Dean Luo gave Sheng Peirong a slight nod, his eyes filled with warmth. The surgery had been extremely high-risk, and even he had hesitated repeatedly. But now, it had brought new hope to this fractured family.
Fangfang met his eldest sister for the first time, a soft, sweet smile on his lips—this child was an expert at winning hearts.
"Eldest Sister, I got here a while ago."
Sheng Peirong never imagined she had a younger brother. Such a tiny child… was actually her brother.
Before she could even ask anything, the little one had already launched into a lively self-introduction.
He told her his full name, Sheng Fang, though she could call him by his nickname, Fangfang. He shared his age and his school, even though Zhu Qing reminded him that since he hadn’t graduated yet, it couldn’t technically be called his alma mater—but the little boy just waved it off, completely unfazed by her correction.
Fangfang even mentioned his "profession," patting his small chest as if he were about to flash a police badge.
This was Fangfang’s first face-to-face conversation with Sheng Peirong. When he was born, his blood-related sister had already slipped into a deep slumber, completely unaware of his existence. Yet now, their gazes met in the air—they were siblings, bound by an unbreakable connection.
Was it because Fangfang talked so much? Even though this was their first meeting, it felt like a long-awaited reunion.
"A police officer…?" Sheng Peirong snapped out of her daze. "You?"
"It’s complicated, I’ll explain later," Sheng Fang said in his childish voice. "Eldest Sister, Qing Zai and I have been waiting for you for so long."
"Qing Zai?" Sheng Peirong repeated softly.
"That’s Zhu Qing," Fangfang explained, shaking his head, his eyes sparkling. "You didn’t know her real name? The orphanage director gave it to her—"
"Mmm—" His little mouth was suddenly covered by Zhu Qing’s hand.
"You talk too much."
But Sheng Peirong gently took Fangfang’s small hand and said warmly, "Tell me more."
The memories of their childhood, the years growing up—after their mother truly woke up, Zhu Qing had never brought them up. Even when asked, she would brush it off. It seemed that as a child, she had learned to share only the good news.
But a mother always wanted to know more—every little detail.
"You said… you’re Sheng Wenchang’s son?" Sheng Peirong asked softly.
"His youngest son!" Fangfang leaned in. "Dad said you used to argue with him all the time—that you were his most rebellious daughter."
Aunt Ping stood nearby, adjusting the collar of the eldest young lady’s coat to shield her from the wind.
Those old memories should have faded with time, growing blurry. But now, as she thought back, the scenes of Sheng Peirong and her father clashing in the study were still vivid in her mind.
After every argument, Sheng Wenchang—who never yielded to anyone—would always be the first to compromise with his daughter. Sheng Peirong truly was the most defiant presence in the Sheng family. She dared to meet her father’s authority head-on, challenging the so-called unbreakable family rules. Yet, she was also the daughter who had once made him the proudest.
Finally reunited, the family had endless things to say.
The atmosphere was warm and lively, as if Sheng Peirong had simply been away on a long journey and was now finally home.
Fangfang wanted to help push the wheelchair too, his tiny figure squeezing in as his niece wrapped an arm around him. His little head kept turning, glancing at his eldest sister, then up at Zhu Qing.
He had his eldest sister now, and Qing Zai had her mother—they were the luckiest kids in the world.
The wheelchair rolled slowly forward, the ambulance waiting not far away.
Only then did Sheng Fang realize that both he and Aunt Ping had misunderstood. Even though Sheng Peirong’s surgery had been a success, it didn’t mean she could go home immediately. Waking up after years in a coma was already a miracle, but taking a patient who wasn’t fully recovered straight home carried huge risks. Zhu Qing had argued for it, but during this critical recovery period, improper care could lead to accelerated muscle atrophy, irreversible joint stiffness—every medical term carried irreversible consequences.
So, they had to send Sheng Peirong to a professional rehabilitation center. Only when all her indicators stabilized would the family truly be reunited.
Aunt Ping patted her forehead.
She had spent hours making soup—Sheng Peirong’s favorite—thinking she could just heat it up when they got home…
"No wonder Dean Luo is here," Fangfang said.
Zhu Qing tapped the little one’s nose. "What did you think?"
"He thought I came to collect the medical bill," Dean Luo adjusted his glasses.
At the time, the little young master had even patted his pockets and shrugged apologetically—
Saying he’d left in such a hurry that he forgot his gold and black cards.
...
The Jianuo'an Sanatorium was nestled among lush greenery, the air fresh and pleasant.
The surroundings of this rehabilitation center could rival the gardens of a hillside villa. But on previous visits, they had always been weighed down by heavy hearts—even the birdsong and fragrant blossoms went unnoticed.
The elevator smoothly ascended to the fourth floor. Walking down the sunlit hallway, they reached the private suite at the end—the one with its own garden.
This had been Sheng Peirong’s room all along.
For her, the familiar surroundings brought comfort. In the blink of an eye, a decade had passed—she had spent ten whole years here.
In the early years, she would often sit with her husband on the wicker chairs in the private garden, missing their daughter. Back then, she had always thought of "the deceased" Zhu Qing. The tiny shoe and jade pendant found in the smoke had convinced her, at first, that Zhu Qing was already gone.
Suddenly, Sheng Peirong felt warmth on her shoulder.
Snapping back to reality, she realized she had unconsciously taken her daughter’s hand where it rested on her shoulder.
"Dean Luo," Zhu Qing asked, "how long will she need to stay this time?"
"Patients who wake from long-term comas often experience autonomic dysfunction and hidden risks of seizures," Dean Luo adjusted his glasses, flipping through the documents as he explained to Sheng Peirong and her family. "This is a transitional phase—rehabilitation training will take at least two to three months. Only when all indicators are normal can we move to the next stage: home recovery."
The rehabilitation suite was spacious by design. Beyond the medical area, it had a sitting room, a private bathroom, and even a small, fully equipped kitchen.
But during the years Sheng Peirong lay unconscious, the vast space had only ever held a single, lonely hospital bed.
Twenty minutes later—
A nutritionist gently knocked on the door, carrying fresh, carefully selected ingredients. Only then did the room finally feel alive.
"Family members are welcome to assist with cooking. We’ll guide you on healthy combinations."
"I’m staying with Eldest Sister today!" Fangfang announced, bouncing excitedly.
Zhu Qing: "I’ll stay too—"
"Qing Zai, Qing Zai." Little Sheng Fang stood on tiptoe, tugging at Zhu Qing's sleeve. "You should say 'with Mommy'."
Zhu Qing's ears tinged pink.
In response, the cheeky little nephew earned a stern "shut up" from his niece.
"I won't." The young master deliberately widened his mouth. "Ah—"
Dinnertime arrived, and the nutritionist's carefully prepared reunion feast covered the table.
Aunt Ping requested notepaper from the nurse's station, meticulously jotting down the essentials of each rehabilitative dish.
Life at the sanatorium was merely a temporary transition—just two or three months to endure. When the young mistress returned home, Aunt Ping vowed to personally take charge of the kitchen.
As for whether Sheng Peirong needed a more professional nutritionist, Aunt Ping harbored no doubts.
Back in the Sheng household, countless renowned chefs had come and gone, yet who could ever replace her place in the kitchen? She could whip up dishes perfectly suited to the young mistress's palate blindfolded. Twenty-three years of dedication to the Sheng family wasn't just empty talk!
This was a hard-won meal—a family finally reunited.
The flavors were mild, just right for a child's taste. Fangfang buried himself in his food, shoveling spoonfuls of rice into his tiny mouth with relish.
So much had happened in the Sheng family over the years. When Sheng Peirong first awoke, her thoughts were muddled, but gradually, clarity returned.
She could sense it—both her daughter and Aunt Ping were tiptoeing around sensitive topics, carefully shielding her.
They meant well, but Sheng Peirong insisted she wasn't that fragile.
"Tell me," she said softly, yet with unshakable resolve. "Everything that's happened these years."
When Zhu Qing asked if she was truly ready, Sheng Peirong nodded.
She wasn't one to be easily deceived. She demanded the truth, no matter how painful. And so, Zhu Qing held nothing back.
"You said... Zhaoqian is gone..." Sheng Peirong repeated the words, her voice trailing off like a sigh.
During her days at the Berlin hospital, she'd already sensed it. She hadn't dared ask about her husband's whereabouts, as if avoiding the question could keep the illusion alive—that he was still out there, safe and sound. But Sheng Peirong knew better. If he were truly alright, how could he have let his wife face the terror of surgery alone? How could he have allowed their daughter to shoulder such burdens by herself?
His passing hadn't been sudden. In the years before she fell into slumber, he'd already exhausted himself searching for their daughter. That college student had told them their Keke was alive, and so he'd searched endlessly, endlessly... He'd always kept things to himself, his only tell the quiet sighs he'd let slip in the dead of night, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder. His health had deteriorated, yet his only worry was what would become of the family if he were gone.
Zhu Qing retrieved the old photograph of her parents from the suitcase and placed it in her mother's hands.
Aunt Ping wiped away silent tears nearby.
At least the young mistress had found her daughter—a small comfort against the pain.
Sheng Peirong's coma hadn't been brief—not a month, not a year, but a true brush with life and death.
Having endured such an ordeal, even if the scars would never fully heal, she would learn to make peace with the pain.
Sheng Peirong's fingers traced the edges of the photo frame. "It's a shame he never got to see you as you are now."
She looked up. "Keke, if your father could see—"
"He'd be super proud!" Fangfang piped up, his cheeks stuffed with food like a little hamster.
"Yes, proud." A gentle smile curved Sheng Peirong's lips, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Memories flashed back to an afternoon long ago.
She and her husband had cradled their rosy-cheeked baby girl, shoulders touching as they spun endless dreams for her future. Would Keke grow up to be a painter? A doctor? Or perhaps follow her mother's footsteps into the cutthroat world of business?
They'd promised each other—no matter what path she chose, they'd stand firmly behind her.
Yet now, Keke had become a police officer.
A road neither of them had ever imagined.
Aunt Ping had expected Sheng Peirong to fret. What mother wouldn't worry about a child in such a dangerous line of work? But she'd forgotten—the young mistress had never been one to shy away from risks.
"Be careful, Keke," was all Sheng Peirong said softly.
This was her daughter's choice, and Sheng Peirong would respect it unconditionally.
She was proud—truly proud—of Keke's courage, her sense of justice, her sharp mind.
Come evening, Fangfang and Zhu Qing stubbornly insisted on staying.
The sanatorium's suite was cozy and quiet, with a perfectly comfortable adjoining room for family members. Yet neither would budge, both curling up on the narrow attendant beds like two immovable objects.
Sheng Peirong's energy waned, their murmurs lulling her toward sleep.
Half-dreaming, she heard her little brother whisper to her daughter—
"Qing Zai, I missed you so much!"
Eyes closed, Sheng Peirong felt tears soak into the pillowcase.
During all those lost years, it had been this tiny boy who'd first embraced her daughter, pulling Keke back from loneliness into the warmth of sunlight.
She still couldn't quite believe she had a brother.
Fate had been cruel, taking so much—yet merciful too, returning these pieces to her. It left her torn between cursing heaven's unfairness and being grateful for its kindness.
The room grew still.
Zhu Qing watched her mother's damp lashes tremble, knowing the storm of grief she weathered.
But it would get better.
This too would pass. To be alive at all was blessing enough.
Zhu Qing's long leave continued, her days spent keeping vigil at the sanatorium. Her mother's vitals steadily improved, her body gradually stabilizing.
The nurses often stole glances at mother and daughter, smiles tugging at their lips without realizing. Nurse Dai often remarked how Sheng Peirong's eyes—she was truly living again. And Zhu Qing, once so serious, now laughed so freely she lit up the entire ward.
"Police officers get such long vacations?" Aunt Ping mused. "How nice."
"Of course," Fangfang declared matter-of-factly. "Our station's very considerate."
Conveniently, the little boy had forgotten how not long ago—
His nagging uncle had complained, "What kind of job doesn't even give you Sundays off?!"
Truth was, it wasn't that Yau Ma Tei Station had particularly generous policies. It was simply that Inspector Mo knew how to be human.
The officers of Major Case Team B had the most considerate superior. Recently, the police station had been relatively quiet, and granting a few extra days off was nothing more than a casual gesture for him—he didn’t hesitate at all, as if it wasn’t even a special favor.
Every morning, Zhu Qing would first take Fangfang to school.
By four in the afternoon, little Fangfang would climb into the back seat of the car, and the uncle-niece duo would head to the rehabilitation center, arriving at the door of the therapy room.
Sheng Fang hadn’t expected that taking care of his eldest sister would end up benefiting him too. It had been a long time since he’d taken the school bus to kindergarten—now his niece picked him up and dropped him off. The other kids would always crowd around him, their faces full of envy. How could they not be jealous? She was the flying superhero Madam!
They would return to the rehabilitation center before evening, by which time Sheng Peirong was usually in the middle of her physical therapy.
The attending physician often remarked that Ms. Sheng was the most determined rehabilitation patient he’d ever met. The focus she displayed during training made it seem as if she couldn’t bear to waste even a single second.
Whenever Sheng Peirong gritted her teeth and pushed through her exercises, fine beads of sweat would cover her forehead. Even in the chilly November weather, she would work herself to the point of being drenched. Zhu Qing would sometimes use tissues, other times a handkerchief, gently wiping away her sweat. It was then that she finally understood why Aunt Ping always said how much alike mother and daughter were—her stubbornness truly came from her mother.
Sheng Fang wished he could help his eldest sister stand and walk, even run and jump for her if he could.
When Sheng Peirong clenched her jaw and exerted herself, little Fangfang would tilt her head up, scrunching her entire face in concentration, her brows furrowed tightly.
Sheng Peirong couldn’t bear to look at her.
The moment her gaze landed on that little face, she couldn’t help but laugh, losing all her strength.
"Big Sis, be serious!" Fangfang would fret, spinning in place.
Left with no choice, Zhu Qing had to cover Fangfang’s face with her hands.
Now wearing a "mask" made of Qing Zai’s palms, Fangfang would flail about, her little head trying to peek out while Zhu Qing’s shoulders shook with laughter, making it hard to keep steady.
In the end, Zhu Qing gave up trying to hold back, bursting into laughter as she stood there, pinching Fangfang’s cheeks playfully to get back at her for distracting her mother.
Sheng Peirong laughed too, laughing until she had no strength left. A nurse handed her a glass of water, reminding her to take a breather. To ensure she could drink safely, she even had to close her eyes, afraid that one glance at her little brother would send her into another fit of giggles.
The young master of the Sheng family crossed his arms. "Big Sis, stop fooling around, okay?"
The therapists all agreed they’d never seen such a joyful rehabilitation process before.
But that was because they didn’t know what this family had been through. Every ounce of their energy was poured into this moment—the sheer joy of being reunited hadn’t faded in the slightest, whether it was Zhu Qing, Fangfang, or Aunt Ping. They were all working hard, eager to bring Sheng Peirong home as soon as possible.
Over these past days, Sheng Peirong had gradually pieced together the fragments of the past. The grudges surrounding the Sheng family were recounted to her bit by bit by Zhu Qing, and she needed time to process and accept it all.
Her father had always emphasized that Sheng Peirong was his most treasured jewel. Yet when she lay in a hospital bed battling her demons, he rarely showed his face. Sheng Wenchang had been a proud man all his life, unable to comprehend why his decisive daughter had fallen into such a state. In his eyes, things like post-traumatic stress disorder and depression were nothing but excuses for the weak.
Sheng Peirong still remembered their fierce argument. If her father hadn’t suppressed all information from leaking out, perhaps they could have saved Ke Ke. Even if the chances were slim, she had wanted to try. She had once resolved to sever ties with him, yet when news of his death reached her, she had remained silent for a long time.
As for her stepmother, Qin Lizhu—though she’d always had her own schemes—she had never mistreated Sheng Peirong. When Qin Lizhu married into the Sheng family, she had been too young, barely older than Sheng Peirong herself.
Now, even she was gone. A sobering thought.
And then there was Sheng Peishan… the younger sister she had doted on since childhood. Sheng Peirong had never imagined that all of Ke Ke’s suffering would trace back to the person closest to her. If Peishan had told the truth when the child first went missing, perhaps none of this would have escalated to where they were now.
In her memories, the student named He Jia'er had always been full of vitality, yet she had been innocently caught in the crossfire of the Sheng family’s conflicts, losing her life for nothing.
After hearing the full story of the case, a heavy sorrow lingered between Sheng Peirong’s brows.
"Our family should take care of He Jia'er’s mother."
"Is anyone doing that now?"
Zhu Qing and little Fangfang both shook their heads.
There hadn’t been before—but now that their mother and eldest sister were awake, the two of them stared at her with wide eyes, like little followers awaiting instructions.
"And one more thing..."
Sheng Peirong rubbed her temples. "There’s more?"
Finally, the news of Chen Chaosheng’s death was linked to the ever-smiling old butler.
Butler Cui’s biological son was Huang Ashui, the driver who had assisted Sheng Peishan in "kidnapping" Ke Ke back then. This case, long relegated to the archives, was only now fully pieced together in Sheng Peirong’s mind.
She closed her eyes slowly.
"What about the company?" Sheng Peirong suddenly asked. "Who’s managing it now?"
The young master of the Sheng family sat obediently before his eldest sister.
At last, here was a question he could answer.
"It’s Uncle Pei," Sheng Fang said, raising his hand like he would in class. "Uncle Pei came to the kindergarten."
When this had happened, Zhu Qing had been far away in Berlin. Teacher Ji couldn’t reach her, so she had explained everything to Aunt Ping instead. Separated by thousands of miles, no matter how anxious Aunt Ping was, she couldn’t relay the message immediately, and the matter had eventually been dropped.
Still, Teacher Ji had repeatedly assured them that the kindergarten had significantly strengthened its security measures. Not only had they revised the safety protocols, but they had even added an extra guard to the security booth, working in shifts.
Sheng Peirong fell into thought. "Pei Junyi..."
She turned to her daughter. "Ke Ke, you should go rest first."
Sheng Peirong knew better than anyone how hard these past months had been for her Ke Ke. From the agonizing decision about the surgery to carrying the weight of everything since, her daughter had shouldered it all. She’d heard that Major Case Team B had just wrapped up a major investigation—without even a moment to catch her breath, she had immediately taken her abroad for treatment. These days, Ke Ke had endured both physical exhaustion and emotional strain—how could she not be worn out?
A few days ago, Sheng Peirong had seen just how worried her daughter was. But now, things were gradually stabilizing.
"I’m much better now. The rest will be a long battle." Sheng Peirong patted her daughter’s hand gently. "Ke Ke can’t collapse first."
As her memories gradually cleared, Sheng Peirong could finally distinguish dreams from reality. She remembered the infant blinking up at her with a smile in her arms, and now she saw clearly the grown child before her—her daughter who had skipped the stages of childhood overnight... They had found each other again. This was a second life fate had granted her, and Sheng Peirong treasured every single moment of it.
A mother and daughter share one heart. Zhu Qing ached for her mother, and the mother, in turn, worried endlessly for her child.
Sheng Peirong insisted that her daughter return home to rest properly. The medical staff here were all professionals, and her leave was about to expire—work couldn’t be delayed any longer.
"Don’t worry," Sheng Peirong said softly, tucking a loose strand of Zhu Qing’s hair behind her ear. "Listen to Mom."
"Fangfang is coming home too." She turned to her little brother. "The commute to kindergarten is too far from here—it’s exhausting."
"And you must make sure Qing Zai gets proper rest."
Aunt Ping stepped forward at just the right moment, offering to stay overnight. After ten years of unspoken words, she had so much to say to the young mistress.
Sheng Peirong had always been decisive. In just a few words, she arranged everything perfectly.
Zhu Qing’s toiletries could stay in the hospital room, but Fangfang buzzed around like a busy little bee, gathering his toys from every corner. It was astonishing—how had this child turned the suite into his own toy kingdom in just a few days? Traces of his playful spirit were everywhere.
"One more thing—" Sheng Peirong turned to Aunt Ping.
"Contact the lawyer. I need to know the state of the group these past years."
"Acting management? Father has truly lost his mind."
Aunt Ping quickly tried to recall—where had she tucked away the Sheng family lawyer’s business card?
Meanwhile, Sheng Fang’s eyes widened in awe—
Big Sis is amazing! She’s the first person who dares to talk about Daddy like that!
Little Fangfang neatly packed his toys into his arms.
As the little elder, it was his duty to make sure his niece rested properly. Though Zhu Qing was reluctant to leave, she had no choice but to obey her mother.
"Now Big Sis is in charge of Qing Zai," Fangfang declared, shaking his head with exaggerated gravity.
Sheng Peirong asked, "Does she usually misbehave?"
Zhu Qing immediately clapped a hand over the little chatterbox’s mouth and dragged him away.
Fangfang protested, "You—you—!"
"Mom, I’m leaving now."
The moment the door closed, Sheng Peirong suddenly grasped Aunt Ping’s hand. "Did she just…?"
Aunt Ping’s eyes reddened. "Young Mistress, she called you ‘Mom.’"
......
The uncle-niece pair stepped out of the rehabilitation center’s gates.
As Sheng Peirong had said, they needed to rest well.
Zhu Qing had to regain her strength for the long road of recovery ahead—and eventually return to work.
"Qing Zai, Qing Zai, your smile’s about to reach the sky!"
On the way home, little Fangfang kept tilting his head up to study Zhu Qing’s expression.
She was radiant, her lips curling uncontrollably, every step light with anticipation.
Under the bright sun, Fangfang beamed like a tiny sunflower. "Our Qing Zai has a mom now—it’s totally different!"
This trip hadn’t been a vacation. Zhu Qing had left the sunglasses Fangfang specially prepared for her tucked away in a drawer at home. This was a business trip, and now that her task was done, she had picked up souvenirs for her colleagues at the police station before flying back.
A few days earlier, when she’d returned home to fetch her car keys, she’d also grabbed her suitcase. Aunt Ping had already washed and ironed her clothes, hanging them neatly in the wardrobe. Only the carefully chosen gifts remained untouched, still packed in the suitcase resting in the corner of her bedroom.
Since starting school, Fangfang’s backpack had been nearly empty every day. Now, at last, it served a purpose—stuffed full of presents for Zhu Qing’s colleagues.
The police station was just as she remembered.
Inspector Mo was a rare kind of superior. He had personally called to extend her leave, but Zhu Qing had decided to return on schedule in two days.
As she passed the break room, a lively conversation came to a halt the moment she entered. Colleagues immediately swarmed around her.
"Is Inspector Mo in?" Zhu Qing asked.
"Buried in books in his office," Xu Jiale said with a grin. "Heard Nannan got into an argument at school. Some kid said, ‘Your dad’s just a sergeant—how good can he be at solving cases?’"
"Nannan was so upset she cried!"
"That’s not how it works—even us regular officers crack cases just fine!"
"Still, it’s good Inspector Mo’s finally taking the exam."
Inspector Mo was preparing for his promotion test. Weng Zhaolin had argued with him over it countless times before. Everyone had assumed he’d stubbornly refuse to climb the ranks forever. Yet now, against all expectations, he had set aside his long-held stance. His wife and daughter had helped him cross that hurdle.
In the break room, Hao Zai mimicked Nannan’s indignant stomping, while Little Sun reenacted Inspector Mo nearly walking into a doorframe earlier that morning, too absorbed in his studies to notice.
"Inspector Mo dotes on Nannan. Even if it’s just for her sake, he’ll make inspector and make her proud."
"And we’ll benefit—no one wants some difficult transfer taking over, like that guy in Group A."
"Speaking of Group A, I heard Inspector Gao—"
"Shh, keep it down. If Group A hears, they’ll report us again, and Inspector Mo will have to deal with the fallout."
"If he gets promoted, he’s definitely treating us."
"But first, Zhu Qing owes us a feast! This calls for a celebration, doesn’t it?"
This time, before the little rich kid could lift his chin and say "No problem," his niece had already agreed with a bright smile.
They’d made a promise—once she returned with good news, they’d celebrate properly.
"Oh, and I brought gifts for everyone."
Zeng Yongshan, slumped over her desk, jerked her head up at the sound of her voice.
"Zhu Qing—you’re finally back!"
Zhu Qing handed out the presents one by one.
Most were wrapped in simple plastic bags, but Zeng Yongshan’s gift sat in a pale blue box tied with an elegant ribbon. The soft cashmere scarf inside had kept her warm in chilly Berlin. At first, Zhu Qing had thought their paths would diverge—that the original plot’s cannon-fodder side character and heroine would remain nothing more than coworkers. But somehow, without realizing it, she had come to cherish this unexpected friendship.
She had gained a friend.
"That’s favoritism! Why does hers get a box?"
"Unfair!"
"Zeng Yongshan, what did you get? It can’t be random—let me see!"
"No thanks, I'll open it at home." Zeng Yongshan smugly waved the gift box in her hand, grinning from ear to ear. "You should be grateful I even brought you gifts instead of nitpicking."
Over twenty days had passed since the Lin Tingchao case was closed.
If it had been the first day after the case resolution, Weng Zhaolin might have turned a blind eye to the CID office being as noisy as a marketplace. But by now, such commotion would undoubtedly earn a scolding.
Thud, thud, thud. Three dull knocks sounded as Weng Zhaolin stood sternly by the door, rapping on the glass.
Yet his stern expression cracked the very next second.
"You brought this especially for me?"
Little Sheng Fang tilted his head up and answered brightly, "Of course!"
Fangfang pulled out a nail clipper set from the bag. The clippers had a small metal ring attached, and his tiny hands fumbled clumsily around Weng Zhaolin’s waistband. After a moment of half-hearted resistance, Weng Zhaolin took over and clipped it to his belt himself.
Sheng Fang clasped his hands together in admiration. "Wow, so handsome!"
"How’s your mother doing lately?" Weng Zhaolin asked Zhu Qing, his brow relaxing. "Take good care of her—this is a critical period."
Once again, little Sheng Fang had worked his magic on Weng Zhaolin.
The entire CID B-team was in awe, trying to figure out what secret trick this child had up his sleeve to always make Inspector Weng beam with joy. A mere nail clipper keychain? How had it managed to win over their notoriously hard-to-please boss?
The young master of the Sheng family explained earnestly, "Me and Ah John are friends."
After leaving the main building, Zhu Qing led Fangfang toward the separate forensics department at the back.
The office door was slightly ajar. She knocked gently.
"Dr. Cheng?"
The door swung open, but the room was empty.
Little Sheng Fang, holding the gift Qing Zai had prepared, tiptoed inside and carefully placed it on the vacant desk.
But as he turned to leave, slow, deliberate footsteps echoed behind him.
Zhu Qing turned around and, at the stairwell landing, unexpectedly locked eyes with a familiar figure.
Cheng Xinglang leaned casually against the window, his white coat draped over him like a trench coat. Hands in his pockets, he smiled faintly. "Long time no see."
Fangfang poked his head out and chirped, "Yeah, long time no see!"
"Wasn’t talking to you, kid."
The golden hues of the setting sun streamed through the corridor, casting long shadows at their feet.
Fangfang patted Zhu Qing. "He’s talking to you."
......
Following Sheng Peirong’s advice, Zhu Qing got a full night’s rest.
She slept like the dead, waking only to find Fangfang’s round little face hovering inches from hers.
After sending the little one off to school, she went back to sleep, not stirring until 4 p.m., when she reappeared at Weston Kindergarten’s gates, fully recharged.
Had Aunt Ping been there, she would’ve marveled at the boundless energy of youth—just one good sleep, and they were back to full vitality.
Tomorrow marked her return to the police station, after which taking leave wouldn’t be so easy. So that evening, Zhu Qing drove Fangfang to the rehabilitation center to have dinner with her mother.
Back when Sheng Peirong was unconscious, Zhu Qing had bought stacks of financial magazines, reading them aloud at her bedside until she nearly dozed off. Fangfang had once asked, Who thinks about business when they’re sick?
But now, her mother no longer saw herself as a patient. The nightstand was piled high with finance books and magazines, and she pored over complex stock market trends with intense focus.
Zhu Qing couldn’t fathom how she found such dry, convoluted data fascinating.
Just as Sheng Peirong couldn’t understand what was so compelling about case files.
Mother and daughter exchanged a glance and burst out laughing simultaneously.
The night before, Aunt Ping had sat by the bed, chattering away for hours.
She mentioned how she used to talk to Sheng Peirong during her coma, never realizing her words had gone unheard. Now, Sheng Peirong held her hand and begged her to repeat everything.
Sheng Peirong was desperate to reclaim the moments she’d missed in her daughter’s life—every milestone, every experience, she wanted to know it all.
Aunt Ping didn’t know much about Zhu Qing’s past either, so she could only recount the recent months, much to the young lady’s relentless questioning.
Rehabilitation was grueling, but Sheng Peirong could feel herself improving day by day.
This was a difficult transition, but with her daughter by her side, her little brother’s innocent chatter, and Aunt Ping’s nourishing soups… the family leaned on each other, certain that true reunion wasn’t far off.
Sheng Peirong read until her eyes burned, still unwilling to put the book down.
It was Zhu Qing who closed it and set it aside.
"Your eyes need rest too."
Meanwhile, Fangfang sat nearby, swinging his little legs as he "read" the newspaper.
The dense text was beyond him—not that he couldn’t understand it, he just didn’t care to. His focus was on the real estate ads, eyeing the glossy pictures.
"This time, we’re buying a bigger place," Fangfang declared. "A villa."
Aunt Ping bustled in the kitchen, though it was just a change of scenery for her signature soups.
The lively family banter warmed her heart like the simmering broth. Initially, she’d assumed she’d end up on the living room sofa due to the lack of space. But strangely, when discussing room assignments, everyone had included her without hesitation.
After drifting through life, she’d found belonging in her employer’s home.
"This one, this one, and this one… they’re all nice."
Fangfang’s eyes gleamed as he scanned the property listings.
The little uncle treated homebuying like grocery shopping. For months, Zhu Qing had scolded him for extravagance. But now, Sheng Peirong simply smiled.
"Take your pick," she said. "Big Sis will keep earning."
Zhu Qing: "…"
A rehabilitation specialist entered with the latest test results.
Zhu Qing stepped out to discuss the details.
"Ms. Sheng’s recovery is progressing much faster than expected."
"Still, rehabilitation must be gradual. Avoid overexertion."
Once the doctor’s footsteps faded, Sheng Peirong lowered her voice. "Who’s Dr. Cheng?"
At the Berlin hospital, she’d often overheard Dr. Cheng calling Qing Zai.
Back then, her mind had been foggy, too slow to ask.
"A motorcycle driver," Fangfang said mournfully. "He’ll never take me for rides again."
Cheng Xinglang had promised to revisit the bike dream when Fangfang grew up. But Fangfang wasn’t three anymore—or even three and a half. After all these months, he was practically three years and eleven months old! Such an empty promise meant nothing to him now.
Sheng Peirong had zero experience interacting with children this young.
These days, she had gradually come to realize that Fangfang's thoughts were like his favorite "popping candy"—they could leap to distant places in an instant, leaving orderly adults struggling to keep up.
Sheng Peirong pulled him back on track: "Is he Cocoa's boyfriend?"
"Of course not! Qing Zai is still too young!"
"Can you bring him home for me to meet?"
The little one pouted: "I told you he's not—"
"Can't bring him back?" Sheng Peirong feigned disappointment. "Oh well, never mind then."
Just then, Zhu Qing pushed the door open, holding the doctor's report.
A cell phone rang at the perfect moment.
Both Sheng Fang and Sheng Peirong pricked up their ears.
Zhu Qing paused mid-step, answered the call, and her expression turned serious.
Little Fangfang made a gesture—
See? No time for dating.
"That was reverse psychology earlier," Sheng Fang narrowed his eyes and said to Sheng Peirong. "Don’t think I didn’t notice."
As he spoke, the little brother puffed out his chest: "But I’m already mad."
No one was allowed to use reverse psychology on Sheng Fang.
Because he was utterly defenseless against it.
