Fangfang didn’t feel like he was enduring humiliation—being an undercover agent was just too much fun.
The little one tried his best to restrain himself, not to be too lively, but his eyes still sparkled like stars.
It was like an exhilarating adventure game.
Being part of the action was even more thrilling than playing Monopoly.
The receptionist smiled as she sat down beside them, the soft sofa letting out a faint creak.
"Miss Sheng, choosing to seek help is already an act of courage," she said, flipping open her notebook and tapping the page lightly with her ballpoint pen. "Would you like to talk to me about your situation?"
The receptionist needed to complete the records.
Zhu Qing nodded, squeezing Fangfang’s soft little hand as she quickly pieced together a tragic backstory in her mind.
The inspiration for this story came from the Cantonese melodrama playing on the TV during dinner.
Except the "Sheng Shala" in her tale was far more pitiful than the heroine of that show.
"When I was a teenager..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip just enough to seem hesitant.
"Indeed, you were so young," the receptionist paused her pen. "At that age, you should have been in school... By that logic, the other party committed a crime."
Zhu Qing lowered her gaze, her long lashes casting shadows under her eyes.
"I didn’t understand any of it... My parents never cared about me. There was no place for me at home."
"He said he’d treat me well, that we’d raise our son together."
Her voice grew quieter and quieter.
Fangfang listened intently, and when he felt his niece’s hand gently brush his cheek, he immediately understood.
The little one tilted his face up, flashing an innocent, angelic smile.
Fangfang secretly gave her full marks in his mind—Qing’s acting was spot-on!
"I never thought... he’d run away." Zhu Qing bowed her head, her voice trembling slightly.
The hardest part to act was the eyes, so she chose to close them instead.
Little Sheng Fang hugged her arm and repeated, "Ran away!"
He kept staring at his niece with wide, shining eyes—
Who knew our Qing could look so fragile and pitiful?
Zhu Qing covered his ears. "I really don’t want to talk about this in front of the child. I’m afraid it might hurt him."
"That’s understandable. You’re such a good mom, always keeping the sadness to yourself and showing your child only smiles."
"But you don’t have to be so strong all the time."
Just as Fangfang was about to add more drama, he heard his niece choke up—
"Let him go play."
Through the glass door of the reception room, they could see a cozy children’s play area.
A small table was covered with crayons and drawing paper, and plush toys were piled in the corner. When the staff led Fangfang away, he turned back with a pout—don’t think Uncle doesn’t know, he was being dismissed on purpose!
The reception room door remained open, and Zhu Qing made sure her little uncle stayed within her sight before continuing softly.
Now that the child couldn’t interfere, she fully immersed herself in her new identity. Apart from the inability to squeeze out tears—her one flaw—she perfectly embodied the image of a helpless, exhausted single mother.
"Could you tell me more about the doctors here?" she asked casually.
The receptionist enthusiastically launched into introductions, from qualifications to treatment procedures, talking nonstop for ten minutes.
Zhu Qing left her pager number on the registration form.
As they were leaving, the receptionist handed her another brochure—different from the previous one, this one included photos and resumes of the doctors.
"All our physicians’ details are in here," the receptionist said. "Take a look, Miss Sheng."
She escorted the aunt-nephew pair to the elevator.
Zhu Qing held Sheng Fang’s hand as they stepped inside. "Say goodbye to Auntie."
The little one waved. "Bye-bye, Auntie!"
Compared to his niece, the little uncle’s acting was far more natural.
"What a well-raised child! Look how bright his eyes are!" The receptionist smiled, crouching down. "Listen to Mommy, okay?"
...
The moment the elevator doors closed, little Sheng Fang narrowed his eyes and stood on tiptoe.
"Qing is a big liar!"
"And you’re a little liar."
The big liar niece and little liar uncle exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.
Now they were no longer from a family of cops—they’d become a family of con artists.
Fangfang took his mission too seriously. For the sake of the investigation, he was even willing to lower his seniority.
"Let’s get serious—what did you find out?"
Zhu Qing flipped through the brochure, her frown deepening.
"That’s strange... How could this be?"
"Neither of the two doctors surnamed Xu is Xu Mingyuan."
Even back in the car, Zhu Qing kept studying the brochure.
The interior was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of streetlights outside.
Her worried little uncle couldn’t take it anymore, leaning over the seat and muttering.
"Qing, stop looking."
"It’s bad for your eyes..."
Zhu Qing finally put the brochure away and gazed out the window.
After a long pause, she turned back. "Let’s go home."
The night’s activities had been far too exciting, and little Sheng Fang was practically bouncing with joy.
He hummed all the way home.
On the radio, Situ Peiling’s program was nearing its end, her distinct, mysteriously soothing voice filling the car.
"I’m sure many listeners have already heard—our station is relaunching the special Yin Yang segment. Aren’t you all excited?"
"After the first episode aired, we received over a thousand letters. Some shared personal supernatural experiences, while scholars discussed folk customs..."
"For the second episode, what topics would you like to hear? Feel free to write in—"
Zhu Qing remembered the chatter in the police station break room a few days ago.
Her colleagues had speculated that the show, having attracted so much attention right off the bat, would capitalize on its popularity—no amount of advertising could buy that kind of hype. Now that the case was closed, the station would undoubtedly milk the supernatural angle for all it was worth.
They’d called it.
As she watched the traffic light count down, Situ Peiling’s voice continued.
"Many listeners asked about the follow-up to the 'water ghost vengeance' legend, but the police have already released their findings."
The tale of "water ghost vengeance" would fade with the closing of the case.
Just like the name You Minmin, eventually forgotten by the public.
Zhu Qing gripped the steering wheel, her gaze drifting to the therapy center brochure on the passenger seat.
"Qing, green light!" Fangfang reminded her.
Only then did she refocus and press the gas lightly.
"Next time, we’ll explore more urban legends. Don’t miss it!" Situ Peiling’s voice gradually faded.
...
Every Monday night, Kang’en Medical Center held a support group under the theme "Soul Rebuilding."
But before that, Zhu Qing received a call from the receptionist, inviting "Miss Sheng Shala" to attend an event hosted by the center’s mothers’ support group.
"Miss Sheng, we sincerely invite you to attend tonight's Single Mothers' Support Group," the voice on the phone was gentle and warm. "Many single mothers in similar situations will be there to share parenting experiences and encourage one another. If you have time, you're very welcome to join."
Before hanging up, the receptionist added, "After the event, we've arranged for a professional psychologist to provide one-on-one counseling."
Zhu Qing checked the time after ending the call. The event started at 7 p.m., and she had plenty of time.
Initially, she had signed up for the therapy group purely for investigative purposes, never expecting things to progress this far. Now, thinking calmly, what if she ran into Dr. Xu Mingyuan at the event?
The last time she was at Xu Mingyuan's clinic, she had appeared as a police officer.
If recognized, not only would her efforts be wasted, but she might also alert their target.
So, before heading out, Zhu Qing carefully "disguised" herself.
Sheng Fang sat on the sofa, swinging his little legs while munching on chips, watching Zhu Qing dart in and out of the room.
Ever since his undercover mission last time, the little master had developed a keen interest in such activities.
Now, Zhu Qing stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing her new look—black-framed glasses, a bucket hat, and a casual outfit completely unlike her usual style. She had bought these on her way home from work, all to avoid being recognized.
Turning around, she asked, "Will he still recognize me like this?"
A cartoon played on the TV, and Zhu Qing stood right in front of the screen, blocking Sheng Fang's view entirely.
The little boy tilted his head, shifting his body to peek around the "obstruction."
"Of course," he answered absentmindedly, still trying to watch the show. "You're so pretty, no matter how you dress, anyone would recognize you."
As soon as he said it, he noticed the slight upward curve of Zhu Qing's lips.
So even cool, tough Madam Zhu Qing would smile when called pretty.
This major discovery made Fangfang wiggle his little toes in delight.
Aunt Ping, who had just stepped out of the kitchen, was a beat slower but nodded in agreement.
"Young master is right!"
"Those dramas where women disguise themselves as men—everyone can tell at a glance, but the plot insists on pretending they don’t recognize them."
With both the elder and younger advisors in the house giving their verdict, Zhu Qing went back to her room and dug out a face mask.
When she reappeared, she was fully armed.
"Now? Still recognizable?"
Aunt Ping shook her head, and little Sheng Fang followed suit.
But the little one quickly added, "You just look sneaky now, like a thief."
This kid was getting cheekier by the day.
Zhu Qing suspected it was because she hadn’t taken him along on today’s case, and he was holding a grudge, seizing the chance to rain on her parade.
In the end, Zhu Qing removed the mask, keeping only the glasses and hat, then drove to Central.
The support group at the medical center was far more organized than she had imagined.
In the activity room, over a dozen single mothers sat in a circle. Zhu Qing noticed that these women weren’t drowning in sorrow. Though exhaustion lingered between their brows, many still had bright, spirited eyes.
"Think of it this way—the father running off might be a blessing," a short-haired mother said with a laugh. "Spending a lifetime with a man who has no sense of responsibility or care would be true despair."
In the children’s playroom, several kids sat quietly.
The older ones, already in school, diligently did their homework, while the younger ones played obediently with toys. It dawned on Zhu Qing that for many single mothers, having a safe place to temporarily leave their children—where they could catch their breath and talk—was already an immense comfort and help.
"You're still young; life is long," an older mother said, clasping Zhu Qing’s hand. "It’ll get easier once the child is older."
"When I was your age, I also felt like the sky was falling."
"No need to pull your hat so low. Being single or divorced isn’t something to be ashamed of. I’ve been divorced for three years, and honestly, I’m happier now than before."
"If you ever feel down, come find us anytime. Just last Wednesday, we helped Yinghong find a handicraft job she can do from home, and yesterday, everyone pitched in to help Xiaoqi move."
By sheer coincidence, little Sheng Fang had crafted a tragic single-mother persona for Zhu Qing.
Yet here, she was witnessing an entirely different, real world.
As the event neared its end, the receptionist reminded her that she could now meet with the on-duty psychologist.
Not wanting to waste the doctor’s time with her fabricated story, Zhu Qing made an excuse and hurriedly left.
"Wait, please!"
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a mother pressed the open button. The cramped space filled with mothers and children chatting about tomorrow’s breakfast, today’s homework—ordinary, heartwarming conversations echoing inside.
When the doors opened again, these huddled figures gradually melted into the night.
Not tragic at all.
As for clues about Dr. Xu Mingyuan, there were still none.
Maybe she really was overthinking it.
……
In the blink of an eye, little Sheng Fang had already been in school for two weeks.
The young master, who once bargained with his aunt and threw tantrums about going to kindergarten, had now become one of the most enthusiastic students in the entire school.
Every morning, he would spring out of bed, tidy himself up, all just to catch the earliest school bus.
He wanted to be the first in the classroom—to turn on the lights himself!
Zhu Qing didn’t understand—
What was the point?
But maybe some things didn’t need a reason. A child’s joy could be that simple and pure.
"Qingqing, no rush to get to the station today, right?" Aunt Ping’s voice carried from the kitchen. "I’ve simmered chicken soup with rice noodles for two hours—it’s just perfect now."
Before dawn, Aunt Ping was already bustling in the kitchen.
Freshly rolled dumpling wrappers lined the cutting board, while freshly wrapped wontons bubbled in a pot, and the clay pot emitted an irresistible aroma. To avoid waking the pair, she always prepped the noisier ingredients the night before, then rose at first light to prepare breakfast quietly.
By the time the fragrance from the clay pot grew rich, it was time for Zhu Qing and Fangfang to wake up.
"Aunt Ping, you don’t have to work so hard," Zhu Qing said, accepting the bowl. "We could just grab something simple."
"The morning sets the tone for the day," Aunt Ping replied with a smile. "How can we be careless?"
Aunt Ping had found true belonging in this job. Taking care of this uncle-nephew pair wasn’t just about the generous salary—
She didn’t have many expenses anyway.
She was genuinely grateful to Zhu Qing and Fangfang.
Sometimes, she even felt as though they had given her a home.
A safe, steady home.
"By the way, Qingqing," Aunt Ping lowered her voice, "Little Master seems to have had a small conflict with a classmate at school."
Zhu Qing's chopsticks froze mid-air.
Her mind immediately flashed to the two friends Fangfang often mentioned—Jin Bao and Yesi.
"It was a kid named Juan who tattled," Aunt Ping explained. "During nap time, Little Master secretly switched spots to sleep next to Jin Bao, but that child raised his hand and told the teacher."
To adults, this might seem trivial, but to a child, it was a monumental issue.
Zhu Qing suddenly remembered Fangfang's hesitant expression last night. He had clearly been bursting with things to say, but she’d been too busy to listen.
A rustling sound came from the bathroom.
Zhu Qing walked over and saw Fangfang with his back to the door, his little shoulders trembling.
She paused.
The kid’s ears were sharp as radar—had he overheard Aunt Ping and felt wronged?
Zhu Qing approached, resting a hand on his small shoulder as she bent down and asked softly, "What’s wrong?"
Only then did she notice the toothpaste on the sink.
His children’s toothpaste was nearly empty, and Aunt Ping had forgotten to restock. He was squeezing the tube with both hands, his little face scrunched in effort.
"What’s this—" Zhu Qing peeked.
"CPR," Fangfang answered solemnly, pressing his hands down in overlapping motions, his expression deadly serious.
Zhu Qing helped him squeeze out the toothpaste.
As the little one brushed his teeth, he heard his niece ask about kindergarten.
"You mean Juan?" Little Master pondered for a long moment before remembering, then waved a hand dismissively. "He’s just a boring kid."
......
In kindergarten, Juan was a pint-sized rule enforcer with round glasses.
He always wore a stern expression, hands clasped behind his back as he patrolled the classroom like a mini hall monitor.
Fangfang, Yesi, and Jin Bao’s trio usually steered clear of him.
Though occasionally, when Juan tattled, the little young master would get caught—but to him, a scolding from Teacher Ji was no big deal.
During afternoon playtime, the children gathered in the playground area.
Slides? Fangfang scoffed. Back at the Sheng family villa on the hillside, his father had installed an extravagant, towering slide in the garden. But the young master had despised the long climb to the top and hardly ever used it. Eventually, the slide stood pristine yet lonely, polished daily but untouched.
As for the shabby slide at kindergarten—
Its metal frame was chipped, the slope pitifully short. The kids waited in line forever, only to climb up, barely sit down, and whoosh—they were already at the bottom.
"Childish," Fangfang muttered, but at Jin Bao’s urging, he reluctantly joined the queue.
The moment he slid down, his eyes lit up. He was hooked.
So this was why everyone loved it!
Climbing up, sliding down—he repeated it a dozen times, grinning nonstop.
Perched at the top, he waved at the little girl below. "Yesi, come play!"
Yesi stood firm, puffing her cheeks and shaking her head.
After another whoosh down, Fangfang ran to her side.
Only then did he learn—she was wearing a dress.
Today, her outfit was a fluffy pink gown. No sliding allowed.
"Just change your pants!"
"Then I won’t be pretty!"
Fangfang tilted his head. "How will you hold a gun like this?"
"I don’t need a gun."
"You don’t want to be a police officer?" Fangfang gaped, baffled.
"I want to be a model!" Yesi’s sweet little voice sparkled as she declared her dream, eyes shining.
This answer devastated Fangfang. How could anyone not want to be a cop?
Clearly, his "Junior Police Training" propaganda had failed.
"Jin Bao, what about you?"
"I’m a nouveau riche," Jin Bao stated matter-of-factly.
"That’s not a job!"
Nearby, Teacher Ji stifled laughter, shoulders shaking.
After deep thought, Jin Bao clarified, "Mom and Dad said I just need to boss people around when I grow up."
"Jin Bao, even kids should have dreams!" Fangfang lectured earnestly.
Bathed in autumn sunlight, the trio sat side by side on a bench, their tiny legs dangling far above the ground. Yet as they debated life goals, their expressions were as grave as seasoned adults.
Jin Bao: "My dream is to sell ice cream, so I’ll never run out."
Yesi: "Mine is selling strawberries—they’re my favorite!"
Generously, they promised Fangfang unlimited ice cream and strawberries someday.
Unlimited treats—what a vision! He’d carve strawberries into stars and nestle them in vanilla ice cream.
Fangfang swallowed hard, already savoring the thought.
Teacher Ji watched the heartwarming scene, her smile deepening.
The children’s shadows stretched long in the afternoon light, time slowing to a gentle crawl.
When the dismissal bell rang, the kids lined up for the school bus.
Suddenly, Fangfang screeched to a halt, bouncing with excitement.
"Qingqing! Qingqing!"
Zhao Lin had granted Zhu Qing early leave to pick him up.
John was truly the best!
The young Sheng transformed into a preening peacock, boasting to everyone.
"My niece came to get me!"
"My niece—"
"Came! For! Me!"
Just as Zhu Qing took his soft little hand, her pager buzzed.
Her grip tightened instinctively, a sharp intuition rising.
Could it be Xu Mingyuan?
......
A single mother juggling childcare alone—
She wouldn’t have the luxury of answering calls on demand.
So Zhu Qing waited until 9:40 PM to call back.
Before dialing, she dug out the voice modulator she’d bought earlier.
This "Phantom Voice Box" didn’t just alter speech.
Activating the recorder, she held it to the receiver as the call connected.
"Miss Sheng?" Xu Mingyuan’s voice came through.
They’d met once, briefly. Zhu Qing doubted he’d recognize her voice, but she wasn’t taking chances.
She inhaled, forcing her tone into weary fragility.
"Hello, is this the doctor from the wellness center’s therapy group?" She paused, as if searching for words. "Sorry for calling so late—I just got my child to sleep. Is this a bad time?"
Dr. Xu’s reply was gentle. "Not at all. Take your time."
Zhu Qing closed her eyes, reconstructing the case details in her mind.
A year ago, when she first received the call from this psychologist, what would the deceased You Minmin have said?
She made her voice sound distant and uncertain: "Every day, I shuttle my child to kindergarten, work two jobs..."
"Then come home to face a pile of bills. I—"
Dr. Xu patiently waited for her to finish.
All the while, she could hear the scratch of his pen against paper as he took notes.
"That sounds exhausting," came his gentle voice through the phone, accompanied by the rustle of turning pages. "You know, many mothers like you tend to be too hard on themselves. They feel guilty for not providing a more comfortable life for their children, but you shouldn’t think that way."
"You’re already doing your best."
The words of comfort sounded so ordinary, like any routine counseling session.
Zhu Qing couldn’t help but wonder—had she been too deliberate? Had she slipped up somehow?
Or was this psychologist simply biding his time, patiently waiting for his prey to take the bait before closing the net?
"The Healing Society has a parent-child event next Wednesday. You could bring your child to relax."
"We have a dedicated reading corner for children."
Finally, she heard the pause of his pen on paper.
"But for now, you should rest."
"Before taking care of others, you must take care of yourself, alright?"
The call ended twenty minutes later.
No leading questions, no probing.
In fact, Xu Mingyuan’s stance was already clear.
He had crossed her off his list of potential targets.
Xu Mingyuan had strictly referred to the Healing Society throughout the call, even emphasizing at the end, "The Healing Society is always open to you," never once mentioning his private practice.
Clearly, this psychologist had no intention of truly accepting her as a patient.
But this one call was enough—it gave her the opening she needed.
At ten that night, after Fangfang had fallen asleep, Zhu Qing grabbed her car keys and left.
Her SUV sped down the empty roads before stopping beneath the Zhonghuan Kang’en Medical Center.
Neon lights flickered in the night as she tilted her head up toward the illuminated window of the psychologist’s office.
That night, she had noticed something—from Xu Mingyuan’s office window, one could see everyone entering and exiting the medical center.
Zhu Qing dialed Mo Zhenbang’s number.
"Mo Sir, I need a search warrant."
"To obtain the complete membership registry of the Kang’en Medical Center’s Healing Society."
...
A few days earlier, Mo Zhenbang had sat with his hands folded on his desk, his gaze stern as he looked at Zhu Qing.
He had said she could keep investigating, but to remember—everything had to be backed by evidence.
Now, she finally had it.
Zhu Qing spread the documents across the conference table.
Xu Mingyuan wasn’t listed among the official doctors of the Healing Society—so why had he reached out to her?
The call recording had been archived. That "counseling" call had indeed originated from the landline in Xu Mingyuan’s private office.
If the Healing Society was a legitimate organization, the only explanation was that Xu Mingyuan had bribed someone inside to illegally obtain member records.
When their colleagues saw Zhu Qing hand the evidence to Mo Zhenbang, they were baffled.
"Wasn’t this case already closed?"
Zeng Yongshan walked over. "I knew you wouldn’t let it go."
Everyone knew Zhu Qing had combed through the Medical Council’s complaint archives and the case files of suicides from the past five years. But in the last few days, she had seemingly put those records away.
Almost everyone assumed she had given up—except Zeng Yongshan. No one had expected the investigation to still be ongoing.
Minutes later, the conference room door opened again.
"So he’s filtering for a specific type of patient," Hao Zai mused, leaning back in his folding chair with a pen tucked behind his ear and his legs crossed. "Targeting introverted women who lack emotional support."
"Exactly like You Minmin—no friends, no family to look after her. The perfect victim for him to manipulate."
"In other words, this psychologist illegally obtained member records, screened them for targets like You Minmin... But here’s the question—why? If he really did push You Minmin to suicide, what did he gain from it?"
A killer always has a motive.
Take You Yikang—he killed You Minmin for the apartment.
So what was Dr. Xu Mingyuan after?
With this question in mind, officers took the warrant to the Kang’en Medical Center and retrieved the full Healing Society membership list.
The documents filled a thick cardboard box, hundreds of names, phone numbers, and addresses densely packed across the pages.
The entire B Team of the Major Crimes Division gathered around.
"So Xu Mingyuan used this list to screen and approach You Minmin?"
"But didn’t that record store clerk say You Minmin’s grandfather was the one who urged her to see a psychologist?"
"Still, with You Minmin’s personality, would she really have obediently gone to therapy for so long?"
"Unless—" Zhu Qing flipped through the thick registry, "someone offered her an irresistible deal, like free counseling."
"Specifically preying on women who were both financially and emotionally vulnerable? Weekly therapy sessions would’ve been too expensive for You Minmin. Only if it was free could she have kept it up for so long."
"Her salary from the record store couldn’t have covered that kind of treatment frequency. Even if her grandfather left her some money, supporting herself and Blowhard Hui would’ve drained it fast."
"Rou delivered that box to the victim’s parents. She mentioned You Minmin loved music but couldn’t afford records—she only listened to scratched-up discs the store owner gave her."
"So why would she splurge on therapy?"
"Speculating won’t help. First, confirm if You Minmin is even on this list—"
Suddenly, Liang Qikai raised a sheet, his voice sharp. "It’s her! You Minmin is here!"
Amid the rustling of passed papers, Mo Zhenbang frowned at the signature on the form.
The personal details matched—this wasn’t just a coincidence of names. You Minmin had indeed been a member of the Healing Society.
When the police contacted the organization for details about You Minmin, they uncovered a heartbreaking detail.
One month before her death, the Healing Society had reached out to offer counseling.
In fact, they had tried multiple times—but she had always refused.
"The staff at the Healing Society weren't aware that You Minmin was already receiving treatment at Xu Mingyuan's psychiatric clinic," Zeng Yongshan leaned in, frowning slightly. "To them, this situation was all too common. Many visitors would finally muster the courage to step through their doors, only to turn away later, convinced no one could truly help them."
"The Healing Society couldn't do much about it—after all, those seeking help must be willing to accept it..."
"What the staff never imagined was that You Minmin did want help—it's just that Xu Mingyuan got to her first."
"Mo Zhenbang." Zhu Qing turned to him. "Can we reopen the case now?"
Uncle Li tapped his pen against the conference table, also looking up at him. "Illegally obtaining the membership list, privately contacting the deceased..."
The morning had begun overcast, but now, glancing out the window, the sky stretched clear and boundless.
As if all hidden sins would eventually emerge from the fog.
Mo Zhenbang, never one to follow protocol, began assigning tasks without waiting for higher approval: "The Healing Society operated for three years but only placed newspaper ads this past year. We need to investigate—"
"Four hundred seventy people!" Little Sun lifted his head from the documents. "I just counted—exactly four hundred seventy."
"Three years' worth of accumulated member records. How many changed phone numbers? How many moved?"
"Thoroughly checking this would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack."
Xu Jiale sucked in a breath. "That many people have psychological issues? Is societal pressure really this intense now?"
"Don't act so surprised," Zeng Yongshan said. "My older brother's girlfriend works as a nurse in the psychiatric department. She says the outpatient clinic has endless lines every day—eight out of ten patients suffer from insomnia."
Though they spoke lightly, the thought of the deceased being "targeted" left everyone unsettled.
A year ago, You Minmin might have seen the Healing Society's ad with hope. When Xu Mingyuan offered free counseling, she likely thought—for once in her unlucky life—she'd caught a break.
You Minmin would never know that from the day her "treatment" began, her mental state deteriorated.
As a patient, she was inherently vulnerable. How could she suspect her own doctor?
"That's exactly why we need a full investigation," Mo Zhenbang said gravely. "Call every single one. Visit every address. You Minmin's case might just be the tip of the iceberg."
Maybe You Minmin's tragedy was an isolated incident.
That would be the best outcome.
But what if it wasn't?
The entire day passed with the entire B team diving back into work.
The office buzzed with ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and rustling papers, every desk buried under stacks of documents.
You Minmin's short life had been a tragedy.
And hers might not be the first—nor the only one.
Zhu Qing kept her head down, dialing another number.
"Hello, this is..."
"May I speak with Miss Luo?"
Around her, colleagues' voices rose and fell in similar inquiries.
"Is Ms. Ling available?"
"Sorry, just to confirm—Ms. Ling has passed away?"
The CID office plunged into silence.
All movement froze as everyone turned toward Zeng Yongshan.
After a pause, Zeng Yongshan spoke softly, "I'm sorry for your loss. Please accept our condolences."
She lowered her gaze, jotting a brief note—
Died in a car accident.
An accidental death, not suicide.
"Keep going," Mo Zhenbang's voice carried from the far end of the office. "If even one seems suspicious, we follow it to the end."
Phone receivers lifted again.
Every day, lives faded in this city.
But the case file had been reopened—You Minmin's tragedy wouldn't be hastily dismissed.
Someone would keep demanding answers for those who could no longer speak.
...
The police station didn’t have enough phones. Four hundred people needed initial calls; those unreachable would require visits.
This was near-impossible to complete quickly, but they had to race against time.
To avoid disturbing civilians after hours, Mo Zhenbang ordered everyone to wrap up by 9 PM.
Zhu Qing took a stack of documents home.
She walked in at exactly nine to find Sheng Fang, the little tornado, dismantling the living room.
Four or five couch pillows lay scattered as he played relay with himself—tossing them onto the floor, then trampling over them like a pony crossing a river of stones.
Nine o’clock, and this three-year-old was still wide awake.
Were civilians really sleeping this early?
Uncle Li had said complaints weren’t scary—their boss would shoulder even the worst of them.
Silently, Zhu Qing spread the membership records across the coffee table.
"Aunt Ping, need your help." She split the stack in two, handing half over.
After coaching Aunt Ping on the script, Zhu Qing began dialing Healing Society members on her mobile.
Aunt Ping chuckled. "Zhu Qing, mobile calls are expensive… You’ve got so many numbers here."
"It’s fine." Zhu Qing passed her a pen. "Just mark the confirmed ones."
Sheng Fang sprawled on the couch, watching—
Our Zhu Qing’s rolling in money now! Getting fancier by the day!
Aunt Ping started assisting, meticulously following the script for each call.
She worked slowly, even taking her time marking the checklist.
Sheng Fang itched to join.
How could such a fun activity exclude him?
He mimicked them, pressing a chubby hand to his ear like a phone.
"’Ello? This is CID. We’re investigatin’ a case."
"Miss Zhou there? Miss Zhang? Miss Wang?"
He raised his hand. "Zhu Qing, I wanna help too!"
"Don’t interrupt." Zhu Qing checked the time. "Little mouth?"
Sheng Fang’s eyes widened.
She wanted him to shut up? After all this time in kindergarten, he was a seasoned pro now. Even the principal couldn’t silence him—let alone his niece!
"I won’t mess up! Zhu Qing, I already learned!"
"No, this is work."
The little master deflated like a pufferfish, collapsing onto the couch.
To his left, Zhu Qing worked fervently.
To his right, even Aunt Ping got to participate while he, the real "Officer Fang," sat idle.
As Zhu Qing flipped to the next document, she pinched his cheek between calls: "We’re besties, right?"
Sheng Fang turned away. "We’re not!"
The next call connected, forcing Zhu Qing to withdraw her hand.
Sheng Fang huffed.
Ha! No more cheek-pinching!
Zhu Qing spoke into the mobile: "Hello, this is Yau Ma Tei Police Station..."
"We’re investigating a case. Is Miss Wang available?"
A disinterested voice answered: "Looking for Ying Tong? She’s dead."
Zhu Qing held her breath. "May I ask the cause of death?"
While her niece was still stunned and Aunt Ping had slipped away to the restroom—
Little Sheng Fang quietly tiptoed to the phone and dialed the number from the list.
The call connected almost instantly.
With a stern baby face, Fangfang deepened her voice and announced, "This is the Yau Ma Tei Police Station. We—"
Click!
The line went dead.
Fangfang sat frozen, clutching the receiver, her round little back radiating the sorrow of a world that had betrayed her.
Seriously? Who dares hang up on the police?
