Zhu Qing was Sheng Fang’s personal magician.
The long-awaited "rainstorm" had finally arrived—right in their bathroom. The gentle pitter-patter of water and Fangfang’s beaming smile stretched the moment into endless comfort, wrapping everything in a quiet, settled peace.
Not long ago, she had been inspecting Zhou Yongsheng’s crime scene in the dim screening room of the Xia Guang Theater. Now, the case was closed. The police had taken wrong turns, been misled by illusions, but in the end, the truth had come to light.
With the case resolved, time slowed. Zhu Qing lounged lazily on the bed, watching Fangfang’s cheerful antics, her lips curling into an unconscious smile. The little one had his own to-do list, scribbled in a notebook with childish strokes. A house with a chimney for apartment hunting, a screen much bigger than the TV for movie nights, and for the promised Typhoon Shelter Crab—since drawing a whole crab was too tricky—he settled for two giant claws, like tiny hands cheering in excitement.
This home, usually just filled with a carefree little boy, now had an equally carefree niece added to the mix.
The two of them sprawled side by side in a starfish formation, savoring the rare, leisurely evening. Their vacation had only just begun.
"Young master! How can you just lie down like that?" Aunt Ping scolded as she hurried over from the bathroom, spotting the little troublemaker still dripping wet on the bed.
"You’ll catch a cold!" She quickly scooped him up.
Fangfang, now in her arms, curiously poked Aunt Ping’s arm.
"What are you doing, young master?"
"Aunt Ping, do you have muscles?"
"Oh, you—" She laughed helplessly. "These old bones of mine…"
Yet despite her words, she moved with the energy of someone half her age.
Sheng Fang muttered under his breath, "Blowhard Ping!"
Zhu Qing’s soft chuckle floated from the room.
Ever since the little one had picked up that phrase, it never failed to amuse her.
A protest suddenly rang out from the bathroom.
"Blowhard Ping, I want to wash myself!"
"It’s too cold, let me help you finish quickly—"
"No! Boys and girls are different!"
In the end, Aunt Ping surrendered, shooed out of the bathroom.
Catching Zhu Qing’s amused gaze, she couldn’t help but smile too.
This home, pieced together by an uncle and his niece, was starting to feel more and more like a family.
…
For Sheng Fang, the weekend after the police closed the case was the perfect weekend.
Even on a Saturday, he didn’t laze in bed. With a swift flip, he sprang up, bare feet pattering as he raced his niece to the bathroom. In front of the half-mirror, Zhu Qing watched the little one beside her, his face smeared with toothpaste as he grinned up at her.
She ruffled his hair. "Do we look like white-bearded grandpas now?"
Fangfang stood on tiptoe until his feet tingled.
"Qing, I can’t actually see the mirror."
After breakfast, Fangfang naturally slung his little water bottle over his shoulder and stuck close to her, successfully sneaking out with her.
The Yau Ma Tei Police Station had many traditions, but over the past few months, Sheng Fang had started his own—whenever a case wrapped up, he’d swagger right into the CID room.
Time to crash work again!
The station was so close to home that Zhu Qing held Fangfang’s hand as they strolled over, unhurried even at the early hour, as if they were just out for a walk.
"Magician Qing," Fangfang tilted his head, "when will you make a rainbow and the northern lights for me?"
"I’ll have to think about it."
So Qing hadn’t figured it out yet.
"I know!" Fangfang’s eyes lit up. "Doctor Cheng definitely can."
The atmosphere in the Criminal Investigation Division office post-case was a world apart from its usual tension. Officers who normally rushed around now sat at their desks, tidying up less urgent tasks. Zhen Jie carried a teapot to the break room and back, cradling a freshly brewed cup. Fangfang, ever alert, didn’t need a warning—he sensed the danger from meters away, pressing himself against the wall and inching along.
Zhen Jie laughed. "Such strong survival instincts."
To Fangfang, this place was like a third home. He first slipped into Mo Zhenbang’s office.
Mo Sir was studying, one hand jotting notes with a pen, the other gripping his hair. Years ago, he’d passed the Inspector’s written exam without much trouble, but now, older and rustier, it felt like a mountain.
Fangfang watched, chubby cheeks propped in his hands.
Mo Zhenbang coughed lightly, embarrassed to be caught cramming at his age.
Ever considerate, the young master of the Sheng family knew his presence was distracting.
He slid off the swivel chair with a soft "plop," landing steadily on his feet.
"Boss, I’m off—"
That "Boss" rolled off his tongue more naturally than from any of Mo Zhenbang’s actual subordinates. Before Mo could react, the round little figure vanished, gently closing the door behind him.
Next, Fangfang sought out his kindred spirit, John.
Reading Weng Zhaolin’s mood was simple—just check if he’d styled his hair with pomade. Today, John was clearly in high spirits, not only sporting sleek hair but also a meticulously knotted tie. Spotting Fangfang peeking in, he grinned and pulled a treasured fruit candy from his drawer.
"John!" Fangfang cupped the candy in both hands. "You saved one for me!"
Such enthusiasm would lift anyone’s mood.
Weng Zhaolin’s smile widened as he loosened his tie, sinking into his leather chair.
"John, what are you eating for lunch?" Fangfang leaned on the desk.
"Haven’t decided yet. Any suggestions?"
Fangfang eagerly invited him to join.
The whole station knew John was famously frugal, and Fangfang hadn’t forgotten.
Puffing out his little chest, he declared, "My treat!"
In front of his young friend, John’s pride flared. He chuckled. "Don’t be silly. Of course it’s on me."
"Okay!"
John: "…"
At least the kid hadn’t invited the entire office.
Two people wouldn’t bankrupt him.
After securing lunch plans, Fangfang returned to Zhu Qing’s desk.
Officers sorted through case reports, tossing in the occasional joke. The day’s headlines sprawled across the table—though the police had issued a statement, media outlets still competed for the most sensational takes, spinning wild theories about Zhou Yongsheng and Gu Niman’s psychology.
"I heard Jiang Xiaowei still decided to handle Zhou Yongsheng’s funeral arrangements," Xiao Sun remarked.
"With how deeply she loved him, it’s a good thing he betrayed her. Otherwise, she might’ve been fooled for life."
"Could this be considered... a blessing in disguise?"
"Ten years ago, we held one funeral, and now another ten years later. Even after someone's gone, we still have to clean up their mess."
Just then, Zeng Yongshan and Xu Jiale pushed open the glass door and returned.
Zeng Yongshan's eyes were slightly damp, and Xu Jiale wore a solemn expression.
"Ruan Wenjing's father came earlier. When he heard that one of the perpetrators was dead and the other would be imprisoned, the old man kept nodding and saying, 'Good, very good.' Though the dead can't be brought back, at least..."
"At least Ruan Wenjing got justice," Zhu Qing murmured softly.
In the office, colleagues talked about Ruan Wenjing.
She had never been known to the public during her lifetime, yet her death made the news—though it was the kind of coverage no one would wish for. Just imagining Ruan Wenjing's excitement when she was lured onto that yacht, contrasted with her terror as she fell into the sea, left everyone with a heavy, suffocating feeling in their chests.
In the office space, only Sheng Fang's footsteps echoed, "tap-tap-tapping" through every corner.
He carefully surveyed his future workspace, his gaze sweeping over each desk before finally settling on Liang Qikai's spot.
"This is a good seat."
"I'll sit here from now on," Sheng Fang declared.
"What about me?" Liang Qikai pointed at himself.
"You retire."
When Zhu Qing finally finished organizing the case files, little Sheng Fang immediately tugged her outside.
He couldn’t wait to go to the other building to find Doctor Cheng—
his "most interesting grown-up friend" from the police station.
Though he could find the forensics office with his eyes closed, Sheng Fang still obediently followed their rule: never stray beyond his niece’s line of sight.
"Qing, come with me," he said, clutching the hem of her shirt.
Zhu Qing closed the folder and took his small hand.
As they turned the corner of the hallway, her steps unconsciously slowed—
Cheng Xinglang was walking toward them and stopped when he saw them.
"I was just coming to find you."
"What a coincidence!" Sheng Fang grinned, his signature dimples appearing. "So were we!"
...
"Doctor Cheng, can you make a rainbow and the northern lights appear for me?"
Seeing the northern lights required traveling far away, and though the little young master had all the time in the world, Zhu Qing couldn’t spare the days to accompany him.
As for rainbows, Sheng Fang had waited by the windowsill for days, but the heavens hadn’t even granted a drop of rain, let alone a post-rainbow.
Little Sheng Fang was endlessly curious about the world, especially after witnessing last night’s "magic rainstorm" under his tiny umbrella. He was now convinced that adults possessed wondrous abilities—
And now, this "all-powerful" task had fallen upon Doctor Cheng’s shoulders.
Cheng Xinglang led them down the long corridor of the building, chatting with Zhu Qing about the recently closed case.
"That 'dependency rescue theory' you mentioned last time fits this case perfectly."
"For rescuer personalities, love is never a burden," Zhu Qing said, recalling details from the case files. "Instead, it’s the perfect vessel for salvation."
"Have you been studying psychology lately?" Cheng Xinglang glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. "Then what about for you?"
"A nuisance," Zhu Qing replied.
The conversation paused there.
Footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. With a soft creak, Cheng Xinglang pushed open the door to an unused lab at the end of the third floor.
"Wait here a moment."
Though he didn’t know what Cheng Xinglang was up to, little Sheng Fang trusted implicitly that the magician would deliver.
The boy stood on tiptoe, fiddling with beakers on the lab table, until Cheng Xinglang returned holding a bag of candy.
The three gathered around the table.
Cheng Xinglang poured warm water into a measuring cup, then carefully selected the most vibrant-colored candies from the bag of rainbow sweets.
As the candy coatings slowly dissolved, swirling into a colorful vortex before the child’s eyes, his face lit up like stars.
Zhu Qing stifled a laugh, turning just in time to catch the faint upward curve of Cheng Xinglang’s lips.
They admired the "rainbow" in the cup together, sharing the remaining candies, the sweet-and-sour flavors melting on their tongues.
And now, the northern lights magic show was about to begin.
Cheng Xinglang’s makeshift props were simple—a few CDs and a flashlight.
After a brief explanation of the science behind it, he handed the exploration entirely over to the child.
"Me?" Sheng Fang waved the flashlight like a magic wand.
"Your turn," Cheng Xinglang said, flipping off the lights.
Little Sheng Fang dashed around the lab, adjusting angles, distances, and positions with the flashlight.
A sliver of sunlight slipped through the curtains. Zhu Qing stood by the window, straightening the drapes, stretching to reach the top edge. Suddenly, a familiar cool scent approached—Cheng Xinglang’s arm brushed past her fingertips.
"Click—"
The last trace of light vanished.
"I’m going abroad for further studies soon."
The low voice reached her ear in the darkness.
Zhu Qing turned in surprise, finally understanding why she’d seen so little of Doctor Cheng at the station lately.
He had been preparing for specialized training in forensic behavioral analysis in the U.S.
"It’s about the 'anomalous preservation phenomenon' in violent behavior," Cheng Xinglang explained quietly.
The course had been arranged last-minute. One case study involved a perpetrator who, while committing violence, exhibited extreme protectiveness toward a specific individual—just like the Cheng family case years ago.
"How long will you be gone?"
"Six months."
Zhu Qing knew such training opportunities were routine.
So this was why he’d come to the CID office earlier.
"That’s great."
"Ah Ben will be heartbroken," she said lightly. "No one to have lunch with."
Cheng Xinglang chuckled. "Haven’t told him yet."
A long silence stretched between them.
Just as Zhu Qing was about to respond, an excited little voice cut through the dark.
Little Sheng Fang was thrilled—
"It’s the northern lights! They’re really here!"
...
Months ago, Agent Wang would leave countless messages on Zhu Qing’s pager. Now that she’d given him her mobile number, he called relentlessly from morning till night, dialing her the moment a suitable property became available.
After touring several places—some too dim, others poorly laid out—the undeterred real estate agent assured Miss Zhu and Mr. Sheng that he’d keep searching.
Lately, Zhu Qing and little Sheng Fang had become regulars at the rehabilitation center.
Sometimes they stayed overnight in Sheng Peirong’s recovery suite; other times, they went home.
"The nutritionist will bring breakfast soon," Sheng Peirong said. "What would you like?"
The uncle-nephew pair were too busy to answer.
Sheng Fang, like a tiny commander, directed Zhu Qing to move the small side table from the living room out to the private garden.
On the table sat neatly arranged professional books and children’s picture books brought from home.
Bathed in sunlight, the two enjoyed a rare day off together.
Zhu Qing lazily rested her chin on her hand, her long hair loosely draped over her shoulders, as she popped a cookie into her mouth.
Sheng Fang, his tiny palms filled with biscuits, stuffed them all into his mouth at once—
"I can eat five cookies in one go!" he declared proudly, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. "The ultimate mouth challenge—success!"
This garden, connected to the suite, was a place Sheng Peirong had rarely stepped into before.
Every ray of sunlight, every fallen leaf, reminded her of her late husband’s presence.
But now, watching her daughter and youngest brother sharing snacks in the morning light, the memories softened, no longer sharp with pain.
"Qing, why aren’t you reading anymore?"
The warm breeze rustled the pages of the book, but Zhu Qing had already dozed off on the table. "Boring."
"See!" Sheng Fang said with mock seriousness. "Once the case is solved, no more studying!"
"And what about you? Why aren’t you reading?"
Some words, Sheng Fang simply let slip past him, in one ear and out the other.
His lips still dusted with cookie crumbs, he lectured with exaggerated wisdom, "Learning never ends, you know!"
Zhu Qing was about to laugh at him when she suddenly felt a pair of hands gently settle on her shoulders.
She turned—it was her mother, smiling softly.
"Stay still."
Sheng Peirong’s fingers combed through her daughter’s long hair, gathering it gently.
"Coco’s hair was always thick and lush, even as a baby—rare for an infant," Sheng Peirong murmured. "Back then, your father and I promised each other that when our daughter grew up, I’d braid her hair every day… experimenting with different styles. It would’ve been so sweet."
A promise delayed by twenty years was finally fulfilled in this moment.
Zhu Qing closed her eyes as her mother’s fingers wove through her hair, as if she had become that little girl again—one who lazed around in the mornings, even though she had never truly experienced such a childhood. Yet this scene felt undeniably real, as familiar as if she had relived it a thousand times in her dreams.
Little Sheng Fang sat nearby, happily munching on cookies, his eyes crinkling with joy.
Zhu Qing ruffled his hair—
He looked so happy, so carefree. But those who loved him couldn’t help but ache for him. The pain of losing his parents so young was something his young uncle couldn’t yet grasp, but she understood all too well.
"Are you cold?"
Sheng Fang tilted his head up, his cheeks rosy from the sun. "Nope."
Zhu Qing pinched his chubby little face.
She could only hope that the love from his niece and elder sister would be enough—like today’s sunlight—to shield him from the harsh winds of life’s long journey.
……
Days later, news of Cheng Xinglang’s departure for further studies in the U.S. finally spread through the police station. His cases would now be fully handed over to Doctor Ye.
"After working with Doctor Cheng for nearly half a year, switching back to Doctor Ye feels a bit strange," Hao Zai grumbled. "Did Doctor Ye and his wife return from their ski trip already?"
"Well, obviously," Xu Jiale rolled his eyes. "You think they’d take half a year off?"
"Why did he leave without even saying goodbye…" Zeng Yongshan suddenly sidled up to Zhu Qing. "Did you know?"
"He told me before he left."
Zeng Yongshan’s eyes lit up. "And? What else did he say?"
Just then, the office door swung open—Mo Zhenbang walked in, a document bag in hand.
Today was his inspector’s exam, yet he still found time to drop by.
The team instantly swarmed him, more nervous than he was.
"If you hit a tough question, skip it first. No one’s expected to know everything—keeping your cool is what matters."
"Remember to smile at the examiner! A good mood might earn you extra points."
"Smile? It’s a written exam, not an interview. Who’s gonna see you smiling at the paper?"
"Better safe than sorry! What if the written examiner is the same one who interviews you later?"
"Hao Zai, did you learn nothing at the academy? At the final interview, the panel’s usually made up of senior inspectors, chief inspectors, station sergeants…"
"So, will Weng Zhaolin be interviewing our boss too? Think he’ll go easy on him?"
Xu Jiale suggested that to ensure Weng Zhaolin’s favor, they should all behave impeccably in the coming days. If Weng Zhaolin saw how well Mo Zhenbang led Team B, he might just cut him some slack.
Amid the team’s chaotic fretting, Mo Zhenbang rubbed his temples, the noise making his head throb. Suddenly, Zhu Qing seemed like the only sane one in the room—quietly seated at her desk, neither nagging nor meddling.
"Liji Tea Restaurant—" someone called from the doorway, holding a delivery slip. "For Team B, Major Crimes?"
"Coming."
Zhu Qing got up to fetch the order, and the others stampeded after her.
"The iced lemon tea is mine!"
"This milk tea… Hey, where’s the ice?"
Mo Zhenbang’s eyes locked onto his usual silk-stocking milk tea, hand already reaching—
"Too much sugar. You’ll crash during the exam this afternoon." Zhu Qing swiftly intercepted it, deadpan. "There’s water in the break room, Mo Sir."
Mo Zhenbang: "…"
……
Every evening, along the garden path of the rehabilitation center, Zhu Qing could be seen carefully supporting her mother’s slow steps.
Sheng Fang trailed beside them, sulking—because Qing wouldn’t let him help his elder sister.
The little boy was too short, his legs too tiny. Even on tiptoe, he couldn’t reach her arm, and he’d only slow her down.
So the young master of the Sheng family channeled his frustration into loudly counting each step.
"Mom, take your time."
Sheng Fang marched alongside them. "One, two, three…"
"Seventy, seventy-one, seventy-two…"
"Wow! Big Sis can walk all the way now!"
At some point, without anyone noticing, Sheng Peirong had regained the strength to steadily complete the entire tree-lined path.
Meanwhile, turmoil within the corporate group escalated. Pei Junyi’s ambitions could no longer be concealed. Initially, the old board members had still deferred to Sheng Peirong out of respect for the Sheng family’s legacy. But his relentless stirring at board meetings had worn them down. Now, whispers of "Madam Sheng’s unstable mind" and "questionable mental state" spread like wildfire—even the legal team had caught wind of it.
"Coco." Sheng Peirong suddenly tightened her grip on her daughter’s hand. "I want to go home."
Mother and daughter walked slowly along the rehab center’s path, nurses from the recovery department watching fondly from a distance.
A young nurse, Mandy, bent down to Sheng Fang with a sigh. "I’m really going to miss you all."
"I’ll miss Sister Mandy too!"
"What about me?"
"Of course I’ll miss Sister Lulu!"
As Nurse Shen Xiaoxia passed by, she noted today’s progress on Sheng Peirong’s chart.
Throughout these days, Nurse Shen had always been the strictest. Whenever Sheng Peirong tried to push herself further, she’d appear, clipboard in hand, gently blocking the way. After years in a coma, the body’s functions couldn’t be rushed—recovery required patience.
Yet every time, young Sheng Fang would plant his hands on his hips, indignant. Too young to understand complexities, his world operated on simple logic: the more his sister practiced, the sooner she could come home.
For the little patients, Head Nurse Shen Xiaoxia was nothing short of a nuisance. Every time she appeared with her clipboard, it meant interrupting their rehabilitation exercises with buzzkill reminders like "slow down" or "don’t rush."
But truthfully, Nurse Shen paid no mind to their grumbling.
Just as she was about to leave with her clipboard, a soft, sticky-sweet voice piped up behind her.
"I’ll miss Auntie Shen too—"
Shen Xiaoxia paused mid-step, her usually tense brow softening involuntarily.
Such an endearing child—who wouldn’t want to ruffle his little head?
As evening fell, another item on the agenda surfaced.
Zhu Qing was taking Sheng Fang to the movies.
While changing at home, her gaze landed on a sticky note on the desk.
Has Doctor Cheng settled in alright?
She picked up the note he’d left, clicked open the email account she’d registered during her Berlin trip, then—
"Qing-jie—hurry up, let’s go!"
This time, they were headed to the cinema in Wan Chai, though unfortunately, they didn’t run into Little Gao or Sister Rachel.
It was Sheng Fang’s first movie theater experience, and he made sure to bring his Ultraman along for the occasion.
At the entrance, a majestic lion poster loomed large.
"See?" Sheng Fang grinned at Simba. "I told you I’d come."
Even with a movie poster, this kid could strike up a friendship like they were old pals.
Bouncing on his toes, he hugged Ultraman tight. "Let’s go, let’s go watch the movie!"
"Let’s go, let’s go watch the movie," Ultraman suddenly echoed.
Zhu Qing startled. "Since when does your toy talk?"
Sheng Fang patted Ultraman’s head. "You don’t recognize him?"
At home, the "Fang’s Favorites" pile towered like a small mountain—every few steps, you’d kick some new treasure.
To Zhu Qing, Ultraman and Transformers were indistinguishable. No models, no editions. Just one label:
Toys. General category.
"Doctor Cheng gave him to me!"
"Why?" Zhu Qing took their tickets from the booth. "Was it your birthday?"
"Ah-Chao, she doesn’t care about us at all," Sheng Fang sighed, then corrected himself, "I mean, the three of us."
He shook his head.
Poor Doctor Cheng. Next time he’s back at the station, he’d have to tell him.
Zhu Qing: "..."
Even his Ultraman had a nickname now.
---
Finally, it was time to bring Sheng Peirong home.
For days, they’d toured one property after another. Each time the aunt-nephew duo shook their heads, Agent Wang would produce an even more luxurious listing. Meanwhile, Sheng Fang kept his routine—picking up his niece after school, clocking in at the station, then arriving punctually for viewings.
Agent Wang was already waiting curbside. Spotting the familiar black SUV, his smile widened as he hurried over.
"Mr. Sheng."
A four-year-old addressed as "Mr. Sheng"—yet the little VIP didn’t bat an eye, cheerfully hopping out of the car.
After exchanging pleasantries with his tiny client, Agent Wang turned to Zhu Qing. "Miss Zhu."
Talk about a golden opportunity. These clients were loaded. They’d viewed countless homes without even asking prices.
And this little young master? A walking lucky charm.
With a sweeping gesture, Agent Wang launched into the villa’s highlights.
"This two-story property has exceptional natural light and top-tier privacy."
"The previous owners only sold because the commute to their child’s school was too long. The renovations are brand-new."
"It’s about ten minutes to the police station, but—"
He ushered them inside.
The interior was elegantly appointed, the airy rooms brimming with warmth—perfect for their needs.
Pointing to the lawn beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, he said, "This much space is ideal for children."
"You can ride bikes there!"
"Qing-jie, can we put a slide here?"
"I want to invite Jin Bao, Yesi, Daming, Little Mei, Juan, and—"
Agent Wang’s smile deepened.
Up and down the stairs Sheng Fang scampered, exploring every corner.
"Qing-jie, Qing-jie!" He tugged her hand excitedly. "We’ll live upstairs!"
He’d already mapped it all out.
He’d even claimed his room—right next to Zhu Qing’s, so if he had nightmares, he could reach her instantly.
"Big Sis and Aunt Ping will be downstairs." Perched on the landing, he nodded, satisfied.
Zhu Qing pinched his chubby cheek. "Did you ask Big Sis what she thinks?"
Beyond the windows, the garden stretched lush and green.
A fresh chapter awaited them.
"Big Sis is this old!" Sheng Fang stretched his arms wide. "She can’t possibly hog Qing-jie from a little kid like me!"
