Weston Kindergarten’s toddler class was in an uproar—someone had asked Madam, who could fly, out to the movies!
Teacher Ji observed discreetly from behind the bookshelf, noticing that Sheng Fang hadn’t finished his snack yet. She had expected him to be too upset to eat, but the little one kept munching away, his tiny brow furrowed even as his mouth worked busily.
"What does this person want?!"
"He’s trying to take his niece on a date!"
"What should we do?"
The children brainstormed solutions.
Thirteen toddlers could debate until dawn without reaching a conclusion, but they sat with solemn expressions, as if attending a high-stakes meeting, tossing ideas back and forth.
Teacher Ji and her co-teacher didn’t interrupt, silently listening while steadying each other’s shoulders to stifle their laughter.
That’s how kids were—even when something had nothing to do with them, they’d clutch their chests, sigh dramatically, and act as if the sky were falling.
The co-teacher whispered, "Since when did Miss Zhu become the whole class’s niece?"
Teacher Ji: "She definitely doesn’t know."
Zhu Qing had unwittingly become both the children’s collective niece and their idol.
Their little brows knitted tightly as they debated fervently.
"How could this happen?!"
"This is outrageous!"
"We all disagree—"
Slowly, Sheng Fang realized they couldn’t help at all.
The little master had watched too few romance dramas and lacked the knowledge to handle this situation. By now, he had finished his snack, his small face stern, arms crossed, crumbs still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
His tiny fingers tapped lightly on his arm as he pondered his next move.
Little Yesi peeked over. "Fangfang, who’s taking your niece to the movies?"
Sheng Fang gritted his teeth. "Doctor Cheng!"
"Who’s that?"
"Oh!" Jin Bao raised a chubby hand. "I know who Doctor Cheng is!"
At some point, Juan had joined the discussion too.
He was usually a loner, but now he sat among the other kids, shifting left and right, growing more engrossed as the conversation heated up.
Watching this, Teacher Ji couldn’t help but smile warmly.
Juan’s parents had always worried he wouldn’t make friends in kindergarten. But these three- and four-year-olds were too innocent to exclude anyone. Still, friendship was something teachers could only guide, not force.
Luckily, at this moment, Juan was inching closer to his peers, adjusting his round glasses, listening intently.
When they heard Doctor Cheng was the one asking Zhu Qing out, the kids blinked and shook their heads.
"Don’t know him."
But Jin Bao dropped the keyword—motorcycle—and instantly, everyone gasped.
"Wow!"
"He has a motorcycle!"
"Let your niece go with him!"
Sheng Fang stared at them, aghast.
The classroom buzzed with tiny voices, all absorbed in this fascinating new topic.
"I wanna ride too—"
"I approve! The motorcycle doctor!"
"Fangfang, can we all go?"
Sheng Fang pressed his lips together, speechless, giving them a deeply unimpressed look before turning away.
Today, he refused to engage with these fickle, unprincipled kindergarteners.
……
The white house on Peng Chau stood alone on the small island.
They stepped inside quietly, their footsteps hushed. Clues tangled in their minds, sending chills down their spines—until the woman by the window turned, and all eeriness melted away, leaving only overwhelming sorrow.
Zeng Yongshan approached Gu Niman.
The sea breeze tousled her short, messy hair, revealing her scarred face fully in the bright sunlight. The police finally understood why critics once praised her as an actress born for the camera. Even marred, her features remained striking, like a painting.
Gu Niman sat there, her delicate frame a perfect composition in itself.
The room was so quiet they could hear each other’s breaths.
Gu Niman lifted her gaze to Zeng Yongshan. But when other officers approached, her fingers tightened on her clothes, her brow furrowing. Ten years trapped with Zhou Yongsheng had left her isolated, unused to strangers.
Mo Zhenbang signaled Zeng Yongshan, and the other officers retreated outside.
Hao Zai realized he was the only one still clueless.
From start to finish, he’d been on a different page. Clues piled up unsorted, and he’d assumed Zhou Yongsheng had been involved with the stunt double. No wonder the office had erupted in jeers, Xu Jiale even tossing crumpled paper at his head.
Now the truth was clear: the dead woman was the double. The real Gu Niman was alive.
Hao Zai stood frozen in the yard. The wind lifted the blanket draped over the wicker chair, and he instinctively reached for it—then froze. That blanket had belonged to the deceased. He withdrew his hand with a shudder.
"How did you figure it out?" he asked.
The officers outside glanced toward the house.
Zeng Yongshan handled the situation expertly, her soothing voice calming the tension.
As her gentle words drifted on the cold breeze, Zhu Qing began piecing the case together anew.
It had started with a chance discovery. While reviewing the decade-old case files, Zhu Qing noticed missing autopsy photos. As a rookie, she didn’t know crime scene photos were classified, so she requested the original records from Cheng Xinglang.
In those encrypted images, she saw the corpse in an advanced state of decomposition. The body recovered after "Gu Niman’s" alleged suicide by drowning was bloated, unrecognizable—identification had relied solely on skeletal structure, supplemented by the suicide note and clothing.
Then came the nagging doubts.
Jiang Xiaowei, Gu Niman, Zhou Yongsheng’s current wife… all women he’d "saved." But where did he keep finding these vulnerable targets?
And then, replaying the airline’s surveillance footage—
Zhu Qing had just finished watching the movie Eclipse not long ago. At the time, she sat in front of the TV with Sheng Fang, the little one munching on potato chips with a rhythmic crunch-crunch, swinging his feet and occasionally asking whimsical questions. As for her, she treated it like overtime work, carefully watching the film to the end.
The movie left a deep impression on her. In the surveillance footage, the frames were slowed down and paused on a woman’s retreating figure. The silhouette felt oddly familiar, but she didn’t dwell on it—after all, the woman who had returned the tickets was bundled up tightly, and a mere back view wasn’t enough to confirm her identity.
But when the woman raised her hand, the curve of her wrist suddenly reminded Zhu Qing of the "stand-in" rumors Lu Yongyan had once mentioned. This fleeting association prompted her to dig up the testimonies from that stand-in years ago.
Everything about the stand-in had been deliberately concealed, never leaking to the public. At first, Zhou Yongsheng had strictly forbidden any disclosure. Later, when they "died," the film became a classic, and with vested interests at stake, the production company sealed the information away completely.
Only the male lead, unable to suppress his resentment, had grumbled about the filming from a decade ago. That was how clues about the stand-in ended up in the case notes, becoming crucial evidence.
Meanwhile, as Xu Jiale continued his investigation, another lead surfaced.
The identity of "Huang Jiewen" was entirely fabricated.
Zhou Yongsheng’s fake death necessitated a new identity, which was understandable. But why would his so-called "new wife" go to such lengths to forge hers? Clearly, she was hiding something too.
"And she’s never shown her face in public," Mo Zhenbang added. "Even during nighttime walks, all the neighbors on the island ever saw was her back. When she returned the tickets, she was completely covered up."
"Zhou Yongsheng was a director, used to staying behind the scenes. His looks were unremarkable—even if someone recognized him, a simple 'doppelgänger' would suffice."
"But Gu Niman is different. Her face is far too distinctive."
All the pieces now fit together, pointing to this inevitable conclusion.
The most heartbreaking part was that before the truth behind the "lovers' suicide" case came to light, the girl who died on the set of Eclipse hadn’t even left behind a real name.
When people mentioned her, it was always with a dismissive "that stand-in girl."
Turns out, the so-called stand-in was actually a stand-in for death.
...
Sunlight fell on Gu Niman’s face, the twisted scars along her skin appearing even more grotesque under the harsh light.
Rumors about Qin Wen’s new wife had circulated—she’d never been seen, never interacted with the landlord, and even the neighbors couldn’t describe her appearance. All they knew was that the couple seemed devoted, and the wife was frail, bundled up even in the height of summer.
Before arriving in Ping Chau, the police assumed this was Gu Niman’s way of protecting herself—after all, an actress’s striking features would be easily recognized.
But now, it was clear that wasn’t the only reason.
The raised, gnarled scars stretching from Gu Niman’s face down to her neck and shoulders resembled dried tree bark, silently narrating the horrors she’d endured.
"Don’t be afraid. It’s over now," Zeng Yongshan reassured softly. "You can tell us anything."
The murmurs in the courtyard quieted.
"This is…" Zhu Qing frowned.
"Acid burns," Mo Zhenbang confirmed grimly.
After a long silence, Gu Niman finally spoke.
"Is Yongsheng really dead this time?"
Her voice was strained, forcing her to tilt her head back slightly to ease the tension on the scarred skin of her neck.
In the movies, Gu Niman’s voice had been bright and sweet. Now, it emerged in broken, trembling fragments, its timbre altered ever so slightly.
"Or is this… another fake death?" she asked again.
She lifted her face, her eyes as fragile and clear as the characters she once played.
Hao Zai muttered under his breath, "Once bitten, twice shy…"
"The boy who cried wolf," Xu Jiale added.
The police needed to take her back to the station.
Gu Niman moved slowly, wrapping herself in a coat, buttoning it tightly, and winding a scarf around her neck. Only then did they notice—the burns weren’t just on her face. Her hands were equally marred.
Finally, she covered half her face with sunglasses and whispered, "I’m ready."
...
At dismissal time, little Sheng Fang bounded onto the school bus as usual.
After months of adjustment, he’d fully settled into this routine. Monday through Friday, he followed the same schedule, even mimicking adults by tucking his backpack under his arm like a briefcase, playing "office worker" with utmost seriousness.
The bus rolled to a stop at the familiar intersection.
Before it even came to a full halt, Sheng Fang spotted Aunt Ping waiting for him through the window. What made his heart leap even more was the little bicycle parked beside her—the one he’d been dreaming about all day!
"We’re here, we’re here—" Sheng Fang called out to the driver. "Stop the bus!"
Aunt Ping couldn’t help but laugh at the little master’s eagerness.
Sheng Fang practically flew down the steps and onto the bike, his adorable little teeth already on full display, dimples deepening.
"I have to practice riding every day," he declared, pedaling hard. "Or I’ll forget how."
"Young master, that’s not something you forget," Aunt Ping chuckled. "Just push the pedals down and you’re good to go."
The road to the Yau Ma Tei Police Station was so familiar to Sheng Fang that he could probably navigate it blindfolded.
He pedaled with all his might, the wheels turning with a steady click-clack, his face scrunched up in concentration. Aunt Ping only needed to quicken her pace slightly to keep up effortlessly.
The open space in front of the police station building was Sheng Fang’s personal training ground.
He rode back and forth, patrolling like a little officer.
Then he saw Zhu Qing.
His niece was swamped with work, practically flying out of the police car.
Sheng Fang waved his tiny hand high. "Qing-jie!"
Zhu Qing waved back without stopping. "Bye!"
Sheng Fang turned to Aunt Ping and shrugged.
See? This busy.
Undeterred, he kept pedaling until he spotted Sir Liang.
The man was lost in thought, his mood seemingly somber.
Liang Qikai had been walking briskly ever since seeing Gu Niman in that Ping Chau cottage. He was torn between relief at the breakthrough in the case and unease at how accurately he’d predicted Zhou Yongsheng’s twisted psychology—and the toll it had taken on his victim’s mental state.
The little cyclist rang his bell, but Sir Liang didn’t even notice.
Soon after, Zeng Yongshan came into view.
She spotted Sheng Fang from afar and winked at him.
"The case has made a major breakthrough," she said.
Sheng Fang grinned, his little face lighting up.
That being said, the holidays were coming soon.
"Take your time playing," Zeng Yongshan gently pinched his little face before straightening up. "I'll head upstairs first."
Before Sheng Fang could respond, she had already hurried off, leaving him shaking his head at her retreating figure.
Aunt Ping suppressed a smile as she watched the young master's expression. It was clear he saw her as some sort of junior in his life—perhaps a goddaughter or something of the sort… But how could a goddaughter just casually pinch his cheeks like that?
Little Sheng Fang’s patrol continued well into dusk, showing no signs of stopping.
His gaze kept drifting between the police headquarters and the separate building behind it.
"Young master, are you waiting for someone?" Aunt Ping asked. "That handsome doctor?"
Sheng Fang abruptly stopped his bicycle and turned his head with a sigh. "Aunt Ping, don’t scare the prey away."
It was strange. Usually, Doctor Cheng could be found wandering everywhere, popping up when least expected.
But today, he was nowhere to be seen.
And so, outside the Yau Ma Tei Police Headquarters at sunset, a small figure—
Kept riding his little tricycle, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
...
Gu Niman was brought to the police station.
She had grown accustomed to hiding herself. Ten years had passed, and the actress who once commanded the camera with effortless grace was gone. Now, she remained concealed beneath layers of disguise. The people coming and going in the police station didn’t recognize her at all.
Only when she entered the interrogation room did she remove her sunglasses, keeping her head bowed, hands clasped tightly over her knees.
In the adjacent observation room, several officers stood behind the one-way glass.
While Mo Zhenbang led a team to Peng Chau, the officers left behind at the station were still pursuing key leads, including the identity of the stunt double. But when Gu Niman took off her sunglasses, everyone froze. Comparing her face to the one in the magazine they held, their expressions darkened.
"Is this… intentional disfigurement?"
"The attack was vicious."
"Did she know about the stunt double?"
"So in that 'lovers' suicide,' the real leads survived, and the double was the one who died…"
"Their love was bought with someone else’s life."
The hushed conversation lingered in the observation room. Every voice was subdued, weighed down by an unspoken heaviness.
And now, all their questions could finally be answered by the person at the center of it all.
The scars restricted movement in her neck, forcing Gu Niman to tilt her head slightly when speaking. Her words came slowly, her voice faintly hoarse.
Xu Jiale and Zeng Yongshan were in charge of the questioning.
They didn’t rush her, patiently waiting and taking notes as she spoke.
Gu Niman told them everything began when she was seventeen.
Back then, she had been handpicked by Zhou Yongsheng to be his leading lady.
"Yongsheng said the moment he saw me, he knew I could inspire him." Gu Niman paused for a long time, her gaze fixed on a distant point, as if recalling a dream long since faded. "Eclipse was his first independently written script, crafted specifically for me."
Every few sentences, she had to stop and rest.
When she lowered her head, her voice grew even quieter, forcing her to take deep breaths before continuing.
Zhou Yongsheng spent over half a year meticulously refining the script before formally inviting Gu Niman to star in it.
At the time, she knew nothing about the film industry. She had bought some entertainment magazines from a street-side newsstand, all of which described directors as fierce, chain-smoking tyrants who barked orders. But when she mustered her courage and nervously stepped onto set, she found Director Zhou completely different. He didn’t smoke, and when he smiled, his teeth were perfectly white and even. Refined and gentle, he was strict about his work, but even when she repeatedly messed up her takes, he never lost his temper, always guiding her patiently.
In Gu Niman’s eyes, Director Zhou was brilliant, respected by all—yet he treated her differently. He brought every romantic scene from the film to life for her.
Gu Niman whispered that falling for a man like that had felt like the most natural thing in the world.
They carefully maintained their secret relationship.
"Later, I realized from the reports that everyone had known all along."
"How could two people sneaking around ever hide it from those who saw them every day?"
Xu Jiale discreetly observed the shifts in her expression.
The light in Gu Niman’s eyes, that wistful longing—he had seen it before, on the face of Zhou Yongsheng’s legal wife. Jiang Xiaowei had worn the exact same look.
This man, at the start of every romance, could transform into the perfect lover, leaving an indelible mark.
Gu Niman fell into another prolonged silence.
Zeng Yongshan gently pushed a disposable cup of water toward her. "Do you need a break?"
Gu Niman didn’t drink, only cradled the cup in her hands.
Under the harsh interrogation room lights, the scars on her hands stood out like centipedes. Zeng Yongshan looked away after a moment, unable to bear the sight.
"He wanted to run away with me," she said. "That day, we were filming a scene by the cliffs. I remember the view was breathtaking—the sky and earth stretched endlessly, making the heart feel just as vast. Out of nowhere, he asked if I would leave everything behind with him."
"I wanted to. But I couldn’t." Gu Niman lowered her lashes. "I knew he had a wife. A child."
A few days before filming wrapped, Gu Niman ended things with him.
Her voice grew rougher, breaking between words. "I couldn’t be that selfish."
At this point in the testimony, Xu Jiale and Zeng Yongshan exchanged glances.
This aligned perfectly with what the film crew had said back then. The staff recalled that in the final days of shooting, the director and leading lady had been unusually somber. At the time, everyone assumed it was just the intensity of the roles, that they were struggling to separate themselves from the characters—some even attributed the later "lovers' suicide" to their emotional nature.
But now, it seemed the real reason was simpler: Gu Niman had broken up with Zhou Yongsheng.
Gu Niman closed her eyes and exhaled softly.
Back then, Zhou Yongsheng had been at the peak of his passion. The usually composed man had dropped to his knees in his tailored slacks, tears streaming as he begged her to stay. She admitted she had nearly given in, heart aching, but in the end, she held firm.
"I’d never seen him cry before," Gu Niman murmured, lost in memory. "He cried for me."
The day after filming ended, disaster struck.
Even now, sitting in the warm interrogation room bundled in thick layers, she couldn’t suppress the tremors as she relived it.
Tears dampened her lashes. She fought back a sob, forcing herself to continue.
"It’s alright," Zeng Yongshan said softly. "Take your time."
A single tear hit the interrogation table.
Gu Niman curled her fingers, but they lacked strength, falling limp again. Even after ten years, the pain hadn’t faded—the searing agony of sulfuric acid, the scars that still ached on rainy days, on nights just like that one, tearing at her ruined skin, her face, her neck, her hands.
"That day, the acid came flying toward me…"
"I dodged, but still—"
Her knuckles pressed against her temple.
That scene—Gu Niman rarely revisited it. The acrid smell, the piercing pain, that face twisted with hatred. Every time she remembered, it stole her breath away.
"Luckily, I avoided the worst. Only my left cheek, neck, shoulders..." Gu Niman's chest heaved violently as glistening tears traced the raised, horrifying scars.
She lifted a hand, fingertips brushing the mark on her left cheek: "And my hand... because I accidentally touched my face."
She remembered it vividly—how she’d frozen in shock, instinctively reaching up. The burning sensation had spread through her fingertips. Her fingers had stuck to her flesh, leaving it mangled.
"That person... tried to lunge at me again."
"It was Zhou Yongsheng who suddenly appeared and saved me," Gu Niman continued. "He said I couldn’t go to a public hospital—not as a public figure. Even private clinics were out of the question."
Zhou Yongsheng knew a doctor.
She was taken to a hidden private clinic.
"An old doctor treated my wounds," she said, her voice steadying. "But they got infected. I burned with fever for days."
Zeng Yongshan’s pen paused. "Do you remember the clinic’s name?"
Gu Niman shook her head.
Back then, she’d wanted to die. And Zhou Yongsheng had said he’d join her.
Tears fell relentlessly, soaking her scars, deepening the sting.
She’d trembled as she wrote her suicide note—only for Zhou Yongsheng to snatch it away and pull her into his arms.
"Who did this to you?"
"He said it was an actress competing for the role in Eclipse. The police were already searching for her."
But pain had hollowed her out. She had no strength left to question the truth.
Zeng Yongshan frowned. "It was Zhou Yongsheng, wasn’t it?"
"Impossible." Gu Niman’s head snapped up, her voice ironclad. "He saved me."
Her fingers traced the scars again.
"See this? Even like this, he never looked at me with disgust." Her tone was stubborn, unwavering. "For ten years, he stayed. He cared for me. How could it have been him?"
"He told me, over and over—" She mimicked Zhou Yongsheng’s voice, "‘I still love you.’"
Zhou Yongsheng was dead now. The truth buried with his corpse.
When Eclipse wrapped, Gu Niman had just turned eighteen. Fresh into adulthood, she was trapped—controlled in the name of love. In the aftermath of the acid attack, she’d nearly shattered. Zhou Yongsheng had led her through the darkness.
The interrogation room air grew thick.
For ten years, she’d been caged by his twisted possessiveness—his savior complex.
Now that he was gone, she was a bird with clipped wings. Unable to leave. Unwilling. She didn’t even know how.
This was love warped beyond recognition. A dependency forged through conditioning.
Even now, Gu Niman believed in him utterly.
She insisted Zhou Yongsheng never saw her as broken.
It never occurred to her—he might have been the one who broke her.
"No matter what you say," Gu Niman repeated, "I know it wasn’t him."
...
In the observation room, the officers exchanged grim looks.
When Zhou Yongsheng and Gu Niman’s "suicide pact" made headlines, he was thirty-four; she, eighteen. The media spun it as a tragic romance, but the police saw through it—a young girl, fresh to the world, manipulated for his film’s publicity.
But the truth was far uglier.
He’d wanted to keep her forever.
"He’d been moving assets for years—planning to disappear with young, beautiful Gu Niman."
"The body double? A premeditated ruse. Typical Zhou—even his death had to be a spectacle. A final masterpiece."
Yet Zhou Yongsheng never anticipated the girl who adored him would dare to leave.
"He knew how fragile teenage love was. Once she saw the world, she’d forget him. By then, he was too far gone to accept it."
So that night, he destroyed her face.
No more stardom. No more life in the open.
Even sicker—when Gu Niman wept in despair, he reveled in "rescuing" her.
To him, this was love.
For ten years, he’d lived in bliss.
"That white house? Every inch designed to his taste. Gu Niman cooking his meals..."
"To the world, he was a brilliant director mourned by the industry. At home, he was her sole lifeline. His ego had never been so fed."
"Every time her scars made her crumble, it thrilled him. Her pain was his masterpiece."
Once, he’d loved Jiang Xiaowei the same way.
But time matured her. She stood beside him, shared his burdens, shielded their son.
That wasn’t what he wanted.
Gu Niman, broken, became his eternal damsel.
Life might’ve continued this way—if not for the dual-ID loophole. Without papers, survival grew impossible. Zhou Yongsheng had to flee with her.
The officers stepped out, organizing case files.
The investigation pressed on.
Mo Zhenbang ordered a review of missing persons reports from the past decade, focusing on matches for the body double.
Three cases fit.
"Bring the families in tomorrow."
As progress steadied, the office tension eased.
Perhaps the relatives could piece together the full truth.
Now, one question remained:
Who killed Zhou Yongsheng?
...
At 8 PM, Zhu Qing opened her front door.
In the living room, little Sheng Fang stood on tiptoe, doodling on a whiteboard.
Upon hearing the door open, he spread his little arms to block the whiteboard, though his chubby body couldn’t hide much.
Zhu Qing deliberately avoided looking at his "masterpiece."
She asked, "Fangfang, want to go out and play?"
Sheng Fang tossed aside his paintbrush. "Yes!"
Getting the little one out the door was as easy as a single sentence—mission accomplished.
The kid was ready to go in minutes, and soon, the uncle-niece duo had already left.
Aunt Ping, having just washed her hands in the kitchen, hurried to the door.
But the two had already stepped into the elevator.
"It’s so late—where are you going?"
Fangfang answered brightly, "To see Big Sis!"
"You even know that?"
Sheng Fang clasped his hands behind his back, looking wise beyond his years. "No one understands my niece like her uncle."
Meanwhile, in the suite at the rehabilitation center—
It was eerily quiet, the footsteps echoing down the hallway sounding unusually distinct.
"Qingzai, Qingzai."
"Wow..."
Sheng Peirong, leaning against the headboard, thought she must be imagining things.
Only when she heard the turning of a key did she realize it wasn’t an illusion.
She sat up, looking toward the door.
When she saw Coco, she froze for a moment before her eyes lit up with delight.
Big Sis was still undergoing rehab, and opening the door in a wheelchair wasn’t easy. To spare her the trouble, little Sheng Fang even had his own key.
"Big Sis, Big Sis!"
"Coco’s here—"
The rehabilitation center housed patients who needed rest, and at this hour, it was already late for them. The nurse on duty smiled and shook her head, not stopping the energetic little visitor.
"Let Mama take a good look at you." Sheng Peirong held Zhu Qing’s shoulders, studying her carefully.
"Have I lost weight?" Zhu Qing asked with a grin.
That’s how it always went in dramas—mothers would scrutinize their daughters and declare they’d grown thinner.
But in reality, despite Coco working nonstop and surely exhausted, she didn’t look the least bit worn out. Instead, she was radiant.
"Because our Qingqingzai is just that gorgeous," Fangfang chimed in, snuggling up to his niece as her number one spokesperson.
"Little flatterer," Sheng Peirong laughed.
"Qingzai, listen! What’s your mama saying now?"
Fangfang pouted pitifully, complaining to Qingzai about how he was always bullied like this when she wasn’t around.
The little one’s grievances made Big Sis quickly admit her mistake.
"She won’t change," Fangfang huffed.
"What kind of Big Sis is this?!" Zhu Qing took her little uncle’s side.
Even though he was being humored, Fangfang lifted his chin proudly.
Time slipped away unnoticed amid the laughter.
Sheng Peirong kept glancing at the clock, her expression dimming slightly with every tick of the minute hand.
But it was getting late, and Zhu Qing eventually stood up.
Then she walked to the closet and pulled out spare pajamas for herself and Fangfang.
Little Sheng Fang leaned in to whisper in Big Sis’s ear, "I already left my backpack in the car."
"We’re staying with Big Sis tonight!"
Sheng Peirong’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing with joy.
The warm glow of the lamp bathed the rehabilitation suite, making it feel like a cozy little home.
The uncle-niece pair worked together to unfold two foldable guest beds, placing them on either side of Sheng Peirong’s hospital bed.
She looked left and right—her daughter curled up snugly under the covers on one side, while her little brother on the other stuck his tiny feet out to cool off.
Now she understood why Fangfang always looked forward to Coco closing a case.
"She must have cracked it," Sheng Peirong murmured with a smile.
"Only halfway."
"There’s such a thing?"
The clock on the wall ticked softly.
Amid the quiet conversation between Big Sis and Qingzai, it was like a gentle lullaby.
"I feel like…" Zhu Qing’s voice grew drowsy, "this is just the beginning."
Sheng Fang: "John’s going to lose sleep again."
The room grew quieter, the moonlight outside filtering faintly through the curtains.
Zhu Qing’s eyelids grew heavy, finally surrendering to sleep.
Sheng Peirong asked curiously, "Who’s John?"
Fangfang nuzzled his pillow, eyes bright. "Just a friend."
Sheng Peirong wanted to know everything about her daughter and little brother.
She smiled. "Like Jin Bao and Little Yesi? Good friends?"
"Yeah…"
"Then—" Sheng Peirong feigned nonchalance, "what movie did Doctor Cheng invite Coco to see?"
Zhu Qing’s lashes fluttered slightly.
Fangfang let out a "hmph" and buried his face in the pillow.
Slowly, the rehabilitation room fell into complete silence, leaving only the sound of steady breathing.
Sheng Peirong waited a long time but got no answer.
She quickly shifted to the guest bed on the right, whispering, "Coco’s asleep—tell me now."
"Little brother?"
This kid—wide awake when he should be sleeping.
But the moment intel was needed, he was out like a light in three seconds.
"So unreliable."
Fangfang rolled over.
Even in his dreams, the little one didn’t let things slide, mumbling, "Qingzai, Big Sis is picking on me again."
