Hidden within the old-style Tong Lau where Wei Huasheng and his wife once lived was a secret space unknown to anyone.
When the police’s flashlight beam illuminated this cramped area, the presence of empty cans and moldy diapers spoke volumes. It wasn’t some so-called ghost—this place had long been home to a living person.
The officers shuddered just imagining someone having spent years curled up in this dark, narrow interstice.
After a long silence, Mo Zhenbang suddenly spoke: “Photograph everything thoroughly. Don’t miss a single corner.”
The flashes went off one after another.
Someone lowered their voice: “How could anyone live in such a space for so long? It’s like a coffin for the living…”
“‘Amazing Dad’ must be the killer,” another muttered.
“The handwriting can’t be matched with the naked eye,” Little Sun leaned in to examine the scratches on the wall. “One was written in pencil, the other carved with fingernails. But who else could it be if not the murderer?”
Mo Zhenbang signaled Liang Qikai to try entering.
The tall officer squeezed sideways, but his shoulders got stuck at the entrance.
“Little Sun, you try.”
Little Sun took a deep breath, hunched his back, and twisted his body, but even cramped up like that, he barely managed to curl himself and still couldn’t fit into the space.
Just as Superintendent Wen of Mong Kok Police Station had said firmly: unless someone could perform bone-shrinking kung fu, how could there be a fourth person at the crime scene who escaped the police’s notice?
At first, everyone thought it was a joke.
But unexpectedly, the real culprit really did know “bone-shrinking kung fu.”
“The scratches on the back panel must have been left over many years,” Mo Zhenbang said. “The occupant repeated the same movements of going in and out day after day.”
The police began to measure the dimensions of the hidden space precisely.
A metal tape measure stretched across the back panel. After multiple readings, measurements, and calculations, they concluded that this space could only accommodate a person between 110 and 120 centimeters tall.
“What does that height range imply?” Xu Jiale asked.
Zhu Qing, who had taken Fangfang to the hospital for a checkup before, had seen the standard height chart posted in the doctor’s office.
“The average height of a five-year-old child is about 110 centimeters.”
Though the officers had been mentally prepared, hearing this exact figure made them all furrow their brows in unison.
Mo Zhenbang quickly dispatched officers to request backup. Soon, forensic doctor Ye arrived with an assistant, followed closely by colleagues from the forensic department at the scene.
They swiftly put on rubber gloves and began methodically collecting evidence.
“The excrement is probably quite old. Can we still extract DNA?” Mo Zhenbang shifted his gaze away from the diapers.
“In a dry environment, epithelial cells can be preserved for over ten years,” Doctor Ye replied, “but you know how long DNA testing takes.”
Forensic officer Ma held up an empty can, inspecting it carefully under the light. “Saliva DNA has long since evaporated, but this can is shiny all over—clearly from repeated licking when hungry. Maybe we can find clues through amylase testing.”
According to earlier testimonies, ten years ago Huang Qiulian and the old housemaid Xu Yue'e rarely left the house. As long as they stayed home, this parasite couldn’t move about freely. It was highly likely that, driven by unbearable hunger and unable to go outside, someone had licked the canned food so clean.
While waiting for the test results, the police revisited the case timeline.
The silhouette of the fake novice monk and the stolen monk’s robe initially pointed to someone using a child to lure the victim into the side hall of the Tin Hau Temple to commit the crime. But the cramped living space before them, along with the meticulously staged crime scene…
“A child couldn’t have done this,” Zhu Qing said. “Just hiding here for so long without being discovered is absolutely impossible.”
“Salivary amylase concentration suggests it’s very unlikely to be a child,” Officer Ma held up a test strip, eyeing the can’s opening. “Moreover, based on the spacing of the teeth marks on the can, it matches the characteristics of an adult male. Of course, this is just a preliminary judgment. The detailed lab report won’t be ready for another three days.”
That vague suspicion was finally confirmed, and the answer surfaced in everyone’s minds.
A person with abnormal bone structure.
It could be dwarfism, or perhaps a spinal deformity.
In any case, an adult whose physical development had permanently stopped.
“So the killer struck while the victim was kneeling,” Uncle Li said softly. “Given the killer’s height, if the victim had been standing, he wouldn’t have been able to reach the victim’s back.”
“When did he start targeting the victim?”
“At least before the child abuse case, he had already infiltrated the place. Every day, he watched the couple’s love and quarrels, sneaking out late at night to scavenge for food. Maybe he even stood by the baby’s crib, staring viciously at the sleeping child.”
“He lived here long-term, familiar with the maid’s routines and days off, and knew exactly when Huang Qiulian washed up. When committing the crime, he wore gloves and foot coverings for protection, and thanks to his intimate knowledge of the house’s layout, he was able to snatch the child from the master bedroom’s crib and throw him down the stairs, then slip back into the hidden space without anyone noticing—all in a very short time.”
At that time, Wei Huasheng and Huang Qiulian’s child was still small. The nursery was temporarily used as a storage room, and the crib was placed in the master bedroom.
“The police investigating the case back then searched the entire tenement building—stairwells, rooftop water tanks, back alley garbage rooms, even going door to door. Little did they know that while they were searching everywhere, the killer was hiding in the safest place for him: this hidden crawl space.”
“Even the homeowner, who lived here day and night, never noticed an extra person in the house. How could the police have thought to open up the inside of a cabinet to check?”
Even now, when they suspected someone had been living in the apartment long-term, it took them hours to thoroughly investigate.
“For the following two years, he lived separated from Wei Huasheng by only a thin wall. As Huang Qiulian, the maid, and the child left, and the victim went out to work during the day, he was able to move about with increasing boldness.” Liang Qikai stood in the corridor, looking down at the television covered with a white cloth below. “Perhaps countless days passed with him sitting on the sofa, watching TV, imagining this was his home.”
The scene sent a chill down everyone’s spine, a bone-deep coldness rising from the heart.
“Until one day, Wei Huasheng finally discovered a clue.”
“But who would have thought there was someone living inside his own walls? The original blueprints of the Tong building had long been lost, and even the property deed made no mention of this hidden mezzanine.”
“He noticed the oddities again and again, but each time the traces were wiped away,” Zhu Qing looked around the aging structure. “In the end, all he could attribute it to was some supernatural interference.”
“Sending the child away and moving out was his way of saving himself.”
“After Wei Huasheng moved out, the perpetrator left as well, but continued to secretly follow the victim. The victim sometimes felt he was being stalked, other times wondered if he was just being paranoid, and eventually doubted his own sanity.”
This theory fit perfectly, but it was too painful to contemplate.
That serious and kind-hearted Mr. Wei had suffered just as much over those ten years.
A fear that clung like a shadow.
The evidence collection was still ongoing, but the chatter gradually died down.
Only the shutter clicks of cameras, footsteps, and the rustling of evidence bags echoed through the house.
……
By the time all the evidence was sealed and taken back to the police station, it was already late at night.
On the way home, Zhu Qing’s car was packed with three colleagues.
“Wrap up!”
“Go home and get a good night’s sleep. There’s still a tough battle ahead.”
When Zhu Qing opened the door to her home, she deliberately moved softly, afraid of disturbing her sleeping family.
The hallway wall lamp was still on, casting a gentle glow in the darkness.
“Keke,” Sheng Peirong’s sleepy voice called from the master bedroom.
Though she had clearly gone to bed, she still worried about her late-returning daughter, and upon hearing the door open, she mumbled a sleepy reminder.
“There’s spring soup simmering in the kitchen. Remember to drink it. Staying up late hurts your vitality—you need to replenish.”
Her mother’s murmured words grew softer and softer.
“Got it,” Zhu Qing unconsciously softened her voice.
In the kitchen, the soup pot maintained the perfect temperature.
Too lazy to use a spoon, Zhu Qing cupped the warm bowl in her hands and sipped slowly.
When she went upstairs to her bedroom, she noticed the hallway wall lamp casting a warm pool of light on the floor.
Right in front of her door stood a Transformers model, slightly askew.
Zhu Qing recalled how Fangfang had introduced her to this Transformer countless times, though she had forgotten its name.
Now, it stood proudly at the door, its arm joints adjusted into a raised position, holding a small note in its palm.
“Good night.”
This was a little note left by Fangfang for her.
One could imagine how seriously he had written those two words, then sat on the floor repeatedly adjusting the toy’s grip to make sure it held the note just right.
Zhu Qing’s lips involuntarily curved into a smile.
This was the mighty Autobot, now entrusted with the important mission of delivering a little note in Fangfang’s home.
The door to the children’s room was gently pushed open.
Fangfang was sprawled out in a deep sleep, mouth twitching slightly, his dimples on his cheeks looking especially deep.
Was he dreaming of something delicious?
“Good night, Fangfang.” Zhu Qing picked up the “Uncle Xiong” toy that had fallen to the floor and nestled it back into his warm embrace.
……
Last night before bed, Fangfang had promised his big sister that he would keep things quiet in the morning when he got up for school.
Zhu Qing was always working overtime and needed to get a good, peaceful sleep.
But who would have thought that upon opening his eyes at dawn, Fangfang would find his niece standing right by the bed.
Remembering that Little Mei from kindergarten had told him not to rub his eyes, baby Fangfang used two tiny fingers to pry his eyelids open, making sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“Qingzai!”
Fangfang cheered, rolling halfway across his toddler bed before sitting up straight.
“Qingzai, why are you up so early?”
“I’m taking you to kindergarten,” Zhu Qing said with a smile, gently tickling his little nose.
“That’s awesome!”
Children’s happiness was always so simple.
The early wake-up was all worth it for the purest smile on little Fangfang’s face, momentarily pushing aside all the complicated cases Zhu Qing had to deal with. On the way to school, Fangfang bobbed his little head in the back seat, counting on his fingers all the places they’d go once the cases were closed, as if a bright future was right within reach.
The black SUV came to a steady stop in front of the kindergarten gate.
Today, Fangfang didn’t walk into the school by himself; instead, he was hand-in-hand with his niece, his little face shining brighter than the morning sun.
The kindergarten entrance was already bustling, with kids chattering and streaming inside. Suddenly, they spotted Zhu Qing, and the little ones’ eyes lit up as they bounced over excitedly.
“Niece, good morning!”
“Long time no see!”
Zhu Qing had completely embraced her new role as everyone’s beloved niece.
Seeing this, Fangfang stretched out his short little arm to block her: “Niece has been really busy lately.”
His stance was just like a celebrity assistant handling a group of little fans.
Just then, the school bus arrived.
Another group of kids poured out, their little mouths chattering away in a language no one quite understood, making the scene even more chaotic.
Fangfang immediately turned to the side, waving his hand: “This way.”
He was already small enough, yet he bent over seriously, escorting Zhu Qing back to the car with exaggerated care.
As she buckled her seatbelt, Zhu Qing squinted at him: “Have you been watching some weird TV shows again recently?”
“Yesterday was the weekend, though,” Fangfang replied with full confidence.
No one could tell the little master how to spend his leisure time.
With that, he waved his hand and turned away coolly: “School time, bye-bye.”
Kicking his short legs, Fangfang swaggered forward, his empty little backpack bouncing with every step.
“I—will—”
Suddenly, Fangfang’s little feet stopped in their tracks.
Was that Qingzai talking?
Zhu Qing leaned on the car window, deliberately stretching out her words: “I will miss you.”
Just that morning, Aunt Ping had told her that yesterday afternoon, Fangfang had received her call and mumbled to himself for a long time.
From Qingzai missing him to the little guy’s self-inflicted daydreaming, Fangfang would absolutely never admit it.
At that moment, the young master of the Sheng family glanced back and saw his niece smiling warmly at him.
Fangfang’s lips curled into a smile, revealing her adorable little baby teeth. “I knew it.”
……
When Zhu Qing stepped into the police station, her colleagues were still discussing the hidden compartment discovered yesterday in the old Wei family house.
“I almost had nightmares about it.”
“I couldn’t sleep all night. I even got up in the middle of the night to check every closet in my house.”
The officers chatted about the new findings from last night, organizing the evidence and gradually making their way into the conference room.
“Waiting for the complete DNA comparison and trace evidence reports will take at least three more days,” Mo Zhenbang frowned. “The report’s conclusion can be used for conviction, but we can’t wait to find the suspect. We need to lock down the target as soon as possible.”
Last night, Mo Zhenbang had already deployed police forces to protect the victim’s son, Wei Ansheng, and his ex-wife, Huang Qiulian. The initial plan was to place the mother and son in a designated safe house, but Huang Qiulian objected. She voluntarily suggested staying at Saint Heart Manor, where the tight security could ensure their safety. Besides, Wei Ansheng was not fit to go out.
As the situation developed, the police had visited multiple times. Rumors began circulating around the community center, but there was no time to worry about that now. At this stage, ensuring safety was far more important than quelling gossip.
“Just hurry up and find the person,” Hao Zai half-joked, “Not for anything else, just so we can close the case and get the day off sooner.”
Compared to the tense atmosphere of the previous days, the CID room now felt noticeably lighter.
After all, the outline of the case was finally becoming clear.
Mo Zhenbang took out a photo of the scratch marks lifted from the hidden compartment’s wall panel from an evidence bag and pinned it to the whiteboard, placing it side by side with the handwriting found under the meditation cushion in the side hall of the Tin Hau Temple.
“At first, we thought it was a child’s handwriting — heavy strokes, unsteady lines. Based on the spacing and structure of the characters, it fits the handwriting traits of a five to seven-year-old. But now, it might also be an adult with abnormal hand development.”
“But why forge the time of death? Why deliberately mislead the police by moving the time an hour earlier?” an officer asked.
Murmurs rose from the group below.
“Did the killer tamper with the victim’s cell phone?” Zhu Qing suddenly spoke up. “He found out that the victim’s younger brother, Wei Xusheng, had just called recently.”
“A two-birds-one-stone move,” Mo Zhenbang mused. “He wanted Wei Huasheng dead but also wanted to pin the blame on his own brother.”
“But what’s the motive behind the murder? Wei Huasheng has been doing charity work for over twenty years, helping so many people…”
“A classic case of the farmer and the snake,” Liang Qikai said. “The list of donations is a long stack. Who knows if the victim ever helped a thankless scoundrel?”
The direction of the investigation was clear.
For two full days, the officers sifted through data.
They retrieved the donation lists under Wei Huasheng’s name, focusing on the Disabled Youth Association and special schools, not overlooking even the files of students who had dropped out midway. They also scrutinized special funds aimed at individuals with dwarfism or disabilities.
In the afternoon, the police paid another visit to the headquarters of Wei Huasheng’s toy company.
The scope of the investigation expanded to include employee records from the past ten to fifteen years, covering even those disabled employees who had already left the company.
“Employees with dwarfism or spinal deformities?” the company’s HR flipped through the files. “I was here when the company was founded. Over the years, we have indeed hired disabled employees, but the specific traits you mentioned… I don’t think we have anyone like that.”
Director Fan and the others also fell into thought.
“Have you ever heard of any employee’s family member suffering from dwarfism or growth hormone deficiency?”
“Or perhaps any employee who had to be transferred or resigned because they needed special care for a disabled family member?”
“Are there any cases on the production line involving aftereffects from spinal compression accidents?”
Each question was met with serious consideration from the veterans, but the answers were consistently negative.
By evening, there was still no progress.
“This kind of screening is a massive undertaking,” Mo Zhenbang said. “We can’t rush it, but we can’t stop either.”
One by one, the lights in the Criminal Investigation Team’s office were turned on.
The killer remained hidden in the shadows, but the police were confident they would eventually bring him to justice.
As the officers buried themselves in sorting through clues, Mo Zhenbang suddenly asked, “Any results from the occupational screening?”
Little Sun opened the files and reported.
During the case analysis meeting a couple of days ago, Zhu Qing had mentioned that the killer likely possessed professional knowledge of corpse handling, possibly working in a related occupation. Following that, Mo Zhenbang had assigned his subordinates to form groups to investigate specific professional groups.
“To precisely control the corpse’s temperature and manipulate rigor mortis assessments, one needs to master this kind of expertise,” Little Sun explained. “Following A-Tou’s instructions, we checked prop makers and special effects makeup artists at film companies who create fake corpses, as well as mortuary workers and funeral industry personnel—those most familiar with corpse handling procedures.”
He pointed to the crime scene photos and added, “Especially since the killer knew how to use heavy objects to create fixed livor mortis patterns—a technique few would think of.”
“But so far, no relevant leads have been found,” he said helplessly, shaking his head.
Everyone flipped through their documents, their expressions tense and anxious.
“Besides the human funeral industry…” Zhu Qing mused thoughtfully, pausing briefly, “what about the pet funeral sector? Animal corpses undergo the same processes of rigor mortis and livor mortis during decomposition.”
This fresh angle reinvigorated the team, prompting a new line of investigation.
…
Mo Zhenbang ordered the investigation to expand into the pet funeral industry.
As the investigation deepened, combined with the key characteristic that the killer likely had a physical developmental deformity, the scope of the screening was further refined.
Officers hurried back and forth, bringing in new clues.
“We retrieved labor bureau records showing that three months ago, an applicant only 113 centimeters tall was rejected due to falsifying a work injury claim.”
On the file, the applicant’s name was listed as “Guan Xijiu.”
He was twenty-nine years old, and his occupation was a pet funeral technician.
At the same time, another group of officers cross-checked the disabled certificate application lists, the victim’s living assistance records, and the company’s cooperative vendor information, but so far, no breakthroughs had been made.
Mo Zhenbang: "Immediately conduct a thorough investigation into all background information and current whereabouts of Guan Xijiu. We need to track his movements within a short period."
That very night, officers arrived at the pet cremation shop indicated by the records.
It was a rundown store, with the signboard casually placed outside faded and worn.
Inside, a middle-aged man listened to the police’s purpose and frowned.
"Guan Xijiu? Yeah, there was such a person. I took him in out of pity back then. As long as he worked hard and was dependable, being short wasn’t a big deal."
"He worked here for three years. At first, he was alright... honest even. But later..." The shop owner shook his head. "He even messed up the furnace temperature during pet cremations, slapped labels on the urns all over the place, and often slacked off. In the end, he even pretended to get burned to scam compensation. People like that can’t be kept around—I fired him on the spot."
"Do you know where he is now?" the officer pressed.
"Who knows?" The owner shrugged. "No clue where he’s scraping by, but people like him never starve. Like rats in the gutter, they always find a way to survive."
With that, all leads about Guan Xijiu ran cold.
The police couldn’t even confirm if this Guan Xijiu was the same ghost who had been secretly lurking in the Wei family. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Still, this thread had to be pursued.
During the inquiry, the conversation shifted to Huang Qiulian.
When arranging a safe place for her, the police asked if she knew of a dwarf like that. Huang Qiulian’s body stiffened instantly. After her release from prison, encountering her ex-husband again and hearing him mention a ghost, she truly thought he had lost his mind. She even suspected he might have unknowingly harmed their child ten years ago due to mental issues.
At that time, she was filled with both resentment and helplessness. She recalled how spirited her ex-husband once was, remembered all he had done for their child... but with no proof, and since he had already served ten years behind bars, how could those lost years and shattered reputation ever be compensated? It was better to just let it go.
Until the police informed her of the suspicion that someone had been living in their house for a long time, she was struck like a thunderbolt, her whole body chilled.
Amid the fear and dread, a faint spark of hope rekindled deep within her heart.
"At that moment, Huang Qiulian’s eyes were bloodshot," Zeng Yongshan recalled. "She asked me in a trembling voice, ‘If... if it’s really proven that I wasn’t the one, what will happen then?’"
"I told her the compensation process would be initiated. But I wasn’t sure about the exact procedures..."
"But besides money, what else can make up for it? No amount of compensation can buy back ten years of lost time or restore a child’s health."
Ten years of injustice—how could anyone truly become numb to that? On the surface, Huang Qiulian spoke as if she didn’t care, as if she had accepted her fate. But the grievances and pain were simply buried too deep, even fooling herself.
The police fell silent, a heavy weight pressing down on their hearts.
That family—none of this should have happened to them.
A wife struggling with postpartum depression, a husband overwhelmed and exhausted, a newborn crying incessantly... These are the tough times every couple might face. But they once loved each other deeply and cherished their family. They should have been able to weather the storm together. If only that period had passed smoothly, perhaps one day the couple would look at their grown child, Ansheng, and smile as they recalled how messy those days once were.
Yet, everything came to an abrupt halt.
“Will she ever be able to return to the classroom?”
No one answered.
Huang Qiulian’s teaching qualification had been revoked ten years ago. Even if she managed to overturn the verdict, it would be a long, arduous road ahead. Rebuilding a life wasn’t so easy.
“Would parents ever feel comfortable entrusting their children to a teacher who was ‘once accused of child abuse’—even if she was innocent?”
“This family has suffered so much injustice...”
“That’s precisely why we must fight to give them justice.”
In the late-night CID office, the rustling of documents barely ceased.
“That’s it for today,” Mo Zhenbang’s voice was hoarse as his fingers tapped on the file folder. “We can’t find any trace of a living person relying solely on these papers. Tomorrow, we’ll split into teams for on-site investigations.”
The officers patted each other on the shoulder and left one by one.
Their tired shadows stretched and overlapped under the streetlights.
Tomorrow would come, and they would continue. Eventually, they would unmask the “ghost” hiding in the cracks of the walls.
…
Night had deepened when Zhu Qing returned home, her mind still swirling with fragments of the case.
Recently, little Shengfang had found comfort again in the ball pit, his small hands endlessly tossing colorful balls.
Zhu Qing sat across from him, playing catch, but her thoughts had already drifted far away.
Where was the culprit hiding?
A thorough search was already difficult enough, especially since the perpetrator had managed to lurk within the Wei family for at least two years without being detected. He had silently stalked Wei Huasheng for years, making a sharp businessman doubt his own sanity amid repeated “haunting” incidents—yet never uncovering the truth.
What puzzled her even more was that no connection had been found between the victim and the killer.
Could this hatred truly have no cause?
A sudden “thud” — a ball hit Zhu Qing squarely on the forehead.
“Qingzi, you need to focus when playing with kids!”
Fangfang, usually a serious elder, now spoke in a childish voice, emphasizing that he was “just a kid.”
He came close, his clear eyes blinking innocently. “What are you thinking about? I’ll help you…”
Zhu Qing casually tossed the ball back into the pit and muttered softly, “‘Amazing Dad’… what does that mean?”
The same phrase had appeared over the past ten years. Was the killer mocking the victim?
“Of course it means Dad is really awesome!” Fangfang answered with pure innocence.
That simple sentence was like a key, clicking open the lock on her tangled thoughts.
The person hiding in the Wei family’s nursery wanted to become the “child” of this family. Throwing little Ansheng down the stairs was an act of jealousy—envying the love that child had from his father.
Xiang Binbin, the teenager left paralyzed from the chest down after a car accident, suddenly lost focus while crossing the street... Could it be that the victim’s intuition was right? Was it simply because he was “like a son” to the sponsored student Xiang Binbin that the boy was targeted?
Just as the killer hid in the attic of the old Tong building, observing the family’s routines, he was also able to follow Xiang Binbin.
When the boy was alone crossing the street, all it took was a little disruption to create an “accident.”
The result—paralysis from the chest down—was even crueler than death. It destroyed the promising student that Wei Huasheng had pinned so much hope on, and left him living the rest of his life burdened with guilt.
Zhu Qing suddenly stood up, pulling out her cell phone. “When is the victim’s funeral?”
“The funeral… last I heard, it’s tomorrow?”
“Has the mourning hall been set up?” She asked as she grabbed her car keys, not forgetting to comfort Sheng Fang, the little boy.
“After the case is closed, I’ll play with you in the ball pit for three hours.”
……
The wail of sirens cut through the night.
In the car, Mo Zhenbang received the latest report.
“We’ve traced Guan Xijiu’s background. His mother ran away, and his father resented his disability, beating and scolding him since childhood. After he ran away, he didn’t bring his disability certificate, so the government subsidies were all claimed by his family, which is why we couldn’t track his whereabouts.”
“But we still don’t know what connection he has with the victim…”
The call ended, and three police cars screeched to a halt outside the mourning hall.
The hall was deathly silent, white candles flickering with faint light.
Wei Huasheng’s portrait hung in the center. He was never one to smile, but in this photo, he wore a rare gentle smile.
Kneeling before the portrait was a figure dressed in children’s mourning clothes, slowly burning paper offerings.
Amidst the swirling smoke, his movements were reverent, as if performing a sacred ritual.
“Don’t move!”
“Guan Xijiu, raise your hands!”
The figure hesitated, then slowly raised both hands and turned around—
A childlike body, but the face of an adult man.
He was keeping vigil for Wei Huasheng.
On this night, Guan Xijiu finally got what he wished for.
To openly and proudly play the role of Mr. Wei’s son.
……
Sheng Fang was completely submerged in the ball pit, diving under and popping back up, causing the plastic balls to cascade around him.
He knew he had to pick up every single one himself, but so what? The little figure darted around the courtyard, happily gathering the balls.
Zhu Qing had promised to play with him for three whole hours after the case was closed.
But Sheng Fang felt three hours wasn’t nearly enough.
He wanted to sleep here!
Taking after his older sister and niece’s determination, the little boy went upstairs to grab a soft pillow and Uncle Xiong, then without a word, lay down in the ball pit.
His little feet wiggled, his expression set with unwavering resolve.
Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping took turns coaxing him, but no matter what they said, it was useless.
The little master only listened to his niece.
Sheng Fang piled the balls into a small mountain, nestling inside as if under a blanket.
He contentedly rested his chubby little hands behind his head, his round eyes fixed unblinking on the starry sky.
"You’re not taking me along again—" Sheng Fang Bao Bao pouted, her round little face puffed up with pride. "If you don’t, Sir Fang, I won’t help Qing Zi solve any more cases."
