After several crushing defeats in his encounters with the female officer, Sheng Fang finally figured out a winning strategy—brandishing a small handkerchief to bluff his way through.
The child was forcing a mature demeanor, but how much cunning could one expect from someone so young? Zhu Qing felt three classic comic-style sweat drops sliding down her temple, like the exasperated expressions in old-fashioned picture books.
By the time the tutor arrived punctually, Marysa, the housemaid, had already returned from the kitchen only to discover the young master had vanished in broad daylight. As she panicked and searched frantically, the commotion had already caught the attention of Sheng Peishan and Chen Chaosheng.
Faced with the stormy expression on the second son-in-law’s face, Marysa knew she was in trouble and wisely turned to the second young miss to plead for mercy.
The unexpected death of the little dog had already left Sheng Peishan’s eyes red from crying. She began to worry that her husband’s car’s unexplained brake failure a few days prior wasn’t a coincidence. Now, with her younger brother suddenly missing, she connected these incidents to the skeletal remains found in the fireplace.
“Chaosheng,” Sheng Peishan grasped Chen Chaosheng’s hand, “It’s the killer—it must be the killer!”
The servants gasped in unison.
Who would be foolish enough to kill someone and hide the body right under their own nose? Everyone had assumed the cold case was the work of the construction workers from back then. But now, the second young miss was suggesting the murderer might very well be among them…
Chen Chaosheng rested a comforting hand on his wife’s trembling shoulder and barked sharply, “How could a grown person just disappear into thin air? Stop standing around—go and search!”
“Peishan, the police are already here. Don’t panic just yet…”
Before Sheng Peishan could even ask the officers for help, Butler Cui returned from the garden with Sheng Fang in tow.
“Second Young Miss,” the old butler said with a kindly smile, “The young master is here. He just ran off to play.”
Sheng Peishan looked dazed, visibly relaxing. Chen Chaosheng apologized, explaining that too much had happened recently, and his wife was simply overwrought.
With the child safely returned, the second young miss pulled her brother close, finally at ease.
Meanwhile, Zhu Qing had barely stepped inside when she received her next orders.
Mo Zhenbang’s gaze lingered on Chen Chaosheng’s face for a moment. “Regarding the brake failure, take a statement from Mr. Chen.”
…
The skeletal remains in the fireplace needed investigating, the dog’s mysterious death needed investigating, the brake failure needed investigating… So far, the three pieces of information didn’t seem strongly connected. Zeng Yongshan couldn’t hold back her thoughts. The moment Chen Chaosheng left after giving his statement, she nudged Zhu Qing’s arm.
“This Mr. Chen isn’t quite what I expected.”
“They say he’s a refined, gentlemanly type, but in person, he’s decisive and commanding.”
“No wonder. If the second son-in-law didn’t have some steel in him, someone as gentle as the second young miss would’ve been devoured long ago by those wolves on the board of directors.”
They had assumed the Sheng family’s power struggle was just between the eldest and second daughters, with maybe the three-year-old child thrown in.
But now it seemed neither Sheng Peirong nor Sheng Peishan cared much about the family fortune. Instead, Chen Chaosheng had become the natural choice to take the reins of the conglomerate.
Zeng Yongshan sighed dramatically. “Being an heiress must be nice. When you’re young, Daddy shields you from the storm. Now that Old Master Sheng has passed, the sky hasn’t fallen—someone’s always there to hold it up for her. They say Mr. Chen fell for the second young miss at first sight. Even when they were dating, he volunteered to have their future children take her surname. Old Master Sheng was overjoyed!”
Zhu Qing raised an eyebrow. “Who told you that?”
Zeng Yongshan’s eyes widened, and she smacked Zhu Qing’s arm excitedly. “You’re actually gossiping with me!”
“Butler Cui mentioned it while making tea,” she said, linking arms with Zhu Qing. “He said the second young miss once wanted to be child-free to focus on her entertainment career, and Mr. Chen supported her. Then after the car accident damaged her health, he still stayed by her side, cherishing her like a treasure.”
The enthusiastic physical contact made Zhu Qing stiffen. She tried to pull away, but Zeng Yongshan only tightened her grip.
Meanwhile, Mo Zhenbang had stepped into the garden, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, listening to the forensics officer—Zhu Qing’s senior—report on the evidence.
“After chemical treatment, engraved letters were revealed inside the ring. But the prolonged exposure to high heat has blurred the markings. Inspector Ge needs to process it further.”
“How soon can we get results?”
Zeng Yongshan tiptoed, watching as Chen Chaosheng, having finished his statement, hurried back inside to tend to his wife.
“So sweet…” Zeng Yongshan sighed. “When will I ever meet a prince like that?”
Zhu Qing’s focus remained on the victim’s ring, staring at the evidence bag from a distance. “Tomorrow. At the earliest, tomorrow.”
“Really?” Zeng Yongshan’s face lit up, her almond eyes curving into crescents.
Zhu Qing blinked, confused. “What?”
“I’m holding you to that!” She twirled away, humming a Cantonese tune as she rejoined her colleagues.
…
The police’s forensic work continued. Several officers knelt on the lawn, collecting fibers from the pet dog Bobo’s bedding, food remnants, and other samples, sealing them in evidence bags for further lab analysis.
Dusk had settled, a light breeze stirring. Chen Chaosheng tightened the shawl around Sheng Peishan’s shoulders.
“My sister loved Bobo the most,” Sheng Peishan murmured. “If she knew how horribly he died…”
CID had routinely checked the whereabouts of the Sheng family members during the estimated time of the crime.
At that time, Sheng Peirong and her husband, Cheng Zhaoqian, were abroad, placing them above suspicion. As a result, the police had never met the eldest daughter of the Sheng family.
But now, the officers found themselves increasingly baffled by the dynamics of this wealthy household.
Rumors said Sheng Peirong and her father, Sheng Wenchang, had severed ties completely—that she wouldn’t even burn incense for him after his death. Yet now, it seemed she wasn’t entirely heartless.
Sheng Peishan dabbed at her tears with a fingertip, her voice uneasy. “Inspector Mo, I know you’re busy, but tonight, could you possibly…”
She wanted the investigators to stay overnight, at least until the cause of Bobo’s death was confirmed.
CID specialized in criminal investigations, not routine protection details. She knew it was an irregular request, but with so much happening in just two days, the second young miss of the Sheng family couldn’t shake the feeling that the killer was lurking somewhere in the shadows—and that their lives were in danger.
“Peishan,” Chen Chaosheng said gently, shaking his head, “That’s not standard procedure.”
“What if we get special approval from Regional Crime Unit’s Inspector Di?” Sheng Peishan clutched her husband’s sleeve. “I’m not in the best health, and my brother’s so young. If that murderer… The child is innocent!”
“If your people stay, at least the killer wouldn’t dare act recklessly.”
Chen Chaosheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “This is—”
“It’s only human,” Inspector Mo mused. “Alright, Jiale and…”
The air grew heavy. The officers exchanged glances.
This was highly irregular—they should be calling in the specialized unit. But everyone knew their boss cared only about solving cases, never about playing by the book. Besides, if the Sheng family really called the Chief Superintendent’s office, the outcome would be the same anyway.
Zhu Qing spoke up. “I’ll stay.”
Although the bus schedule from Mid-Levels to Wong Chuk Hang was sparse, the trip covered just over ten kilometers, meaning Zhu Qing’s return would take no more than forty minutes.
It might be better to stay at the Sheng residence and focus on uncovering the truth.
After all, the Sheng family harbored far too many secrets.
...
The Sheng family had arranged two guest rooms for Zhu Qing and Xu Jiale.
"The key lies in the engraving on the ring, but after cross-referencing He Jia'er’s surgical records, the identity of the skeletal remains is practically confirmed," Mo Zhenbang said before leaving. "Pull your thoughts together and wait for Inspector Ge to process the inner markings of the ring again."
"Keep a close watch tonight—don’t give Inspector Weng another reason to nitpick."
Xu Jiale escorted Mo Zhenbang to the door. "But the connection between He Jia'er and this villa—"
Before he could finish, Mo Zhenbang had already gotten into the car. The door slammed shut with a "bang," cutting off the officer’s question, its trailing note swallowed by the roar of the engine.
Meanwhile, in the second-floor guest room, Maid Zhang smoothed the bedspread. "Madam, the bathroom is stocked with brand-new toiletries, and the pajamas are—"
"No need."
Late at night, the servants retreated to their quarters.
Zhu Qing went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then walked through the corridor connecting the two villas, the glass cool in her hand.
A skeleton had once been hidden in the fireplace. She remembered the tremor that ran through her at the sight of those bones—yet she felt no fear.
All she wanted was to understand what the victim was trying to say through those remains.
"Who’s there?"
A figure moved in the shadows before Butler Cui stepped forward. "Madam."
Everyone avoided this fireplace, holding their breath as they hurried past the hallway without so much as a glance back.
But Butler Cui lingered, staring at it. "When the master was alive, he loved playing chess with the young mistress by the fireplace..."
"It seems Butler Cui misses Old Master Sheng deeply."
"There used to be a Christmas tree here. A photo of the master and the young mistress in front of it still sits in his study." Butler Cui sighed faintly, lost in thought. "It’s late, Madam. You should rest."
The guest room arranged for Zhu Qing was at the far end of the second floor.
Beyond the spiral staircase at the end lay direct access to the children’s room.
Only Sheng Fang lived on the third floor, next to Marysa’s room.
Spotting Zhu Qing, the young master of the Sheng family poked out his fluffy head. "Lady cop."
She corrected him. "It’s Madam, not lady cop."
"Who doesn’t know that?" The little lord lifted his chin. "I have a tutor."
A three-and-a-half-year-old young master was no illiterate child.
The door to the children’s room was left ajar. The balcony had been sealed off, but the adults had forgotten about the drainpipe—this was the young master’s secret passage, the copper pipe he slid down to sneak into the garden.
Zhu Qing leaned against the railing beside the balcony. "After today’s disappearance, this secret route will be locked too."
The usually precocious young master finally resembled an innocent child, heaving a long, dramatic sigh.
Bending down, Zhu Qing suddenly noticed something. "From this angle, you can see BoBo’s doghouse."
"Of course." The little one, wrapped in silk pajamas like a proud corgi, declared, "BoBo would catch the rainbow frisbee I threw from here!"
"Did you notice anything unusual this morning, before noon?"
Zhu Qing wondered if she’d lost her mind, asking a child for testimony...
The boy plopped onto the floor, cross-legged, chubby cheeks propped in his hands. "BoBo barked at him—'woof woof woof!'"
Him?
Puzzled, Zhu Qing crouched until her gaze matched the child’s height. Only then did she see—through the window of BoBo’s doghouse—the figure standing beside it.
Chen Chaosheng stood with his wife, gently wiping the edges of a photo frame before placing it beside the doghouse.
The night breeze stirred Sheng Peishan’s shawl, her silhouette frail and solitary.
"I heard Second Brother-in-law say they’re going to make a tombstone for BoBo," the curly-haired boy asked. "What’s a tombstone?"
Zhu Qing froze, then turned to see Sheng Fang gazing up at the starry sky.
Starlight pooled in the child’s clear eyes.
According to Zeng Yongshan’s gossip, the Sheng family still hadn’t told Sheng Fang about his parents’ deaths in the plane crash. Whether it was to protect his young heart or because they simply didn’t care, the police had no interest in probing further into the wealthy family’s secrets.
Could a three-and-a-half-year-old truly grasp the meaning of death?
Zhu Qing only remembered that at his age, she’d been negotiating with the older kids at the orphanage. They’d trade plush toys donated by volunteers, pretending to befriend her, coaxing her to give up her bed—only to snatch it back and shove her by the drafty window.
She’d learned early that warmth had to be fought for.
The winter wind was too cold. After that, Zhu Qing never played with toys again. Nor did she make friends.
"Hey, help."
The mischievous young master still lacked manners, but perhaps it was the sight of his small figure trudging back alone, tiny feet kicking at the air—
She saw the lonely little girl from the orphanage.
"Help with what?" Zhu Qing followed him.
"Making a tombstone."
Marysa tidied the children’s room at least three times a day, yet the desk was already a mess again.
Sheng Fang found cardstock and safety scissors, then perched on the bay window. His stubby fingers struggled with the blunt scissors as he hacked the paper into a lopsided rectangle. He scurried around the room, digging through the ruins of his toy kingdom until he unearthed the flattened "corpse" from his earlier battle with Marysa.
The young master tossed a tin of crayons at her with a clatter.
The chubby crayon heads rolled to Zhu Qing’s feet.
"Write the epitaph," Young Master Sheng announced solemnly. "Here lies Ultraman."
