui was forced back into the chair.
How much longer would he be held? Before he could ask, the officers stood to leave.
The door slammed shut.
Alone, Xie Donghui remembered Zhu Qing’s parting words—
"Guess which leg she’ll grab first tonight. Left or right?"
The words echoed in the silent room, pounding in his ears.
Sweat drenched his shirt as he twisted to look behind him.
---
Before lunch, Zhu Qing and her team returned to the crime scene.
No. 17 Tail Corner Street in Sai Wan was still cordoned off. The paper offerings shop below remained closed—its owner had died suddenly last month. After the funeral, the family never returned, leaving the shop abandoned.
The already quiet street felt eerily still, footsteps too loud in the silence.
Zeng Yongshan, ever the empath, sighed. "No one’s going to live here after this."
She added, "The victim’s parents came for her documents yesterday. Couldn’t stand to stay a minute longer."
The image of them sobbing on the stairs the night of the incident was still fresh. Yet yesterday, they’d rushed in and out, as if lingering would shatter them in the home that still smelled of their daughter.
Uncle Li unlocked the door.
They entered You Minmin’s room.
On the dresser: magazines, a half-empty box of hair clips, a nearly finished jar of moisturizer.
Inside the drawer—miscellaneous trinkets and a dusty high school graduation photo.
The girl stood in the back row, thick black glasses framing her face.
"Is this a diary?" Zeng Yongshan pulled out a notebook.
Tucked inside the first page: a pressed wildflower.
The same flower Xie Donghui had mentioned—plucked carelessly from the roadside, gifted without thought.
Zeng Yongshan’s eyes dropped to the handwritten entries.
"Sister-in-law complained I showered too long again."
"She said my room has space for Bobo’s toys. Is that all she wants—my room?"
"Today, she bought two lipsticks. Gave me the ‘wrong’ color. But I’m so dark... Does she think it suits me? Or am I just her trash bin?"
According to You Minmin’s parents, when her eldest brother first got married, the entire family lived under one roof. It was only when the space became too cramped that the younger couple moved out.
The diary wasn’t updated daily; the entries were sporadic.
The first half mostly recorded mundane daily trivialities. She never seemed to confront her family directly, and the complaints hidden in her diary were trivial and barely noticeable.
Later, her brother and sister-in-law moved out with their little nephew.
As the diary continued, a long-absent sense of joy appeared between the lines.
"Brother Hui from the record store helped me move stock. He reached up effortlessly and took down the items from the highest shelf. I thanked him, and he just smiled. He had a faint cologne scent—I don’t know the brand, but it smelled nice."
"Brother Hui said my earrings were cute."
"Today, I sewed a button back on Brother Hui’s shirt. The stitches were crooked, but he patted my head..."
For some reason, the officers’ eyes drifted back to the graduation photo on the corner of the table.
This might have been one of the few surviving pictures of You Minmin. Standing in the back row, she tilted her chin up slightly, clearly on tiptoe to make her entire face visible.
You Minmin forced a smile, her expression stiff.
The camera hadn’t even been focused on her.
Zhu Qing gently closed the diary. "This—we’ll take it back with us?"
...
At two in the afternoon, Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan arrived at the rented apartment where the deceased’s brother and sister-in-law lived.
Outside the door, Mrs. You was holding her child, seemingly ready to go out. Dressed neatly in a rose-red blouse that accentuated her fair skin.
Their son, two years old and curious about everything, wriggled in his mother’s arms, reaching for the colorful beads on the madam’s wrist.
Zhu Qing withdrew her hand.
Those were a gift from her uncle.
"Ah Kang," Mrs. You called toward the bathroom, "the police are here again, about Minmin."
Noises came from the kitchen, and soon, You Minmin’s parents emerged as well.
With the recent family tragedy, You Minmin’s eldest brother had taken leave from work.
Now, stepping out of the bathroom, he took his son from his wife’s arms. The entire family crowded the doorway, making the otherwise spacious apartment feel cramped.
Zeng Yongshan suddenly understood the loneliness in You Minmin’s diary.
When her brother, sister-in-law, nephew, and parents lived together as one tight-knit family, she was overlooked once again.
Hearing the police were there for her, Mrs. You was visibly surprised. "Me?"
She invited the two female officers into her bedroom.
A wedding photo hung on the wall—Mr. You in a sharp suit, Mrs. You’s makeup far more polished than it was now.
"When we were dating, I never imagined his family would be so... complicated."
"I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Minmin was really strange."
"Last year, I gave her a floral dress. After checking the tag, she actually asked me if I was giving it to her because I didn’t like it after wearing it myself?"
"I was just being kind! No normal person would think that way, right?"
You Yikang, holding his son by the door, interjected, "Minmin was sensitive. A simple explanation would’ve been enough. She’s gone now—you used to criticize her, but—"
"Are they questioning you or me?" Mrs. You frowned, standing up and slamming the door shut.
The loud bang made the wedding photo tilt slightly.
"That dress was brand new, a gift from me, and not cheap. The tag was still on."
"Forgive me for saying this, but with her paranoid, negative mindset, it’s no surprise she ended up haunted by spirits."
Mrs. You’s voice was still sharp with anger as she added, "I even bought a hair clip in the same color scheme, planning to give it to her when she wore the dress."
She turned, pulled open the bedside drawer, and pressed a velvet box into the madam’s hand.
Zeng Yongshan opened it—inside lay a pale purple hairpin adorned with a pearl.
"Honestly, we never got along well."
"But there was no need for outright hostility. We could just keep our distance... That’s why we moved out. Later, when the grandparents came to help with the baby, it was easier for them to stay. The child is young—we needed the support."
Mrs. You rubbed her temples wearily.
Her husband, You Yikang, opened the door again, carrying their son. "Ah Qiu, watch your tone. Mom can hear you from the kitchen."
Mrs. You scoffed. "Between your mom’s feelings and your sister’s feelings—who’s looking out for mine?"
Zhu Qing finished taking notes, pausing at the final period before asking, "Miss Wen, where were you between nine and ten on Tuesday night?"
"The baby was asleep, and so was I. Later, your parents got the call about Minmin and woke me up." Mrs. You’s voice rose, her brows knitting together. "Are you suspecting me?"
She stood abruptly, disbelief written across her face.
"You think I killed Minmin?" Her eyes reddened with a mix of fury and hurt. "Their family is nothing but trouble! I wouldn’t waste my energy on them!"
Zeng Yongshan spoke gently, "Miss Wen, it’s just standard procedure."
"We’ll stop here for now. If we need anything else, we’ll reach out."
You Yikang carried his son to see them out.
The kitchen was silent—clearly, the elderly couple was listening intently.
Little Bobo squirmed in his father’s arms, reaching for his mother and whining to be held.
Mrs. You, still upset, ignored him and retreated into the room.
This time, exhaustion weighed her down—the door closed with barely a sound.
You Yikang sighed, bouncing his son gently. "Mommy’s tired. Let her rest, okay?"
The way he soothed the child, adjusting his hold with practiced ease, showed he was a hands-on father.
At the doorway, he nodded politely. "Thank you for your time, madams."
Before leaving, Zhu Qing glanced back inside.
Suddenly, her gaze froze on the child’s shoes.
Bobo, just learning to walk, wore lace-up shoes indoors.
Aunt Ping had once mentioned that toddlers rarely wore lace-ups—most had Velcro straps.
Her eyes swept over the boy. His outfit was carefully coordinated, down to the matching socks.
Clearly, Mrs. You took great care in dressing her son. The shoes were a deliberate choice.
Zhu Qing stared at them for a long moment.
The laces were tied in a neat double-loop knot.
The same knot used on the nylon ropes around You Minmin’s wrists and ankles.
"Mr. You, where were you between 9 PM and 11 PM on Tuesday night—the time of the incident?" Zhu Qing asked.
This was the same question the police had posed earlier.
At the time, You Yikang had been busy with work engagements, arriving late and reeking of alcohol.
"I was entertaining a client," You Yikang replied. "We were drinking all evening."
"Which bar?" Zhu Qing lowered her head to take notes, but when no answer came, she glanced up. "Or was it a restaurant?"
After a brief silence, You Yikang responded again.
Zhu Qing closed her notepad, exchanging a knowing look with Zeng Yongshan.
Clearly, his ears had turned bright red.
...
Little Sheng Fang had become Teacher Ji’s special focus—and so had Little Yesi.
But Little Yesi wasn’t a slow-witted child. After observing for most of the day, she figured out a pattern.
Whenever she stayed farther away from her new friend Fang Fang, Teacher Ji would leave her be. But if she got too close, the teacher would watch them more closely.
Little Yesi had an epiphany.
So the teacher was keeping an eye on Fang Fang!
"Fang Fang, Teacher Ji is looking at you again," Little Yesi whispered.
Not wanting to drag her into trouble, Sheng Fang lowered his voice. "You go first!"
Just like a cop shielding a partner in a crime movie—
He was practically a lone hero!
Little Yesi, though not entirely sure what was happening, skipped off cheerfully. "I’m going to the slide!"
Left alone, Sheng Fang tilted his head and waved at Teacher Ji.
Bring it on.
Caught in the act, Teacher Ji briefly flinched before steadying herself.
Wait—why was she feeling guilty? She was the teacher!
That morning, when Aunt Ping had sent Sheng Fang to the school bus, she’d mentioned he needed more social interaction. One Little Yesi wasn’t enough. So Patrol Officer Fang Fang began scouting the classroom for potential new friends.
Before Fang Sir could make his selection, a loud commotion grabbed his attention.
It was afternoon snack time, and two little boys were wrestling on the floor.
"You stole my blocks!"
"No, you took mine first!"
Fang Sir, ever the responsible citizen, knew he had to intervene.
By the time he reached them, Teacher Ji was already there, gently pulling the boys apart and speaking in a soothing tone.
"No fighting, okay?"
"The toys belong to everyone. If you want to play, take turns. Or ask politely—what do we say?"
Sheng Fang chimed in, "Can we play together?"
"Exactly!" Teacher Ji praised.
Sheng Fang puffed up with pride, lifting his chin before strutting off.
The two boys exchanged confused glances at his retreating back.
...
Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan returned to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station with lingering doubts.
Their footsteps echoed through the corridor as they hurried down the hallway.
"What’s so hard about naming a bar?" Zeng Yongshan frowned. "You Yikang couldn’t even make one up."
Zhu Qing pushed open the door to the Criminal Investigation Unit. "What’s weirder is that he claimed the client—"
Before she could finish, a colleague from Forensics approached.
He waved a freshly printed report. "We’ve got a DNA match from the wine bottle!"
The team immediately gathered around.
"Big discovery," Jie from Forensics flipped through the report. "We extracted two sets of saliva from the bottle’s rim—one belonging to the victim, the other unknown."
"So someone else drank from that bottle with the victim?"
"If we can match the DNA, we’ve got our suspect!"
Mo Zhenbang strode over. "Can we run a comparison?"
Hao Zai chimed in, "Procedure says we should cross-check everyone who recently had contact with the victim—"
"Already on it," Jie said. "Boyfriend, coworkers..."
"The lab’s working overnight. We’ll have results by morning."
"Family too," Zhu Qing added. "Especially the victim’s brother, You Yikang. His alibi is too vague."
Sunlight filtered through the blinds as Liang Qikai glanced up from his files.
"Wait, it’s almost four?" He checked his watch. "Zhu Qing, didn’t Weng Zhaolin tell you to leave early today?"
...
Kindergarten teachers never hold students back. Sometimes, if the kids finish snack time early, they even get to leave sooner.
Before the final bell, young Master Sheng Fang slung his backpack over his shoulders and followed the crowd out of the classroom.
Weng Zhaolin had promised—Zhu Qing would pick him up today!
The little one had been waiting all day, his heart full of anticipation.
Standing on tiptoe, he pressed his face against the window and muttered, "Not here yet?"
Little Yesi bounced onto the school bus, her strawberry hair clips bobbing with each step.
The other children followed like a row of cheerful jumping beans, climbing aboard and settling into their seats.
After waiting a while, Sheng Fang turned and plopped onto the small couch in the waiting area.
A caretaker stood nearby, watching the entrance with him.
Ten minutes passed, and the little master’s neck stretched longer and longer—but still no sign of Zhu Qing around the corner.
A few parents crowded around Teacher Ji, asking about their children.
"En En’s mom, En En naps every day, but he’s been picky with food. Yesterday, he sneaked his carrots to Jiahao again."
"Xin Yue’s grandma, Xin Yue is great at making friends... though today, she insisted on sharing her snack with everyone and ended up with nothing. She might be hungry, so keep an eye on her."
"Ethan’s dad, please try to get Ethan here on time. We’re working on good habits—no more tardiness."
Sheng Fang stood up and leaned against the glass wall.
The caretaker asked gently, "Maybe there was a miscommunication this morning?"
"Should we double-check? If we can’t reach the family, we can always put him on the school bus—"
"She’s coming!" Sheng Fang cut her off, his little face falling.
Zhu Qing would definitely come.
His tiny fingers fiddled with his jacket zipper, sliding it up and down like a little train.
En En’s mother left with En En.
Ethan’s father left with Ethan.
Xin Yue’s grandmother took Xin Yue home.
Sheng Fang’s head drooped lower—until suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed through the hall.
His eyes lit up, and he waved excitedly—
"Teacher Ji, Fang Fang’s niece is here!"
...
Zhu Qing arrived just in time.
The bracelet on her wrist jingled as she ran—a gift from Sheng Fang himself.
How could she forget such an important promise?
She’d planned to stop by the station, drop off some files, and then head out.
But her colleagues kept reminding her—go pick up the kid.
Little Sheng Fang had so many people who cared about him. No one wanted to see him disappointed.
At four in the afternoon, Zhu Qing arrived punctually at the kindergarten gate, only to find that classes had ended early today.
The moment Sheng Fang spotted her, his eyes lit up like stars as he dashed toward her.
Despite the breakthrough in the case, Zhu Qing still wanted to return to the police station. She discussed it with the little one.
"I'll take you home first, then I’ll go back to—"
Sheng Fang cut in, "I’m going to the police station too!"
Times had changed. The little boy had now become Ah John’s confidant.
At Weng Zhaolin’s place, he held a permanent pass granting him unrestricted access to the station.
Ah John would never turn his back on him—of that, he was certain.
Sheng Fang was like Zhu Qing’s little shadow. The tiny shadow raised two chubby, stubby fingers next to his ears, swearing he’d stay quiet at the station and not disturb anyone.
Zhu Qing clasped his small hands together.
"You even know how to swear oaths now?"
"Of course! I can do anything!"
"From now on, you’re only allowed to watch cartoons on TV."
Sheng Fang scrunched up his little face. "Qing, you’re too controlling."
Somehow, without noticing, the niece had started bossing around her uncle.
Grumbling and reluctant, he still obediently complied.
Zhu Qing had driven to pick him up. Sheng Fang sat in the backseat, animatedly recounting his day at kindergarten.
After finishing his tales, he moved on to their plans for the evening—
"Qing, what are we having for dinner?"
"Let’s not eat at home!"
"After overtime, can we go to Causeway Bay to buy glow-in-the-dark star stickers?"
Despite a full day at school, the little boy’s energy showed no signs of waning.
Rumor had it he hadn’t napped at all—how was he not exhausted?
With the investigation finally making progress, Zhu Qing wasn’t sure when she’d finish work, but she should still make it before the children’s mall closed.
"Alright, we’ll get the glow-in-the-dark stars after work," Zhu Qing agreed. "What do you want to eat?"
Sheng Fang blinked.
Since she’d asked, he wouldn’t hold back.
"Ham—burger!"
Zhu Qing glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
As he spoke, he swallowed hard, waiting for her response with his hands clasped together and cheeks puffed out.
Like a human-shaped hamburger.
"Okay?" The little hamburger blinked pleadingly. "Please?"
The young master’s acting cute worked. Right in front of him, Zhu Qing called Aunt Ping.
"Aunt Ping, Aunt Ping—" Sheng Fang eagerly chimed in, "We’re not coming home for dinner today!"
His sweet, childish voice lingered in Zhu Qing’s ears.
The little rascal knew that acting cute got him what he wanted. When ordering, he pushed his luck further, patting his belly and putting on a pitiful act about being hungry. He added an ice cream cone, pineapple pie, fries, a milkshake, and a bunch of other snacks to the list.
"Qing, can we get a Happy Meal too? One more, please!"
"It comes with a toy!"
Sheng Fang returned triumphantly, clutching the toy from his meal. His right hand held a slightly melted ice cream cone, the creamy white treat smudged on the tip of his nose. He squinted, trying to see it clearly, but only managed to go cross-eyed.
Hearing the familiar patter of tiny footsteps, Zeng Yongshan set down the case file and smiled. "What brings you here?"
Xu Jiale teased, "We’ll be working late tonight. Think you can handle it, kiddo?"
"I can!" Sheng Fang nodded vigorously. "We’re going to Causeway Bay later!"
As soon as he finished, the little chatterbox tugged at Zhu Qing’s sleeve. "Glow-in-the-dark star stickers!"
"Got it," Zhu Qing assured him before settling at her desk.
The evidence bags collected from the victim’s home that morning were piled on her workstation.
She picked up the victim’s diary again, hesitating.
The diary’s cover was slightly worn, its corners adorned with cartoon stickers. What should have been a girl’s most private thoughts had now become clues for the investigation.
You Minmin could never have imagined that one day, strangers would be reading her innermost feelings.
Yet those shy, resentful, vulnerable confessions might just be the key to catching the killer.
They had no choice but to read on.
The team continued discussing the case.
"Judging from the scene, the victim had a refined lifestyle—reading in a bathtub. That collection of essays… she’d annotated it thoroughly, like she’d read it many times."
"But why was she wearing a bathrobe in the tub? It was completely soaked. Either she stood up midway or—someone forced her back under."
Suddenly, they exchanged glances, lowering their voices in unison.
They’d almost forgotten—there was a child in the station.
In the corner, Sheng Fang was holding a burger bigger than his face, taking a huge bite slathered in tartar sauce.
Sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth, he swung his little legs contentedly.
Wow, this was way better than dinner at home!
Zhu Qing reopened the diary.
It was still filled with mundane, everyday grievances.
"Mom and Dad scold me for wasting water by bathing, but they always fill the tub for Bobo to ‘swim.’"
"Brother Hui smoked so much today. I gave him my paycheck."
"Brother Hui said he liked my new hairstyle, but Rou said he tells that to every convenience store girl."
"Rou always looks down on him, but what’s so great about her own boyfriend?"
Zhu Qing paused, recalling that Rou was the female clerk at the record store.
The densely packed words were the victim’s hidden emotions.
Through the neat, delicate handwriting, You Minmin’s cautious hopes and longings were palpable.
As Zhu Qing flipped through, the writing grew progressively messier.
On the last few pages, the ink had nearly bled through the paper.
Then, her fingers stilled.
Behind the page with the heaviest ink marks, the next sheet was missing—only faint paper fibers remained on the binding.
"Does anyone have a pencil?" Zhu Qing asked.
Liang Qikai immediately fetched his pencil holder from his desk and handed her one.
Zhu Qing held the diary up to the light.
On the next blank page, deep indentations from writing were visible.
She took the pencil, tilting it slightly to shade over the paper.
Graphite dust swept across the surface, faint traces of words emerging.
Everyone fell silent, eyes fixed on the page.
Sheng Fang, still munching on his burger, grabbed a pencil from the holder too.
Mimicking Zhu Qing, he scribbled on a blank page of his notebook.
He was just as serious, but his page stayed blank.
The little master looked up, eyes wide with pure admiration.
Even magic tricks? He’d always be Zhu Qing’s biggest fan!
The team made sure not to block her light.
"The whole page is covered in writing."
As the pencil moved, the densely packed impressions gradually became clearer.
But the scrawl was illegible. Their eyes dropped to the last line.
"Is that… the character for ‘he’?"
"The next one looks like ‘wants’?"
Liang Qikai noted, "This was written recently—the indents are still deep. If it were from weeks ago, they’d have smoothed out by now."
"With ink this heavy, could it have been written right before she died?"
Zhu Qing leaned close to the paper, her nose almost touching the page: "He—wants—to—kill—"
"He wants to kill me?!"
"Who tore this page off?"
Zeng Yongshan widened her eyes: "Was it the victim’s parents? They just came yesterday to collect the documents!"
Sheng Fang was happily eating when he noticed the adults suddenly springing into action.
Hao Zai swiftly packed the evidence bag, while Liang Qikai already had the car keys in hand.
"Qing-jie, Qing-jie!" Little Fang Fang munched away, "Come back soon!"
Bringing the victim’s parents to the station for questioning didn’t require the whole team to mobilize.
Zhu Qing stayed behind to look after the kid, clearly with no intention of leaving.
"We have to buy glow-in-the-dark star stickers, okay?"
How could Fang Fang be so persistent?
"Alright, alright," Zhu Qing rubbed her calloused ear, "You’ve said it three times already."
After finishing an entire burger, Sheng Fang "clomped" over to toss the wrapper into the trash.
When he returned, the child caught Qing-jie’s long, weary sigh.
"Getting old, getting old," the little one lamented in his tiny, melancholic voice.
Fang Fang turned around, hunching his chubby back, pudgy hands propped on his waist as he mimed a slow, exaggerated stretch—
"Uncle’s going senile now."
