Sheng Fang, a little kid, was on a big shopping spree at the campus convenience store of Hong Kong University, his steps light and cheerful as he hummed a nursery rhyme he had just learned in music class at kindergarten.
Aside from the small Hong Kong University Student Union badge pinned to his knitted vest that shimmered faintly in the sunlight, his chubby little hands were tightly clutching a newly bought dinosaur egg toy, as if he had just completed a treasure hunt and brought home a priceless gem.
The colorful snacks and toys were packed into a transparent plastic bag, bulging and full, which was carried by Dr. Cheng who followed closely behind.
Autumn leaves blanketed the ground, and with each step Cheng Xinglang took, the dry leaves rustled softly beneath his feet.
The sound immediately caught Sheng Fang’s attention. The little guy turned around and eagerly joined in the “battle” of stomping on the fallen leaves.
The boundless energy of a child was truly inexhaustible.
Zhu Qing closed the car door and walked over, just about to “settle” the shopping bill with Dr. Cheng—
“No need.” Cheng Xinglang took a bottle of soda from the plastic bag he was holding. “Want some?”
The glass bottle was covered with droplets of condensation, cool and refreshing to the touch.
Cheng gently shook the bottle, and the bubbles inside fizzed excitedly. Sheng Fang instantly recalled the first time he had tasted soda—it was like popping candy dancing on his tongue.
“What money? Don’t be so formal.” The young master Sheng waved his hand. “We’re all friends here!”
Just a moment ago in the car, the little guy had been playfully punching the air, and in the blink of an eye, they were friends again.
At Hong Kong University, Cheng Xinglang naturally took charge of leading the way.
They strolled along a path shaded by phoenix trees, where leaves quietly drifted down and landed on Sheng Fang’s shoulder. Zhu Qing reached out and plucked one.
The leaf’s veins were clearly visible under the sunlight.
Sheng Fang tilted his head and said in a babyish voice, “We can take it home and make a leaf specimen.”
Before he finished, his niece had already crushed the leaf in her hand.
Zhu Qing: ?
“Why didn’t you say so earlier…”
“Qing, you really lack romance!”
The treasure Sheng Fang picked out today at the convenience store was a “dinosaur egg.”
There were always some quirky toys that, because of their exquisite packaging, captured the hearts of little ones. The young master had tasted all kinds of delicious chocolates, but he despised the cheap artificial flavor of this inferior chocolate. He took out one dinosaur after another from the egg, while the chocolates were handed over to his niece.
Zhu Qing couldn’t tell whether the chocolate tasted rich or not; to her, they all tasted pretty much the same.
“Too sweet,” she said.
Sheng Fang struck a little elder’s pose again.
A child’s life should be as sweet as chocolate—this was the hope behind the name “Cocoa” given to her by her eldest sister and brother-in-law… In Sheng Fang’s eyes, how could his niece eat mass-produced, low-quality chocolate? He stuffed all the chocolates from Zhu Qing’s hand into Cheng Xinglang’s coat pocket.
“Dr. Cheng, you take these and eat them!”
Cheng Xinglang had an appointment with Professor Yang from the Psychology Department at ten in the morning.
As he entered the building, he glanced at his watch and arrived right on time.
Sheng Fang’s keen little ears had already caught the conversation between his niece and the motorcycle driver, and he understood everything clearly.
He fully realized that this time, once again, he was being played by that sly little cop!
……
The corridor of the Psychology Department at Hong Kong University was quiet, which only made the steady, rhythmic footsteps of the three of them more pronounced.
As they approached Professor Yang’s office, the scent of tea in the air grew stronger.
Cheng Xinglang stopped in front of the solid wooden door bearing the nameplate “Professor Yang Zhengxiu,” and lightly knocked with his knuckles. “Professor Yang.”
“Come in,” came the warm reply from inside.
Pushing the door open, Professor Yang was topping up the teapot with water. When he looked up, a smile shone in his eyes.
“Xinglang’s here?” Professor Yang set down the purple clay teapot and turned his gaze to Zhu Qing beside him, smiling as he asked, “And this must be—?”
What followed was a long stretch of greetings and introductions.
Sheng Fang pricked up his ears and heard Dr. Cheng introduce Qing as a colleague from the police station, but never once mentioned himself.
Could it be that the respectable Officer Sheng Fang wasn’t considered a colleague at all?
Puffing up his chubby cheeks, Sheng Fang ultimately didn’t protest. Zhu Qing had warned him not to cause trouble here, so the little boy had no choice but to behave obediently, pouting as he waved politely when Professor Yang nodded at him.
After that, Sheng Fang sat upright on the sofa like a miniature adult.
Zhu Qing was about to get to work, and Sheng Fang didn’t even bother with the usual small, relaxed movements. His short legs stayed firmly planted, steady without a hint of wobble. What if next time Zhu Qing didn’t bring him along? The little guy kept his hands neatly folded on his knees and even placed his dinosaur egg toy carefully on the coffee table.
“Professor Yang, actually, today we came to learn more about Xu Mingyuan’s situation.”
Professor Yang’s hand stroked the teacup, his expression briefly faltering.
Zhu Qing watched his face closely.
It was clear he had been following the news these past few days.
As Professor Yang’s most prized protégé, Xu Mingyuan’s graduation photo was displayed prominently on the bookshelf.
Professor Yang took down the photo frame and gently wiped the glass with his sleeve.
The young man in the photo wore his graduation gown, his smile warm and gentle.
“Mingyuan’s parents passed away early. He was raised by his aunt.”
“His aunt is a head nurse and has no children of her own. To her, Mingyuan is like her own son. The boy is filial and often visits her.”
“Which hospital is she head nurse at?” Zhu Qing keenly picked up on this detail, one the police had not yet uncovered.
Professor Yang returned the photo frame to its place. “I believe it was the Mingde Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center. She may have retired by now.”
“Actually, I sensed early on that Mingyuan held some rather stubborn views.”
“For example, when researching punishment mechanisms in criminal psychology, he believed that reforming certain violent criminals was utterly futile. His stance tended to be more extreme. From a medical ethics perspective, this definitely violated basic principles.”
“But back then, he was still a bit hot-headed and had his own ideas. That’s normal. Academic discussions should always embrace a diversity of voices.”
Professor Yang seemed to be convincing himself, repeating, “He’s just too young... You can’t really say there’s something wrong with him, and I certainly hope—”
He put down his teacup. “I hope there really isn’t anything wrong with him.”
“It’s just that his research does have some radical aspects.”
When asked about the special significance of “Tuesday” to Xu Mingyuan, Professor Yang pondered for a long moment before shaking his head.
“That, I’m not too sure about.”
Professor Yang was both proud of his outstanding protégé and uneasy about his extreme tendencies.
Only after the topic about Xu Mingyuan ended did the mentor’s furrowed brow finally ease.
He then turned to ask about Cheng Xinglang’s recent situation.
“How’s Xinglang doing lately?”
“Work’s going smoothly, I suppose...”
As these casual greetings drifted by, little Sheng Fang had already begun to look around curiously.
Speaking of the office, this one was larger—big enough to hold two long sofas, with the coffee table doubling as his toy table.
In comparison, Dr. Cheng’s office and Zhaolin’s office seemed somewhat less impressive.
At this moment, little Sheng Fang’s thoughts opened up.
I wonder how big the Chief Inspector’s office is? Qingzi has to keep working hard!
...
Pushing open the door to the Psychology Department’s Professor Yang’s office, the footsteps of three people echoed heavily down the corridor.
After putting some distance behind them, Zhu Qing asked, “Are you guys close?”
“Professor Yang knows my parents,”
Cheng Xinglang smiled. “Professor Yang used to visit my home often.”
His voice carried a distant nostalgia, the tone rising slightly at the end, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
This was literally someone who had watched him grow up.
Every time little Sheng Fang arrived at a new place, his big round eyes would scan the surroundings.
At this moment, he was tiptoeing, curiously examining the portraits hanging along the corridor. Zhu Qing’s gaze lingered on the text next to the portraits—introductions to the past presidents of the University of Hong Kong.
Passing through the connecting corridor, the niece noticed Sheng Fang frequently glancing back.
Could a three-year-old be moved by the strong academic atmosphere of this institution? Actually, in the original story, this was also the alma mater of the minor antagonist. But now, the wheels of fate had quietly turned; Sheng Fang’s ideals had been magnified infinitely, and he yearned wholeheartedly for the police academy, hoping that one day, he could become a true and honorable police officer.
They descended the spiral staircase, passing a medical corridor named “Benevolence of the Healer.”
The glass walls of the corridor were polished spotless by the janitors. Zhu Qing slowed his pace.
This was a special display set up by the university to commemorate medical professionals who had passed away in recent years.
Zhu Qing’s eyes skimmed over the photo of a distinguished professor of neurosurgery, pausing briefly before suddenly turning his head.
“Don’t you think he looks a bit like my father?” His tone was casual, eyebrows raised slightly as he smiled. “Just not as handsome as me.”
On the way here, Zhu Qing had heard Cheng Xinglang mention that he had undergone hypnosis by Xu Mingyuan.
However, the hypnosis did not succeed. She didn’t know whether Xu Mingyuan had ever targeted male patients as his prey, but it was clear that Dr. Cheng could never have been one of them. No matter what pain he had carried in the past, Cheng Xinglang was someone who always moved forward, full of strength, continuously growing toward the light.
Zhu Qing lowered her eyelids, recalling the yellowed Hong Kong newspaper tucked away in her drawer.
At the ceremony for the completion of the mid-mountain mansion, there was a family portrait of the Sheng family, which included a photo of her parents. At that time, the newspaper had to be sealed in the archives as evidence, so she searched the secondhand market, found the exact issue from that year and day, and bought it. It was also because of this that when she later sought out old reports on the Cheng family murder case, she was familiar with the process and went straight to Huang’s newspaper stall.
Zhu Qing had seen Sheng Peirong’s condition. She was still unconscious, but at least alive.
She could reach out to her mother’s pale yet warm hand, sitting beside her and reading aloud those tongue-twisting, dull financial news reports.
But her father...
Zhu Qing could only piece together his image through the blurry photo in the Hong Kong newspaper.
He was a father who deeply loved his daughter, searching for her whereabouts until his last breath.
Now that his child had finally come home, father and daughter were separated by the great beyond.
It was a pity, too many years too late—they could never be reunited as a family.
Zhu Qing remained silent, and even Sheng Fang, the little boy, was unusually quiet.
He was still too young. Even though he knew what the word “death” meant, he didn’t truly understand its real significance.
Perhaps one day, when Sheng Fang grew up, he would stare at the photos his parents left behind, repeatedly recalling the memories his mom and dad gave him while they were still alive.
But for now, he was still clueless—only aware that Qingzi had suddenly become very sad, and that his own tummy was growling with hunger.
“Qingzi.” Sheng Fang tugged at Zhu Qing’s sleeve, his little voice soft and sweet.
“Let’s go, let’s eat.”
They had lunch at the Hong Kong University cafeteria.
Curry fish balls were Sheng Fang’s favorite. He mixed the fish balls and curry sauce into his rice, leaning his little face close to the bowl, his nose dusted with shiny sauce, eating like a little kitten. Seeing him enjoy his food so much, Zhu Qing’s heavy heart gradually lightened, and before she knew it, she had eaten half a bowl more than usual.
After getting into the car, Cheng Xinglang’s long fingers rested on the steering wheel.
“The Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center?”
The next stop was the Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center.
“You know us so well, Qingzi!” Sheng Fang poked his little head out from the back seat. “Let’s go!”
The car stopped in front of the white building of the Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center.
Cheng Xinglang turned off the engine, his fingertips still lingering on the steering wheel, showing no intention of unbuckling his seatbelt.
On this trip, Cheng Xinglang had fully taken on the role of driver.
“I’m not going in.”
As she stepped into the hospital, the sterile smell of the disinfectant wafted to her nose. Zhu Qing suddenly recalled the case files she had once reviewed.
The case involving the Cheng family—the one where the parents of Cheng Xinglang were murdered by a mentally ill patient—was connected to the very hospital from which the patient had escaped.
Cheng Xinglang cared more than anyone else about his family’s case.
Over the years, he must have stood countless times in front of this white building, watching the medical staff come and go, yet he still couldn’t find a reasonable explanation for everything that happened that fateful night.
Zhu Qing instinctively glanced back and saw through the glass door that his car was still parked there.
But it had already been restarted, the tail lights glowing.
He had just said his goodbyes to them.
“Wow.” Sheng Fang scrunched his nose and shook his head. “This driver is so unprofessional.”
“Are you the one paying his salary?” Zhu Qing laughed as she playfully tapped his nose. “A driver, huh?”
……
They arrived back at the Yau Ma Tei Police Station around three in the afternoon.
Not too early, not too late—just in time for Sheng Fang’s afternoon tea. Mo Zhenbang was treating everyone, and the plastic bags in the hands of the café staff rustled loudly.
“Bing Kee’s here! Who ordered the food?” the waiter shouted at the top of his lungs.
Mo sir was always generous. Even though the case remained unsolved, he never forgot to reward his team. He always said, “You need to eat well to have the energy to work.” But in reality, those who needed to work right now had no time to eat. They were buried under piles of files, stretched thin.
Only Sheng Fang held an egg tart in each hand, his flaky crust smudging the corners of his mouth as he squinted with a face full of satisfaction.
For Sheng Fang, this was simply a perfect weekend.
Spending time with Zhu Qing made the hours fly by—much more fun than queuing up with boring kids at the playground in kindergarten!
Back in the Major Crime Unit B, Sheng Fang considered himself part of the adult world again.
He slouched in his office swivel chair, watching his colleagues busy at work.
“We’ve confirmed that Xu Mingyuan’s aunt has indeed retired and now lives in an old public nursing home in Kowloon.”
“According to her former hospital colleagues, she is now suffering from dementia.”
“Back then, she took care of Xu Mingyuan with great dedication. Over the years, she had chances to start her own family, but to be blunt… taking care of him was like carrying a ‘little baggage.’ In those days, that was quite a burden. Several times when she was about to get engaged, it just didn’t work out. After breaking up with her last boyfriend, she never dated again and raised Xu Mingyuan on her own.”
At this point, Hao Zai suddenly fell silent and glanced at the young master of the Sheng family.
Fortunately, he was overthinking it. The kid didn’t mind the term “little baggage” at all. It had nothing to do with him—he was the little uncle.
“I’ve checked the Kowloon nursing home. The environment is, to put it mildly, quite basic. Three people share a room, and the caregivers are simply overwhelmed. Given Xu Mingyuan’s current financial status, he could easily afford to send his aunt to a better nursing home, one with one-on-one care.”
“It really doesn’t make sense. For a successful man like him to…”
Chun Yu
“The psychologist let Aunt Ping, who raised him with so much hardship, live in such poor conditions…”
“Do you think it’s possible… that Xu Mingyuan’s relationship with his aunt is actually quite distant?”
The voice flipping through the files echoed in the office.
“So you mean the ‘filial piety’ Xu Mingyuan shows is just a façade for outsiders? But that doesn’t make sense—who is he pretending for?”
“Let’s visit the nursing home first and see. Maybe the old lady can give us some clues.”
Mo Zhenbang glanced around the room and began assigning tasks.
Sheng Fang slid off the swivel chair with a soft “plop,” only to find Zhu Qing still sitting in the same spot, leisurely poking open a cup of iced milk tea with a straw.
Zhu Qing flipped open her notebook and started organizing the information they had gathered from Professor Yang that morning.
She had already printed out all of Xu Mingyuan’s recent research papers. Returning from the AV room, she saw Sheng Fang slumped over his workstation, rubbing his tired eyes.
Recently, Sheng Fang had developed the good habit of taking a nap every day at kindergarten.
At this moment, the warm afternoon sun shone just right. The baby had eaten and drunk his fill, his two chubby arms folded like lotus roots, his plump cheeks resting on them, his little head bobbing slightly.
“I’ll call Aunt Ping,” Zhu Qing said softly. “Should I take you home first?”
Sheng Fang yawned, pointing toward Weng Zhaolin’s office, his voice thick with sleepiness. “Go there.”
Inside Weng Sir’s office was a comfortable single sofa.
A three-year-old child was just a tiny bundle, curled up on it, able to sleep soundly.
But every time Weng Zhaolin looked up, he saw the child there.
The young officers in Team B were getting more and more out of line—bringing kids to work was one thing, but now they were blatantly sneaking them into the senior inspector’s office.
What kind of precedent was this?
The sleeping child on the sofa turned over, nearly rolling off.
Weng Zhaolin got up and moved a chair to block the edge of the sofa.
“This is a one-time exception,” he muttered to himself, his tone stern. “No repeats.”
…
By evening, the blinds outside showed only dusk.
Hao Zai and Little Sun returned, exhausted, from the Kowloon Nursing Home.
Hao Zai tossed the police car keys onto the table and grabbed a cup of water from his desk, downing half of it.
“We saw Xu Mingyuan’s aunt.”
“The symptoms of her dementia are definitely not mild. She spoke incoherently—one moment saying Mingyuan is her own son, the next saying she’s waiting at the school gate for her dad to pick her up… We couldn’t get any useful information from her at all.”
“Xu Mingyuan is truly filial. I heard from the nurse that he visits his aunt every week, and he always brings her favorite Yuen Long old-style wife cakes. He even drives all the way to Yuen Long to buy them from the traditional shop. Doing that once or twice might seem like showmanship, but he’s kept it up every single week for three whole years. How many people could actually stick to that?”
At this point, Hao Zai paused dramatically, lengthening his tone as he asked, “Guess what day of the week it is?”
“You’ve already said it, so it has to be Tuesday.”
“Exactly, Tuesday. Xu Mingyuan visits his aunt every Tuesday. Could there be some special significance to that?”
“Of course, maybe their relationship is genuinely that close.”
“But what if their bond isn’t as good as it seems on the surface? What if, since he was little, Tuesday has been an unpleasant day for him? Maybe his aunt would punish him on Tuesdays, or—”
“In psychological terms, that’s what they call a ‘trigger point’ for trauma.”
Before he could finish, Liang Qikai entered the room with a stern expression, slamming a magazine heavily onto the table.
“What’s this? I’ve never even heard of this magazine before. Where did this unscrupulous media come from, making up new stories again?”
“The media is defending Xu Mingyuan, saying our investigation was too rough and damaging the reputation of a respected doctor.”
“I don’t even know which third-rate tabloid this came from, putting on a show with a seemingly neutral article to support this so-called ‘outstanding’ psychologist.”
“Look here, the reporter even collected testimonials from Xu Mingyuan’s patients.”
“Officer Weng already said it—public opinion will always side with the doctor.”
The headline read—
“Renowned Psychologist Under Improper Police Investigation”
Zeng Yongshan took the magazine and frowned as she read the bolded words aloud.
“Dr. Xu saved me. Other doctors just prescribe medication, but he taught me how to rebuild my confidence. I’m so grateful to him for helping me rediscover the joy of living.”
“I’ve seen psychologists for ten years, but only Dr. Xu was willing to spend an extra hour each week listening to my family issues. Those complaints only truly felt released the moment I voiced them.”
“My father kept saying he was useless after turning seventy. At first, we children thought it was just whining, blaming him for causing trouble. But his mental state really worsened... until he met Dr. Xu. Once, I picked up my father and overheard Dr. Xu calling him ‘Teacher Chen.’ My father used to be an excellent physics teacher before retirement, but no one had called him that for over ten years. Dr. Xu always treats every patient with such care.”
Now, Zeng Yongshan understood why even the usually mild-tempered Officer Liang had entered the office with such a serious face.
At that moment, she casually tossed the magazine back onto the table.
“Meeting time!” Mo Zhenbang’s voice came from the end of the corridor.
Everyone almost forgot that ten minutes earlier, Atou had already reminded them to tidy up the meeting room.
The whiteboard in the meeting room was covered with photos of the victims.
The officers from Major Crimes Unit B lifted their heads, their gazes sweeping across each face.
In chronological order, the first victim was Wang Yingtong.
In the photo, she wore a delicate bridal makeup, yet it couldn’t conceal the timidity in her eyes. She was a young woman severely deprived of love, who had entered marriage without hesitation, only to despise herself later for being unable to conceive.
The second victim was Ding Panxiang.
This was a photo taken when she was applying for a health certificate at a food factory. Her eyes were dull, staring hard at the camera. She worked tirelessly because at home, her intellectually disabled son was waiting for her. According to the investigation, after her husband passed away, Ding Panxiang raised her son alone. Every day, she prepared lunch and dinner in advance, and when she left for work, she locked her son inside the house. Perhaps this was still not safe enough, but she had no other choice.
“She and her husband had a love marriage back then. The neighbors all said that Ding Panxiang had once been happy. The young couple scrimped and saved to buy their first radio and fell asleep every night listening to the broadcast.”
“Even after their son was born and suffered a medical accident during childbirth, they never complained. They took good care of the child together. Every day, the child was dressed neatly and cleanly, looking no different from other children.”
“Unfortunately, the good times didn’t last. After her husband’s sudden death, the family fell apart. She struggled alone to raise her intellectually disabled son for more than ten years. Just when she finally made it to his adulthood, she realized this was the most hopeless part. An adult son needs even more care, and this burden could never be lifted.”
“She deliberately rented a place to burn charcoal because she couldn’t bear to leave her own home, where so many beautiful memories remained. But honestly… the landlord was truly unfortunate. Who could they turn to for justice?”
The third victim was Deng Qiaorong.
This woman, with a simple ponytail, smiled in her photo taken at the tea stall, a ballpoint pen tucked in the pocket of her apron.
As the eldest daughter in her family, Deng Qiaorong gave everything she had, always thinking of others.
In the end, she hanged herself in the dormitory, probably causing the greatest trouble for others.
“We contacted her old colleague from the tea stall, Afen. Afen said that Deng Qiaorong once said something that still left a deep impression on her.”
“Deng Qiaorong said that she had always felt she had given everything and had nothing left, so her family should love her more. But later, she suddenly told Afen that she had nothing at all — so why should anyone love her? Love is conditional.”
The fourth victim was You Minmin.
You Minmin, who always hid in the corners, was like a speck of dust—dull and insignificant in the eyes of others. Yet, within the diary she left behind, lay the quiet joys, sorrows, and emotions of this girl.
The police officers discussed the case, their brows furrowing deeper with each passing moment.
“Xu Mingyuan’s psychological manipulations are methodical. You Minmin cared most about her brother’s presence, so he deliberately targeted that vulnerability.”
“Callers to the radio station, framing her brother… this was a death tailored specifically for You Minmin.”
“Ding Panxiang believed death was the only release, Deng Qiaorong thought love required bargaining chips, and then there’s Wang Yingtong—”
“He knows exactly how to manipulate people’s hearts. Whether it’s Wang Yingtong, Ding Panxiang, or Deng Qiaorong… Xu Mingyuan fully exploited their pain.”
The discussion in the conference room continued, when suddenly, Xu Jiale burst through the door.
Waving a document vigorously in his hand, he exclaimed, “We’ve found it! The middleman selling patient lists has finally been caught!”
…
Mo Zhenbang led the team to search Xu Mingyuan’s psychological clinic.
At the time, Xu remained exceptionally calm, his expression composed as he admitted to providing free psychological counseling to these four patients. He claimed that as a healer, compassion mattered more than profit.
When he heard the news of Wang Yingtong, Ding Panxiang, and Deng Qiaorong’s deaths, Xu Mingyuan’s brows furrowed just enough, and a flicker of surprise passed behind his glasses. He said he was unaware of their fate. Although regretful, it was not unexpected—patients with severe depression often end up taking their own lives. It was all too common.
He also insisted he had no knowledge of their involvement with the Healing Society. Their visits to his clinic were mere coincidences.
Now, with no direct evidence, he could fabricate any story he wanted.
As for the phone call recording from Zhu Qing, Xu Mingyuan had his own plausible explanation.
He explained that member information of the Psychological Association was shared. He couldn’t recall where he had seen the single mother’s number before, and calling her was simply an attempt to help. Didn’t he remind her to regularly attend the Healing Society’s parent-child activities?
Though his explanations weren’t flawless, the police couldn’t find any concrete evidence.
Until now, when the mole inside the Healing Society was finally arrested.
The trembling finance staff confessed that Xu Mingyuan paid her a monthly cash bribe in exchange for the latest membership lists.
The police car screeched to a halt outside Xu Mingyuan’s clinic in Central.
When the officers pushed open the consultation room door, Xu Mingyuan stood with his back to the entrance, in front of a filing cabinet, about to put something away.
Hearing the noise, his shoulders stiffened momentarily but quickly relaxed back to normal.
When Uncle Li presented the search warrant, Xu Mingyuan held a file in his hand.
His movements remained composed as he placed the file into the cabinet.
But in the next second, a police officer pulled the file out.
Xu Mingyuan’s eyes narrowed sharply, his gaze following the file.
It was a psychological evaluation.
The edges of the paper bore creases, as if it had been frequently flipped through.
Xu Mingyuan’s usually warm and gentle smile had turned cold.
At the same time, Zhu Qing was pacing back and forth in the police station.
She didn’t know when exactly it had started, but this case had deeply gripped her heart.
Footsteps echoed, and she noticed Officer Mo stepping out from Weng Zhaolin’s office.
Zhu Qing was overwhelmed with busyness and only now remembered that her uncle had come to the police station with her.
“Officer Mo,” Zhu Qing asked, “Has Fang Fang woken up yet?”
Mo Zhenbang cleared his throat lightly, then mysteriously nodded toward Weng’s office. “Friendly talks.”
At that moment, Sheng Fang was sitting on the sofa, his hair sticking up like Teletubbies’ antennas.
He stretched lazily and looked at Officer Weng.
Just now, he had been dozing off, vaguely overhearing the conversation between Mo Zhenbang and Zhaolin.
At the time, Sheng Fang heard Officer Mo pleading—
This job has been really tough. The “ghost calls” case uncovered a deeper story behind it. Just the healing sessions for the 470 female members—calling and visiting each one—was already an enormous workload. Not to mention, to be safe, they were still reaching out to the male members.
Officer Mo suggested that the event at the villa in Repulse Bay be rescheduled.
Weng Zhaolin replied—
“Being tired is exactly what you deserve; the taxpayers pay for them!”
Sheng Fang was instantly roused from sleep.
Listen, listen! What kind of words are those coming from John?
Now that Mo Zhenbang had left, Weng Zhaolin was venting his frustrations.
“Am I not tired?”
“Am I the only one who has to sympathize with their difficulties? Why don’t they ever consider mine?”
“This morning, when I ran into the police superintendent in the restaurant, I even avoided him!”
Fang Fang said, “Now I have to scold you, John.”
He had been so looking forward to the weekend trip to Repulse Bay.
Just like that, it was canceled, and Fang Fang, along with all his colleagues, felt disappointed. As everyone’s little uncle, Sheng Fang put on a stern, no-nonsense attitude and laid out the facts to Zhaolin.
John only liked to hear sweet talk.
Now he looked at Sheng Fang in disbelief—was this still the thoughtful kid from last time?
Weng Zhaolin grumbled, “Do you know how expensive the Peninsula Hotel’s private chef is? Are you paying for it?”
“Of course not,” the young master replied sincerely. “I’m rich—”
He paused, wagging his finger as he added, “Not a fool.”
When Zhu Qing knocked and entered the office, she saw Weng and Sheng Fang sitting back to back on opposite sides.
They were sulking, neither willing to speak.
A standoff with their backs turned to each other.
Zhu Qing: ……
……
Saturday passed in the blink of an eye, and the investigation continued.
Little Sheng Fang already knew that this Sunday, Qing would definitely be working late into the night.
His niece had given him a heads-up before leaving that morning.
She said, “Don’t wait for me to have dinner tonight.”
“Aunt Ping, where are we going to play?” Fang Fang stretched out his small hands and feet, sprawled on the floor in a big star shape.
After lying down for a while, he turned over and lay on his stomach, his little face pressed against the floor.
It was already autumn, and lying on the floor would definitely make him catch a chill. But children are full of energy and completely unaware of such things. Aunt Ping was overly worried, so she laid several thick, fluffy quilts on the floor. That way, the young master could roll around without catching a cold or feeling the hard floor beneath him.
It was like a soft playground.
Only, the house looked messy, which was rather unpleasant to see.
“Why don’t we go out and buy a carpet?” Aunt Ping suggested.
Fangfang pouted.
Buying a carpet didn’t sound like a very exciting weekend activity.
But seeing the hopeful look in Aunt Ping’s eyes, he reluctantly nodded.
“Alright then.”
The uncle and nephew split up.
Fangfang was led by Aunt Ping to the mall to pick out a carpet, while Qingzai went with his colleagues to the Yau Ma Tei police station, engaging in a new round of wits and strategy against the criminals.
The interrogation room was bathed in harsh, pale light.
Xu Mingyuan had been in custody for over eighteen hours, yet his expression remained calm and unshaken, as if he were offering the most professional psychological therapy, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“The therapists at the Healing Association can’t even handle the initial trauma intervention properly. I’m just trying to help them better.”
“I don’t understand why you keep emphasizing female patients. Both men and women can face psychological issues to varying degrees, right?”
Zeng Yongshan slid a stack of photos across the table.
“Then how do you explain these cases of induced suicide?”
Xu Mingyuan’s expression didn’t change at all. He leaned back in his chair.
“Sorry, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Madam, you need to be responsible for your words, or I can sue you for defamation.”
“My lawyer should already be on the way.”
Behind the one-way glass in the observation room, the police watched every subtle expression on Xu Mingyuan’s face.
“A real tough nut to crack,” Hao Zai muttered through gritted teeth, tearing open a mint candy and tossing the crumpled wrapper at the glass.
The officers reopened the file Xu Mingyuan had tried to hide during his time at the psychological clinic.
Song Sijia, twenty-five years old.
Deaf and mute, able to read lips but illiterate, communicating through sign language.
At five years old, a high fever caused her deafness and muteness. Her impoverished family refused to buy her a hearing aid. When it came time for school, they didn’t send her either.
Now, Song Sijia lived alone in a subdivided flat, scraping by with the meager income from selling books at a night market stall.
“No way. Could Xu Mingyuan even know sign language?”
“He was so anxious when he hid that file at the clinic. Could it be that this girl…”
…
Among the Healing Association’s 470 female members, nineteen had yet to be contacted.
Song Sijia was one of them.
As a deaf-mute, she left no phone number, and the police couldn’t communicate with her through conventional means.
The front desk nurse’s testimony was vague, and the medical records were flawless.
“There are so many night markets in Hong Kong—Temple Street, Ladies’ Market, Mong Kok Night Market… Who knows exactly where she’s setting up her stall?”
“And these subdivided flats. There are countless subdivided flats all over Hong Kong. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Besides, we don’t even know what she looks like. We only have her name. How are we supposed to find her?”
As the police, of course, they wanted to seek justice for the deceased.
But the living—
Perhaps they had already become Xu Mingyuan’s next targets.
“Song Sijia is very likely his next prey.”
“Today is already Sunday. In just a few hours, it will be past midnight. Based on the pattern of the previous cases…”
Several officers spoke in unison, “Tuesday!”
“That’s right. If Song Sijia is going to be in danger, it’ll be on Tuesday… We have less than forty-eight hours left.”
They had no time to ponder why “Tuesday” held such significance.
Right now, they had to race against time—rescue first, questions later.
At nine o’clock that evening, the officers quickly split into teams and headed to various night markets across Hong Kong.
Zhu Qing said, “I need to go home first.”
The investigation showed that the deaf-mute girl, Song Sijia, was illiterate and could only communicate through lip-reading and sign language.
Suddenly, Zhu Qing remembered a toolkit issued during police academy training. Inside was a blue-covered book titled *Police Sign Language Quick Reference Manual*, quietly lying in her drawer at that very moment.
She hurried home, tiptoeing quietly as she pushed open the door.
Aunt Ping’s room door was tightly closed, and Sheng Fang’s room was unusually quiet—he must have already fallen asleep.
She tiptoed into her own room and opened the drawer.
As she found the sign language guide, Zhu Qing felt a sense of relief. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the computer mouse she had hidden away.
They had agreed that every weekend, Sheng Fang was allowed to play *Monopoly 3*—he had even bargained for an extra hour.
But when the weekend came, he had forgotten all about it.
She wasn’t sure if Sheng Fang was a clever little kid or just a silly one.
Zhu Qing gently closed the drawer.
Just as she turned to leave—
“Bang!”
A soft little figure suddenly collapsed.
Sheng Fang had bumped his head on the door.
“Why are you here?”
The kid must have overheard her coming home and was lurking by the bedroom door.
Somehow, he had mastered the art of proper tracking and counter-tracking. Spotting his niece sneaking in stealthily, he was ready to block her escape route at any moment.
He clutched his forehead with both hands after the collision.
Zhu Qing hurried over and carefully cupped his little face to check.
She hadn’t pushed the door with much force just now.
“Are you okay?” Zhu Qing wiggled two fingers teasingly near him. “Let’s see if your brain is still working.”
“Sheng Fang, what’s one plus one?”
Sheng Fang pursed his lips. They hadn’t seen each other all day, and here she was, trying to sneak away.
He felt wronged in his heart and wasn’t about to let Zhu Qing off the hook.
He was sticking around!
Her two fingers waved back and forth right in front of him for a long time.
Fangfang blinked her eyes, and before she knew it, she was cross-eyed.
"Are you okay? Can't answer?"
Seeing Zaizai silent and a bit dazed, Zhu Qing was momentarily stunned.
She then said seriously, "You don’t know?"
"Sheng Fang, what is one plus one?"
The little one held up four short fingers, "Three? Qingzi."
Zhu Qing squinted, "Go to sleep."
Fangfang’s little face looked confused.
Are adults really this clever?
