Sheng Fang sat in the dean's office, his little feet dangling from the edge of the chair. The usually curious child, who would normally be fascinated by everything around him, didn’t glance around this time. Instead, he quietly watched Dean Luo’s lips move as he spoke.
A three-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t possibly understand the medical jargon about brain damage and surgical risks that Dean Luo was explaining. All he could sense was the unease in Zhu Qing’s solemn expression. His niece’s brows were tightly knitted, and Dean Luo was pulling a thick stack of documents from the filing cabinet behind him.
"We’ve had successful cases before—patients who gradually regained speech and mobility after surgery," he said, placing the case reports in front of them before pausing. "But there have also been failures, where the brain damage worsened post-operation, or even…"
On Dean Luo’s desk, two piles of case files formed a stark contrast. Compared to the towering stack of failed cases on the left, the few success stories on the right looked pitifully sparse.
Zhu Qing knew these weren’t just cold statistics. Behind the failed cases lay the unspoken implications Dean Luo hesitated to voice.
Once those patients were wheeled into the operating room, they never came out.
"Based on Ms. Sheng’s current test results, she meets all the surgical criteria and is a suitable candidate for intervention."
"The deadline for enrollment in the new treatment program is the end of October. You still have time to consider."
Dean Luo flipped open a calendar and circled a date with a black pen. "Even if you decide on surgery, there’s a three-week preoperative preparation period. We’d need to adjust medication and improve nutritional indicators."
Though Dean Luo’s explanation was professional and clear, Zhu Qing could only distill two key points.
A decision had to be made before October, and the surgery would follow—
At most, two months could mean the difference between life and death.
"As for conservative treatment, it can maintain the status quo, but the brain damage will continue to deteriorate irreversibly. By then, even this 30% chance of success will be gone." Dean Luo’s tone was gentle but firm. "I recommend giving me your answer within two weeks, so we can prepare thoroughly, whichever path you choose."
The chasm between Zhu Qing and her mother spanned more than just twenty years. By the time she finally stood by her mother’s bedside, she was already in a deep slumber.
There had been no warm embrace, no nagging chatter—not even once had she heard her mother call her name.
Their only "time together" was confined to this hospital room in the care facility.
Yet, strangely, every time she held her mother’s hand, it felt like grasping an invisible bond between them.
Sheng Fang suddenly scooted closer to her. His small, warm hand slipped into her cold palm.
He hadn’t fully understood Dean Luo’s words, but even in his confusion, the clever child had caught the gist—
It was a choice between life and death, and Zhu Qing had to make it.
After leaving the office, they wordlessly headed toward the patient ward.
Sheng Fang sat on a bench in the hallway with a comic book in his lap, peering through the slightly ajar door at Zhu Qing sitting by the hospital bed.
Whispers drifted over from the nurses’ station.
"Is this even a choice? Thirty percent survival, seventy percent death—it’s like asking a family member to gamble with their mother’s life…"
"How could anyone sign off on that—"
Sheng Fang flipped noisily through his comic book, waiting patiently.
He wondered what Zhu Qing was saying to his big sister right now.
…
The next morning, Sheng Fang didn’t go to kindergarten.
He heard Zhu Qing calling to excuse him, but for once, he didn’t cheer or raise his little hands in excitement. Because Zhu Qing sounded drained, forcing a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Aunt Ping had prepared a whole spread for them—roast goose, barbecued pork, freshly baked egg tarts, red-dyed eggs, and rice wine.
At first, Sheng Fang thought Zhu Qing was taking him on a picnic—until the car slowly pulled up to a place he’d never been before.
Daddy, Mommy, and Big Brother-in-law—they all lived here now.
Zhu Qing clutched a brand-new family pass in her hand.
Before this, she hadn’t even known this private cemetery existed.
The rules here were strict. Even though Zhu Qing was part of the Sheng family, without the proper paperwork, she wasn’t allowed to pay her respects.
The Sheng family’s lawyer had explained that her situation was too unusual. DNA verification required legal certification. The estate had been settled, yet her name had never appeared on any official document. In other words, even if everyone knew who she was, without completing the legal formalities, she remained barred from entry.
It wasn’t until three days ago, when the court officially recognized her as Sheng Fang’s guardian, that the cemetery administration finally granted her access.
Zhu Qing thought she ought to visit her father.
And her little uncle ought to see his daddy and mommy too.
She knelt, brushing dust off the tombstone and plucking a few weeds that had sprouted between the cracks.
Sheng Fang was Zhu Qing’s little spokesperson.
Whenever his niece fell silent, he could always speak up for her in his sweet, childish voice.
"Big Brother-in-law, we came to see you," he said, standing on tiptoe to pat the cold stone. "Coco’s all grown up now—do you still recognize her?"
The young master of the Sheng family had no memory of his brother-in-law. Even staring at the photo, the face felt unfamiliar.
But on closer inspection, he noticed Zhu Qing’s eyes resembled her mother’s, while her nose took after her father.
They spread out newspapers in front of the grave and unpacked the food containers one by one.
Aunt Ping had prepared all of this, saying these were Big Brother-in-law’s favorite dishes in life.
"Let Big Brother-in-law smell it three times first," Sheng Fang declared solemnly, holding a piece of barbecued pork close to the tombstone. "Aunt Ping said so."
This was Zhu Qing’s first time paying respects to her father, yet she was presenting him with an impossible question—
Should they go through with the surgery?
The man in the photo smiled gently, as if watching her in quiet contemplation.
Zhu Qing lowered her gaze, her throat tightening slightly.
For years, almost no one had come to visit him.
"I’ll come more often from now on," she murmured, her words carried away by the breeze.
After a long while, she took Sheng Fang’s hand and turned toward another tombstone.
"Daddy! Mommy!" The little one suddenly perked up, as if greeting old friends. "I’m here!"
"I moved out of the hillside place! We got a new home, and we even invited the police station buddies and Yongshan over."
Zhu Qing corrected him, "Not recently—that was months ago."
"Time flies," Sheng Fang sighed like a little adult. "So much has happened since then."
"I’ve been good! I got a ‘Clean Plate Club’ award at kindergarten! Zhu Qing stuck it on her bedroom wall, and now it won’t come off, so I can’t show you."
"The other day, when Zhu Qing was in the hospital, they measured me—I’ve grown taller! Aunt Ping says if I eat well and drink milk every day, I’ll be as tall as Zhu Qing soon."
Sheng Fang glanced at Zhu Qing, then suddenly wore a look of belated realization.
He nearly got fooled—Aunt Ping was wrong, it probably wouldn't happen so soon...
"By the way, Daddy, Mommy, we haven’t properly introduced her yet." He tugged at Zhu Qing's sleeve, speaking with exaggerated seriousness. "This is Qing Zai, your granddaughter, my niece."
The little boy couldn’t quite grasp the concept—couldn’t understand that he and his eldest sister were half-siblings.
But it didn’t matter. They were all family. His mommy was Qing Zai’s "grandma."
Zhu Qing was crouched down, arranging food boxes, when Sheng Fang tiptoed and rested his small hand on her shoulder.
Playing the role of a responsible uncle, he urged, "Qing Zai, call them Grandpa and Grandma!"
"Grandpa... Grandma..."
The golden light of an autumn morning spilled softly over the quiet cemetery.
Following tradition, they shared roast goose and egg tarts. Fang Fang acted as if they were on a picnic, occasionally tossing out random, childish remarks that seemed to warm even the cold gravestones.
Suddenly, Sheng Fang looked up. "Do people really turn into ghosts after they die?"
Zhu Qing had answered this question before, back when she was handling the "Ghost Call" case.
Her answer remained unchanged.
"There are no ghosts in this world."
"But even if there were..." Sheng Fang leaned closer to her. "I wouldn’t be scared."
He wasn’t afraid, because the ones resting here were his family.
His closest, dearest family.
Even if they were gone, they would surely watch over him and Qing Zai—
Bless Fang Fang to grow up strong and tall, bless Qing Zai... to make a decision she’d never regret.
......
Zhu Qing told Sheng Fang this would be their last day off.
From now on, he had to focus and return to kindergarten—what if he fell behind in his studies?
Sheng Fang puffed out his cheeks.
Kindergarten was just a place to play with blocks and eat snacks. Why did he need to "focus"?
But seeing the exhaustion in his niece’s expression, he decided not to argue.
As the elder, he had to give the younger ones some face. Enjoy the moment—no need to debate with kids over such things.
In the afternoon, Zhu Qing took Sheng Fang back to the hillside villa.
Aunt Ping went along, as she did every week to clean the place. Along the way, she reminisced about the past.
"When this house was being renovated, the second son-in-law oversaw everything personally. By the time they moved in, the eldest daughter and her husband had already moved out—they only came back for holidays to have dinner with Mr. Sheng."
Mentioning the eldest daughter, her husband, and the second son-in-law, Aunt Ping sighed.
Passing the dining room, she could almost picture the Sheng family gathered around the table—now, everything had changed.
"It wasn’t until the second daughter had her accident that the eldest started visiting more often, nagging her to take her medicine."
"Back then, the second daughter was so depressed she wouldn’t even open the curtains. She said if sunlight came in, she’d see her crippled legs."
"She’d smash bowls of herbal medicine in fits of anger. But the moment the eldest daughter arrived and sat beside her, she’d drink it all without complaint."
"We used to say how close the sisters were—the second daughter wouldn’t even listen to her own husband, but if the eldest spoke, she’d..." Aunt Ping trailed off, shaking her head.
They called it sisterly love, but all of Sheng Peirong’s suffering had come from Sheng Peishan.
Even now, Aunt Ping couldn’t tell whether Sheng Peishan’s obedience stemmed from natural dependence or just guilt.
"Even though the eldest didn’t live here, Mr. Sheng kept a room for her."
Zhu Qing stood before a bedroom door, fingers hovering over the handle.
After a pause, she pushed it open.
This was the room Mr. Sheng had prepared for his eldest daughter, back when her illness hadn’t yet reached the point of no return. He’d held onto hope that one morning, she’d wake up clear-headed, ready to take over the Sheng Group.
The room was an exact replica of her old one. The bed was always neatly made, sheets changed weekly, carrying the scent of sunshine. The vanity and closet stood empty—after Ke Ke left, Sheng Peirong had lost all interest in dressing up.
A bookmark lay tucked inside a novel on the nightstand.
Zhu Qing opened it, hearing Aunt Ping sigh.
"Mr. Sheng brought this back from the old house a few years ago."
"This was before your time. The eldest always said this book was too dense, but her husband loved it."
"Once, he bet her she couldn’t finish it."
Aunt Ping chuckled, wrinkles smoothing at the corners of her eyes. "She was too proud to admit defeat. She’d secretly tell me she couldn’t stand the flowery prose—every few days, she’d sneak the bookmark forward a few pages."
Zhu Qing ran her fingers over the bookmark.
Twenty years ago, frozen between these pages—she could almost see her mother, childish and sly, shifting the bookmark when her father wasn’t looking.
Her parents had once been young. Once playful. Proof they had truly lived.
"Most things in this room were brought over from the old house, untouched." Aunt Ping glanced outside. "Qing Qing, I’d better check on the little master. When he’s quiet, trouble’s brewing."
Aunt Ping had worked for the Sheng family for twenty-three years, always mindful of boundaries.
She didn’t even realize she’d started complaining about her young boss.
She climbed the spiral staircase to the third floor.
At the end of the hall was the children’s room—Sheng Fang’s domain. Now, he was rolling on the carpet, tossing toys at the ceiling and dodging them with surprising agility. This was his self-designed "junior police academy" training.
The room was spotless, but the toy chest grew emptier by the day.
Bit by bit, everything was being moved back to their new home in Yau Ma Tei.
When Zhu Qing arrived, she leaned against the doorframe, watching Sheng Fang hoist his short legs onto the bay window.
She remembered the day this little lord had demanded a tombstone for his action figure. The brat had tossed her a box of crayons, chin raised, ordering her to write the epitaph.
Couldn’t even write himself, yet so shamelessly bossy.
Months had passed, and Sheng Fang seemed so different now.
Now, he hung upside down from the window. "Qing Zai, Jin Bao and Yesi don’t want to come here."
The three of them had fought over the slide at kindergarten. Sheng Fang had bragged about the bigger slide at his hillside home and invited them over—only to be rejected.
"Why not?"
"I told them it’s a haunted house!"
"They understand ‘haunted house’?"
The term was too advanced—Jin Bao and Yesi definitely didn’t get it.
But the way Sheng Fang had whispered "haunted house," eyes wide with ominous mystery, had scared them off.
"Then let's play," Zhu Qing said.
In the courtyard of the Sheng family's hillside estate, there was a giant slide specially custom-made by Mr. Sheng for his youngest son.
It took a long climb up the steps to reach the top.
At the moment, Sheng Fang was slowly crawling up like a little sloth, demonstrating for Zhu Qing.
Standing at the bottom, Zhu Qing touched the slide. "It's covered in dust!"
Aunt Ping had forgotten to clean this outdoor play equipment.
Exposed to wind, sun, and rain daily, the slide had accumulated a thick layer of grime.
"No problem," the young master waved it off casually.
He was already sitting at the top, arms crossed over his chest, lying flat as he slid down.
"Qing, come play!"
With a long "whoosh," Young Master Sheng Fang spread his arms and slid all the way down.
He was like a broom—now the slide was clean.
......
After the seven-day holiday ended, Zhu Qing returned to work at the police station.
At the start of her break, she had often pinched Sheng Fang's little cheeks and eagerly awaited his return from school. But by last night, she had grown weary of the noisy chatterbox, covering his mouth with both hands and begging him to quiet down.
Little Sheng Fang was deeply hurt, pouting as he muttered—
"Distance really does make the heart grow fonder, Qing!"
Now, as soon as Zhu Qing stepped into the CID office, the clerical staff, Sister Zhen, handed her a letter.
"It's from Lin Xiyin," she said. "I've been keeping it safe for you."
The case had officially closed, and a commendation banner from the kindergarten hung prominently in the office.
Whenever officers from Team A passed by, they would sourly turn their heads, pretending not to notice.
Zhu Qing sat at her desk and opened the envelope from Lin Xiyin.
The handwriting was neat and firm, detailing the school's strict handling of the bullying incident. The perpetrators had either received disciplinary records or been expelled. Even more heartening was that more and more previously silent victims had found the courage to speak up. The girl wrote in the letter that she had finally realized the importance of seeking help when facing injustice.
Next, Lin Xiyin would strive to get into the psychology program at the University of Hong Kong. Through Xu Mingyuan, she had come to understand the immense responsibility psychologists bear—how a single misjudgment could determine life or death.
Zhu Qing carefully refolded the letter along its creases, tucked it back into the envelope, and stored it away.
Meanwhile, loud reprimands suddenly erupted from Mo Zhenbang's office.
Even from across the hallway, the tension was palpable.
Clearly, it was about the promotion exam again.
Mo Zhenbang's calm, almost despondent responses made the scolding feel like punching cotton.
"If I hadn't suggested switching shifts back then, Ah Cheng wouldn't have died."
On the corner of his desk sat a warm family photo.
Mo Zhenbang, Lv Qiyun, and Nannan smiled brightly at the camera. But every time he saw Nannan's innocent face, it reminded him that this sweet child should have had her real father's love.
This was Mo Zhenbang's burden.
No one could help him resolve it but himself.
Outside the office, colleagues exchanged glances.
"I heard HQ is assigning a new inspector. If our boss doesn't get promoted and stay in charge—" Hao Zai paused deliberately, raising his voice just enough, "the new guy’s gonna be a nightmare. If he really gets transferred here, we’re in for a rough time."
Weng Zhaolin hadn’t heard this rumor. He stepped out, eyebrow raised.
Hao Zai continued, "They say the new guy’s stingy. Last time he treated the team to afternoon snacks, all he bought were pineapple buns—not even a milk tea. Made everyone drink tap water from the break room."
Weng Zhaolin stopped in his tracks: ?
Zeng Yongshan chimed in, "Total brown-noser! Always running to the Chief Superintendent’s office, even washing his teacup. So eager."
Weng Zhaolin frowned, stepping closer.
"And no consideration for subordinates," Xu Jiale added. "Calls people in for overtime last minute and won’t even reimburse cab fare."
"Is there really such an inspector, or are you just making thinly veiled jabs?" Weng Zhaolin’s polished shoes tapped heavily against the office floor.
"Of course it’s a real rumor—heard it in the station canteen," Hao Zai insisted, ducking behind Zhu Qing in a flash. "Ask Zhu Qing if you don’t believe me. She wouldn’t lie."
The entire office’s attention instantly zeroed in on Zhu Qing.
Under Weng’s threatening glare, Zhu Qing solemnly… nodded emphatically.
Mo Zhenbang’s laughter finally broke through, echoing from his office.
These rascals really knew how to protect their boss.
......
At last, the scheduled follow-up appointment arrived. Zhu Qing sat in the clinic’s examination room as the nurse unwound the snow-white bandages from her shoulder.
The doctor held up the X-ray against the light. "The recovery is excellent—clear joint spacing, and the soft tissue swelling has completely subsided."
"Normally, this kind of fracture takes at least six weeks to heal. But for you? Fully mended in no time."
"Young people’s resilience is impressive."
Zhu Qing stretched her newly freed shoulder.
This wasn’t just youth at work—it was the result of Aunt Ping’s unwavering regimen of lotus root pork bone soup and fish maw chicken broth.
Lately, she’d even dreamed of gnawing on pork and chicken bones.
"Even though you’ve healed well, you still need to be careful for the next three months. Avoid carrying heavy loads on one shoulder, and absolutely no grappling moves—"
"I know you cops like to tough it out, but no arrests requiring physical restraint."
"Oh, and no lifting children either."
The doctor, recalling the little tyrant who’d demanded immediate hospitalization, pointed to a spot on the X-ray. "Especially the kind that launch themselves at you."
Meanwhile, Young Master Sheng Fang remained blissfully unaware that the doctor was—
bad-mouthing him!
The little master was already in a foul mood, facing a major life setback.
With the kindergarten recital approaching, the original performance had been going smoothly—until Teacher Ji suggested adding another act. Little Yesi volunteered for a trio calisthenics routine, dragging Jin Bao and Sheng Fang into rehearsals. But during practice, Jin Bao and Yesi kept messing up—in perfect sync, no less—making it seem like Sheng Fang was the one out of step.
When they were supposed to raise their hands, they didn’t; when they should’ve lifted their legs, they squatted. A fuming Sheng Fang complained to the teacher, but in the end, Teacher Ji decided to replace him.
Now, the young master of the Sheng family sat scowling in the audience, watching the others rehearse.
All the kids were busy—except him and Juan.
Never one to stay quiet, Sheng Fang nudged Juan with his elbow. "Aren’t you performing?"
"I don’t know how to do anything."
Sheng Fang tsked. "Tsk tsk."
Juan asked in return, "Is that flying policewoman your niece?"
"Obviously."
"Can you fly too?"
That was a tough question.
He had promised his niece not to lie, but if he answered honestly, it would make Sheng Fang seem anything but impressive.
"Juan," Sheng Fang turned his head away coldly. "Don't try to get chummy with me."
...
Every day, Zhu Qing wrestled with whether to sign the surgery consent form.
Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye, and she had to make a decision soon.
That computer, originally moved to Aunt Ping's room as decoration...
Now, Zhu Qing had brought it into her own bedroom. Countless late nights, Aunt Ping could hear the sound of keyboard tapping echoing from her room.
Zhu Qing had practically become a half-expert in neurology, poring over countless similar cases from around the world, searching for that sliver of hope.
As the deadline loomed, Zhu Qing remained hesitant.
Aunt Ping had a bellyful of advice, but after rolling the words on her tongue several times, she swallowed them back. She knew that no matter what she said, it wouldn’t be appropriate.
Even Sheng Fang, the little troublemaker, had grown uncharacteristically quiet.
Only now did he realize that despite being "the esteemed elder," he couldn’t make such a monumental decision. Some burdens were too heavy for small shoulders to bear. This wasn’t a simple choice between milk candy or fruit candy—it was a life-and-death dilemma that even adults lost sleep over.
A 70% chance that the figure lying in that hospital bed would vanish forever.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar, the desk lamp casting a glow over the medical jargon in the textbooks.
Zhu Qing jotted down key points from case studies, her pen lingering over the column labeled "Surgical Complications."
She wasn’t afraid of taking responsibility—she was terrified of losing even this quiet chance to stay by her side.
"Qing!"
Aunt Ping, thinking the child was about to rush her, quickly pulled him back. "Little master, let her think a little longer."
"Can we go to the amusement park?"
To everyone’s surprise, Sheng Fang’s question had nothing to do with the surgery.
Zhu Qing turned. "Amusement park?"
Sheng Fang was a tiny massage therapist, a master of the "massage" technique.
Right now, he needed to loosen up Qing’s tense mind—and conveniently, himself too.
Tomorrow was the weekend, and it just so happened to be Qing’s day off.
Though Sheng Fang couldn’t decide on his sister’s surgery, ordering his niece to take him to the amusement park was child’s play.
Aunt Ping had prepared snacks and drinks, but Sheng Fang still dragged Qing downstairs, insisting she come along.
His version of mental massage required a breeze.
The evening wind smoothed the furrow between Zhu Qing’s brows, easing her anxiety for a moment.
"Qing, Monday’s the performance," Sheng Fang said, eyes sparkling with hope.
He’d heard Jin Bao’s parents and Yesi’s parents would be at the kindergarten with invitations... How he wished Qing could join them too.
"Can you come?"
The police station had been quiet lately.
Sheng Fang’s big, blinking eyes were downright melt-inducing, and before she knew it, Zhu Qing had made a promise.
"No problem."
Sheng Fang leaped with joy, bouncing into the newly opened bakery downstairs, suddenly ravenous.
The strawberries piled atop the cream looked like a tiny mountain—perfect for sharing on the Ferris wheel tomorrow.
But that night, Zhu Qing heard the pitter-patter of tiny bare feet going in and out of her room.
Over and over!
"Sheng Fang, no more snacks."
"Got it—" The little one’s drawn-out reply was singsong.
By the tenth round of footsteps, Zhu Qing turned again. "Where are your little ears?"
"Left them in my room," Sheng Fang said. "Locked in the safe."
When Zhu Qing stepped out, she saw the little master sticking out his tongue before darting into the kids' room.
On the dining table, the strawberry cake had been stripped bare—only a cratered plain of cream remained.
From the children’s room came a triumphant taunt: "So yummy."
...
The long-awaited trip to the amusement park was finally happening.
This was the final deadline—Zhu Qing knew that after today, she had to give Dean Luo an answer.
Her mind felt like a tug-of-war between two voices: one listing the surgery’s success rates, the other whispering "what if."
But Sheng Fang’s voice kept cutting in at the most inopportune times.
"Qing! Qing!"
"I want ice cream!"
At a roadside shop, Zhu Qing picked the smallest cup available.
After months of raising him, she’d discovered Sheng Fang’s stomach was surprisingly sturdy, so dietary restrictions weren’t necessary.
Still, for a three-year-old, indulgence had its limits.
The cup was barely bigger than Sheng Fang’s palm. He scooped tiny bites, grumbling under his breath.
"Too small, not even enough to fill a tooth gap."
"But so tasty."
"My mouth feels like an air conditioner!"
Zhu Qing steered toward the amusement park.
At a red light, she pulled a CD from the console.
Days earlier, at the police station cafeteria, Cheng Xinglang had slipped it into her hand. On the cover, scrawled in black marker:
Stress Relief Special.
The moment the disc slid into the player, the opening notes blasted through the car.
"Dr. Cheng says this song’s a smash hit," Zhu Qing said.
Sheng Fang was still savoring his mini ice cream, sweetness melting on his tongue.
The wind rushed in through the window, his soft hair whipping his own cheeks.
By the third replay, the young master of the Sheng family was already singing along.
Chin propped on the window frame, he hummed Dr. Cheng’s recommended chart-topper:
"Even if fate leaves you drifting, even if fate twists and turns..."
"Don’t shed tears, don’t lose heart, I’ll stay by your side through all the years."
"Qing, Qing." Sheng Fang’s small hands gripped the headrest, his face peeking forward. "I’ll stay with you forever too."
"So! Cheesy!"
...
The aunt-nephew duo split tasks—Zhu Qing parked while Sheng Fang craned his neck, hunting for a park map.
Ticket in hand, Zhu Qing found the boy on tiptoe, pointing excitedly at a distant, winding track. His eyes shone like they’d trapped the stars.
"Dare to ride the roller coaster?"
"Of course," Zhu Qing raised a brow. "You?"
The little master thumped his chest proudly. "Obviously!"
Zhu Qing had never been to an amusement park. The one school trip in her youth required a fee she couldn’t bring herself to ask Director Guo for.
Sheng Fang hadn’t either—before his parents’ accident, his existence was the Sheng family’s best-kept secret. Paparazzi lurked everywhere, so he’d never even attended kindergarten, let alone somewhere as public as this.
Two amusement park rookies pretended to be calm, but their steps quickened, excitement leaking from their eyes.
Too small for height-restricted rides, they opted for the brightly colored mini coaster.
"Seen it on TV a million times—how scary can it be?"
"Exactly!"
However, when the roller coaster climbed to its highest point and suddenly plunged downward, the uncle and niece tightly shut their eyes.
They could no longer pretend to be calm.
In that moment of weightlessness, both of them screamed in unison—
"Ahhh!!!"
Zhu Qing wanted to ask Sheng Fang if he was scared, but the wind rushed into her throat, choking her voice.
Sheng Fang wanted to ask his niece how much longer this would last… but he pressed his lips together firmly, afraid that if he opened his mouth, the wind might blow his tiny teeth away.
After three agonizing minutes, Qing and Little Uncle finally ended their thrilling ride. The young master had discovered the cool Madam’s weakness. It was her first time at an amusement park, and she had no experience—even the kiddie roller coaster had terrified her. Turns out, she wasn’t so invincible after all.
Supporting each other, they stumbled off the ride, their legs weak and wobbly.
A lanky man in a floral shirt stopped them, handing over two candid photos.
In the slow-moving section of the ride, Sheng Fang’s dimples were deep with laughter, while Zhu Qing’s eyes curved into crescents.
"You two have such striking looks—would you be interested in auditioning for our film company?" The man offered a gilded business card.
They’d heard of talent scouts, but this was their first encounter.
Before Zhu Qing could refuse, little Sheng Fang raised a chubby hand: "Sorry, we’re police officers."
Perhaps because he’d beaten her to the polite rejection, the young master looked smug.
With both hands clasped behind his back, he waddled like a little penguin.
"You’re so cute," Zhu Qing couldn’t resist pinching his cheek.
"Am I?" The young master wrinkled his nose. "More like handsome, right?"
"Oh," Zhu Qing added, "Next Wednesday, your second sister’s case goes to trial."
Several months had passed, and Sheng Peishan’s case was finally reaching court.
But Sheng Fang didn’t seem to care, pointing excitedly into the distance: "Qing! Pirate ship!"
Sheng Fang dragged his niece into a sprint.
Though the kid had boundless energy, Madam was no pushover—neither was out of breath as they eagerly clambered aboard the pirate ship.
Soon, they were screaming again as the ship swayed wildly.
Truthfully, the ride wasn’t scary at all—just dizzying, leaving their heads spinning—
Qing and Fang looked like a pair of silly adults and an even sillier child.
"Qing!" Sheng Fang tugged her sleeve the moment they steadied themselves, pointing at a silver-glinting ride under the sunlight. "Let’s do that one!"
A sign read "Sky Dragon," with a warning below—
No height restrictions, but recommended for the fearless.
The queue was nearly empty, with staff chatting idly nearby.
Passing tourists quickened their steps.
"That’s ten times scarier than the roller coaster!"
"I saw someone’s wig fly off…"
"Last time I rode this, I puked my guts out—"
Zhu Qing: "That exaggerated?"
Sheng Fang was baffled—since when had their Qing become so chatty with strangers?
"Miss, I’m not exaggerating—this ride’s unplayable. A 360-degree spiral flip is one thing, but that final vertical drop… ugh, even if you’re brave, don’t do it!"
"You’ll vomit up your courage—no way I’m riding it again."
Little Uncle’s eyes sparkled even brighter.
So exciting!
"Qing, I wanna try it."
"But they said it’s terrifying."
"Please? Just once?" His puppy-dog eyes had grown lethally effective—no hand gestures needed now.
How could she refuse her little uncle’s rare request?
Zhu Qing steeled herself: "Fine. Let’s go."
The deceptively simple-looking ride sent their hearts racing instantly.
Sweaty-palmed and clueless about the rules or danger level, curiosity overpowered fear.
As staff fastened their seatbelts, the metal frame creaked ominously.
In that tense moment, Sheng Fang suddenly turned, his dark eyes fixed on Zhu Qing.
"Should we go through with Eldest Sister’s surgery?"
Zhu Qing fell silent.
For half a month, she’d lost sleep consulting countless experts. Some advised conservative treatment; others warned of low success rates… She’d even dug up her father’s old notes, wondering what he’d choose if he were alive.
Now, with the seat vibrating beneath her and machinery humming, clarity struck amidst the tension.
She finally understood.
Her mother deserved to make this decision more than anyone.
"What if we let her choose?" Zhu Qing murmured.
That iron-willed businesswoman, faced with 30% hope against 70% odds—
Would she gamble?
"She would." Zhu Qing’s shoulders relaxed. "She would."
Sheng Peirong would say it’s worth the risk.
The answer was so simple—she’d been the only one afraid.
Even with just a 10% chance, Sheng Peirong would seize this opportunity to make amends.
"Do it."
Sheng Fang cheered, tiny hands waving: "Yay!"
His raised arms jostled the seatbelt with a clang.
"I wanna get off." The little master announced to the attendant: "Too scared."
"Off? I’ll unbuckle you."
Helped down from the towering dragon seat, Sheng Fang bolted to safety, leaving Zhu Qing strapped in alone.
"?"
"Sheng Fang! You made me come with you!"
The young master was already sprinting away, short legs kicking adorably.
He waited obediently in the safe zone.
Gears clanked as the seat lurched skyward—Zhu Qing barely had time to react before she was flung into the air.
No bloodcurdling screams came from their Qing.
She remained stoic, lips pressed tight.
But like a sock in a washing machine—
Spun upside-down, hair standing on end, then hurled higher.
"Qing’s amazing!" Sheng Fang blew kisses from below.
The next second, Zhu Qing vanished again.
That kiss missed its mark—stale now.
Chubby hands smooched anew, timed perfectly for her next rotation.
Fresh and warm!
No response—she was already soaring back into the blue.
Head tilted, Sheng Fang leaned on the railing, silently apologizing.
Oops. Sorry for ditching you.
Then, the police hotline rang from his backpack.
Little Uncle was on phone duty today—their pre-outing agreement.
His dumpling-face scrunched up.
The police station calling Zhu Qing was definitely not good news—tomorrow was the kindergarten's children's performance!
Sheng Fang pressed the answer button, and Zeng Yongshan's excited voice immediately burst through.
"We've got an interesting case."
"I'll stretch the phone line so you can hear it too."
The young master of the Sheng family pressed his face against the railing glass, squished flat like the freshly baked croissants from the nearby bakery.
A flattened croissant.
On the other end of the line, a distorted nursery rhyme began to play.
"Moonlight shines on the earth… Little shrimp, be good and go to sleep."
A stranger's voice seeped through the receiver—
"Ever heard of swapping lives?"
"Never heard of it." Officer Fang's soft voice turned grumpy. "Annoying as hell."
