Sheng Fang sat perched on Cheng Xinglang’s spacious office chair, listening intently as they discussed the case details.
Zhu Qing recalled that when she left the psychiatric clinic, she vaguely remembered overhearing the front desk nurse confirming a patient’s appointment over the phone. Moreover, the young patient who had just finished their session walked out with red-rimmed eyes and also scheduled their next visit at the front desk.
Dr. Cheng’s work didn’t require direct communication with his "patients," but he could confirm that Xu Mingyuan’s use of a personal number to contact You Minmin was indeed unprofessional.
Beside them, Ah Ben hesitated several times before finally seizing the chance to interject.
"Didn’t you just say the nurse mentioned the deceased hadn’t attended follow-ups for two weeks? A lot of patients drop out due to cost issues," Ah Ben joked with a grin. "Seems like business is tough these days—even doctors have to drum up clients themselves."
The moment his words landed, three pairs of eyes locked onto him.
Whether it was Cheng Xinglang, Zhu Qing, or the young master of the Sheng family—
All stared at him with deadpan expressions.
"Not funny?"
He cleared his throat and continued, "Actually, the killer’s already confessed, the evidence chain is solid, and by protocol, your boss probably won’t dig deeper into minor details. Unless there’s doubt about the manner of death or the motive seems insufficient, the case is pretty much closed."
Zhu Qing turned her gaze to Cheng Xinglang.
Cheng Xinglang gave a slight nod. "You know the Major Crimes Division’s procedures better than we do."
Indeed, regarding You Yikang’s murder of You Minmin, the evidence was irrefutable, and the perpetrator had confessed without reservation. The new leads couldn’t alter the case’s conclusion.
But in Zhu Qing’s mind, the case should be split in two: You Yikang’s murder of You Minmin was one matter, and the reasons behind You Minmin’s choice to end her life were another entirely.
Sheng Fang watched his niece with affectionate eyes.
Once Qing got absorbed in work, she became oblivious to everything else.
"What kind of sweet soup is this?" Ah Ben stood up, reaching out. "I want some too."
Dr. Cheng didn’t even glance up. "Only one serving."
Zhu Qing snapped out of her thoughts. "Do I have one?"
"Of course, it’s at your workstation," her little uncle said, feigning offense. "I made this especially for you. Everyone else is just getting leftovers!"
Sheng Fang had been lounging in Cheng Xinglang’s office chair like a tiny boss the whole time.
He loved Dr. Cheng’s office—its private space, even the foldable bed tucked in the corner. In comparison, Qing’s workstation was far less impressive: a cramped little cubicle without even a partition. But then again, she was still a rookie. Secretly, Sheng Fang was already plotting her career advancement. He wasn’t in a hurry to become a senior inspector himself, but his niece needed a promotion sooner rather than later.
After all, Weng Zhaolin’s office looked pretty nice too.
On their way back to the Criminal Investigation Division, Zhu Qing remarked, "Inspector Weng treats you like a close friend, and you’re eyeing his office?"
"Qing, what does ‘eyeing’ mean?" Sheng Fang asked innocently.
Zhu Qing: "..."
Still just a kid after all.
Use a slightly more complex word, and he’d be lost.
"Wait." Cheng Xinglang’s voice came from behind.
The uncle-niece pair turned to see Sheng Fang’s forgotten thermos left in the doctor’s office.
That morning, Fang had participated in a kindergarten fair where, during snack time, the kids were allowed to make their own sweet soup. Determined to bring some to Qing, he’d sweet-talked Teacher Ji into calling Aunt Ping. Efficient as ever, Aunt Ping had hailed a cab and rushed over with a thermos.
Icy-cold sweet soup stored in a thermos? Sheng Fang had fretted the whole way about the flavor being ruined. Now, he couldn’t wait to show off his culinary skills, grabbing the thermos and dragging Zhu Qing away without even letting her say goodbye to Dr. Cheng.
Cheng Xinglang watched their retreating figures, shaking his head in amusement.
This kid’s moods changed faster than flipping pages—nothing like the well-behaved angel during their car ride.
Heartless little rascal.
......
While recognizing Dr. Xu’s number, Sheng Fang accidentally let slip a secret he’d been keeping.
He’d been quietly planning an unforgettable birthday surprise for Ke Ke. After all, it was his niece’s first birthday celebration—it had to be special. But now, she’d found out.
Fang was a little annoyed at the slip-up, but Zhu Qing’s reaction made up for it.
She was deeply touched that he remembered the date—she hadn’t even marked it herself.
"You memorized the number at a glance?" Zeng Yongshan exclaimed. "You’re so smart!"
Sheng Fang waved a hand dismissively.
Of course he knew he was clever—that wasn’t exactly news.
Zhu Qing had the largest bowl of sweet soup in front of her.
The little one stretched out both hands, emphasizing that he’d peeled all the fruit himself. For once, Qing didn’t ask if he’d washed his hands first. Instead, she took small, deliberate sips, savoring it.
"Thank you, Fang," Zhu Qing said softly.
Sheng Fang beamed. "What’s there to thank your own uncle for? Tasty, right?"
Zeng Yongshan at the neighboring desk burst into laughter, and soon the whole team joined in.
With You Yikang, the killer in this case, already in custody, the tense atmosphere in the CID room had finally eased. Hao Zai sprawled in his swivel chair, lazily marking items on the tea house order card.
"Sister Zhen wants iced lemon tea, no sugar, a pineapple bun with condensed milk, and satay beef instant noodles."
"Uncle Li’s usual—shrimp wonton noodles, no cold drinks. He’s got his own thermos of hot tea."
"Yongshan’s having hot milk tea and—"
Zeng Yongshan turned. "Zhu Qing, what about you?"
"I’ve got this," Zhu Qing said, pointing to her sweet soup.
Sheng Fang puffed out his chest proudly.
His homemade sweet soup was definitely healthier and cleaner than anything from a tea house—Aunt Ping said so!
After taking everyone’s orders, Hao Zai headed off to find Inspector Mo. Uncle Li suggested he quietly slip the order card under Weng Zhaolin’s office door.
The young team members tiptoed over, holding their breath, but before they could slide the card through the gap, Inspector Weng opened the door.
No longer clouded with worry, Inspector Weng’s face was relaxed, his smile easy.
"Afternoon tea from Chan’s? Order whatever you want—it’s on me."
His gaze then landed on Sheng Fang.
The little regular of Major Crimes Team B.
Weng Zhaolin added, "And one more French toast, extra honey. Hurry up with the order."
The group immediately exchanged glances.
Little Sheng Fang’s face must be incredibly important—even the notoriously stingy Weng sir was willingly ordering for him!
"Did you give Weng sir dessert too?" Zhu Qing whispered.
Sheng Fang puffed up proudly. "Of course!"
The kindergarten was holding a fair, so classes were dismissed for the afternoon. Until the afternoon tea arrived, Sheng Fang stuck close to Zhu Qing.
But work was still work. Even though Weng sir was unusually lenient with him now, they couldn’t push it too far—letting a kid hang around the office all afternoon would be ridiculous. While Sheng Fang nibbled on his honey-drenched French toast, Zhu Qing called Aunt Ping to pick him up.
"Aunt Ping," Zhu Qing said, "there’s a document on the coffee table—a pager call log. Bring it with you when you come."
Twenty minutes later, the pager records arrived, and Sheng Fang went home.
As he left, the boy lingered reluctantly. Why couldn’t he stay forever?
One day, he’d graduate from the Wong Chuk Hang Police School and get assigned to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station’s Serious Crimes Unit!
Clenching his fists with determination, Sheng Fang declared, "When that day comes, I’ll be their colleague!"
"By then, they’ll have retired," Aunt Ping teased.
The boy’s face fell in shock—he hadn’t considered that.
"Just kidding, young master." She led him out of the police station.
Realistically, it’d only be a decade or so. His future coworkers would still be on the job.
Sheng Fang paused at the exit, turning back to gaze at the sunlit police headquarters—
Wait for me!
---
Spread across Zhu Qing’s desk was You Minmin’s pager call log from the month before her death.
She scanned it again. Amid the sea of numbers, psychologist Xu Mingyuan’s contact appeared only once.
Doctors weren’t supposed to give patients their personal numbers.
Checking the date, she noted the call occurred ten days before the incident.
The case was nearing its conclusion again, yet evidence remained uncollected. Zhu Qing reopened You Minmin’s diary. The handwriting wavered between neat and chaotic—therapy hadn’t stabilized her. If anything, her emotional swings had grown more violent.
What happened during those sessions?
Perhaps You Minmin never needed to reach this point.
Nearby, colleagues’ fragmented discussions drifted over.
"You Yikang grew up spoiled by his parents, always playing the victim. You Minmin probably hated him from the start."
"She must’ve seen through him early on."
"As his sister, she lived with him daily after being brought home. She knew how fake he was—his hollow kindness meant nothing. All she ever wanted was her parents’ love."
Maybe You Minmin never cared about her brother, sister-in-law, or nephew.
Her true longing was simply her parents’ affection.
Zhu Qing listened, frowning. This was what puzzled her—when did You Minmin’s "dislike" curdle into such concentrated, extreme hatred?
Because You Yikang kept scheming for her property?
She’d fought relentlessly to keep her grandfather’s house. Why suddenly surrender it through suicide?
The team flipped through You Yikang’s statement.
"Here he claims he used ice from the freezer to delay the time of death—says he saw it on some crime show."
"Now even murderers learn tricks from TV? At this rate, they’ll ban detective dramas."
"Then how did You Minmin know about transferring DNA via toothbrushes? That’s way more advanced than ice tricks."
"Another TV trope? Those old reruns play constantly, but I don’t recall that plot."
"Guess we’ll never know..."
When asked if You Minmin had shown suicidal tendencies, You Yikang simply shook his head.
His sister was dead by his hand, yet now, memories of her dissolved into blankness.
Like everyone said, You Minmin was a shadow—always lurking in corners, muted and dusty.
Outside the interrogation room, You’s parents sat hollow-eyed.
They never spoke to their son. After the session, officers hauled him away in handcuffs, his morning suit now grotesque. Their pleas echoed unanswered down the sterile hallway.
Wen Qiu stayed with them, having entrusted Bobo to neighbors. The grandparents who once doted on their grandson now stared vacantly ahead, as if he’d vanished from their minds.
Wen Qiu sat numb beside them, fear and grief having drained her tears dry.
As Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan passed, You’s mother suddenly lurched up.
She’d learned Zeng was softer-hearted and now clutched the officer’s sleeve with skeletal fingers.
"When Minmin’s bike broke, Yikang always fixed it."
"He’d send her toiletries from his company bonuses—knew she skimped on luxuries."
"And... and that rice cake she loved as a child? Yikang searched all over Hong Kong to find it for her. Even after starting his own family, he remembered..."
Zhu Qing noticed their examples were sparse, recycled endlessly.
They’d mentioned before how You Minmin, after a childhood bike accident, accused her brother of loosening the chain. Perhaps even then, she’d glimpsed his true nature.
Yet no one believed her.
The bitter irony? Early in the case, the family kept insisting, "Why couldn’t Minmin trust our love?"
But in truth, the one never trusted—
Was You Minmin.
Only You Minmin.
What’s even more tragic is that even though You Yikang has now confessed to killing his sister, their parents are still pleading for mercy on behalf of their son.
“Yikang really doted on Minmin.”
“He just made this one mistake, officer…”
“Could it be that Minmin was too impulsive and said something that provoked her brother?”
“Will Yikang… go to jail?”
Zeng Yongshan frowned and withdrew her hand.
She looked at these two bewildered elderly people, unsure of what to say, feeling only that You Minmin’s fate was undeserved.
“Do you know why You Minmin ended up like this?” Zhu Qing asked. “Especially in the past year—did she show any signs of suicidal tendencies? Or anything unusual?”
The expressions of You’s father and mother were blank.
They shook their heads.
“We don’t know.”
“We didn’t notice anything.”
Only Wen Qiu hesitated before saying, “For a while, she seemed happier.”
How laughable—those who claimed to love the deceased the most turned out to be the ones who understood her the least.
On the way to the forensics department to file the report, the usually cheerful Zeng Yongshan was uncharacteristically silent, her head lowered the entire time.
She had suspected that You’s parents, living with You Yikang all this time, might have known what he had done. But after witnessing their reaction firsthand, her doubts were dispelled.
After walking for who knows how long, she suddenly stopped. “Zhu Qing, do you think… if they really knew, would they have helped their son?”
Zhu Qing didn’t answer immediately.
Truthfully, whenever she thought of You Minmin now, all that came to mind was the figure in the corner of the graduation photo and the body in the bathtub.
They only truly got to know her after her death, piecing together the fragments of her short, ordinary life.
Perhaps even in her final moments, You Minmin was still yearning to be seen, to be loved, to be valued.
Zeng Yongshan felt a deep sense of injustice for the deceased. “This is too much.”
It was true that You’s parents had grown thin from grief over their daughter’s death, but it was also true that they favored their son more.
If forced to choose, they would stand by You Yikang without hesitation.
“If they knew You Yikang killed You Minmin, would they have shielded him?”
Zeng Yongshan couldn’t help but wonder—in that moment when You Minmin decided to end her life, had she finally understood?
“Don’t torment yourself with hypotheticals,” Zhu Qing said softly.
Zeng Yongshan nodded helplessly.
As she had once said herself, many questions had no answers.
……
During the final stages of the case, Zhu Qing submitted the communication records to Inspector Mo.
At the time, Liang Qikai and Little Sun happened to be in Central, so Mo Zhenbang called them and asked them to stop by the psychology clinic on their way to collect Dr. Xu’s supplementary statement.
Zhu Qing skimmed through the statement, resting her chin on one hand while absentmindedly twirling a red pen with the other.
Dr. Xu had been very cooperative. According to his testimony, he had used his personal number to contact You Minmin because, during her last session, her condition had deteriorated so severely that he suspected she might be suicidal. He had hoped to persuade her to continue treatment.
The police didn’t overlook the fact that the psychologist had privately contacted You Minmin.
During an investigation, they wouldn’t arbitrarily check the communication records of unrelated individuals unless there was clear evidence linking them to the case. The officers from Team B had verified that You Yikang and Dr. Xu had no prior connection, ruling out the possibility of the latter being an accomplice.
Zeng Yongshan leaned over. “A doctor shouldn’t use their personal number to contact a patient, but life always comes first. Dr. Xu is young—he’s not the type to rigidly follow rules, so it’s understandable.”
“Am I overthinking this?” Zhu Qing closed the statement, her gaze shifting between the therapy records and the diary.
You Yikang’s motive for murder was the inheritance left by their grandparents.
But the victim’s suicidal tendencies had appeared suddenly.
The diary, which had been kept intermittently since long before You Yikang and his wife moved out, revealed that in the early days, You Minmin, though melancholic, had still found faint glimmers of hope in life.
“There was an extra egg in my lunchbox today. Rou said the boss added it specially.”
“Passed by the flower shop—the roses smelled wonderful.”
These small joys had once sustained her.
Yet after she began therapy, her emotions became increasingly unstable. Though she never mentioned the sessions in her diary, the fluctuations coincided precisely with her appointment dates.
Was there really nothing wrong with this psychologist?
Dr. Xu charged exorbitant fees. You Minmin, who hesitated even to add an egg to her meal, how could she afford such expensive treatment?
True, a large portion of her hard-saved money had gone to Blowhard Hui—out of love.
But did You Minmin truly know how to love herself? That was the contradiction.
The therapy records showed nothing out of the ordinary, no signs of manipulation.
Without evidence, the police had no grounds to investigate a renowned psychologist further.
Acting rashly would only alert their suspect.
Yet the doubts lingered in Zhu Qing’s mind, refusing to fade.
Why did the emotional shifts in the diary seem so inexplicable, yet align so perfectly with the therapy sessions?
Why would a girl who pinched every penny willingly spend a fortune on psychological treatment?
Slowly, Zhu Qing placed the victim’s diary into the evidence box and sealed it.
The case had to be wrapped up—the official investigation was coming to an end.
But she would keep digging, in quieter ways.
……
This semester, Teacher Ji took over a new junior class, her brow often furrowed with worry. But today, the children were unusually well-behaved, much to her surprise.
Young Master Sheng Fang hadn’t caused any trouble—she almost wanted to give the little troublemaker a thumbs-up.
The second thumbs-up went to Baby Yesi, who had also been quiet today, back to her usual sweet, docile self.
As for the third member of the trio, it was the good-natured little Jin Bao.
Most of the time, Jin Bao played the role of loyal sidekick, his short legs scurrying cheerfully after Sheng Fang and Yesi. Unless the other two led the way, he rarely initiated mischief himself.
Today, the three of them sat in a row, remarkably well-behaved.
Teacher Ji’s frown finally eased as she gazed at them fondly.
“The children in our class are so adorable, they melt my heart,” she said to her assistant.
Though Sheng Fang had ultimately refused to accept the tuition fees, since he had promised Jin Bao he’d be his little teacher, he kept his word.
Jin Bao, ever eager to learn, placed his small hands on his knees and said to Sheng Fang, “Let’s practice speaking English now, okay?”
His nouveau riche parents had insisted that language learning required constant practice—hence why they’d sent him to this bilingual kindergarten, where English classes were held daily.
"OK!" Little Yesi eagerly joined the lesson, blinking her big eyes as she asked, "Jin Bao, what's your English name?"
Jin Bao fell into deep thought: "I think it's... something like 'Ge'?"
"Golden," Sheng Fang reminded him.
Jin Bao's little head immediately nodded like a chick pecking at rice: "Yes, yes, that's it!"
"Yes!" Teacher Sheng turned to Little Yesi.
Baby Yesi raised her little hand and responded, "Yes!"
Jin Bao's expression gradually turned blank.
"What are we learning today?"
"Let's learn about what snacks we'll have this afternoon," Little Yesi suggested, assigning the lesson to Teacher Sheng.
She was the teaching assistant!
Jin Bao: "What are we having this afternoon?"
Baby Yesi replied softly, "I don't know!"
Another "No"?
Jin Bao's head and shoulders slumped together: "I don't want to learn anymore."
One moment it's "Yes," the next it's "No"—he couldn't understand.
English was too hard.
The young master of the Sheng family shook his head, patting Jin Bao's shoulder as he earnestly lectured him—
His niece had once said, you must never give up so easily!
......
The case was finally closed.
Weng Zhaolin had been walking out of the office with a spring in his step lately, his footsteps light with joy.
The "Ghost Call" case had caused such a stir that even the newspaper vendor at the street corner and the cobbler at the other end could rattle off at least three or four supernatural theories. Now that the case had been brilliantly solved, even the police commissioner had praised them during the morning briefing.
Normally, Weng Zhaolin would complain that Mo Zhenbang was too reckless, that Uncle Li was too laid-back as a senior officer, and that the new recruits under them lacked discipline... But now, he set aside all his grievances, greeting everyone with a smile—even warmly slapping Inspector Mo on the shoulder, praising him as a leader who could nurture an elite team.
At the end of the day, everyone liked hearing compliments.
One by one, they were charmed by Weng's words, and just when they thought it couldn't get better, he dropped an even bigger surprise.
"Celebration! We must celebrate!" Weng slapped the conference table. "This weekend, the whole team is coming to my villa in Repulse Bay. I've hired the Peninsula Hotel's culinary team for a private banquet."
Even Zhu Qing, who was usually buried in case files, looked up in curiosity.
Zeng Yongshan leaned in and whispered behind her hand, "Who knew? Weng lives in a Repulse Bay villa! You think those luxury watches of his came from nowhere? His wife is a force to be reckoned with—super capable!"
"What’s the occasion? Weng’s being so generous?"
"Is it really the Peninsula’s chefs?"
Weng waved his hand, leaving the rest unsaid—
Truth was, his wife’s younger brother was getting married next month, and they were testing the menu anyway, so why not combine it with the celebration?
"Oh, one more thing." Weng casually turned to Uncle Li. "I’ve invited Madam Yu from O.C.T.B. to join us."
Zhu Qing glanced at Zeng Yongshan. "Madam Yu?"
"Uncle Li’s ex-wife," Zeng whispered. "They divorced years ago!"
Uncle Li acted as if it had nothing to do with him.
The entire B Team of the Serious Crimes Unit instantly perked up, eyes gleaming with gossip as they stared at Weng.
"If you want the juicy details, come to my place this weekend," Weng teased.
Meanwhile, Zeng Yongshan was staring at Zhu Qing in shock.
Hearing that Madam Yu was Uncle Li’s ex-wife, she hadn’t even asked why they divorced.
How could anyone resist that? Unbelievable!
......
After leaving the meeting room, Zhu Qing returned to her desk.
She had reported her suspicions about the psychiatrist to Mo Zhenbang. Inspector Mo said she could investigate, but without concrete evidence, it was all just speculation.
Zhu Qing pulled up the Medical Council’s complaint records.
Had Dr. Xu Mingyuan ever been reported by patients or their families? If he had truly manipulated You Minmin into suicide, this couldn’t have been the first time.
On top of that, she had a stack of case files borrowed from the archives, flipping through records of suicide cases from the past five years in her spare time.
Hao Zai passed by her desk. "Cross-referencing suicide complaints with medical records from the last five years? That’s longer than a soap opera!"
Zhu Qing calmly pulled out a file from 1990. "Might as well treat it like a drama."
Hao Zai sucked in a breath.
Who in their right mind would read these tragic cases for entertainment?!
......
The records yielded no leads.
That afternoon, Rou, You Minmin’s former coworker, came to the station clutching a cardboard box.
The edges of the box were peeling from being opened and resealed repeatedly.
"These are all the scratched records she kept. They’ve been sitting in storage, and the boss said they should be returned to her family," Rou explained.
"Minmin loved music. Some of the records in the shop were too damaged to sell, so the boss would give them to her. She didn’t have a record player at home, so she’d come early to play them in the store."
"All sad songs... I never understood why she liked them so much." Rou sighed softly. "Madam, could you pass these on to her family?"
Zhu Qing took the worn box, hearing the faint clatter of records inside.
Rou’s eyes were red. "This morning’s Ming Pao had the case details... I only just realized..."
"Her brother was the one who held her underwater in the bathtub when she tried to kill herself. Toward the end, because of Blowhard Hui, I was cold to her too. If... if I’d just asked, if I’d listened, maybe I could’ve stopped her."
Zhu Qing silently opened the box.
Each scratched record had a label in handwriting she recognized—You Minmin’s.
The ones at the bottom were carefully wrapped in newspaper, the edges neatly folded, a testament to how much care had gone into preserving them.
"Were these records missing their original sleeves?" Zhu Qing’s fingers brushed over the newspaper.
"No, they were all defective stock, meant to be discarded," Rou said. "The ones at the bottom were her favorites. She treasured them, wrapping each one. I always told her newspaper would scratch them more, but she couldn’t bear to—"
"We’ll make sure her family gets them," Zhu Qing said, about to close the box when a small ad in the corner of the newspaper caught her eye.
[Event: Rebuilding Life’s Energy.]
[Time: Every Monday, 7 PM.]
[Location: 22/F, Room A, Kang’en Medical Heart, Central.]
Zhu Qing’s gaze fixed on it.
After Rou finished her statement, she left the box behind.
Zhu Qing copied the address into her notebook.
Rebuilding Life’s Energy—
Had You Minmin seen this ad too?
......
Rarely leaving work early, she arrived home before dark. The sound of computer game effects drifted from the children's room.
"Tonight, I'll laugh in my dreams..." Sheng Fang's voice floated to the entrance.
The little one was happily playing when he heard his niece coldly declare—
"Sheng Fang, the computer can't stay in your room."
Sheng Fang was stunned, pulling his small hand away from the mouse to stare at her in disbelief, his wide eyes silently protesting.
Listen to what she just said!
"Say that again?" Sheng Fang puffed up his cheeks.
"The computer is being moved."
"Say it again!"
"The computer is being moved, the computer is being moved..." Zhu Qing obliged, repeating it a full ten times.
The uncle-niece pair was quarreling, prompting Aunt Ping to hurry out from the kitchen.
"Why!" Sheng Fang tilted his head back, straining his neck as he stood on the children's bed.
"You'll sneak playtime," Zhu Qing said. "What kind of example is that, getting addicted to games at your age?"
"Then will it go in your room?" The little one whined, "That's not fair!"
"Calm down, calm down..." Aunt Ping quickly played mediator. "It's not a big deal, you two—"
Zhu Qing: "Let's put it in Aunt Ping's room."
"How will you plug the cables back in after moving it?" Sheng Fang made one last desperate attempt. "We’ll have to call the computer shop owner."
He crossed his arms. "And I didn’t keep his business card!"
"Don’t worry about that."
For the next twenty minutes, little Sheng Fang sat mournfully on the children's bed.
He hadn’t expected Zhu Qing to be so capable—she knew everything. The tangle of colorful wires behind the computer? She glanced at them once, moved the setup to Aunt Ping’s room, and reconnected everything perfectly.
A press of the power button, and the screen flickered to life.
Then, Zhu Qing slid the mouse and clicked 'shut down.'
Aunt Ping sighed wistfully.
Life had come so far… they even had a computer in the house now.
Too bad she didn’t know how to use it.
"You can only play on weekends from now on," Zhu Qing said.
"I’m not eating dinner tonight," Sheng Fang declared, flopping onto the bed with a dramatic thud. "I’m protesting with a hunger strike."
Zhu Qing gently closed the door to the children’s room. "Alright."
Watching as the door clicked shut—
Sheng Fang sprang up from the bed, quietly reopened the door, and trailed after her.
Zhu Qing was strict. Back when they’d first moved in, Sheng Fang had spent days glued to the TV playing video games—until she confiscated the controller.
Now, after binge-playing Monopoly for days, his mouse had met the same fate.
He was technically the uncle, yet under his niece’s authority, he could only seethe silently.
The little master pouted, turning his head toward the TV’s background noise.
Zhu Qing always kept the television on during meals.
After too many years of solitude, the quiet had grown oppressive. Now, the hum of the TV, Sheng Fang’s soft chatter, and Aunt Ping’s warm nagging wove together into something like home.
A Cantonese drama played on screen.
The heroine, abandoned by her husband, struggled to raise her child alone in Hong Kong, her story of resilience unfolding frame by frame.
Sheng Fang’s hunger strike failed—the aroma of Aunt Ping’s cooking proved irresistible. He sat at the table, shoveling rice into his mouth, ears perked up.
He was engrossed in the plot.
"She’s had it rough too."
"If we can help, why not?"
"I won’t give up! How many decades does a life have? What matters is living without regrets!"
The TV blared with impassioned dialogue.
Zhu Qing studied the sulky little lord stuffing his face.
Since when was he interested in Cantonese soap operas?
"Sheng Fang."
The young master of the Sheng family lazily lifted an eyelid.
As if he’d acknowledge her—the computer confiscation grudge was still fresh.
"After dinner, want to go somewhere with me?" Zhu Qing asked.
Before she even finished, Sheng Fang’s hand shot up like an eager kindergartener. "Yes!"
After dinner, as Aunt Ping tidied the kitchen, Zhu Qing took Sheng Fang out.
"Zhu Qing, where are we going?"
"Central," she checked her notebook. "Kang En Medical Center."
......
The elevator doors slid open silently on the twenty-second floor.
The hallway was quiet. Zhu Qing had already verified that this mental wellness center was properly registered—otherwise, she wouldn’t have brought Sheng Fang.
As the glass doors parted automatically, the young woman at the front desk looked up.
"Did you two come because of the newspaper ad?" she asked with a smile.
"We offer one-on-one counseling," the receptionist handed them a brochure. "The healing sessions mentioned in the ad are only held on Monday evenings."
The pamphlet listed practitioners by surname only.
Zhu Qing scanned it and spotted two doctors surnamed Xu.
"Could we see the doctors’ qualifications?"
"Of course." The receptionist slid over a form, her tone professional. "Please fill this out first. Our team will match you with a specialist based on your assessment."
She led them to a waiting room.
The space was decorated in soft beige tones, several consultation rooms with closed doors lining the area. A handful of visitors sat on the couches in the waiting area.
"Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll bring some tea."
Zhu Qing picked up a pen and began filling out the form—
Name: Sheng Sarah.
As in Princess Sarah from the games.
The little master caught on immediately—they were undercover! He straightened up, eyes sparkling.
Why hadn’t she said so sooner?
Zhu Qing continued filling out the form until she reached the marital status section.
"Sin—" Sheng Fang squinted at the word. "Sin-what?"
Zhu Qing: "Single."
"Single mom!" the little one whispered excitedly, putting his newly acquired soap opera knowledge to use.
"A woman raising a child alone isn’t easy!"
Zhu Qing matched his hushed tone. "Isn’t this taking advantage of you…"
He was technically her elder—was this asking too much?
The pen scratched across the paper as Zhu Qing completed the form.
A soft knock at the door—
The receptionist returned with tea, accepting the paperwork. Her eyes softened with sympathy.
"You’re so young… you must have been through so much."
"To raise such a bright, cheerful child… you’ve sacrificed a great deal."
Zhu Qing felt a pang of guilt.
The little one was really taking one for the team.
Receptionist: "At least you have this adorable boy by your side."
Sheng Fang blinked, curling into a small, well-behaved ball beside Zhu Qing.
No helping it—undercover work required sacrifices.
