Zhu Qing spent a restless night at the Sheng residence.
The uncomfortable iron-framed beds at the orphanage and the faded bunk beds at the Wong Chuk Hang Police Academy dormitory paled in comparison to the plush guest room she was given in the villa. Yet the ever-growing annotations in her notebook reminded her—this was no vacation, but a mission.
Both Xu Jiale and Zhu Qing stayed awake until dawn. After breakfast delivered by the maid, Sister Ping, their CID colleagues arrived.
"Here to relieve us?"
Zhu Qing shook her head. "No, it's the autopsy report for the Maltese."
Last night had been an exception, but today, everything returned to routine.
As for why the CID rushed over so early—ironically, the Sheng family's legal team had swiftly completed all procedures. While the expedited DNA report for the human remains was still pending, the autopsy report for Bo Bo, the dog, had already been submitted.
"No abnormalities in Bo Bo's cause of death."
The report was dense with technical jargon, but Zhu Qing's gaze lingered on the line: "External trauma ruled out."
Uncle Li glanced at the report and scoffed.
Second Miss Sheng clutched her skirt, murmuring, "Was it really just an accident?"
Uncle Li turned away.
Murdering a dog—what nonsense from a spoiled heiress. Did the killer fear the dog would inherit the family fortune? Or did the dog witness the crime and had to be silenced?
Stupidity annoyed him the most.
By the time Zhu Qing left, the guest bed remained neatly made.
Most days, young master Sheng Fang’s world was confined to the third-floor nursery and the hallway. Now, with the secret passage sealed off by Second Miss Sheng’s husband, Marysa shadowed him like a human surveillance system.
Sheng Fang rested his round chin on the stair railing, watching Zhu Qing prepare to leave.
"Aren’t the police supposed to protect people?"
"We’re working on the case," Zhu Qing replied coolly, though her words softened. "Behave, and I’ll nominate you for a Good Citizen Award."
The little boy pouted, mimicking a cartoon villain. "Pfft, as if you can solve cases."
No idea where the kid got his confidence.
As her colleague called for her, Zhu Qing tossed a casual "Later" over her shoulder. But Sheng Fang’s voice piped up again.
"Give me your number!"
Zhu Qing turned. "Don’t have one."
"A pager?"
"Nope."
Marysa, ever observant, absorbed the exchange like a language lesson—left, then right, parsing the terse Mandarin.
The young master scrutinized Zhu Qing. "Are you… broke?"
"Are you… nouveau riche?"
Dead silence.
Marysa held her breath—had the little master lost again?
......
A decade ago, the contractor behind the Sheng villa’s construction had since built a thriving building materials business. Though now sizable, the company’s early days were chaotic, with no proper records of the original crew. Still, cross-referencing the legal team’s contracts, material invoices, and the property manager’s visitor logs yielded leads.
After leaving the hillside, Zhu Qing and Uncle Li headed to Yongjian Building Materials. The gilded sign at the entrance gleamed ostentatiously. A secretary ushered them into He Yongjian’s office.
"So you’re Cement Jian?" Uncle Li eyed him.
He Yongjian, now draped in designer labels and flashing gold-capped teeth, bristled at the old nickname. Even former coworkers addressed him as "Boss He."
Zhu Qing’s gaze swept the room, pausing on a Guan Gong statue before she took a seat at the rosewood tea table.
He Yongjian studied her, then grinned. "A pretty madam like you—fancy dim sum at Zhou’s after work?"
Uncle Li’s face darkened, but Zhu Qing merely drew a line across Yongjian’s submitted reports with her pen.
"Boss He, your fire hydrant counts from two years ago don’t match today’s inspection."
The smirk vanished. Uncle Li stifled a laugh.
This rookie had claws.
He Yongjian gulped tea to mask his discomfort before refocusing.
"Back then, we worked overnight shifts. The crew didn’t complain—extra cash for Lunar New Year."
"Old-timers in the foothills tenements kept splashing water in protest. Old Man Sheng bumped pay by 30% and told us to handle it. For the rich, money solves everything."
Zhu Qing recalled the property manager Old Lam’s account—
The foreman said Old Man Sheng later changed his mind, halted night shifts, and delayed progress for months.
"Why the stoppage?" she pressed.
He Yongjian frowned, dredging up memories.
"Stoppage… oh right!" He slapped his thigh. "Mr. Chen said to take our time—they weren’t in a hurry."
"Which Mr. Chen?"
"Who else could halt an entire crew? Second Miss Sheng’s husband."
"Was he overseeing everything? What about the eldest son-in-law?"
"Never showed up. Old Man Sheng preferred the second—said he ‘knew how to deal with people.’ The eldest? Just a lecturer, spouting boring theories."
Uncle Li cut in. "Any issues during the fireplace installation?"
"None." He Yongjian waved dismissively. "Cops asked before. If there were problems, I’d have mentioned it."
Zhu Qing checked the blueprints and logs. "December 19th and 20th—a worker named Li Fa vanished afterward."
"Hundreds came and went. You expect me to remember?" He fiddled with his teapot. "No recollection of this Li Fa."
Zhu Qing held his gaze. "Fine. We’ll keep digging."
The teacup clattered as He Yongjian’s hand jerked.
“Wouldn’t want to delay your fortune-making,” Uncle Li remarked pointedly, signaling their exit.
But as they reached the elevator, He Yongjian suddenly chased after them.
"Officers!"
The marble for the fireplace's relief carving was delayed. Then it arrived abruptly, but my crew was shifted to a Repulse Bay site. So I brought in my cousin, Ah Fa…
"He rushed the job—finished in two days instead of five. Told me over drinks later."
The Sheng fireplace skeleton case had sparked public outcry. He Yongjian feared media exposure of the rushed work’s potential hazards, which could tarnish his company’s name.
"Honestly, officers," he wheedled, "the fireplace had no defects. Can we… keep this from the press?"
Uncle Li and Zhu Qing exchanged a glance.
Their concern had nothing to do with whether the construction company’s golden reputation would be tarnished.
Just as the elevator doors were about to close, He Yongjian urgently reminded them—
"Keep it confidential!"
Inside the confined elevator, Uncle Li asked, "What do you think?"
After what felt like an eternity, Zhu Qing’s speculation drifted into his ears.
"Li Fa might not have acted alone."
"Rushing to finish the project in two days? The killer probably hid the body in the fireplace long before."
...
When Zhu Qing and Uncle Li returned to the police station, Hao Zai was bragging about his night out at the nightclub with Mo Shazhan.
"That bottle was called Louis something—wrapped in rose gold foil, and they even wore white gloves to open it!"
"The corkscrew was studded with rubies. They said it belonged to Boss Huang, the real estate tycoon—used last month for his fifth wife’s birthday celebration..."
Xu Jiale groaned in envy.
What rotten luck that Mo Shazhan hadn’t taken him along for the experience.
"You’re not missing out," Xiao Sun teased. "You’ve even stayed in a luxury mansion on the hill."
"A haunted mansion on the hill, you mean!"
Mo Zhenbang waved a case file, signaling everyone to gather in the conference room.
"Mo Shazhan’s takeout will be here soon," Sister Zhen, the administrative officer, chimed in. "He specially ordered egg tarts from Lee Kee and silk-stocking milk tea for you all."
"Knowing you lot won’t work unless you’re fed."
Zeng Yongshan immediately dashed to the conference room, snagging the folding chair by the door. "Lee Kee’s egg tarts are crispy and fragrant—fresh out of the oven, you have to fight for them!"
"Let’s get to work!" Hao Zai strode to the whiteboard, taking the case file from Mo Zhenbang before the latter could reprimand him.
"Colleagues at the nightclub all said He Jia'er was well-liked. Everyone adored this elite university girl—she got plenty of special treatment."
"The victim’s parents suspected she’d made enemies at the club... but truth is, He Jia'er didn’t just have no enemies—she was thriving."
"In the two weeks before she disappeared, she was showered with new jewelry, clothes, and shoes—gifts piled up faster than she could unwrap them. Every night after work, a luxury car would pick her up."
"Her girlfriends said she’d landed a sugar daddy... but despite being friendly with everyone, He Jia'er kept her lips sealed. Never spilled a word."
Xu Jiale: "Maybe the guy’s identity was too sensitive to reveal?"
"Sugar daddy?" Zeng Yongshan scoffed. "What decent man hangs around those places? Probably some married creep."
Knock knock knock—
The sharp rapping interrupted their thoughts.
A forensics officer delivered an urgent DNA report. "Inspector Mo, Inspector Ge asked me to bring this over."
The report was fresher than Lee Kee’s piping-hot egg tarts. Mo Zhenbang tore open the envelope.
No surprises—the victim was confirmed to be He Jia'er.
All eyes turned to the scribbled notes on the whiteboard.
Murder motives boiled down to a few classics: revenge, love, money...
Mo Zhenbang: "Notify the family."
"That hillside villa was famous for its tight security back then. Even construction workers had to register with ID to enter. He Jia'er was an outsider..."
"Four guards were on duty simultaneously during each shift—no way an outsider could’ve slipped in." Uncle Li picked up Zhu Qing’s train of thought, sharing their findings from Yongjian Construction.
Zhu Qing: "But if it was an insider, no registration would be needed."
Xu Jiale frowned. "Of course you don’t register when going home—what’s the point?"
Amid the scattered murmurs, Mo Zhenbang’s gaze settled on Zhu Qing. "Go on."
"Residents of the hillside mansions drive straight into their garages," Zhu Qing said. "Once the construction team left, the killer stuffed the body into a hidden compartment behind the fireplace."
Mo Zhenbang: "Maybe the focus was never on the construction workers hiding the body."
The Sheng family—poster children for ‘model citizens’—hadn’t moved into the villa when the crime occurred. Fireplace installation required professionals, and even the most sensational tabloids avoided wild speculation, merely lamenting the mansion’s cursed feng shui for attracting such a tragedy...
When the skeletal remains were later exposed, the Sheng family cooperated fully with the police—airtight alibis, restored decade-old surveillance footage, servant testimonies—everything was flawless.
"He Yongjian mentioned," Uncle Li mused, "the second son-in-law specifically told the construction team to clock out at 8 p.m. sharp."
The tension in the room finally cracked as the officers exchanged knowing looks.
Seemed like it was time to invite this ‘upstanding gentleman’ in for a chat over coffee.
