The officers of Major Case Team B sat in a circle in the conference room.
The anonymous letter was carefully spread out at the center of the table, and everyone held their breath as they stared at it.
The letter began with—
"Dear Swan Observers."
And it was signed by "A Witness Who Can No Longer Remain Silent."
"I once witnessed the true swan shining on stage," Zeng Yongshan read softly. "Every spin carried an innate grace."
"But no matter how hard the clumsy imitator tries, a fake will always be a fake."
"If this doesn’t count as murder, then what does? I await your answer."
Uncle Li put on gloves and gently placed the letter into an evidence bag. "Little Sun, send this to forensics immediately."
The murmurs among the other officers continued. Liang Qikai pulled out a detailed floor plan of the Lin family villa, with every entrance and exit marked.
"Who is the letter writer? Could it be someone like Kuang Xiaoyan, who once observed from the courtyard…?"
"Is it the neighbor who claimed to hear a woman’s screams and sobs from the Lin family’s basement?"
"This person knows… more than a neighbor would. But why not report it directly? Why play this guessing game with us? And am I imagining it, or is the wording deliberately provocative?"
"'A Witness Who Can No Longer Remain Silent'—what is this implying?"
The letter’s tone dripped with sarcasm, unsettling everyone. Mo Zhenbang handed it over to forensics, then turned back to sorting through the case details.
A heavy weight pressed on everyone’s minds. Even with this breakthrough clue, they only felt suffocated. The same image dominated their thoughts—the luminescent traces of handprints, drag marks, and signs of struggle revealed by Luminol.
"Kuang Xiaoyan’s motive is understandable," Zeng Yongshan suddenly said. "But what were Lin Tingchao’s parents after?"
"I remember the real Lin Tingchao suffered from chronic ankle injuries. How long does a ballerina’s prime last? Ten years? Fifteen? Did they realize their daughter would eventually have to leave the stage and couldn’t bear to see their meticulously cultivated jewel fade into obscurity? So they decided to prepare early."
"You’re saying they did it to preserve the Lin family’s reputation? Impossible. The gap in talent between the real and the fake is too vast. Besides, they started grooming Kuang Xiaoyan seven years ago—when Lin Tingchao was at her peak."
A brief silence fell over the group.
"But everything else fits. The parents had wealth and influence—more than enough to craft a perfect replacement. Cosmetic surgery wasn’t common back then, but don’t forget Mai Shuxian owns a beauty clinic. She had connections to overseas specialists."
"Kuang Xiaoyan already bore a resemblance to Lin Tingchao. The parents could’ve easily sent her abroad under Lin Tingchao’s name. By the time she returned, she was completely transformed."
In the interrogation room, Lin Weizong, Mai Shuxian, and Kuang Xiaoyan were held separately.
Lin Tingchao’s parents refused to admit to any wrongdoing.
Lin Weizong only spoke two sentences. The first was, "I don’t know."
The second—
"I refuse to answer any questions until my lawyer arrives."
Mai Shuxian insisted she didn’t know Kuang Xiaoyan at all, dismissing the idea of a daughter being replaced as absurd.
"How could we possibly do such a thing?" she asked in disbelief. "Officer, isn’t your imagination running a bit too wild?"
Facing interrogation, the couple remained tight-lipped.
On the surveillance monitor in the observation room, Mrs. Lin sat as elegantly as if she were in a café, smoothing the stray strands of hair at her temples, while Mr. Lin kept his eyes closed, occasionally checking his watch.
But irrefutable evidence was gradually coming to light.
"The ear curvature analysis is back," an officer announced as he pushed open the door. "This feature is something even plastic surgeons can’t alter. The arc of Lin Tingchao’s ear is completely different from Kuang Xiaoyan’s—bone structure doesn’t lie. Not even a miracle worker could turn a fake into the real thing."
"The Lin parents obviously knew this, but who would scrutinize a socialite’s ears? That’s how she slipped through."
"Now that you mention it… that impostor always deliberately hid her ears behind her hair whenever she appeared."
Before long, Liang Qikai rushed into the office, dusty and breathless, slamming evidence onto the table.
"These are X-rays from a dental clinic. Kuang Xiaoyan secretly had her teeth adjusted here, striving to replicate every detail perfectly."
"And this—Lin Tingchao’s actual dental records. The structure is entirely different. Clearly not the same person."
...
In the interrogation room, the evidence was laid out before the "fake Lin Tingchao"—Kuang Xiaoyan herself.
Unlike Mr. and Mrs. Lin, she was the direct participant in this scheme, with every piece of evidence pointing squarely at her.
"Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian have already contacted their lawyers. A top-tier legal team will mount the strongest defense for them."
"Kuang Xiaoyan, care to guess if they’ve hired a lawyer for you?"
"They’ll likely pin everything on you," Hao Zai rapped his knuckles on the table. "If you’re smart, you’ll start telling the truth now… Otherwise, no one can save you."
Clearly, if she stayed silent, she’d become the sacrificial lamb in this case.
So Kuang Xiaoyan had no choice but to speak.
After all these years, she had fully assimilated into her new identity.
Even now, admitting she was indeed "Kuang Xiaoyan," her demeanor and subtle gestures still mirrored those of a refined heiress.
Her gaze drifted into the distance as she hesitated. "Where should I begin?"
"Seven years ago," Hao Zai prompted. "The day Mr. and Mrs. Lin first approached you."
"Right…" Kuang Xiaoyan nodded faintly.
Their first meeting had been in a dimly lit alley.
Back then, Kuang Xiaoyan was in the middle of a heated argument with her mother. After Mrs. Kuang stormed off, Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian appeared. The well-dressed couple told her they’d been watching her for a long time.
"They asked me if I wanted to become a real swan."
"The secret training took place in an unmarked red-brick house in Kowloon Tong. My instructor was a lead dancer from the Grand Theatre. Ballet demands extreme discipline and foundational skill—it’s usually learned from childhood. But I had no choice… Even if my toes bled, I couldn’t stop. This was my first hurdle, the only ticket to my new identity."
"How could a real swan not know how to dance?"
"The coach only spoke Russian, scolding us from dawn till dusk, but I never thought of giving up. Not once." Her voice grew distant. "Someone like me, getting one-on-one training from a professional... did I even have the right to complain?"
At this point, her memories became fragmented.
She described how wonderful it was to become Lin Tingchao—like being able to shop without a second thought. A single expensive cashmere shawl could make business partners bow their heads. Everyone looked up to her, all because of her status and wealth.
For over three years, Kuang Xiaoyan became a puppet, but she was willing.
"You can't even imagine the kind of low, wretched life I used to live," Kuang Xiaoyan said. "Just surviving was hard enough—how could I have dared to dream of becoming a real heiress? Who would’ve thought... fate actually favored me."
"Go on," Zhu Qing flipped to the next page of her notepad. "During your secret training, even your parents didn’t know?"
Kuang Xiaoyan’s thoughts drifted back seven years.
Back then, she had no idea what she was getting into. Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian warned her to keep it a secret, to never breathe a word to anyone, not even her parents. But she was so excited she nearly blabbed everywhere. Her parents didn’t believe her anyway, laughing it off as a childish fantasy. So, the only person she told was her cousin, a girl her age.
She wasn’t ambitious back then—just desperate to be valued. Her old life had been one of total neglect: dropping out when school got too hard, staying out all night with no one to care. But after meeting the Lins, she saw a whole new world. She never knew someone could invest so much effort and money into raising a daughter. And when they told her she could become the heroine of that world, she staked all her dreams on it.
She wanted, more than anything, to truly become Lin Tingchao. It became an obsession.
"They told me I had to obey."
"If I didn’t, I’d go back to being Kuang Xiaoyan."
That marked the start of the second phase—she became more compliant, willingly following every instruction.
Ballet, etiquette classes, English lessons... During her teenage years, she strictly controlled her diet to match Lin Tingchao’s figure perfectly. At one point, Lin Weizong even gave her a school uniform. To make her future stories about campus life sound natural, they arranged for her to secretly attend classes—but she was forbidden from getting close to the real Lin Tingchao.
Kuang Xiaoyan entered that school.
But she couldn’t resist the urge to approach Lin Tingchao.
"On my very first day, I followed her. In the cafeteria, I noticed how picky she was with her food... So this was how a real heiress ate—rejecting this, avoiding that. Meanwhile, to keep my figure, I just halved my portions of cheap meals. Sometimes even cut them to a third."
"By the way, Lin Tingchao even spoke to me first. She said we looked somewhat alike and asked which class I was in and what my name was. I wanted so badly to tell her, 'My name is Lin Tingchao too...'" At this point, Kuang Xiaoyan's lips curled upward, forming a carefully crafted smile. "But if I’d actually said it, I probably would have scared her."
"I stared into her eyes, trying to mimic her gaze... that clear, untainted look—it was the hardest part to replicate."
"But soon, Lin Tingchao noticed something was off."
"Both she and her boyfriend realized I’d been secretly collecting her hair ties and jackets... Lin Tingchao told her father." Kuang Xiaoyan frowned. "Dad was furious. He said I was disobedient, that I’d broken our agreement. After that, for a long time, Mom and Dad didn’t come to see me."
Zhu Qing and Hao Zai exchanged a glance.
Kuang Xiaoyan had fully immersed herself in the role—even now, with the truth laid bare, she still referred to them as 'Mom and Dad.'
"I thought it was all over, that there was no hope left."
"Were they lying to me? But why would they...?"
Every day was torture for Kuang Xiaoyan, terrified that her dream would shatter.
Luckily, after some time, everything returned to normal, and she could finally relax.
"All those years, they kept you living in a cage house? Didn’t even arrange proper housing for you?" Hao Zai’s pen paused as he looked up. "You even had to work at a clothing store to survive... You got nothing out of this. How did you stay so obedient?"
"I don’t know. They didn’t show up often. They gave me money, but not much. Every month, they’d check on my progress, then... just leave again. Back then, I thought maybe they were still considering it, hesitating over whether to let me truly replace her. But it was my only chance—my last chance. What else could I do but wait?"
"Even at the clothing store, I’d practice my posture and expressions in the mirror. I kept hoping that one day, luck would finally come my way."
"And then, it did!" Her eyes suddenly lit up with joy.
The real replacement happened just before her twentieth birthday.
She received the news—she could finally move into the Lin household openly.
At the time, Lin Tingchao had just undergone a bone marrow transplant and was extremely weak. Lin Weizong and his wife locked her in the basement, and when she tried to escape, Kuang Xiaoyan shoved her into a corner.
Kuang Xiaoyan admitted she hated Lin Tingchao.
It was Lin Tingchao who had forced her to live in this fragile illusion, and after nearly four years of waiting, that hatred had grown sharp and deep.
"Were you the one who tortured Lin Tingchao?" Zhu Qing asked.
Kuang Xiaoyan neither confirmed nor denied it.
She told the police that Lin Weizong rarely went down to the basement—perhaps he couldn’t bear to face his daughter’s grief-stricken eyes.
"Mom didn’t mind, though," Kuang Xiaoyan continued.
"Why?"
Hao Zai already guessed the answer before she even spoke.
Lin Tingchao might not have been Mai Shuxian’s biological daughter.
Sure enough, Kuang Xiaoyan said the same.
"How did you know?"
"I didn’t." Kuang Xiaoyan shrugged indifferently. "Just a guess."
For the first time, there was a flicker of "Kuang Xiaoyan" in her eyes—not Lin Tingchao.
"Even my own mother would kick me out when she had clients over," she said. "If Mai Shuxian were really Lin Tingchao’s birth mother, how could she have turned a blind eye to all this?"
Back then, Kuang Xiaoyan’s biological father, Kuang Wei, had already drunk himself to death on the roadside, while her mother, Gan Chunlan, had found a new man to rely on.
And Kuang Xiaoyan herself was finally stepping into a new life.
"During that time, there were no servants in the house—just me, Dad, and Mom."
"I would sneak into the basement, trying to learn how to be more like her."
At first, Lin Weizong objected to Kuang Xiaoyan harming his real daughter.
But later, he seemed to relent. He began tolerating her actions, turning a blind eye, gradually forgetting the figure trapped in the basement.
"Even if I was a fake..."
"They told me that from then on, there would only be one Lin Tingchao in this world—and that was me."
The two officers fell into a brief silence.
They couldn’t begin to imagine the despair Lin Tingchao must have endured, locked away in that basement.
"Why would Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian do this?"
"How should I know? They never told me."
"But I loved it—loved calling them Mom and Dad, loved it so much that I started believing it myself. And so did they. It was a flawless deception. In private, we were the picture of a loving family."
A trace of reluctance flickered across Kuang Xiaoyan’s face—she was about to say goodbye to this identity.
When asked if anyone had ever seen through her over the years, she shook her head. Aunt Wu, who had taken care of Lin Tingchao since childhood, returned after two years away and never suspected a thing. The only other person who might have exposed her was Lin Tingchao’s boyfriend, but to be safe, Lin Weizong made her break up with him. As for others—like Su Leyi, a close friend from school—they never noticed anything.
Kuang Xiaoyan said she wasn’t a dancer; she was more like an actress.
A lifetime spent playing just one role, yet it was her greatest masterpiece.
"Where is Lin Tingchao now?" Hao Zai pressed. "Dead? Did you dispose of her?"
"I don’t know," Kuang Xiaoyan said. "She escaped three years ago. The basement door wasn’t locked properly."
This matched the utility records from the Lin family villa—they had thoroughly cleaned out the basement afterward, erasing every trace.
"Maybe it’s better that she ran away. After all, the house needed servants. Having an outsider living in the basement was inconvenient."
"Honestly, aside from cutting her off from the outside world, what did Lin Tingchao lack? She had food, shelter—a better life than I ever had before. A life fit for a human being..."
Kuang Xiaoyan still didn’t know how she had been exposed.
Until Zhu Qing reminded her—it was that one thing she had said:
"Jealousy? Better to replace them."
"Jealous? Su Leyi was the jealous one. Her family fell from grace, and she even had to borrow money from me for her dance studio’s initial investment."
"Rong Zimei was jealous too—of my beauty, my height, my future as a dancer."
"Some people are just like that. They can’t stand to see others succeed."
In the observation room next door, Mo Zhenbang turned his gaze away from the one-way glass.
"Find out whether Lin Tingchao’s parents were really her birth parents."
"And who is this so-called ‘witness’ who refuses to stay silent?"
"Where is Lin Tingchao? Is she still alive?"
...
The police were skeptical about Kuang Xiaoyan's testimony.
Had Lin Tingchao truly escaped, or had the Lin family secretly relocated him—or worse, had he already met with foul play? Was that severed toe discarded at the trash station the so-called "ironclad proof" of a "life exchange"? Two days ago, the police had summoned the Lin family's fortune-teller for questioning, but the man insisted he had never heard Lin Weizong or his wife mention such dark practices.
Of course, this proved nothing.
Hong Kong had no shortage of fortune-tellers, and who could say whether this one was lying?
Similarly, Kuang Xiaoyan's testimony might not be entirely truthful—she likely held something back.
After all, the legal consequences for unlawful confinement and intentional murder were worlds apart. Desperate people would say anything to escape punishment.
A cloud of suspicion lingered in Zhu Qing's mind, stubborn and unshakable.
It wasn’t until she stepped through her front door that she managed to set it aside, if only temporarily.
Aunt Ping had saved dinner for her, the food carefully arranged on separate plates and in a soup bowl. The moment Zhu Qing walked in, Aunt Ping bustled about reheating the dishes.
To Zhu Qing, the warmth of home was just like this: the comfort of idle chatter, the steam rising from a home-cooked meal at the table…
Little Sheng Fang plopped down beside her and asked in his tiny voice, "Qing-jie, is it too salty?"
Zhu Qing teased him, "What if it is?"
Fangfang propped his chubby cheeks in his hands, thinking seriously. "Add some water!"
Zhu Qing laughed. "It’s fine, just right."
Aunt Ping seized the moment to tattle, complaining that the little troublemaker had been pestering her to learn how to ride a motorcycle.
Though the young master had only been wheedling and whining, Aunt Ping’s legs turned to jelly at the sight of a motorbike, let alone the thought of weaving through narrow alleys. If she actually had to learn, her old bones would probably give her a heart attack from sheer terror.
"Learn to ride a motorcycle?" Zhu Qing pinched Fangfang’s pudgy cheeks. "Stop giving Aunt Ping trouble."
The little rascal, knowing he couldn’t sway her, had turned his sights on Aunt Ping instead.
"But I want someone to pick me up from school on a motorcycle…" Fangfang pouted, his voice small and dejected.
"Not all wishes come true," Zhu Qing said, patting his little shoulder. "You’ll get over it."
The young master’s heart was clearly heavy with sorrow.
He let out a long, dramatic sigh, lamenting his youth. If only he could grow up overnight and get his license!
With his motorcycle dreams crushed, Sheng Fang quickly hatched a new plan. "Can we at least play the fried rice game?"
Zhu Qing wasn’t sure when their home had become overrun with Lego.
She’d repeatedly told her little uncle not to clutter the place with toys—after all, their current home was nothing like the sprawling villa on the hillside. If he brought all his toys from the playroom there, soon the three of them—uncle, nephew, and Aunt Ping—would barely have room to turn around. Fangfang had earnestly promised to behave, but his actions spoke otherwise. Without her noticing, a Lego castle had risen in some forgotten corner.
Now, however, Zhu Qing was stunned to find the Lego castle dismantled.
In its place were tiny, scattered pieces—ingredients for Chef Fangfang’s culinary masterpiece.
Wielding the frying pan Aunt Ping had given him, Fangfang flipped his imaginary stir-fry with great solemnity.
Zhu Qing lounged on the sofa, listening as he explained with utmost seriousness:
The white Lego pieces were rice, the red ones carrots, the green ones scallions, and the yellow ones—the most crucial ingredient—eggs.
Sheng Fang, the little chef, stir-fried with blazing heat, the grains of rice distinct and separate, each coated in egg. Lego pieces clattered to the floor.
Zhu Qing guessed he was playing house again at kindergarten.
"Qing, try this!" Sheng Fang scooped up a spoonful of his "fried rice."
Zhu Qing humored him, opening her mouth. "But this is Lego."
"Hey, this is Sheng's famous fried rice!"
The "ingredients" of the fried rice were scattered everywhere. Aunt Ping crouched down, hurriedly picking them up.
In the end, it was Zhu Qing who stopped her, insisting that after Sheng Fang finished playing, he should tidy up with his little broom himself.
But right now, little Sheng Fang was clearly still enjoying himself.
He darted away, and Zhu Qing immediately raised her hand like a traffic cop, calling after him.
"Stop!"
Sheng Fang turned around, his tiny brows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because..." Zhu Qing said, "the rice will spill."
That evening, she spent the whole time playing house with Sheng Fang.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before he finally fell asleep, clutching a plush toy he’d won from a ring-toss game at the amusement park.
His long lashes cast delicate shadows under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
When Zhu Qing finally lay down, something poked her back. She reached for it and pulled it out.
She must have been influenced by her little uncle.
Her first thought upon seeing the black Lego piece was—is this a black truffle?
...
The police launched an in-depth investigation from multiple angles.
During interrogation, Kuang Xiaoyan revealed a crucial piece of information—she suspected that the real Lin Tingchao and Mai Shuxian might not be biologically related.
Though this was merely her personal speculation, it couldn’t be ignored. Over the years, she had been the closest to the couple, and her observations carried weight.
In her supplementary statement, Kuang Xiaoyan also expressed confusion—what were they afraid of? Guilt, or had they gotten too deep into their roles? During her time with the Lin family, the couple had treated her like their own daughter. Over time, she had almost forgotten she was once "Kuang Xiaoyan."
Now, the Lin couple remained tight-lipped, leaving the police with only Kuang Xiaoyan’s testimony as a potential breakthrough.
They retrieved Lin Tingchao’s birth certificate, hospital records, and household registration files, then cross-referenced Mai Shuxian’s prenatal records, scrutinizing every detail.
Finally, while investigating Lin Weizong’s rise to wealth, they stumbled upon something unusual.
He had actually been remarried.
This was a story from over twenty years ago. In the '70s, registration systems were lax, and the records had been buried under a stack of immigration documents. Finding them at all was a stroke of luck.
Zeng Yongshan raised an eyebrow. "An assistant at an art foundation?"
This was an art development fund established over two decades ago, with HSBC as its custodian bank.
Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan hurriedly left the police station.
Once in the car, Zhu Qing dialed Dr. Cheng’s number. "Has the DNA been confirmed? When will the comparison results with Mai Shuxian be ready?"
Cheng Xinglang’s voice carried amusement on the other end.
This madam was now so pressed for time that she couldn’t even spare a trip to the forensics department, resorting to phone calls instead.
She had practically become his boss.
"The results aren’t ready yet," Cheng Xinglang said. "The earliest will be this afternoon."
"Notify me the moment you have them."
The sound of flipping papers came through the phone.
"Yes, madam."
Zhu Qing paused, the corners of her eyes crinkling into a faint smile, the tension in her lips finally easing.
After hanging up, the two immediately resumed their pursuit.
Before Mai Shuxian, Lin Weizong's first wife was a prodigiously talented ballet dancer. In an era when media was not as developed, the only evaluation that could be found about her was the phrase "exceptionally outstanding." It is also worth noting that the father of this dancer—Lin Tingchao's maternal grandfather—was the key to Lin Weizong's rise to prominence.
Initially, Lin Weizong was just an ordinary assistant at an art foundation. Within three months of aligning himself with his ex-wife's family, he was promoted to vice president. Later, he switched careers to start his own business, and historical records indicate that he relied heavily on his in-laws' resources. However, because this happened so long ago, everyone mistakenly believed he was a self-made man.
They had originally intended to visit this grandfather, but investigations revealed that the old man had already passed away. Nevertheless, the art foundation he established was still in operation, managed by a law firm.
At noon, Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan arrived at Zhaoheng Law Firm, located in the Western Market Complex in Sheung Wan. The firm's senior partner, Li Heng, received them.
"My client's greatest sorrow was the downfall of his daughter," Lawyer Li said gently, his tone tinged with regret. "From his wife to his daughter, the women of this family seem perpetually cursed by misfortune."
Zeng Yongshan keenly seized the key point: "Are you referring to mental illness?"
"To be precise, schizophrenia," Lawyer Li replied, retrieving a document from the safe. "The terms of this art foundation... were revised by the old gentleman after his daughter's first episode."
"The original trust clause was simple: once the granddaughter turned twenty-five, she would inherit the entire estate."
"But the revised clause explicitly stipulated that the heir must provide mental health certificates from three designated medical institutions."
"The old gentleman could never accept why his most prideful daughter had suddenly gone mad. The new clause was his own addition—if his granddaughter were diagnosed with a mental disorder, all funds would automatically convert into ballet scholarships to help other children with dance talent."
"Did Lin Weizong know about this?"
"It wasn’t a secret. The trust amendment had to be notarized and filed back then, so all interested parties would have been notified."
Zhu Qing’s gaze lingered on the last revision date of the clause.
April 1986—nine years ago. It took Lin Weizong two years to finally find a girl who resembled his daughter and begin his scheme.
This deduction finally connected the scattered clues into a coherent thread.
Why had the replacement plan dragged on for seven whole years? Why had Kuang Xiaoyan remained in an awkward limbo? Why had Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian hesitated for so long before making a decision?
Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian were waiting for an outcome.
They couldn’t confirm whether Lin Tingchao would develop the illness, nor did they know whether they should take the risk.
If her psychological condition remained healthy, all the better. But if her mental state deteriorated, he needed a replacement.
After the bone marrow transplant, had Lin Tingchao exhibited any abnormal behavior that finally pushed them to act?
So, Lin Weizong’s true motive wasn’t superstition or controlling his daughter.
It was to steal this massive art fund.
Zeng Yongshan asked, "What about Lin Tingchao’s birth mother now...?"
"The official record states she passed away from illness," Lawyer Li whispered, lowering his voice. "In reality, she lived under an alias at Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center for over twenty years."
After leaving Zhaoheng Law Firm, Zhu Qing received a call from Cheng Xinglang.
"The DNA comparison results show a complete match between the basement sample and the severed toe."
"As for her parents' DNA, the forensics team just collected and submitted it—it won't be ready this quickly."
Inside the enclosed car, even without speakerphone, the conversation was crystal clear.
Zeng Yongshan, buckled in, chimed in: "Dr. Cheng, you're a step behind. We've pieced the clues together and are heading to the next critical location."
"Next stop?"
"Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center," Zhu Qing turned the steering wheel. "The Sai Kung specialized care ward."
Mental rehabilitation facilities operate on a tiered system. Unlike the open wards of the main hospital, the Sai Kung ward had much tighter security.
Cheng Xinglang warned over the phone: "You won’t get in."
Sure enough, they were turned away at the Sai Kung facility and had to return to the police station.
Zhu Qing headed to the forensics department.
"Told you they wouldn’t let you in," Cheng Xinglang chuckled. "Still had to try, huh?"
Years after the Cheng family case was closed, Cheng Xinglang had never stopped digging for the truth.
The murderer who escaped from Mingde Mental Rehabilitation Center had briefly been held at the Sai Kung ward. He’d tried investigating multiple times but hit walls without an official order.
"Apply for an access order?"
Mentioning the past, Cheng Xinglang sounded lighthearted: "Do me a favor—take me along when you go."
Zhu Qing paused mid-turn: "You do me a favor too."
Just last night, she’d said not all wishes could come true—
Yet now she was asking Dr. Cheng when he’d be free to pick up Fang Fang on his motorcycle…
To fulfill the little prince of the Sheng family’s dream.
Cheng Xinglang set down his pen: "Right now?"
Zhu Qing checked the time, eyes brightening: "You’re free now?"
His place wasn’t far from the station—plenty of time to fetch his bike.
Where the adorable little troublemaker and his niece were concerned, Dr. Cheng’s patience was limitless.
"Free as can be."
Cheng Xinglang had once driven them to their kindergarten interview and still remembered the address.
Zhu Qing gave him Fang Fang’s dismissal time and the school bus schedule—he could intercept the kid before the bus left.
A surprise for the little one.
"You’re not coming?"
"No time—got a case to work." After a beat, she added, "Tell you what, I’ll have Aunt Ping go with you."
Cheng Xinglang: "……"
……
The windows of Weston Kindergarten’s toddler class were plastered with the children’s brightly colored artwork.
Sunlight filtered through the vibrant paint, casting dreamlike patterns on the floor as the kids sat cross-legged in a circle, faces upturned in anticipation.
They’d just finished role-playing different careers and were now in a special safety lesson.
"Everyone look here," Teacher Ji held up an illustrated board, her voice cheerful. "If a stranger says they’ll take you to Mommy or Daddy, what should you do?"
The children chorused their newly learned response—
"I won’t go!"
"Remember, even if it’s someone you know, unless Mommy or Daddy personally said ‘it’s okay,’ you must never go with them."
"Here’s the tricky part—bad people often pretend to be friends."
At that moment, the classroom door suddenly swung open, and the school janitor playing the "bad guy" walked in with a beaming smile.
He crouched down in front of Jin Bao and pulled out a handful of brightly colored candies from his pocket.
"You must be little Jin Bao, right? I work for your mom at the jewelry store. She asked me to pick you up."
"Take these yummy candies and come with me."
Jin Bao immediately tucked her little hands behind her back, pressing her lips together tightly.
The janitor then turned to Sheng Fang, reaching out to pat his head.
Sheng Fang dodged nimbly, effortlessly avoiding the touch.
No one just gets to touch Fang-sir’s head like that!
"You’re Fangfang, aren’t you?" The janitor persisted. "Your niece sent me to get you. She even bought you a new Transformers toy. Let’s go."
Fangfang turned his little head away.
Qing would never buy him a Transformers—she couldn’t even tell which one was the latest model.
After a round of drills, not a single child was fooled.
Teacher Ji clapped her hands proudly. "You all did so wonderfully!"
She then displayed a series of cards illustrating common luring tactics.
"These are all tricks bad people use," she explained.
"Like offering candy or ice cream, inviting you to play video games, promising toys, showing you puppies, or saying they’ll help you find your mom…"
The children launched into a lively discussion.
Fangfang had once said they should watch more police training shows—they knew exactly how villains acted on TV.
One wrong move, and a kid could get kidnapped.
The rest of the exercise went smoothly.
The children shook their heads like little rattles—
"No, no, I won’t go!"
Teacher Ji’s eyes shimmered with warmth.
A class like this was rare—every child was bright and quick-witted.
Like a group of little angels.
…
Zhu Qing had just stepped into the CID office when she picked up the landline to call home.
"Aunt Ping, could you please go to the kindergarten?"
"Dr. Cheng is on his way to pick up Fangfang, but the school requires a family member to be present for pickup."
After hanging up, Zhu Qing turned to the case board, joining the ongoing discussion.
"So the real target is that arts fund. The amount justifies them grooming a perfect stand-in."
"The added clauses aren’t strict—the imposter doesn’t need to match Lin Tingchao’s dancing skills. As long as the surface deception holds, they’ll pass medical checks. After all, hospitals only run psychological and psychiatric evaluations—they’d never test DNA."
"If they ever needed a blood test for hereditary conditions… the truth would come out. But if the fake Lin Tingchao shows no symptoms requiring deeper examination by age twenty-five, they could still pull it off."
"For Lin Weizong, it’s a win. His real daughter might independently control the funds, but a stand-in would be easier to manipulate."
Beneath Lin Tingchao’s photo on the board was the close-up of her severed toe, wrapped in red thread.
A top-tier ballerina, her toe brutally cut off—ending her dancing career forever.
"Where is Lin Tingchao now? Dead or alive, there has to be an answer."
"Wasn’t the incision made with precision? Definitely the work of a medical professional."
"Mai Shuxian, the beauty salon owner?"
"Beauty treatments and surgery are two different fields—she doesn’t operate."
Zhu Qing flipped back through Rong Zimei’s file.
This girl, who had grown up relying solely on her nurse mother...
What role did she play in this case?
Meanwhile, Aunt Ping jogged along with her grocery basket, the live fish she had just bought still flopping inside the plastic bag.
As she ran, she craned her neck toward the kindergarten. It was all that fish vendor’s fault—he insisted the discount wouldn’t start until 3:30 and made her wait an extra ten minutes.
Now look at this mess. If she was late to pick up the little boss...
Panting heavily, Aunt Ping turned the corner and finally spotted the rainbow-colored gates of the kindergarten.
And the eye-catching figure standing at the entrance.
Cheng Xinglang was surrounded by starry-eyed children.
Sheng Fang was animatedly explaining to Teacher Ji.
"Teacher Ji, he really is Qing Zai’s friend!"
"He brought me candy..."
"He’s here to take me for a ride."
The little elder shook his head and sighed dramatically: "This—"
Cheng Xinglang seamlessly picked up: "This Qing Zai..."
"Never gives a heads-up!" Sheng Fang pouted, tugging at the teacher’s sleeve.
"Teacher, just let me go with him," Fang Fang pleaded, gazing skyward.
The toddlers’ tiny voices chimed in one after another.
"Teacher, teacher! We wanna go with him too!"
"My daddy has cool friends like him!"
"My big sister knows real gangsters!"
Teacher Ji slumped in defeat—
Today’s safety lesson had completely fallen apart.
