Sheng Fang pouted angrily, clutching his cell phone tightly.
He had never heard of any "life-exchange" stories—though "class swaps" were a common topic.
For this performance, he had practiced for a whole month, and his niece had promised to come.
The little one hung up the phone with a huff, tossed it back into his backpack, and looked up just in time to see Zhu Qing staggering toward him while gripping the railing.
Poor Zhu Qing couldn’t even handle the gentlest kiddie roller coaster, let alone the "Sky Dragon," the park’s most terrifying ride. A passing visitor had even remarked that it was ten times scarier than a regular roller coaster.
"Zhu Qing," Fangfang called out, toddling over on his short legs before carefully steadying her.
Zhu Qing, barely able to speak, gasped out each word: "You’re dead."
Young Master Sheng stood frozen for two seconds—then promptly let go of her hand.
If he didn’t run now, when would he? The little rascal turned on his heel and bolted.
Normally, a short-legged kid would be no match for a police academy honor student, but today, Madam’s legs were jelly.
Sheng Fang kept glancing back as he ran, even pausing occasionally to wait for her. The moment she got close, he’d tug at his ears and stick out his tongue teasingly.
"Bye-bye~!"
By the time they reached the base of the Ferris wheel, Sheng Fang was exhausted. He bent over, tiny hands on his knees, panting hard. The amusement park was huge, and running like this wasn’t sustainable—even his self-founded "Baby Police Academy" wasn’t this demanding. Weekends were meant for fun.
So when Zhu Qing finally caught up, the little boy waved her off—
"Okay, okay! I’ll go on whatever ride you want next."
The traitorous brat had abandoned her at the last second before the "Sky Dragon" launched, leaving her alone to endure the terrifying ascent into the sky.
Now, with his head tilted and an exaggerated pout, he acted like he was the one suffering—when in the end, he still got his way.
Given Sheng Fang’s height, there weren’t many rides he could go on anyway. The kiddie coaster and Sky Dragon were already pushing it; the rest were either merry-go-rounds or slow sightseeing trains—rides even babies could handle.
The pace of their outing slowed noticeably after that.
They strolled leisurely, stopping at every game booth along the way. Coin tosses, ring tosses—they tried them all. TV shows had featured amusement parks, but they never mentioned all these fun games! Fangfang clung to the plush toy Zhu Qing won for him, refusing to let it go even during lunch, hugging it tightly to his chest.
For Zhu Qing, the amusement park had been her biggest childhood dream.
Now that it had come true—albeit a decade late—she cherished every single moment.
"It’s the Ferris wheel!" Fangfang looked up at the clear blue sky.
The little one joined the line and accidentally overheard the couple ahead whispering sweet nothings.
"Have you heard the legend of the Ferris wheel?"
"They say if you make a wish at the highest point, it’ll come true. Little Mei told me she wished to pass her exam last time—and she actually did!"
"Really? Then I’ll wish… to be with you forever!"
Little Sheng Fang sneakily glanced at Zhu Qing, certain she’d heard the enchanting tale too.
When they settled into the blue cabin and the Ferris wheel began its slow ascent, at the very moment it reached the highest point, he saw Zhu Qing closing her eyes in earnest prayer.
Sheng Fang immediately mimicked her, clasping his hands together and squeezing his eyes shut.
He thought, Zhu Qing’s wish must surely be the same as his—
May Big Sister’s surgery go smoothly!
As the Ferris wheel completed its rotation and began its gentle descent, Zhu Qing stepped out of the cabin first, then turned to offer Sheng Fang her hand.
The couple who had been so sweet earlier were now locked in a heated argument.
"I told you this should be my decision. Why are you so stubborn? You’ve been going on and on about it—you’ve ruined the whole mood."
"Why should everything be up to you?"
"Making wishes on a Ferris wheel? What a joke!"
Their quarrel was in full swing when they suddenly noticed two pairs of disapproving eyes—one belonging to a child, the other to a young woman—staring at them.
"Tsk, tsk," Sheng Fang muttered under his breath, imitating Aunt Ping’s mannerisms, "Bad luck be gone!"
Riding the Ferris wheel had been the highlight of the day.
The uncle-niece duo had been looking forward to it for ages, even preparing a strawberry-topped cake to share at the peak. Unfortunately, the strawberries had been devoured the night before by a certain greedy little one. The leftover cake base and cream were then forced down during breakfast by the insistent niece.
Now, despite having had their fun, Sheng Fang still felt a pang of regret.
"Aunt Ping forgot to remind me to bring snacks," he said in his tiny voice. "They were on the hallway cabinet."
"You have to remember your own things."
Sheng Fang tilted his head up, gazing earnestly at his niece.
Zhu Qing was always like this—lecturing him as if she were the adult. But perhaps because the mighty Zhu Qing carried such authority, he was willing to listen, slowly but surely correcting his bad habits just as she instructed.
When Zhu Qing told him to take responsibility for his own affairs, he took it to heart.
Countless "house rules" flashed through his mind—Sheng Fang remembered them all.
Be honest, be kind, be upright, be polite, be accountable...
Then, something important occurred to him. His head drooped, shoulders slumping.
By the time Zhu Qing noticed Sheng Fang lagging behind, he had already fallen a good distance back.
She stopped and turned around.
"The police station called," he mumbled, scuffing the ground with his toe. "I hung up. They sounded really mad."
With utmost solemnity, the little one offered a sincere apology: "I’m sorry."
...
In a corner of the Yau Ma Tei Police Station’s report room, an old cassette player emitted distorted static. The tape rolled sluggishly, playing a mangled rendition of "Moonlight," the melody so warped it was barely recognizable. A few young officers huddled together, whispering their suspicions that the tape had been rewound too many times, its tune now irreparably altered.
"This was the song we grew up with—played nonstop on the radio, blaring from every street-side shop back then," the woman filing the report said in a low voice, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. "But after that incident... even the melody feels wrong now."
"It’s just the tape. Swap it out and it’ll be fine," the attending officer replied absentmindedly, glancing up to study the complainant.
The woman was slightly plump, dressed in a wrinkled floral blouse, with an outdated pair of thick-framed glasses perched on her nose.
Her short hair was casually tucked behind her ears, devoid of any particular style, her hands folded on the table, nails trimmed short.
The registration form listed her name: Rong Zimei, age twenty-seven.
Under "Occupation," it read: "Supermarket cashier."
"Officer, this is what they call 'exchanging fates.' So you see, some things just make you believe, whether you want to or not."
"Miss Rong, are you here to file a report or chat about urban legends? We’re quite busy here."
From the moment she stepped into the police station, Miss Rong had been rambling about the mysterious concept of "exchanging fates." Her repetitive, almost fanatical chatter had even bored Zeng Yongshan, who was usually curious about such things. She excused herself to buy coffee downstairs and didn’t return for over ten minutes.
"Could you turn off the recorder?" the officer pointed at the noisy tape player.
With a click, Rong Zimei pressed the stop button, and the room fell silent.
After a pause, she slowly pulled a photo from her wallet and slid it across the table. "This is my cousin."
The picture showed a girl with shoulder-length hair.
It was clearly an old photo, taken over a decade ago.
The girl in the photo tilted her head up, the sunlight overexposing her face, blurring her features. Only the stubborn lift of her chin was faintly visible. Though standing in front of a shabby tin shack, her posture was like that of a proud peacock, utterly out of place with her surroundings.
"Her name was Kuang Xiaoyan." Rong Zimei tapped the photo where the girl’s face was raised. "She lived in a cage home, wore secondhand school uniforms, but she never accepted her fate."
"Ambition isn’t a bad thing," the officer cut in. "You could call it drive."
"It wasn’t just ambition." Rong Zimei shook her head, her voice rising. "She truly believed—believed she was meant to have someone else’s destiny. She always said she was born to be a swan, just temporarily trapped in the body of an ugly duckling."
"Every day, Xiaoyan would look in the mirror and say, 'Soon, very soon.' Until one day, she met Lin Tingchao."
"Lin Tingchao is...?" The officer finally set down his pen, leaning slightly forward.
"She started copying a girl at school named Lin Tingchao—the way she walked, the upward lilt at the end of her sentences, the habit of brushing her hair back with her right hand... Officer, you should know, Xiaoyan was left-handed."
"She even picked up the hair ties and used tissues Lin Tingchao threw away. She said it would 'transfer the good luck' to her."
The officer’s interest was piqued again. He scribbled in his notebook—
Possible stalking behavior.
"Sounds like fan behavior? Lots of people obsess over idols these days. Hers just happened to be someone close by."
"It was an exchange of fates, Officer," Rong Zimei insisted, lowering her voice.
"Now I suspect Lin Tingchao sought her out on purpose. Once, Xiaoyan came home saying Lin Tingchao had spoken to her first."
"When the rich want to swap fates with the poor, they need your birth date, an exchange of personal items, and most importantly—your willing consent. The elders in my family said the darkest part of this ritual is..."
The murmurs in the room quieted as the officers strained to listen.
Only then did Rong Zimei finally get to the point: "My cousin has been missing for three years."
"So it's a missing person case?" The officer rubbed his temples.
Every day, he encountered so many people filing reports who took forever to get to the point.
He slid a form across the counter. "Please fill in the relevant details—name, date of birth, last known location..."
Rong Zimei lowered her head, the ballpoint pen hovering over the paper for a moment.
She began writing slowly, pressing down hard with each stroke.
"Tell me," she looked up, "what kind of person would willingly give up their own life?"
...
Little Sheng Fang finally apologized to his niece, his voice soft, tinged with guilt and regret.
A child who knew he’d done wrong.
Zhu Qing crouched down to meet his eye level, patiently listening as he finished speaking.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shifting patterns on her face as she reached out and playfully booped the tip of his nose.
The affectionate gesture made Fangfang exhale in relief.
Qingzai said it was okay as long as he learned from his mistake.
"It’s alright," Zhu Qing reassured. "I’ll call them back."
While waiting for the police station to pick up, she glanced at Fangfang.
He was such a good kid, really. Just how much pain had he endured in the original storyline to spiral so irreversibly into becoming a villain?
The call connected, background noise buzzing on the other end.
"New case," she explained to Fangfang, who was watching her eagerly after she hung up. "But it’s not urgent. The officer on duty will handle the paperwork."
Which meant Qingzai didn’t have to rush back!
Fangfang’s eyes instantly lit up, and he tugged her hand excitedly, eager to continue their adventure at the amusement park.
Then, abruptly, he paused again.
"But what about the performance, Qingzai?"
During the call, Zeng Yongshan had been too busy to explain the details—just fragments about a disoriented missing person report, possibly a prank.
But since Zhu Qing wasn’t there, she couldn’t be sure if this case would suddenly demand her attention.
She shouldn’t have let Fangfang’s adorable face sway her into making promises so easily.
Zhu Qing had never been a parent, but she’d been a child. She knew how crushing it felt to have hope snatched away.
Fangfang waited a beat. When his niece didn’t answer right away, he turned away, feigning indifference.
His tiny hands stuffed into his overall pockets, he adopted a breezy tone. "We can just buy a DV camcorder."
He’d already reminded Aunt Ping before leaving home to get the latest model at the electronics store—budget unlimited.
Even if Qingzai couldn’t make it, it’d be fine.
Too bad she’d only get to see his shining moment on TV!
Fangfang deflated like a punctured balloon, but soon perked up again, distracted by the park’s novelties.
A rare trip to the amusement park meant one goal for the aunt-nephew duo: ride everything, squeeze every drop of fun out of the day.
At Liyuan Amusement Park, the sweet aroma of popcorn wafted from a vendor’s stall. Little Sheng Fang bought a giant bucket, golden kernels piled into a miniature mountain. He carefully picked the one with the most caramel glaze, standing on tiptoe to offer it to Zhu Qing.
Then, he witnessed his niece’s spectacular trick—tossing the popcorn into her mouth like a basketball shot.
Whoa! Qingzai had hidden talents!
"Qingzai! Qingzai!"
Whenever Sheng Fang got excited, he would bounce around and shout Zhu Qing’s name twice in a row.
This time, he struck a pose—his tiny frame crouching down like a human basketball hoop, his little mouth wide open.
"Ah—"
Zhu Qing could practically see the back of his throat.
Under the sunlight, his cheeks looked like freshly steamed custard buns, soft and round. The little boy squeezed his eyes shut, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, eagerly awaiting the moment his niece would "score."
"No, you could choke," Zhu Qing mercilessly vetoed the dangerous game.
Sheng Fang immediately switched back to his role as the responsible elder, clasping his hands behind his back and trailing after his niece with a stream of chatter.
"Qing, being this cautious means missing out on all the fun, you know."
"Relax! Get it?"
His tiny voice spouting grown-up words, he completely missed the sudden appearance of an enormous cotton candy in Zhu Qing’s hand.
The cotton candy looked like a fluffy pink cloud, light and airy. Seizing the moment, Zhu Qing stuffed it straight into his little mouth.
Sweetness melted on his tongue, and Sheng Fang’s eyes flew open in delight.
"Now I’m not being cautious. I’m very relaxed," Zhu Qing teased, mimicking his earlier tone.
This was Sheng Fang’s first time tasting cotton candy.
Back in the Sheng family, he’d had a personal nutritionist—such "junk food" would’ve been strictly forbidden. But what child could resist such sugary temptation?
The cotton candy dissolved instantly, and Sheng Fang munched happily, his lips soon sticky with sugar.
Despite the mess, he beamed with pure joy and promptly smeared it all over his niece.
"Gross." Zhu Qing pressed a hand to his forehead, holding him at arm’s length.
Undaunted, the little boy pivoted and launched another attack from a different angle.
He pressed his sticky face against Qing’s clothes and declared, "Now we’re both gross!"
See? This was exactly why his niece needed to loosen up.
Being so restrained meant missing out on so much fun!
"Annoying!" Zhu Qing grumbled.
It was the first time Sheng Fang had heard her say that.
He blinked, then instantly mirrored her expression and tone: "Annoying!"
Zhu Qing stood frozen, narrowing her eyes in warning—but it didn’t work.
Sunlight danced across the child’s hair and smile. The little boy who once sneaked out of the Sheng family’s hillside villa for solo adventures now had a companion for every journey.
He didn’t have to be so obedient. He could be a little mischievous, because after months together, little Sheng Fang had learned one thing for sure: no matter what, Qing would never abandon him.
Qing would never leave him behind.
That realization was sweeter than cotton candy.
"Qing, I wanna ride the carousel again," he pleaded in his softest voice.
Their day at the amusement park finally ended with the carousel’s whimsical, tinkling melody.
They carefully tucked the paper tickets from Liyuan Amusement Park into a hidden pocket of their backpack.
The thin slips of paper still seemed to carry the buttery scent of popcorn and the sticky sweetness of cotton candy.
Another beautiful memory to treasure.
Sheng Fang hugged the backpack tightly to his chest.
"Let’s go to the sanatorium," Zhu Qing said, taking his small hand.
...
Principal Luo had given Zhu Qing two weeks to decide. Monday was the deadline.
For family members, this was never an easy decision. He had seen too many cases where patients remained comatose for years, their loved ones having long accepted reality, only to be suddenly informed of a new treatment option one day.
Hope arriving too late often became another form of torment.
The Sheng family could certainly afford the exorbitant medical costs, and going abroad for treatment would only require navigating some tedious paperwork.
But the complications afterward were numerous. The most practical concern was that, in the end, it might all still come to nothing.
In past cases, few families ultimately chose surgery. Hardly anyone was willing to personally sign that consent form that could potentially lead to death.
Director Luo thought Zhu Qing’s prolonged silence had already given him his answer. But to his surprise, on Sunday evening, his office door swung open.
"We’ve decided on the surgery."
Zhu Qing signed the consent form, while Little Fangfang cheered her on from the side.
This time, Zhu Qing didn’t hesitate.
Even though they had never truly spent time together, she was certain her mother would have made the same choice.
Director Luo said he would contact overseas neurosurgery experts to discuss the feasibility of the new treatment. For now, what they needed to do was adjust Sheng Peirong’s nutritional levels and medication. Once everything was in order, they would arrange for the surgery abroad.
By the time Zhu Qing returned to the police station, over ten hours had passed since she made the decision to proceed with the surgery.
Yet her fingertips still seemed to carry the cold touch of the pen from when she signed the form.
In the Criminal Investigation Division office, Haozi tossed the documents just delivered by the Household Registration Department onto the desk.
"This so-called cousin isn’t even listed on Kuang Xiaoyan’s family registry. To file a case, we’d need special permission from the court first."
"We’ve searched missing persons reports from the last decade—nothing related to ‘Kuang Xiaoyan.’ That means no one ever reported her missing. Probably just a prank."
"Ridiculous. The parents didn’t file a report, but suddenly a cousin shows up? And all that nonsense about ‘willingly trading lives’—utter bullshit. My bet? Nine out of ten times, it’s just family drama."
"Like last time when someone came in reporting a ‘missing friend,’ only for us to find out they just wanted the police to track down a buddy who owed them money! Total waste of resources."
"Last week during my shift, I had another ridiculous one. A girl came in sobbing, saying her boyfriend had gone missing. Turned out he’d just broken up with her and didn’t want to answer her calls. People these days… treating every little relationship problem like a criminal case."
At first glance, this missing persons case had grabbed everyone’s attention—the eerie melody of "Moonlight" and the caller’s frantic tone made it seem compelling. But now, with cooler heads, there was nothing particularly unusual about it. The police had followed procedure, and the investigation was running its usual course.
Zeng Yongshan only glanced briefly at her colleagues before her gaze settled back on Zhu Qing.
"So, departure in three weeks?"
"It depends on the post-adjustment nutrition report. Three weeks at most, but if things go well, maybe just two." Zhu Qing replied, "I’ve already requested the long leave with Mo Zhenbang. The paperwork’s all approved."
Mo Zhenbang was a rare kind of superior. When she handed him the leave application earlier, he’d signed off without a second thought.
She would take Sheng Peirong abroad alone for the surgery, while Sheng Fang would stay in Hong Kong under the care of Aunt Ping.
After returning home last night, she had gone through every detail of the chartered flight procedures, the precautions for medical transfers, and prepared notarized English medical records, doctor’s guarantee letters, and more… This wasn’t a trip that could be made on a whim—every step had to be flawlessly arranged.
Zeng Yongshan looked at the formal referral letter from the sanatorium spread across Zhu Qing’s desk.
When they first met, she had thought Zhu Qing was like a lone wolf. But now, after getting to know her better, she admired her courage even more—how she could shoulder everything alone without ever making a show of it.
“So impressive,” Zeng Yongshan murmured softly. “If it were me—”
Liang Qikai lifted his head from behind the filing cabinet, his smile as warm as afternoon sunlight. “It’s better not to be brave.”
“Because the ones who hold everything up are always the ones who suffer the most.” His gaze lingered on Zeng Yongshan’s face for a moment before he added casually, “You’re much cuter when you’re carefree.”
Zeng Yongshan froze. By the time she looked back at him with a questioning glance, he had already averted his eyes as if nothing had happened.
He was always like this—dropping vague remarks, taking one step forward and two steps back, keeping her guessing whether he was joking or sincere.
“Zhu Qing,” Zeng Yongshan whispered, “what does he even want?”
“Boredom,” Zhu Qing replied.
Such a succinct and decisive answer instantly smoothed the furrow between Zeng Yongshan’s brows.
She burst into laughter. “And what about you?”
“I’m busy.” Zhu Qing grabbed her car keys, the corner of her mouth quirking up for once. “Kindergarten recital. I’m off.”
……
In the classroom of the Weston Kindergarten’s youngest class, little Sheng Fang was already in full makeup.
Seated on a small stool, his face was dusted with a thin layer of shimmer, his eyelids, nose, and cheeks sparkling as if sprinkled with stars.
Teacher Ji had just dabbed pink blush on his cheeks and stuck a tiny golden crown on his forehead—her signature stage makeup for the kids, designed to be whimsical but not too heavy, though absolutely dazzling.
That way, when the stage lights hit, the audience could see every little face clearly.
Sheng Fang touched the crown on his forehead.
“Fangfang, is anyone from your family coming?” asked a little girl with a bow in her hair.
Sheng Fang twisted his neck and answered in a deliberately nonchalant tone, “Whatever.”
But less than three seconds later, his eyes darted toward the classroom door.
Aunt Ping had just arrived, fiddling with a DV camera, her brows knitted so tightly they nearly formed a knot. It wasn’t even clear if she had turned it on yet.
When she spotted him, she waved enthusiastically.
“Little master, look over here.”
“Smile for the camera.”
Little Fang nodded, but his lips didn’t curl up. His gaze drifted past Aunt Ping, down the hallway outside the classroom, until the tiny bow tie of his costume suddenly felt too tight around his neck. Only then did he slowly look away.
Teacher Ji, taking advantage of a lull in the music rehearsal, sidled up to Aunt Ping and whispered, “Will Ms. Zhu come?”
Aunt Ping’s fingers tightened around the DV camera. “She’ll be here,” she said firmly.
In the corner of the classroom, a little boy burst into tears, his face flushed red, after losing his small bowtie. His parents flusteredly searched under the piano bench and behind the curtains.
Teacher Ji’s attention was drawn by the crying, but her gaze inadvertently landed on Sheng Fang, who was unusually quiet nearby.
True unease doesn’t always come with loud wails.
Instead, it’s like Fangfang—knowing full well her family had promised countless times to come, yet still stealing glances at the door again and again, only to lower her eyes in disappointment each time.
Sheng Fang twirled his drumsticks in his small hands.
He knew Zhu Qing was busy, and he understood better than anyone that a police officer’s work could be interrupted by emergencies at any moment. Catching bad guys and saving lives were, of course, more important than attending a kindergarten recital.
Sheng Fang also knew he wouldn’t be abandoned by Qing-jie—his niece adored him.
But compared to him, official duties took priority.
Come on, she’s a cop—how could she have time to spare?
Even a kindergarten kid understood that logic.
Aunt Ping walked over, gently adjusting the young master’s shirt collar and smoothing his hair, her fingers brushing tenderly through his locks.
Fang-sir’s ears were like little radars, his peripheral vision like searchlights, scanning every corner of the classroom, not missing a single figure.
All the other parents had arrived.
Little Yesi’s mom and dad hovered around her.
They had her twirl in her dance skirt, and before she even steadied herself after the spin, her mother pulled out a champagne-colored shoebox tied with a ribbon from her handbag.
Every teacher, classmate, and parent knew Little Yesi’s dream was to become a model, strutting in beautiful high heels every day. Yesi’s mom had scoured every mall in Hong Kong before finally finding these specially made children’s shoes.
They were silver ballet flats, the toes adorned with delicate sequins. Kneeling down, she explained to her daughter that high heels weren’t suitable for little girls—they could affect bone development.
"So make do with these for now, okay?"
Yesi’s smile spilled from her big, bright eyes.
This wasn’t "making do" at all—she loved them.
"Thank you, Mommy!"
"What about Daddy?" Yesi’s father pretended to pout.
"Thank you too, Daddy!"
Sheng Fang’s gaze shifted, landing on Jin Bao’s family.
Like Jin Bao, his parents were dressed in "splendid gold."
Jin Bao’s father wore a crisply ironed suit, his mother a string of pearls around her neck. They cheerfully handed out business cards to the other parents.
"Come visit our gold shop for tea sometime! We’ve just restocked a batch of pure gold jewelry—special discount for Jin Bao’s classmates!"
They even pulled Jin Bao forward to proudly introduce him—
"My son’s an amazing drummer—the future King of Drums!"
Sheng Fang twirled his own drumsticks.
These were special redwood sticks Aunt Ping had bought for him—smooth, warm to the touch, and far superior to the kindergarten’s plastic ones. They spun with a satisfying whoosh.
Juan sidled up. "Your flying niece isn’t coming?"
Sheng Fang glared. "Keep talking and I’ll smack you into orbit."
Juan raised his hand. "Teacher! Sheng Fang’s threatening to smack me into orbit!"
Teacher Ji gave them a weary look, too preoccupied at the moment to mediate the children’s petty squabbles.
Sheng Fang pouted, rubbing at the glitter on his cheeks—
So childish. Who even wanted to wear this sparkly stuff?
But just as her fingertips brushed his cheek, suddenly—
"Wow! It's the flying Madam!"
...
Little Sheng Fang looked up, his eyes round and sparkling like lit gemstones.
In a flash, he dashed toward his niece with the speed of an arrow.
Overcome with joy, he completely abandoned his usual aloof kindergarten persona.
With a soft "thud," the little one crashed into Zhu Qing's arms.
The sudden embrace left her momentarily stunned.
She could clearly feel how surprised Sheng Fang was, his small face buried in her embrace.
When she looked down, she saw the corners of his mouth turned down in a pout.
Zhu Qing's voice softened unconsciously. "I told you I'd come."
Her explanation reached the little uncle's ears.
"Just drove out, barely crossed the street when the car broke down right there."
"Couldn’t just leave it blocking the road, so it took a little extra time."
Little Sheng Fang grumbled, "Are we filming TVB?"
"Even more coincidental than TVB," she replied.
But Zhu Qing had to emphasize—she wasn’t actually late.
It was just that the other parents had arrived unusually early.
Sheng Fang nestled in her arms, rubbing his eyes haphazardly with the back of his hand.
Zhu Qing cupped his little face, amused by his sulky expression. "Seems like someone’s got sand in their eyes."
The other children quickly crowded around, their tiny faces drawing closer, their adorable features magnified in Zhu Qing’s view.
They’d only ever seen superheroes on TV or as action figures in stores—never a real-life Madam superhero right before their eyes!
"Teacher, I want a photo with Madam Superman!"
"Me too, me too—"
The classroom erupted with eager, high-pitched voices.
"Don’t ask the teacher," Sheng Fang piped up, peeking out from Zhu Qing’s embrace with a smug look. "You should ask me!"
Aunt Ping stood to the side, torn between laughter and tears.
She steadied her hands, aiming the camcorder at this precious moment, determined not to miss a single detail.
...
Teacher Ji led the children in an orderly line to the auditorium.
Backstage instantly turned into a duck pond, buzzing with their chatter.
When it was Sheng Fang’s turn to take the stage, Zhu Qing instinctively straightened her posture, while Aunt Ping raised the camcorder with laser focus, unwilling to miss a second of the little master’s performance.
At the corner of the stage, little Sheng Fang twirled his drumsticks effortlessly in his fingers.
They spun in a perfect arc before landing neatly back in his small palms.
Unlike during rehearsals at home, his movements on stage were even more polished.
The kindergarten recital posed no challenge for him—his rhythm, his steps, even when other kids occasionally stumbled, he adjusted seamlessly.
The little boy shone brilliantly under the spotlight.
Pride swelled in Zhu Qing, but she also realized something—his extracurricular classes shouldn’t be neglected.
With nothing to do at home all day except wait for her to return from work, it’d be better to enroll him in more activities to channel his boundless energy. Things like the equestrian, fencing, and tennis classes Grandpa Sheng had arranged before—those needed to be revived.
On stage, the performance concluded, and the children bowed to thunderous applause.
When it came time for the awards ceremony, the principal of the main school took the stage to hand out certificates and trophies to the children from each class—participation awards like "Best Stage Performance," "Best Teamwork," and even "Best Smile."
But the little ones didn’t understand the nuances. All they knew was that they had won something to be proud of, and their sweet, high-pitched cheers rose in waves.
Juan hadn’t participated in any performances, but even so, the serious little boy felt a strong sense of collective pride and happily bounced along with the excitement.
As he hopped around, his eyes suddenly met Sheng Fang’s.
Both of them turned away at the same time, quickly putting their backs to each other.
Sheng Fang thought to himself—he definitely wasn’t going to celebrate with Juan.
After leaving the stage, Aunt Ping took a warm, damp towel and gently wiped away the stage makeup from Sheng Fang’s face.
The little boy covered the sticker on his forehead with one small hand, frowning. But when the blush and eyeshadow were wiped off, revealing his fair, soft skin again, Sheng Fang suddenly grabbed Aunt Ping’s wrist.
"Leave the glitter!"
Under the light, his little face still sparkled with tiny flecks of shimmer.
Parents here and there chatted about the trials of raising children as they washed their kids’ faces and changed them out of their costumes.
"It’s definitely exhausting—I’ve lost so much weight these past few years!"
"You lost weight? I gained mine from stress!"
"Ever since Jin Bao came along, my wife and I haven’t had a full night’s sleep."
They went back and forth, offering each other sympathy.
Zhu Qing fiddled with the DV camera, trying to find the playback function. She couldn’t contribute to these conversations—truthfully, most of the childcare duties at home had been handled by Aunt Ping.
"Last week, my son woke me up at three in the morning, saying he dreamed a monster was eating him. I comforted him until he fell back asleep, but then I was wide awake until sunrise."
"Xin Yue might seem well-behaved, but last time she was wrestling on the bed, she headbutted me so hard I heard my nose crack. When I went to the hospital for an X-ray, the doctor politely suggested that if my husband and I had a domestic dispute, I should call the police instead of pretending my daughter did it—"
"Anyway, it’s exhausting..."
Little Master Sheng Fang walked by holding a juice box. "I think taking care of kids is pretty easy."
Zhu Qing hummed in agreement.
She felt the same way.
The little boy’s eyes lit up as if he’d found a kindred spirit, gazing at her earnestly.
"?" Zhu Qing read his expression. "I know what you’re thinking—shh."
Sheng Fang: "I’ve been doing it for months, and everything’s been fine."
Zhu Qing: "..."
...
When they left the kindergarten, Sheng Fang’s little feet seemed to have springs in them again as he skipped and bounced along.
The stage glitter on his face shimmered gold in the sunset, and his drumsticks—having fulfilled their noble duty—were generously gifted to Jin Bao.
As he stepped onto the marble stairs of the kindergarten, Sheng Fang suddenly leaped down, agile as ever, skipping the last three steps entirely. Aunt Ping watched in horror, but Zhu Qing remained unfazed, not even considering scolding the child for safety.
In their family of police officers, this wasn’t even considered a risky move.
"Qing, where’s the car parked?"
Sheng Fang looked around but didn’t see their family car.
Turns out, when Zhu Qing said the car had broken down, it wasn’t just a plotline borrowed from a TVB drama.
It really had happened.
"We borrowed Dr. Cheng’s car," she said.
At that moment, she was rushing to the kindergarten, pressed for time. When she opened her contacts, Cheng Xinglang’s name appeared at the top of the list.
He answered the call and drove over immediately to swap with her.
Aunt Ping, holding a DV camera, leaned in curiously and asked, "Is that the handsome doctor who comes whenever you call?"
Sheng Fang corrected her, "He’s a forensic examiner!"
Aunt Ping ruffled his little head.
Sweetheart, that wasn’t the point.
When Zhu Qing returned the car to the police station, she sent him a message a few minutes in advance.
Cheng Xinglang came downstairs to wait for her and took the car keys. "I had your car towed to a shop I know. The driveshaft’s faulty—it won’t be ready until tomorrow."
Just as Zhu Qing was about to thank him, Mo Zhenbang strode out of the police station.
"To the scene," Mo Sir said tersely. "Someone reported finding a severed toe."
Uncle Li and the others were already at the scene, and the preliminary details were unsettling.
Mo Zhenbang’s expression darkened as he spoke.
"Remember that cousin who reported the missing person case? Rong Zimei."
"She said her sister willingly traded her life with someone else."
Over the phone, Uncle Li told Mo Zhenbang—
The severed toe was wrapped in yellow paper, with two neatly written lines of brushstrokes.
The first line: a birthdate.
The second: a complete birth chart.
"The birthdate on the chart…" Mo Zhenbang mused, "matches Kuang Xiaoyan’s personal details exactly."
While they discussed the case, little Sheng Fang had already sidled up to Cheng Xinglang.
"Kid, no one to play with you?"
Though Cheng Xinglang still didn’t soften his tone, Sheng Fang no longer minded.
Especially now, when the man chuckled low and tousled his hair.
"I’ll play with you."
They chatted about everything from Tetris to Monopoly, with Cheng Xinglang revealing all sorts of hidden tricks.
"You can trigger a secret map if you use Miss Money."
"Hold down two buttons before drawing a card to skip a ‘Bad Luck’ turn."
"And also—"
"Dr. Cheng." Mo Zhenbang opened the car door. "Ride with me to the scene?"
Sheng Fang’s little face instantly fell.
No way, even Dr. Cheng had to go work!
As the car door shut and exhaust fumes trailed behind, Sheng Fang and Aunt Ping stood where they were.
After a whole day of liveliness, the sudden quiet felt stark.
The little master sighed—
So lonely.
"I’m leaving too." He hung his head, his shadow stretching long in the sunset as he turned.
"Little master, where are you going?" Aunt Ping called after him.
"Wandering," came the pitiful little voice.
Aunt Ping watched as the melancholy little master trudged off in the direction of—
A smart kid, choosing a safe route even for his "wandering."
He went home.
