The evening at Kadoorie Hill was serene and picturesque, with the setting sun casting golden hues over the quiet, tree-lined villa district.
Agent Wang led the aunt-and-nephew pair through the spacious living room, introducing each room one by one.
"Six rooms in total, upstairs and downstairs," he said, pushing open the study door where sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the wooden floor. "This one gets the best natural light."
He then gestured toward the basement. "This could be turned into a home theater—perfect for family movie nights on weekends."
"Of course, if the little one prefers, it could also make a great play area."
Agent Wang glanced at Sheng Fang, expecting an enthusiastic response.
But Sheng Fang simply tilted his head up, staring intently at the two adjacent bedrooms upstairs.
The child seemed to have reached an important conclusion and nodded solemnly. "Big Sis wouldn’t be so unreasonable."
Sheng Fang had made up his mind—if his elder sister insisted on staying upstairs, he would drag Zhu Qing downstairs with him. No matter who tried to persuade him, he wouldn’t budge unless he could stay close to his niece.
"This garden is one of the largest in Kadoorie Hill," Agent Wang continued, pointing out the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Imagine, once the little one grows older, standing here after homework, soaking in all this greenery—it’s the best way to relax tired eyes."
"And look at this private garage—more than enough space for two cars."
"This place is far more practical than the ones we saw last time. Sure, it’s not like your current apartment, just five minutes from the police station, but the peaceful surroundings make up for it."
"An environment like this is great for recovery, too. A home isn’t just about convenience—it’s about comfort."
His fingers brushed over the large sofa in the center of the living room, his voice softening. With his silver tongue, Agent Wang painted an idyllic picture—
The family gathered here, sharing fruit while watching TV, the lush garden just outside the window.
Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang couldn’t help but be moved.
Within days, negotiations, contracts, and paperwork were settled, and the keys were finally in their hands.
At the real estate office on Nathan Road, Agent Wang’s smile was brighter than ever. Colleagues passing by shot him envious glances, some even slowing their steps with exaggerated sighs.
"We have a new home!" Sheng Fang chirped, his little face beaming.
Zhu Qing clutched the keys, memories of every familiar corner in their old apartment flashing through her mind.
Truthfully, that place had been good too. If there had been other units available in the same building or nearby, they might have considered staying. Agent Wang had scoured the area, but in the end, he shook his head helplessly—nothing suitable could be found.
Young Master Sheng, however, was brimming with excitement for life at Kadoorie Hill.
After all, he and his elder sister had long made a pact—they were going to give Zhu Qing the best life possible!
"The new home is great," Sheng Fang declared with satisfaction, a grin revealing his tiny teeth. "Our Zhu Qing has never lived in a villa before."
Agent Wang lowered his head to organize the documents, swallowing the words that nearly slipped out—
Young Master, truth be told… neither have I…
Days later, Mo Zhenbang’s written exam results arrived in an official notice.
When the news spread, the entire CID office erupted in cheers—his subordinates were even more thrilled than he was.
After the written exam came the interview. Though the notification would trickle down through the police hierarchy, no one knew how long the wait would be. But his colleagues wasted no time.
From early morning, Weng Zhaolin’s office was met with a steady stream of knocks.
"Sir Weng," Hao Zai said cautiously, placing a brand-new mug on the desk. "Your old one’s stained with tea residue. This is from all of us—hope you like it."
A delicate ribbon was tied around the mug’s handle.
Before Weng Zhaolin could even thank him, Xu Jiale walked in.
Xu Jiale set a lumbar cushion on his leather chair. "Heard your back’s been bothering you. This should help."
Then came a leather-bound notebook, liquor-filled chocolates for his wife…
One after another, colleagues filed in, all wearing smiles.
"Sir Weng, go easy on our boss during the interview, yeah?"
Weng Zhaolin untied the ribbon and tapped the mug. "Direct senior inspectors don’t participate in interviews."
The group exchanged glances before silently dispersing.
Amused, Weng Zhaolin added, "But I will be submitting daily performance reports!"
"Sir, we’re not leaving!" a quick-witted officer called out. "We were just going to grab you coffee!"
Scenes like this were commonplace in the CID’s B Team—a warmth of camaraderie enveloped the entire station.
Mo Zhenbang leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold, his nose tingling faintly.
Years ago, a colleague’s sacrifice had frozen him in place. Since then, he’d stubbornly charged ahead, shielding his team from harm. But today, that protection had transformed into encouragement—fueling his every step forward.
"See that?" Weng Zhaolin appeared beside him, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Don’t let them down."
Mo Zhenbang was promptly shooed back to his office.
Interviews were different from written exams, but preparation was just as crucial.
Meanwhile, his colleagues returned to their duties.
The station had been unusually quiet lately—dusty old case files and minor disputes were all they handled. Sheng Peirong’s surgery had gone smoothly, and though a celebration had been planned, the "suicide pact case" had delayed it indefinitely. No one had forgotten the promised feast—they’d just held back, not wanting to put Zhu Qing on the spot.
So it came as a surprise when she extended the invitation herself.
A housewarming party at their new home—a mission assigned to her by Sheng Fang.
When her colleagues hesitated, she quickly backtracked. "If you’re busy—"
"Busy? No way we’d miss this!" Hao Zai was the first to jump up.
"Which day? Let me check…" Uncle Li flipped through his desk calendar. "Perfect, I’m free."
A chorus of eager replies filled the office.
Zhu Qing’s smile deepened, her lips curving unconsciously.
A few months ago, she would never have spoken up.
But now, after days and nights of working side by side, the line between colleague and friend had blurred entirely.
This distance—it was just right.
Sheng Fang wished Zhu Qing’s vacation could last forever.
Days after the movie had ended, the little one was still prancing around the house, mimicking Simba’s majestic poses. His favorite scene was when the cub was lifted by the scruff—now he clambered onto the sofa back, twisting around to shove the collar of his shirt into Zhu Qing’s hand.
He clasped his hands together, pressing them against his round, chubby cheeks. "Please—"
Zhu Qing refused his request.
The little boy knew how to use reverse psychology, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Seems like Qing’s strength isn’t all that impressive after all."
But such tactics had no effect on Zhu Qing.
She acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing, walking past him without even pausing her stride.
Left with no choice, Sheng Fang obediently hopped down from the sofa backrest and tattled to Aunt Ping. "She’s a meanie."
Aside from watching movies, Sheng Fang also spent his days practicing riding his bicycle downstairs.
Under the glow of the setting sun, he pedaled in circles on his tiny bike.
Zhu Qing followed behind, watching his little legs pump the pedals with all their might. She bent down and teased, "Fangfang, you’ve been exercising so diligently lately—have you lost weight?"
The little boy tilted his round face up proudly.
"Never mind," Zhu Qing said. "You haven’t."
She also indulged another one of his little wishes.
He had mentioned it to her casually—he wanted to ride his bike alone to the market to buy groceries.
Zhu Qing strapped a small pouch around him, filled with loose change. "Are you sure you want to go?"
"Absolutely!"
Venturing out alone, Sheng Fang felt like an adventurer. The little tycoon, who usually read newspapers and watched the news, was terrified of being kidnapped. His heart pounded as he mustered the courage to glance around nervously.
The path from home to the market was one he knew like the back of his hand.
By the time he reached the market entrance, his posture straightened, and he exuded an air of calm. This time, he wasn’t playing pretend as an old man or mimicking a working adult.
Today, Sheng Fang was acting out the role of a weary middle-aged man. He tugged at his collar, pretending to loosen a necktie.
"Do you have fresh choy sum?" he asked.
"The choy sum sold out early this morning," the vendor chuckled. "Little one, want to look at something else?"
Sheng Fang froze.
He only knew about choy sum because Aunt Ping talked about it constantly. The names of other vegetables escaped him entirely. His small frame stiffened on the tiny bike, his face blank with confusion.
"Pfft—" A familiar laugh sounded behind him.
Sheng Fang turned and saw his niece standing there. Instantly relieved, his lips curled into a dimpled smile.
On the way home, the bike’s basket remained empty—their first grocery run had ended in failure.
"Qing, were you following me the whole time?"
Zhu Qing had indeed been trailing Sheng Fang the entire way.
The little boy hadn’t noticed at all—not once had he glanced back.
"Of course I couldn’t let you go alone. What if something happened?"
Fangfang nuzzled his face against her arm. "Then you wouldn’t have an uncle anymore."
"What kind of talk is that?" She narrowed her eyes. "Kids say the darndest things."
The little boy covered his mouth with both hands, then peeked through his fingers.
With utmost seriousness, he declared, "Knock on wood!"
……
Life for the uncle-niece duo settled into a steady rhythm.
Zhu Qing left for work on time, returned punctually, and before she even opened the door, the aroma of home-cooked meals already drifted into the hallway.
Sheng Fang no longer needed to pick up his niece from the police station. Instead, he kept his eyes glued to the clock, counting down the seconds until she came home.
After dinner came their leisurely post-meal strolls.
The house was filled with cardboard boxes as Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang slowly packed, preparing for their move. They worked diligently, bit by bit, transporting their belongings to the villa on Kadoorie Hill. Sheng Peirong could now stand and walk the garden path unaided, but moving was strenuous work—they wanted everything settled before she was discharged.
Their evenings became a routine of shuttling between home and the rehabilitation center.
Time slipped through their fingers, and even the chilly wind whistling against their cheeks carried a sense of comfort.
Sheng Peirong always fretted over them, urging them to take it slow and not overexert themselves.
But for Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang, moving felt more like a fun challenge. Like now, when they spontaneously decided to pack up toys from the rehab center.
"Qing," the little boy piped up in his childish voice, "are we like ants moving house?"
He wiggled his fingers above his forehead, pretending they were antennae.
Zhu Qing gripped the steering wheel, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
Suddenly, she lowered her voice. "That black car behind us—it’s been tailing us for three blocks."
Little Fang immediately turned, pressing his face against the window.
Coming from a family of cops, he had a natural sensitivity to being followed. He ducked slightly, observing the trailing vehicle without giving himself away.
"Where? I can’t see it!" Sheng Fang went into full alert mode.
Zhu Qing smirked. "Hold on tight."
She slammed the accelerator, swerving sharply through a series of turns until the car behind them vanished.
But just as the other vehicle pulled to the curb, Zhu Qing spun the wheel again, skidding to a stop right in front of it.
The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.
"Uncle Pei?" Sheng Fang leaned against the window frame.
The little boy didn’t know Pei Junyi well—he only remembered him frequently visiting the study on the first floor when his father was alive.
"What a coincidence?" Pei Junyi’s expression flickered with unease, his fingers tightening around the wheel.
As the temporary custodian of the group’s assets, Pei Junyi had initially reveled in his newfound power. But he soon realized he couldn’t access the core holdings.
And the guardianship of the Sheng family’s young heir had fallen to this policewoman.
Turns out, her identity wasn’t so simple after all.
Since Sheng Wenchang’s death, the Sheng family had fractured. No one expected Sheng Peirong to reclaim her long-lost daughter. The existence of this daughter, much like Sheng Peirong’s true condition, had been the family’s most closely guarded secret for two decades. Even though the late patriarch had always claimed to trust him, Pei Junyi only learned the truth after Sheng Peishan’s case came to light.
From his observations, this pair seemed to rely solely on each other—so what was really going on with Sheng Peirong?
After shadowing them for some time, Pei Junyi had pieced together clues. He was certain—something was wrong with Sheng Peirong.
Last time, he tried following the boy and the nanny to the rehab center, but the private facility’s security had blocked him. Today, he switched cars to trail Zhu Qing, never expecting to be spotted so quickly.
A rookie cop couldn’t possibly handle the tangled web of Sheng Corporation’s affairs.
And if Sheng Peirong were truly fine, how could she just abandon her beloved daughter like this?
Pei Junyi studied the uncle-niece pair.
A greenhorn policewoman and a naive child—to him, they posed no threat at all.
"Are you going to visit Miss Sheng?" Pei Junyi asked with feigned concern, his tone gentle. "It's been years since I last saw her. Would you mind if I tagged along?"
Zhu Qing turned her head and exchanged a glance with little Sheng Fang.
Simultaneously, they let out a long sigh.
Pei Junyi's eyes sharpened—
It seemed Sheng Peirong's condition was worse than he had imagined.
The car window slowly rolled up as Zhu Qing started the engine again.
She tapped the play button, and the same melody from their trip to Liyuan Amusement Park filled the car.
The aunt-nephew duo changed their plans on a whim, turning the car around for a leisurely drive.
Sheng Fang was still basking in the afterglow of his earlier performance, his little face brimming with pride.
"How was my acting?"
"Oscar-worthy."
The two burst into laughter as the music enveloped the car.
When they entered the tunnel, the dazzling nightscape flashed past the windows.
In that fleeting moment, Zhu Qing couldn't help but recall that deliberate night when she had slowed the car to ride alongside the motorcycle.
The sound of freedom seemed to whistle past her ears once more.
...
While packing, Zhu Qing realized that despite having lived there for only a short while, cardboard boxes had already piled up like mountains.
Little Sheng Fang's toys were astonishingly numerous—some accidentally kicked under the sofa, wedged in forgotten corners, others hidden too well during games of hide-and-seek and never retrieved.
Each rediscovered toy was a new adventure for Sheng Fang, who would plop onto the floor and play with utter delight, completely forgetting they were in the middle of moving.
"Sheng Fang!" Zhu Qing called from the bedroom. "No slacking off."
"Got it," Fangfang replied, though his body sank lower as he focused intently on maneuvering his toy car.
In the bedroom, Zhu Qing carefully peeled off the "Clean Plate Club" award certificate from the wall.
This was Sheng Fang's first-ever award, and she regarded it as her inaugural trophy in raising a genius little troublemaker. At first, gazing at it at her desk would bring flashes of the original story's grim plot, but gradually those scenes blurred—Zhu Qing grew certain Fangfang would never become that person.
She smoothed the certificate's edges before tucking it into a folder.
"Sheng Fang," she asked, "how come you haven't brought home any new awards lately?"
Without looking up from his toys, Fangfang answered, "I'll ask Teacher Ji for one tomorrow."
"Awards aren't something you just ask for," muttered Aunt Ping.
As Aunt Ping grumbled, Zhu Qing stood by her desk where the cockroach-shaped pencil holder Fangfang had made for her sat. She wanted to pretend she'd forgotten about it, but just as she turned—
Sheng Fang came pattering over, carefully cradling the holder before handing it to Aunt Ping.
"Don't crush it," Fangfang said earnestly. "Qingzai really likes it."
And so Zhu Qing watched as the pencil holder was packed with care—even its black "antennae" were carefully removed to be reattached in their new home.
As each box filled, Aunt Ping brought new ones.
Over these months, they'd accumulated countless little treasures in this home, each now being tenderly placed in a corner of a box.
Before Sheng Fang came into her life, time had flown by in unremarkable days.
Now, every moment etched itself into her heart—even mundane chores became extraordinary.
She remembered their first major cleaning spree, when Sheng Fang had become a "human mop," rolling across the floor. Or their first time curled up watching cartoons, debating which superpower they'd want.
That day, Sheng Fang had told Zhu Qing he didn't want invisibility or time travel—just the ability to freeze happy moments.
Back then, they'd wanted to pause those quiet evenings.
Now, tilting his head in thought, Fangfang wished—
He could save up each day's happiness, making sure tomorrow held more joy than today.
The crisp sound of packing tape broke the reverie as Aunt Ping sealed another box. "Qingqing, did you arrange for movers?"
"My colleagues are helping!" Sheng Fang interjected, gesturing excitedly. "They promised to move my toys!"
This time, coworkers had volunteered to help, coordinating their rare days off.
"Pity that handsome doctor isn't available," Aunt Ping remarked with a smile. "He used to come running whenever called."
Sheng Fang was currently packing his recent favorite—a talking Ultraman figure.
Reluctant to box it away, he hugged it tightly. "Where did Doctor Cheng go?"
"Six-month training abroad." Zhu Qing looked surprised. "You didn't know?"
Sheng Fang's eyes rounded into perfect circles, his mouth forming a tiny "o."
He hadn't—known—at—all!
His face crumpled with betrayal.
Doctor Cheng hadn't told him.
Aunt Ping had only learned recently while organizing Zhu Qing's desk, spotting the email note and asking about it.
Judging by the timeline, Doctor Cheng must have already scheduled his trip when giving Fangfang those limited-edition toys.
"Even I heard about it, and you're always hanging around the police station?" Aunt Ping teased.
Sheng Fang puffed up indignantly. "You're enjoying this!"
The Ultraman in his arms parroted: "You're enjoying this!"
...
That night, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the sofa like when they'd first moved in, watching his favorite cartoon.
Fangfang's poorly concealed delight made him cover his giggling mouth.
"Today—" he drew out the word, smugness dripping from each syllable, "isn't the weekend."
"What should we do?" Zhu Qing played along. "Turn it off?"
"No no no." His head shook like a rattle-drum.
This child could never keep secrets—everything spilled out immediately.
Yet Sheng Fang was the most rule-abiding boy.
Since making their TV schedule with Qingzai, he'd never touched the remote, patiently counting days until weekends.
Now secure in his attachments, he asked directly for what he wanted—accepting "no" with equanimity. If denied TV time, he'd simply charm Aunt Ping into cookie bribes. The little lord had endless ways to amuse himself.
Zhu Qing left the show playing.
As aunt and nephew crunched chips, the sound mingled with passing time and swirling memories.
"Tomorrow we move..." Zhu Qing's gaze traveled over every corner of their home.
Fangfang said in his milky voice, "Our home has gotten bigger."
Zhu Qing understood what he meant.
It wasn't that the house had expanded in size, but that new family members had been added, making the home finally feel complete.
When the cartoon on the children's channel ended, it was time for bed.
Zhu Qing sat by Fangfang's bedside, reading him a bedtime story.
"Goodnight, Qing."
By the time she returned to her room and slipped under the covers, faint rustling sounds came from next door.
Zhu Qing looked up to see a small figure standing by the doorway, clutching a pillow and dragging a teddy bear by its ear.
Sheng Fang gazed at her with pleading eyes. "Qing, can I sleep with you?"
"No kicking the blankets."
"I won't!"
Though she had already finished one story, now she had to tell another.
Sheng Fang, ever the agreeable child, didn't mind. Since Zhu Qing wasn't the most patient niece, he decided to recall stories from his own mental library instead. His soft, childish voice murmured beside her, gradually fading until only steady breathing remained.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the uncle and niece, whose peaceful sleeping faces bore a faint resemblance.
Aunt Ping woke up in the middle of the night, remembering she had forgotten to pack the clay pot in the kitchen.
Tiptoeing out, she passed the bedroom and saw the two of them sprawled haphazardly across the bed.
Zhu Qing lay in a starfish position at the headboard, while little Sheng Fang stretched his short arms toward the foot.
The blankets had long been kicked aside, and the poor teddy bear lay abandoned on the floor.
Neither of them was any trouble—both still children at heart.
Aunt Ping quietly pulled the covers back over them and tucked the teddy bear into Sheng Fang's arms.
...
The next morning, the moving crew arrived in full force.
Colleagues from the police station chatted and laughed as they efficiently carried boxes.
"Aren't you taking the bedding?" Little Sun asked, peering curiously into the master bedroom while balancing a cardboard box.
"The young miss specifically asked to leave it," Aunt Ping explained with a smile. "So Qing can come back for a nap when she's tired from overtime."
As the apartment door locked behind them, Sheng Fang cheerfully directed the "moving team" toward their new home.
The villa on Kadoorie Hill looked especially warm in the morning light—nothing like the cold, imposing mansion they had lived in before. This place already felt like a real home.
Xu Jiale crouched down to tease Fangfang. "Little master, do you need any more nephews? I volunteer!"
"Me too!" Hao Zai raised his hand. "I can play with you, pick you up from school, and—"
"I'm next in line..."
Sheng Fang informed them he didn't need any more nephews.
Being colleagues was just fine.
The driveway soon filled with cars as boxes were passed from hand to hand into the house.
During breaks, everyone gathered on the lawn, already planning a barbecue.
"This is the perfect spot for the grill. The weather’s just right—not like last time at Lantau Island when we got roasted."
"I’ll bring the beer. Zhu Qing, don’t forget to freeze ice!"
"This grass is so soft, I could lie here all day..."
They agreed to come back in a few days for a proper celebration, knowing the first days of moving would be chaotic.
"Let’s just hope we don’t get any new—"
Hao Zai lunged forward and clapped a hand over Xu Jiale’s mouth. "Hey! Don’t jinx it!"
Little Sun gave him a light kick for good measure.
"You know the rules at the station! You can’t just say things like that!"
Aunt Ping stood to the side, watching the lively group with laughter lines crinkling at her eyes.
Zeng Yongshan followed Zhu Qing on a tour of the new house.
When they reached the master bedroom, she gasped. "Your place is way too clean!"
Truthfully, Aunt Ping had already been by several times to organize everything, leaving the floors so polished they could see their reflections.
Now, all that was left was unpacking the boxes.
"Three, two, one!"
With a dramatic crash and Sheng Fang’s delighted cheers, his toy box was overturned, scattering colorful blocks, toy cars, and figurines across the playroom rug.
The little boy immediately flopped onto the pile, rolling around in glee.
The unpacking proceeded smoothly—until Zhu Qing nicked her arm on the windowsill. Though the cut was minor, the red streak stood out starkly against her fair skin.
Ever-prepared, Aunt Ping had already moved the first-aid kit.
She sat Zhu Qing down on the sofa and carefully cleaned the wound.
Sheng Fang hovered nearby, his little face scrunched in worry.
He took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks like a balloon, and blew hard. "Hoo—hoo—"
"Qing, does it hurt?"
"Don’t worry, blowing on it makes it better."
Encouraged, Sheng Fang blew even harder, his cheeks aching from the effort.
"Hoo—"
"Wow." Zhu Qing pretended to shiver. "That’s such a strong wind, I might catch a cold."
Fangfang drooped, unable to muster a smile.
"Qing, you’re hurt," he said sternly. "Be serious."
A scratch like this wouldn’t have fazed Zhu Qing before—she wouldn’t have even blinked.
But now, with her little uncle kneeling anxiously at her side, looking ready to call an ambulance, she couldn’t help but ruffle his hair.
This kid… how could he be so sweet?
...
The promised housewarming feast would have to wait. Their colleagues, ever considerate, finished helping and left to give them space.
Once the guests were gone, uncle and niece hurried to Canossian Convalescent Hospital.
The attending physician handed Zhu Qing a stack of reports.
"Your mother’s recovery has exceeded expectations. To be honest, our team is surprised. After years in a coma, severe muscle atrophy would normally be expected..."
"But Ms. Sheng’s willpower is extraordinary," Dean Luo added, admiration in his tone. "She pushes through every rehab session—the nurses say they’ve never seen a patient like her."
"Of course, having family by her side has been crucial to her progress."
Zhu Qing flipped through the pages.
After two months of rehabilitation, Sheng Peirong’s results showed all key indicators had normalized. She was ready to be discharged.
"Her mobility and speech have fully returned. Her left arm is still weak, but that will improve with time."
"Congratulations. She can finally go home." Dean Luo stood. "Just remember weekly check-ups, medication, and a careful diet."
The joy in Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang’s eyes was unmistakable.
Dean Luo smiled warmly. Time flew—he still remembered Sheng Peirong’s lifeless state when she was first admitted. Now, she was walking out on her own two feet.
To medicine, it was a case study. To this family, it was nothing short of a miracle.
While finalizing the discharge paperwork, Sheng Fang spun in giddy circles.
Winter had arrived, and their family was finally reunited. What should they eat for dinner tonight?
"Remember," Zhu Qing bent down, placing her hands on Sheng Fang's little shoulders. "Don't tell your eldest sister about my hand injury."
"And don’t even mention the curtain-hanging incident—you always end up spilling the beans."
"Got it! Leave it to me!"
Sheng Fang raised his Transformers toy, its joints clicking as he lifted it high before suddenly dropping it, as if inviting it for a rollercoaster ride.
Only when they stood at the hospital room door did Zhu Qing turn back to confirm, "What did I just tell you not to say?"
"Qing-jie," Sheng Fang tilted his head, trying to recall, then shrugged. "I forgot."
"Don’t give me that cheeky grin!"
The little Sheng Fang immediately straightened up and said solemnly, "Sorry, I’ve got amnesia."
