At this moment, Uncle Li finally couldn't hold back, his temper erupting completely.
In just a few words, the younger colleagues immediately understood—this former couple was quarreling over trivial domestic matters. The trigger was their recently employed son moving out. Uncle Li and Madam Yu had each contributed part of the funds, while their son took on the mortgage, and together the three of them bought a small apartment.
Madam Yu insisted on buying a new development, while Uncle Li worried the monthly payments would overwhelm their son.
In the end, they settled for an older building, but now it was plagued with problems—leaky pipes, faulty elevators… These minor issues became the spark that ignited the argument.
Once the colleagues grasped the situation, they exchanged knowing glances and silently returned to their paperwork.
Fangfang, being a child, couldn’t comprehend what they were arguing about. His little head tilted left and right, his face full of confusion.
Yet, Fangfang also saw himself as an elder. While everyone else chose silence, a sense of responsibility surged within him. No matter what, he had to play the peacemaker and end the war between his former wife and former husband.
"Alright, alright," Fangfang stretched out his tiny hands to separate the two. "Both of you, calm down!"
His serious expression made him look every bit the authoritative elder.
Uncle Li’s ex-wife, Yu Jingying, had never met this child before. His earlier remark about being "introverted" had nearly left her speechless, and now here he was, acting like a little adult trying to mediate. Compared to him, it seemed this child was the boldest one in the entire police station.
After all, they were in a police station—continuing this argument was hardly appropriate. Yu Jingying turned her face away.
Though she fell silent, her expression remained icy as she shot Uncle Li a cold glare.
Suddenly, a sweet, childish voice broke the tension.
"Are you really his ex-wife?"
Everyone held their breath again.
With Zhu Qing absent, no one could rein in this little master. The ill-timed question had everyone on edge.
Even Uncle Li shook his head in disbelief.
This child clearly hadn’t witnessed Yu Jingying’s ironclad demeanor—she could reduce someone to tears with just three sentences, effortlessly.
Yu Jingying looked down at the little boy. "What?"
Fangfang tilted his head up, his eyes sparkling with innocent curiosity. "Was it an old-husband-young-wife marriage?"
Everyone froze.
Then, someone stifled a laugh.
Uncle Li stared at Yu Jingying in disbelief.
He could swear he hadn’t seen his ex-wife laugh this heartily in nearly twenty years.
……
Rewind two or three decades, and Uncle Li and Yu Jingying had been classmates of the same age.
Now, they were being called "old-husband-young-wife"—and by a three-year-old, no less.
How could such a young child lie? Yu Jingying’s frown melted into a radiant smile, her lips curling higher and higher. In her newfound good mood, she even asked for the child’s name.
What followed was a back-and-forth conversation.
"What’s O记?"
"Organized Crime and Triad Bureau, short for anti-gang investigations."
Fangfang clasped his little hands together, his gaze fixed on the shiny gold letters on her badge.
He blinked. "DSP?"
Zeng Yongshan, standing nearby, explained, "Madam is a Detective Senior Inspector."
"So cool!"
Clearly, Fangfang had found himself a new idol.
The conversation was so delightful that Yu Jingying completely forgot she had come here to argue.
As she left, she even patted her pockets apologetically. "No candy on me this time. Next time, I’ll bring you a lollipop."
Little Sheng Fang escorted her all the way to the CID office door. Even after she had walked away, the child clung to the doorframe and called out—
"Remember, next time you have to bring me a lollipop!"
"Got it," Yu Jingying replied without turning back, waving dismissively.
"Young master, we should get going too," Aunt Ping reminded him. "Qingqing mentioned the fencing coach recommended a tennis class. Let’s try one session, just for fun."
The clever little master saw right through it—his niece was trying to fill his schedule so he wouldn’t have time to meddle in cases or visit the station. Not a chance!
But the class was already booked, so he had no choice but to go obediently.
Sheng Fang had forgotten how much he "used to" love tennis as a child. As they left, he grumbled under his breath.
"I’m only going to one class. I won’t go next time!"
"Of course, young master."
"And tell the fencing coach not to make random recommendations next time…"
Fangfang had left home after dinner, but unfortunately, his niece was busy, and the two missed each other.
Even more unfortunately, just as his taxi drove off, a hurried figure flashed past the car window.
"Ah—" Fangfang pressed his face against the glass. "Qingqing!"
The taxi disappeared into the distance.
It wasn’t until Zhu Qing went upstairs that she learned Fangfang had been there moments earlier.
The child’s innocence was endearing, but once he was gone, the shadow of the case loomed once more.
Now, not only was Lin Tingchao missing, but key figures had also vanished without a trace.
……
After two days of intense investigation, the Serious Crime Team B had uncovered every detail about Shen Jingyang’s background.
The office was a revolving door of activity, often leaving only empty desks behind. But as all the gathered information came together, a heartbreaking story began to take shape.
"Shen Jingyang comes from a well-off family. He and Lin Tingchao were childhood sweethearts."
"Coincidentally, they were born in the same ward at Mary Hospital, two years apart. Their families were close—business partners, in fact—and the two grew up together."
"Born in the same ward at Mary Hospital?" Mo Zhenbang sneered as he reviewed the files. "Same ward, but the birth mother had long been replaced by a stepmother. I doubt Mai Shuxian would ever publicize that fact."
To the outside world, Mai Shuxian and Lin Weizong never mentioned that Lin Tingchao had a biological mother.
This was a secret they had buried long ago.
Zhu Qing underlined "Mary Hospital" with her pen.
"This should have been a perfect love story. Both sets of parents assumed they’d marry after graduation…"
Until Kuang Xiaoyan appeared, shattering everything.
"Lin Weizong demanded that Kuang Xiaoyan and Shen Jingyang break up. He knew that, given Shen Jingyang’s deep understanding of Lin Tingchao, the truth would eventually come out."
"What a shame. They were such a perfect match—both artists."
"But that’s exactly why… Artists chase perfection. When love is tainted, would they choose destruction? Could Shen Jingyang have harmed Lin Tingchao because of it?"
Lin Tingchao’s plight was heartbreaking.
What kind of people had she been surrounded by?
A girl she met at school, so-called friends, an ex-boyfriend, even her own parents…
"Aside from the studio on Hollywood Road, Shen Jingyang also co-owned a gallery with friends. But according to them, he hasn’t been seen for days."
"Shen Jingyang had long since moved out of his parents' home. The elderly couple admitted they rarely saw their son these days. Over the years, they'd repeatedly urged him to start a new relationship, but Shen Jingyang seemed unable to move past the shadows of his previous romance."
"Immigration records confirm he's still in Hong Kong."
"Shen Jingyang's social and living circles are extremely limited... No feminine items were found in his residence, suggesting he might have another hideaway."
"Credit card records from ten days ago show he purchased a diamond ring."
As time ticked away, Lin Tingchao's danger level continued rising.
Just as Mo Zhenbang was about to issue further instructions, the duty officer from the report room suddenly appeared at the CID office doorway.
"Sir Mo."
"The person you're looking for has arrived."
...
In the interrogation room, Shen Jingyang's tall, lean frame appeared ghostly pale under the harsh lights.
His slender fingers interlaced as he raised bloodshot eyes: "Tingchao is missing."
The two detectives before him had already opened their notepads, pens hovering over blank lines.
Shen Jingyang's account began when Lin Tingchao underwent bone marrow transplantation.
"We stayed at the transplant center with her parents for two full weeks," his quiet voice carried unsettling clarity, "until the doctors confirmed the engraftment indicators were favorable."
During those days, Shen Jingyang kept constant vigil at the hospital, supporting Lin Tingchao through each wave of graft-versus-host reactions.
Yet after discharge, she began deliberately distancing herself.
Unanswered calls, declined dates. When he visited her home, her parents always claimed she'd gone out.
When finally contacted, she cited college preparations as excuse.
She assumed their relationship would end when term began, but Shen Jingyang stubbornly followed her to England.
Only to be met with irrevocable breakup.
Initial fury gave way to unshakable suspicion.
Shen Jingyang insisted that anyone who'd truly loved would recognize - no relationship ends without cause. Their bond had been... perfect.
He began investigating obsessively, chasing every lead. Initially suspecting some unspeakable hardship, he never imagined the grotesque truth - cosmetic surgery, body doubles, imprisonment.
"Until I saw her after the escape." Shen Jingyang's voice fractured, his Adam's apple bobbing violently, "Those three years..."
The real Lin Tingchao had been imprisoned for three years, escaping only six months prior.
Kuang Xiaoyan hadn't yet returned abroad then.
"First in a basement. She escaped once, got recaptured."
"Later, when they needed household help, they moved her confinement elsewhere."
"That typhoon night when Tingchao stood trembling before me... I barely recognized her."
The liberated Lin Tingchao lived in perpetual terror.
Knowing her parents would pursue her, dreading re-capture. Shen Jingyang urged police involvement, but she recoiled from the suggestion, trauma leaving her shuddering. He dared not pressure further.
"Kuang Xiaoyan concealed the imprisonment duration..." Mo Zhenbang frowned, "To reduce sentencing?"
"Recently she's plagued by nightmares."
"She said this can't end like this."
Shen Jingyang closed his eyes.
Having grown up with Lin Tingchao, he knew Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian intimately. He couldn't comprehend how these doting parents transformed into monsters... let alone how Lin Tingchao endured this torment - the psychological agony eclipsing physical wounds.
"She trusts the police," Shen Jingyang suddenly stated.
The severed toe had been Lin Tingchao's own idea.
In that basement, Kuang Xiaoyan had deliberately crushed her ankle, ending her dance career forever.
"Tingchao asked me to do it," Shen Jingyang continued, "Said she'd endured worse these three years."
A criminal law textbook was gently placed on the interrogation table.
Its pages bore countless creases and annotations.
"She's been calculating daily," Shen Jingyang gave a pained smile, "Tabulating their sentences."
Mo Zhenbang: "If exposing the imprisonment was the goal, why not simply report it? Her scars, her testimony could convict them."
"I said the same." Shen Jingyang shook his head, "But after reuniting, I found I no longer fully understood her. She'd grown private. All I could do was comply."
Comply with her plan, including leaving that anonymous letter at the station.
Shen Jingyang housed Lin Tingchao in a seaside cottage.
Their once-dreamed home, where sunset hues painted waves crashing below the window. In the studio awaited his painting for her - a vision of them walking the shore once healed. In the canvas' corner, two characters: "Freedom."
Her most desperate longing.
As the ordeal neared conclusion, he gradually transported his artworks to the cottage.
The final seascape oil painting was meant for next month - her birthday.
"She never fully accepted me back, perhaps still hesitant."
That painting was to be his gift, alongside the ring.
Believing they could start anew.
Then Lin Tingchao vanished.
"She studied legal codes, computed their sentences, yet they got bail."
"Last time we met, she clutched this book asking why her tormentors walked free."
This well-thumbed legal text, its marked passages now lay cold on the interrogation table, its statutes equally frigid.
Shen Jingyang said when learning of her parents' bail, the light died in her eyes.
"You'll face charges too," Mo Zhenbang reminded, "Assault."
Shen Jingyang shook his head: "Just find her."
"Stop her from... drastic actions."
That night, sirens pierced the darkness.
All searching for the vanished girl.
...
The CID office lights glared unnaturally bright in the late hours.
After brief respites, officers repeatedly returned to intensive search efforts.
Shen Jingyang's testimony left everyone speechless—
That fragile, kindhearted girl habitually punished herself through suffering. His greatest fear: she might choose eternal escape from despair.
"Sir Mo," an officer finally asked, "Is his testimony enough to detain Lin Weizong and his wife?"
Mo Zhenbang massaged his temples: "Shen Jingyang's a stakeholder. We'd just listed him as suspect when he appeared. His credibility's questionable."
However much they yearned to jail the couple immediately, procedure demanded evidence.
Zeng Yongshan cradled her coffee cup, expression conflicted: "How ironic... I'm moved yet afraid to be."
A series of cases had unfolded, and she was repeatedly deceived by "romantic" love stories—the most representative figure being Chen Chaosheng, the second son-in-law in the Furnace Skeleton Case.
"Wow," Hao Zai teased, "even Yongshan has learned to be smart now."
A crisp, childish voice chimed in—
"Big kid now."
Living close to the police station had its perks—Fangfang could drop by anytime.
The little elder had been complaining lately. How come her niece’s job kept her working later and later, without even a single day off? Fangfang hadn’t seen Zhu Qing in days. Just now, after a phone call confirming Zhu Qing was at the station, she dragged Aunt Ping along in a hurry.
Zhu Qing didn’t even look up. "You’ll have nothing to do here. It’ll be boring."
Fangfang sidled up to her niece. "Being with Qingqing is never boring."
Crammed into the tiny workspace, the two sat shoulder to shoulder, flipping through case files.
Fangfang held a sheet of paper too, scribbling with exaggerated seriousness.
After who knows how long, her little face gradually slumped onto the desk.
"I need that document." Zhu Qing gently pulled out the Sai Kung Sanatorium transcript from under Fangfang’s arm, making the little one’s chubby chin wobble.
At this point, Fangfang had commandeered the swivel chair, forcing Zhu Qing to perch on a plastic stool.
She launched into an enthusiastic retelling of kindergarten gossip.
Sheng Fang had an endless well of stories to share, and after days of pent-up chatter, she was especially animated.
"Teacher Ji gave us a safety lesson again!"
"A bad guy knocked on the door, but I knew right away—it was her boyfriend!"
"He’s picked her up from work before—I told all the kids, Teacher Ji’s smile was worse than crying!"
"Really?" Zhu Qing responded absently, her eyes still on the transcript.
Lin Tingchao’s birth mother had said—
"She won’t suffer anymore."
The nurse insisted that patients’ ramblings were meaningless, their words jumbled and unreliable.
But why, when speaking of her daughter, did the woman say this?
The notebook was a mess of disjointed clues.
Zhu Qing’s pen moved unconsciously, then suddenly stopped.
A detail from the meeting notes seemed to align.
Next month would mark Lin Tingchao’s 25th birthday.
She was born at Mary Hospital.
Chen Yulan had been a maternity nurse at Mary Hospital—around 25 years ago, when her own daughter was born.
"Yongshan," Zhu Qing looked up sharply, "when Rong Zimei filed the report, did she list her age as 27?"
Zeng Yongshan lifted her exhausted face from the paperwork. "Yeah."
Rong Zimei was lying.
Why would she shave two years off her real age?
What was the purpose of that discrepancy?
Fangfang tilted her head. "Qingqing, Qingqing, working women really are the prettiest!"
"Flattery won’t work." Zhu Qing poked her cheek. "Aunt Ping will be here in ten minutes."
The little one had to go home to bed—she’d called Aunt Ping from the break room earlier.
Fangfang: "I’m not talking to you anymore."
"Fine, fine."
Fangfang: "You’re the best!"
Pouting and arms crossed, Sheng Fang still stayed glued to her niece’s side.
The tense office atmosphere softened slightly with this adorable interruption.
......
Three days passed, and Lin Tingchao remained missing.
Rong Zimei’s two-year age lie seemed minor, but it made the police wary.
Mo Zhenbang ordered immediately: "Bring Rong Zimei in for questioning."
As clues connected, the truth’s puzzle slowly took shape.
But the biggest mystery remained—where was Lin Tingchao?
At the early morning case review, the team reconstructed the timeline.
Three and a half years ago, Lin Tingchao thought she’d been given a second chance at life—unaware the bone marrow transplant was the start of a nightmare.
During those sunless days in the basement, a girl with bandaged cheeks haunted her.
That girl, similar in age, build, and even voice, became her tormentor.
Lin Tingchao begged, scrawling on paper: "I’m Tingchao. You know this."
In the end, she never handed those blood-stained accusations to her parents.
She hid them in the pipes.
That rainy night, she did escape.
Yet her loving parents dragged her back to hell.
The new cell was fancier but just as suffocating.
Her mother gently touched her casted ankle, whispering, "Isn’t this life enough?"
The second escape came during a typhoon.
After three years of captivity, she staggered to Shen Jingyang—the last person she trusted.
"I get it now."
"Why not just go to the police? Because the severed toe was just the beginning."
She didn’t want just "illegal confinement" charges—she wanted life sentences.
Three years of torture left Lin Tingchao broken. To get justice, she’d hurt herself if needed.
As police first guessed, she planned a "dismemberment" to expose the truth. Starting with toes, then fingers, non-lethal cuts... In her anonymous letters as the true "Swan Watcher," she wrote—
"If this isn’t murder."
Lin Tingchao assumed police would charge Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian with murder.
But she didn’t know forensics could distinguish antemortem from postmortem wounds. Blood flow patterns don’t lie.
"She found out Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian were bailed out," an officer murmured. "Then what?"
To Shen Jingyang, this was a fresh start.
But to Lin Tingchao? Three years of agony, scars inside and out... She was planning an end.
On the desk lay Shen Jingyang’s criminal law textbook. He’d feared she’d harm herself in despair.
Yet Zhu Qing’s gaze froze on one page.
"Lin Tingchao wasn’t researching their sentences," she realized. "She was studying her own."
Those years in captivity might’ve revealed Feng Ningyun’s truth—the swap.
This was her last card, but she bore it alone, treating every day with Shen Jingyang as borrowed time.
Shen Jingyang said she’d kept him at arm’s length for months.
Now it made sense—she didn’t want to burden him.
"It’s the insanity defense clause."
Zhu Qing recalled the meaningful words of Nurse Little Dong from the Sai Kung Sanatorium.
"Mentally ill criminals are always different from normal people."
These people seemed to wield a get-out-of-jail-free card.
Everyone assumed Lin Tingchao, having escaped her cage, would stay far away from her parents—but the truth might be the exact opposite.
"Maybe she thought, if they could exploit legal loopholes, so could she."
Mo Zhenbang said gravely, "Lin Tingchao is going to kill them."
...
Weston Kindergarten’s toddler class had a unique rule—
Every week, two children would stay behind after school to clean the classroom.
This was a recent initiative by Teacher Ji to cultivate the kids' hands-on skills.
This time, it was Baby Yesi and Juan’s turn for duty.
As soon as the dismissal bell rang, little Yesi hugged the mop handle, her lips pouting dramatically, her big round eyes brimming with grievance.
"I wanna go home."
Fangfang, ever the chivalrous little sir, took the mop from her hands without hesitation.
"I'll do it," he said, sighing as he glanced out the window. "It’s not like anyone’s home early to play with me anyway."
Teacher Ji didn’t even need to ask—it was clear his policewoman niece was, yet again, too busy to be seen.
Yesi immediately brightened, bouncing on her toes as she promised to bring Fangfang candy tomorrow, then skipped away happily with her tiny backpack.
ᶜʰᵘⁿʳⁱ
The other children gradually filed out of the classroom.
Soon, only Juan and Sheng Fang remained.
Thanks to "special training" from Qingzai and Aunt Ping, Fangfang’s housekeeping skills had improved from zero to passable.
At home, Fangfang often turned himself into a "human mop," but this was kindergarten—no mop-boy antics allowed! He had to act like a big kid! Swinging the mop left and right with exaggerated seriousness, Fangfang suddenly lit up—
"You can ride this and go super fast!" he exclaimed excitedly. "Try it!"
Juan hesitated, glancing between the teacher’s office and Fangfang, who had already "whooshed" to the back wall.
In the end, curiosity won over the urge to tattle, and he tentatively brandished his own mop.
"I’ve got a better idea," Fangfang said, struck by inspiration. "You sit on it."
And so, the two little rascals invented a new game: "mop skateboarding."
Juan sat on the mop as Fangfang pushed him across the wooden floor, their laughter echoing through the classroom.
"Wanna switch?" Juan asked after his fill of fun.
Sheng Fang stared at his damp pants.
"No thanks," the clever little boy shook his head emphatically.
When Teacher Ji returned, this was the scene that greeted her—
Two children engaged in a "mop racing championship," zipping from one end of the room to the other, occasionally baring their tiny teeth in mock threats.
"If there was anyone else to play with, I wouldn’t play with you."
"Same here."
"Wahoo, this is so fun..."
Five minutes later, Teacher Ji marched them out by their collars.
Juan’s mother, seeing her son with a rare playmate, smiled warmly. "Would you like to come over to Juan’s house next time?"
Fangfang clasped his hands behind his back.
He wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea... but Qingzai had taught him to be polite.
Juan’s mom handed her mobile phone to Sheng Fang. "Can you put in your home number? I’ll save it."
She didn’t understand why her child always struggled to make friends.
Now that he finally had one, she was even happier than he was.
"Fine."
Fangfang’s chubby fingers expertly tapped in the digits—Qingzai’s number, of course.
He even planned to hit the call button afterward.
Might as well chat with his niece while he was at it!
...
In the interrogation room, Rong Zimei sat with her eyes closed, silently enduring every question.
"Not talking, huh?" Uncle Li drummed his fingers impatiently on the notepad. "We’ll take our time, then."
Meanwhile, Team B’s officers were tailing Lin Weizong and Mai Shuxian in two separate units.
Since the couple’s release on bail, police had their luxury residence under tight surveillance. For days, they’d stayed indoors—until today, when they finally made a move.
At dawn, Lin Weizong, suited up, headed to his office to tackle piled-up work, while Mai Shuxian returned to her beauty salon for a full treatment.
At 3 PM, Lin picked up his wife, stopped by an outdoor gear shop for preordered fishing equipment, then drove toward Tsim Sha Tsui.
The trailing police cars maintained a discreet distance.
Then, the target vehicle parked outside a supermarket.
"They come here every week for groceries," Liang Qikai murmured. "The maid, Aunt Wu, mentioned it’s their routine."
"Is the day of the week fixed too?"
"No clear records, but judging by their patterns, it’s likely scheduled."
Officers parked and followed the couple inside.
Just then, Zhu Qing’s mobile rang.
On the line, Fangfang was chattering excitedly.
"Qingzai, this is Juan’s mom’s number. Save it."
Zhu Qing raised an eyebrow, double-checking if she’d heard right.
Weren’t Fangfang and Juan sworn enemies?
"And also—"
"Got it," Zhu Qing cut in, noticing Mo Zhenbang’s incoming call. "Fangfang, hold on."
As the only officer with a mobile, she was used to abrupt high-priority interruptions.
During ops, she often relayed Mo Sir’s orders to the team in real time.
"Forensics just found something major."
Mo Zhenbang continued, "When we compared Mai Shuxian and Lin Tingchao’s DNA earlier, we took Lin Weizong’s sample too, but no one paid attention to those results until Forensics reviewed the files."
A pause. "Lin Tingchao and Lin Weizong aren’t biologically related."
The revelation hit like a sledgehammer.
At that moment, a faint "beep" sounded from her mobile—Fangfang’s call was still connected.
Before Zhu Qing could react, Mo Zhenbang hung up, and the line switched back.
Fangfang’s voice chirped persistently, "Hello? Hello? Qingzai, where’d you go...?"
As Zhu Qing opened her mouth to respond, a supermarket employee pushing an overloaded cart cut in front of her, blocking her view.
She rose on her tiptoes, sidestepping the cart.
In that instant, her gaze caught a little girl with pigtails.
The child was crouched in front of the candy aisle, carefully selecting treats while clutching a golden-haired doll in her arms.
The next moment, Zhu Qing’s pupils constricted sharply.
Near the checkout counter, a slender figure was limping toward Lin Weizong and his wife.
The person wore an oversized gray hoodie, their right leg dragging slightly with each step.
When they raised their right hand, a blinding glint of metal flashed.
A sharp kitchen knife.
"Target spotted at three o'clock," Zhu Qing whispered into her radio before sprinting forward.
All the pieces fell into place at once.
Years ago, the dancer Feng Ningyun had secretly switched the babies at the hospital. That was why, in the sanatorium, she had said the child would never suffer again...
Zhu Qing didn’t know Feng Ningyun’s motives, but one thing was certain.
Lin Weizong’s meticulously crafted scheme was nothing but a colossal joke. If she had done nothing, Lin Tingchao would have rightfully inherited that massive art fund—because she wasn’t Feng Ningyun’s biological daughter at all, and thus could never have inherited any mental illness.
"Ah!"
Mai Shuxian’s scream suddenly pierced the supermarket’s clamor.
The blade in Lin Tingchao’s raised hand reflected the couple’s horrified, distorted faces.
She wasn’t Feng Ningyun and Lin Weizong’s daughter.
And she certainly didn’t have any "get-out-of-jail-free card" in the form of a psychiatric condition.
At that moment, knife in hand, Lin Tingchao didn’t realize that while the couple deserved their fate, her revenge would utterly destroy her own life.
She could have started over. She could have had a new beginning.
The officers were already closing in—
Just as the blade was about to descend, the little girl with the doll skipped right into the danger zone.
The child looked up innocently, her clear eyes meeting Lin Tingchao’s.
Time seemed to freeze. Lin Tingchao’s raised arm locked in place, the fury in her eyes slowly giving way to confusion.
The police lunged forward, seizing her wrist.
"Spring Day."
With a clang, the knife hit the supermarket floor.
After the jarring sound of metal, silence settled once more.
The phone call was still connected, though no one knew where the device had been dropped.
Two children’s voices floated from the other end.
"Sheng Fang, why isn’t anyone talking?"
"Qing-jie’s been like this a lot lately," Fangfang said sagely. "The TV calls it 'playing pretend.'"
