Aunt Ping had arranged for driver candidates to come for interviews.
This wasn’t the first resume Sheng Peirong had reviewed recently. The previous applicants either lacked familiarity with the routes or didn’t have steady enough driving habits—there was always something unsuitable. Sheng Peirong had always been particular about hiring, but this caution was precisely to avoid future complications.
At the moment, Sheng Peirong held a resume in her hand as she walked leisurely toward the glass greenhouse.
She used to hate driving, and her personal driver had always been Coco’s father. But now, it was time to move forward—time to hire a permanent driver.
These days, Sheng Peirong’s steps were steadier, with no trace of the time when she had relied on a wheelchair. Passing the ball pit in the courtyard, she paused, watching Coco and Fang Fang playing, an unconscious smile tugging at her lips.
Aunt Ping often said that when she first met Officer Zhu Qing, she found her cold and distant, always exuding a no-nonsense professionalism. But now, seeing her daughter and little brother playing together, Sheng Peirong could hardly imagine how unapproachable she had once been.
"Fang Fang's ultimate move!" Sheng Fang swung his short arms, launching a colorful ball high into the air—it arced straight toward Zhu Qing’s forehead.
"Thunk—"
The ball was expertly batted back by his niece, hitting Fang Fang square on the forehead.
He stood frozen, rubbing his little head, eyes wide with disbelief.
Zhu Qing flopped back into the ball pit, already bored. The thought of having to entertain him for another fifty minutes nearly made her yawn. She couldn’t fathom why these colorful balls were so fascinating to Fang Fang.
"Fang Fang," Zhu Qing suddenly pointed toward the glass greenhouse. "What do you think they’re talking about over there?"
"Looks pretty interesting!" she added.
Sheng Fang lifted his head from the sea of balls, his little face scrunched in skepticism. "Qing, don’t even try that."
He held up four chubby fingers. "I’m not a three-year-old anymore."
Lately, his eldest sister and Aunt Ping kept saying the New Year was coming.
Once it arrived, he’d officially be upgraded to a four-year-old—no way he’d fall for such tricks now.
Colorful balls continued flying through the air.
Sheng Fang, like a little seal balancing a ball, played until he was thoroughly satisfied before finally clambering out of the pit.
"Fine, we can go check it out," he conceded reluctantly.
Zhu Qing exhaled in relief and quickly followed the tiny figure.
Inside the greenhouse, the interview was in its final stages.
Uncle Nian sat upright, earnest and straightforward, answering every question carefully.
What he hadn’t expected was that the final test would come from a little young master.
"Can you teach me to ride a bike?" Sheng Fang extended two pudgy fingers. "A two-wheeler!"
Uncle Nian blinked, then broke into a warm, guileless smile.
"Of course. I taught my own daughter to ride." Halfway through, he caught himself and hastily added, "As long as it doesn’t interfere with work, of course!"
The once-serious interview atmosphere lightened with the child’s arrival.
Sheng Peirong’s lips curved slightly as she gave a small nod.
"Let’s go with Uncle Nian," she told Aunt Ping. "Finalize the work arrangements with him."
Aunt Ping replied, "Understood, Miss. Tomorrow at eight in the morning—"
"Not tomorrow morning." Sheng Fang quickly shook her head. "Our Qingqing is sending Big Sister to work!"
This was Big Sister's first day at her new job.
Just like his first day at kindergarten, it was a monumental occasion.
How could Big Sister's Coco and Little Brother possibly miss it?
......
The next morning, Zhu Qing could go to the police station a little later.
The case had entered its final stages. Though it no longer required the same urgency as before, the entire Serious Crimes Unit remained vigilant. They wanted to wrap up all procedures quickly and move on to the next phase.
The damage was done, time couldn’t be reversed—but at the very least, she deserved a clear and thorough resolution.
"I’ve already informed the station," Zhu Qing said. "There are just a few documents left. I can finish them by working late tonight."
Sheng Fang’s little face scrunched up in displeasure.
Late to work and now coming home late too? Even if he arrived late to kindergarten, Teacher Ji didn’t make him make up the time!
"This Ah John," Fangfang muttered. "When I become Senior Inspector—"
Sheng Peirong chuckled and finished his thought: "You’ll give everyone a day off?"
Sheng Fang fell into deep thought. "But then all the work would fall on me alone?"
Inside the car, mother and daughter both laughed.
This little one hadn’t even become a boss yet, but he was already worrying about his own workload.
The black SUV slowly pulled into the corporate parking garage.
This was Zhu Qing and little Sheng Fang’s first visit to the company. The towering building stood bathed in morning light, its private elevator ascending straight to the top floor.
Pei Junyi was already waiting at the elevator doors, about to step forward to greet them—but a single glance from Sheng Peirong pinned him in place, forcing him to retreat and yield the position of honor.
In the boardroom, many of the senior directors who had watched Sheng Peirong grow up had come especially for the occasion. These elders firmly believed that the Sheng Group should always be steered by a Sheng. Now that Sheng Peirong was fully recovered, how could they let outsiders meddle in the company’s affairs?
Sheng Peirong strode into the meeting room with effortless grace. No one could tell she had just endured a serious illness.
That was her nature—even at her weakest, she would never show a hint of vulnerability in public.
She had concealed her condition flawlessly, keeping everything under wraps. Even her surgeries and treatments had been carried out in absolute secrecy. Now, she was making a powerful return as if nothing had ever happened.
Zhu Qing stood at her mother’s side, watching as she effortlessly exchanged pleasantries with the board members.
Unbidden, memories surfaced—those grueling rehabilitation sessions, her mother struggling to stand only to collapse back into the wheelchair, her clothes drenched in sweat, stubbornly demanding to try again. Months of recovery, known only to those closest to her. Behind Sheng Peirong’s composed smile now lay countless days and nights of perseverance and endurance.
"This is my daughter," Sheng Peirong introduced proudly. "An officer in the Serious Crimes Unit."
When the conversation turned to Coco, Madam Sheng instantly transformed into just another doting mother. She made sure to mention her daughter’s role in solving recent cases, her eyes softening with quiet pride.
"Is that the case reported in the papers these past few days?" one director asked.
"I’ve heard about it," another chimed in. "A wrongful conviction spanning ten years, a family torn apart… That poor family suffered so much."
"The news said," someone else added, "that the police procedures back then were technically flawless—it was just that the culprit was too cunning…"
As the board members buzzed with discussion, Sheng Fang gently tugged at his eldest sister’s sleeve, blinking up at her with wide eyes.
"This is my little brother," Sheng Peirong said, her voice brimming with unconcealed affection. Smiling, she added, "And the future officer of the Sheng family."
The room erupted in knowing laughter, teasing that Sheng Peirong would have her work cut out for her, bearing the company’s heavy responsibilities alone. But as the old saying goes, the capable shoulder more burdens.
Amid the chuckles, Pei Junyi managed a strained smile, though the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable.
Once the meeting began, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang were taken on a tour of the conglomerate.
They stepped into Sheng Peirong’s private office—a space she hadn’t visited in over a decade. Yet even during the fiercest clashes between father and daughter, Sheng Wenchang had always kept it reserved for her.
Now, at last, the office welcomed back its rightful owner.
Walking down the long corridor, Zhu Qing and little Fang Fang arrived at Sheng Wenchang’s former office. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, they gazed out over the sprawling cityscape below.
"Daddy was so amazing," Sheng Fang piped up in his childish voice.
The young master of the Sheng family tilted his head, recalling scenes from TV dramas. Shows often portrayed figures like Sheng Peirong and Sheng Wenchang as "a daughter inheriting her father’s legacy."
"Then we should call it—" Sheng Fang’s eyes suddenly sparkled with inspiration, "uncle inheriting nephew’s business!"
...
In the CID office of Yau Ma Tei Police Station, officers from the Serious Crimes Team B sorted through thick case files.
"The charity confirmed they’ll continue fully funding Xiang Binbin’s medical treatment and living expenses," one officer reported.
A few sighs filled the air.
"Such a shame for that kid, so young and already..."
"Mr. Wei genuinely cared for him. Two years ago, he even wrote recommendation letters to universities, hoping to get Xiang Binbin admitted as an auditor. But after multiple major surgeries, the boy’s body just couldn’t keep up."
"All those years, even though Mr. Wei never visited Xiang Binbin again, he never stopped trying to help. He just had to keep his distance for the boy’s safety."
"It wasn’t until Guan Xijiu confessed that Xiang Binbin realized the 'accident' back then wasn’t truly accidental. But he insisted, 'How could I blame Mr. Wei? We were both victims.'"
"At least the kid’s keeping a positive attitude," Uncle Li remarked. "Besides covering basics, the charity’s arranging a job for him—heard they’re placing him as a librarian at one of their foundation branches..."
The room fell silent at the case’s aftermath.
Mo Zhenbang looked up from the documents. "Are Huang Qiulian’s papers ready?"
"All set," Little Sun replied promptly. "Compensation claims, case summaries, and here’s the inventory of Mr. Wei’s personal effects..."
"Deliver them to her. Wei Ansheng is the sole heir, and Huang Qiulian is his mother. She should sign for these." Mo Zhenbang paused. "Any word from the community center where she works?"
"That job is already lost. Ms. Huang has been staying at Sacred Heart Manor these days," Liang Qikai chimed in. "After all, she has a child abuse record, and it just so happened to coincide with the center's collaboration with the Child Development Center to launch new courses. The person in charge was under pressure to hire her. Though we tried to keep it low-key, the frequent police visits sparked discussions. The supervisor eventually hinted that she should resign voluntarily."
"But now, the news about this wrongful conviction is everywhere. With public opinion shifting, the community center’s attitude has changed too—they want to invite her back."
"Still, I doubt she’ll return."
Hao Zai scoffed. "I wouldn’t go back either. They were quick to distance themselves before, and now they’re pretending to be the good guys."
"We can’t blame them entirely," Mo Zhenbang said fairly. "It’s a job involving children—it’s normal to be cautious."
This case didn’t involve elaborate schemes or high-IQ criminal tactics. The killer simply exploited people’s instinctive trust around "children," evading justice for ten years.
Now, though the truth has come to light, the lost lives cannot be restored. The trauma Wei Ansheng endured and the injustice Huang Qiulian suffered have left scars that may never fully heal.
"What matters most now is helping Huang Qiulian start anew."
"What kind of compensation will she receive?"
Zhu Qing flipped through the documents. "For ten years of wrongful imprisonment, aside from basic compensation, there’s also damages for psychological suffering. The government will publish clarifications in major Hong Kong newspapers, and social welfare and career support will follow."
"I heard the basic compensation alone is several hundred thousand," Xu Jiale remarked. "No amount of money can buy back those ten years… but it’s better than nothing."
"What about the officers who handled the case back then? How are they being dealt with now?" he added.
"Officer Wen and the others truly did their best back then," Uncle Li said. "At the time, DNA technology didn’t even exist, and hair analysis was just starting. The investigative conditions were too limited. Once the direction of the case veered off, no amount of effort could fix it."
"But there were indeed oversights—prematurely fixating on a suspect, over-relying on confessions, and incomplete crime scene analysis led to this tragedy… The disciplinary outcome hasn’t been finalized yet, but given the technological constraints back then, the penalties likely won’t be severe."
"Officer Wen from Mong Kok Police Station volunteered to be the liaison for Ms. Huang’s compensation process."
Some mistakes can never be undone, but in this long-overdue justice, everyone wants to do their part.
At the very least, to do something more for this mother and son.
...
The case was officially closed.
A police car pulled into Sacred Heart Manor.
After the car stopped, Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan approached Huang Qiulian with the inventory of Wei Huasheng’s belongings.
Huang Qiulian took the document, her eyes scanning the listed items.
She hadn’t even known what her late husband had left behind. Seeing these neatly cataloged possessions, a pang of sorrow struck her chest. A living, breathing person was just… gone, reduced to nothing but these cold, lifeless records.
"Now that the killer’s been caught, Ansheng can move out, right?" Zeng Yongshan asked, gazing at Wei Ansheng in the garden, absorbed in adjusting his camera.
Now, Wei Ansheng could finally leave Sacred Heart Manor freely—and Huang Qiulian no longer had to visit him in secret.
No one dared to imagine what might have happened if Wei Huasheng hadn’t hidden the child back then—whether Guan Xijiu would have struck again. Over the past eight years, though Wei Huasheng had never found concrete evidence, a father’s instinct drove him to take every precaution, ensuring Ansheng was spared further harm.
“I haven’t decided where to move yet. Ansheng has lived at Sacred Heart Manor for eight years and has grown accustomed to it. If he likes it here, I’ll stay with him. This place is peaceful, the staff feels like family, and most importantly, Ansheng can truly relax here. As long as he’s happy…”
Huang Qiulian’s gaze followed her son. “His feelings come first. Back then, we were careless as parents, letting danger slip right under our noses. These past few days, I’ve been thinking—if only we’d been more attentive…”
Since learning the truth, she had replayed every detail of that day, searching for clues. But in her memory, the nursery was eerily silent—Guan Xijiu had hidden in the gap behind the wardrobe without even a breath betraying his presence.
The guilt gnawed at her. If only she’d been sharper, could she have prevented the tragedy?
“No one wanted this to happen,” Zeng Yongshan murmured in comfort.
The heavy rain from days prior had washed the garden anew, leaves unfurling, life stirring once more.
Suddenly, Wei Ansheng raised his camera and captured the defiant bloom of a flower in the corner.
“That camera…” Zhu Qing eyed the light-blue device in his hands.
The last time she’d seen him take photos, he’d used a professional camera, heavy and imposing.
But this one was rounded, playful, adorned with childish star stickers—like a toy meant for a child.
“Is it a kids’ camera?” she asked.
“An employee from R&D brought it to me,” Huang Qiulian replied, a tender smile touching her lips. “It was the last prototype Huasheng designed—meant to be a gift for Ansheng.”
On the back of the light-blue camera, just like the old toy train, was engraved the child’s name—
Anson, Winter 1995.
The shutter button was unusually large, taking up half the body, designed so small hands wouldn’t struggle to find it.
This toy camera couldn’t produce sharp, professional shots, but Wei Huasheng had fitted the lens with a special filter. Even on gloomy days, the photos would carry a warm, golden hue, softening the light. He knew Ansheng, with only one eye, tired easily—every detail was a father’s deepest care.
“Ansheng loves this gift,” Huang Qiulian said softly.
It was clear Wei Ansheng couldn’t put the new camera down.
“How is Ansheng doing now?” Zeng Yongshan asked gently, then hesitated. “And the community center… what are your plans?”
“Since Huasheng passed, Ansheng has been quietly shedding tears. The doctor says it means he’s starting to understand and express emotions.”
“As for work… I’d like to pause for now. I’ve neglected him too much these years. Right now, I just want to be there for him.”
As for the future—once the legal proceedings concluded, she’d find work again.
Huang Qiulian wasn’t sure if she could return to the teaching podium, but suddenly, she had something more important to accomplish.
Wei Huasheng was gone, and she wanted to fulfill his unfinished charitable work.
The Wei Huasheng Charity Foundation would continue forever, just as he had wished, helping everyone in need.
"Oh, and there’s good news," Huang Qiulian suddenly smiled. "The doctor said the speech therapy is working. I think Ansheng… he’ll recover slowly."
She paused, her gaze firm.
"The hardest days are behind us."
"From now on, there will only be good news."
Wei Ansheng held up his camera and took a step forward.
He walked into the sunlight, this time aiming his lens at the clear blue sky.
The child adjusted the angle slightly as he peered through the viewfinder.
He had heard that his father had gone to the sky—maybe he was hiding behind the clouds.
Could he see him?
...
Time flowed quietly, days passing one after another.
At the police station, Mo Zhenbang finally faced his inspector interview. The results weren’t out yet, but while the man himself remained calm, his subordinates were restless with nerves. Xu Jiale’s buzz cut had grown out, but then his barber made a mistake, leaving him with a crew cut so even it looked like his nape had been planed flat. These days, he stomped into the station scowling, endured his colleagues’ merciless teasing, and stomped out scowling again.
Uncle Li had taken to wearing crisp shirts lately, lingering near the Organized Crime and Triad Bureau.
Perhaps Wei Huasheng and Huang Qiulian’s missed connection had stirred something in him—though Madam Yu was too busy with work to notice, only pausing briefly beside him to ask if he’d lost his mind.
The Major Crimes Team held gathering after gathering, and Zhu Qing never missed one, though she always brought along her little shadow, Sheng Fang. The station colleagues insisted—the kid had long since won them all over.
Sheng Peirong had also returned to work, cutting her rehab sessions from twice a week to once. Work seemed to be her remedy; her spirits were better now than during her time recuperating at home.
Zhu Qing remembered her promise to little Sheng Fang.
They would visit a real zoo.
But the Major Crimes Team’s schedule was unpredictable, and her days off rarely lined up with weekends. Finally managing to secure a Saturday, she shared the good news with Fangfang first thing in the morning.
Sheng Fang was always the most enthusiastic audience. With nothing else to do, he could switch gears at a moment’s notice.
On a whim before leaving, they decided to make sandwiches to take along.
But while store-bought ones looked neat and delicious, theirs turned out lopsided, fillings spilling everywhere. Sheng Fang slathered mayo and ketchup haphazardly between the slices, then grimaced at the mess, shoulders shaking as if he’d bitten into something bitter.
No way was this disaster sandwich going into the little master’s stomach!
"Qing-jie, Qing-jie," Sheng Fang suggested, "can we just eat at a restaurant instead?"
Zhu Qing nodded immediately. "Then what do we do with these sandwiches?"
Little Sheng Fang dashed off on quick feet, straight to the study.
This was his and Zhu Qing’s lovingly made sandwich—Big Sis was sure to love it!
Aunt Ping, standing nearby, couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Aunt Ping,” Sheng Fang suddenly turned to her, “you should try some too.”
Aunt Ping’s smile froze instantly. “Ahem, ahem…”
“Come on, Aunt Ping, give it a taste…”
“Alright, alright, Young Master. I’ll have some later.”
Aunt Ping nearly broke into a cold sweat, finally managing to usher the little troublemaker out the door.
The sunlight was just right as Zhu Qing set off for the zoo with little Sheng Fang in tow.
The car was filled with the sound of Sheng Fang singing a new nursery rhyme he’d learned in kindergarten.
Zhu Qing remembered the last time they’d gone on an outing like this—back when they visited Lai Chi Amusement Park.
Back then, Rong Zimei had come to report a case with the lullaby “Moonlight” in hand, and Zeng Yongshan had called—Sheng Fang had even answered the phone. The melody of that lullaby still lingered in her ears, yet months had already passed in the blink of an eye.
As soon as they entered the zoo, Sheng Fang dashed ahead.
Taking an energetic child on an outing was exhausting, but luckily, Zhu Qing had just as much stamina. They chased each other around the monkey enclosure, ending with “Flying Policewoman” emerging victorious.
Panting heavily from defeat, Sheng Fang suddenly caught sight of two monkeys.
A little monkey nestled in the arms of a bigger one, lazily basking in the winter sun.
“Qing,” Fangfang tilted his little face up, his voice sweet and childish, “do you think they’re niece and uncle too?”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course!”
Sheng Fang cupped his hands around his mouth like a tiny megaphone, as if chatting with old friends: “Are you?”
The monkeys didn’t even glance back, as if they hadn’t heard.
Fangfang puffed out his cheeks and planted his little hands on his hips.
“So rude!” Zhu Qing spoke up for him.
“Qing,” Sheng Fang said sagely, “monkeys can’t talk in the first place.”
……
Back when the whole family lived together, there had been several chauffeurs on standby. Now, only Uncle Nian remained, and he no longer stayed full-time—just coming when needed. His schedule revolved entirely around Sheng Peirong’s arrangements, ready at a moment’s notice.
Zhu Qing’s workload had gradually lightened, but Sheng Peirong’s schedule only grew busier.
Yet rehabilitation couldn’t be delayed.
Just like when Zhu Qing had been caught sneaking out not long ago, now it was Sheng Peirong’s turn to be cornered.
“Rehabilitation time,” Sheng Fang blocked the staircase, arms crossed. “Someone isn’t listening to the doctor.”
“I’m already healed,” Sheng Peirong tried to bargain. “Cut me some slack—let me go back to the office first?”
“No!” Sheng Fang was merciless, shaking his head like a rattle-drum.
The road to Canossa Convalescent Home was all too familiar to Zhu Qing.
During those days, the two of them—uncle and nephew—had practically treated the place as a second home.
The nurses’ station buzzed with excitement at their arrival.
Sheng Fang, cheerful as a little sparrow, greeted every medical staff member with enthusiasm.
Dean Luo, Doctor Li, Sister Mandy, Sister Lulu, Nurse Shen, Nurse Dai… Even after months apart, Sheng Fang could still recall every name perfectly. He even remembered the matter of the commemorative banner, inspecting it with the seriousness of a tiny supervisor.
“Of course we sent it,” Zhu Qing pinched his little nose. “When has your Big Sis ever half-done anything?”
Not only did Sheng Peirong commission a custom-made banner, but she also established a special fund for coma patient rehabilitation, assigning dedicated personnel to follow up.
For He Jia'er, who had helped them search for their child, Sheng Peirong expressed sincere gratitude, visiting her in person to thank her and ensuring her family was well taken care of. It was just a pity that this was the last thing she could do for the passionate young woman who had once dreamed of becoming a war correspondent...
Little Sheng Fang and Zhu Qing moved between the familiar hospital rooms and offices.
By the time they returned to the rehabilitation center—
"You said you'd accompany me to rehab," Sheng Peirong muttered quietly to the therapist, "but you left me here all alone..."
Before she could finish, she met two pairs of eyes squinting at her.
"Talking behind our backs," Sheng Fang said, crossing his short arms.
"Caught red-handed," Zhu Qing chimed in seamlessly.
Sheng Peirong couldn't help but laugh.
After completing forty-five minutes of rehabilitation exercises, Sheng Peirong walked down the tall steps alone when leaving.
Nurse Dai stood at the entrance, giving her a thumbs-up.
"That Nurse Dai," Sheng Peirong chuckled once in the car, "praises me like I'm a little kid."
Zhu Qing turned her head, pausing mid-motion as she fastened her seatbelt, her gaze lingering on the glass doors of the care facility.
"What are you looking at?" Sheng Peirong followed her line of sight.
The sunlight was blinding, blurring the reflections in the glass.
Zhu Qing shook her head and started the car. "Must have been my imagination."
In the leisurely days following the case's resolution, every ordinary evening in Little Fang's home was filled with warm bustle.
As the Lunar New Year approached, Aunt Ping, wearing reading glasses, meticulously jotted down a shopping list for the festivities, occasionally looking up to consult with Sheng Peirong.
Zhu Qing leaned against the study doorframe, holding a cup of hot tea.
In the past, she had always treated the Spring Festival as just another holiday, often spending it alone in quiet solitude. Sheng Fang, still too young, had no real concept of the celebration. Even when Aunt Ping reminisced about how his mother used to dress him in festive outfits as a baby, he would only tilt his head, his memories hazy.
But this year was different. They had started counting down the days early.
Life was turning a new page, and everything felt full of promise.
Laughter drifted in from the living room, while in the study, the sound of Zhu Qing typing came in intermittent bursts.
"Qing-jie, Qing-jie! I want the biggest, biggest fireworks!" Sheng Fang trotted over, his little legs kicking excitedly. "Let's set them off in the yard together, okay?"
"Sure," Zhu Qing replied without looking up.
The little one rested his round chin on the edge of the desk. "Are you emailing Doctor Cheng? What are you talking about?"
Sheng Fang clambered onto the swivel chair, using both hands and feet.
His tiny fingers tapped lightly at the keyboard a few times before he gave up, cupping his chubby cheeks in his hands.
Typing was so hard!
"Sooo many words," he grumbled, aimlessly clicking the mouse.
The blinking cursor accidentally landed on the sent folder.
The text on the screen wasn't the usual cold, formal report—it read more like a story, recounting how the mother and son at Sacred Heart Manor found hope and light amidst their regrets.
"Come out and play!" Sheng Fang's face scrunched up against the desk. "How can you have so much to say?"
Zhu Qing's fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Back-and-forth, their emails had woven together so many updates, each line brimming with the warmth of everyday life.
"Go back to your room, Coco." Sheng Peirong walked in at the sound, pulling her little brother away by the arm. "Don’t meddle in other people’s business!"
Fangfang was dragged off, still looking indignant.
"My niece’s affairs can’t possibly be someone else’s business!"
……
Sheng Fang’s tricycle had finally shed its training wheels, transforming into a proper two-wheeled bicycle.
He really was about to become a big kid now.
True to his promise, Uncle Nian began teaching Sheng Fang how to ride. But he quickly realized that teaching the young master of the household was nothing like teaching his own children. This was the little lord—no bumps or scrapes allowed. Uncle Nian broke into a sweat, hunched over as he desperately steadied the bike, exhausted and barely able to straighten his back after just one session.
Meanwhile, the young master sat with his tiny feet perched on the pedals, wearing an expression of sheer tension, forgetting even to push them.
Sheng Peirong couldn’t bear to watch and waved Uncle Nian off, telling him not to force it.
So Sheng Fang turned his attention to Zhu Qing.
"Qing, Qing! Can you be my bike coach?"
Aunt Ping muttered under her breath—she’d heard of driving instructors for license tests, but who knew even bicycles required hands-on coaching in the young master’s household? And there he was, taking it all very seriously, flipping through Zhu Qing’s old Road User Handbook from her learner’s permit days like it was a sacred text.
"I’m strict," Zhu Qing raised an eyebrow. "Sure you want me as your teacher?"
"One hundred percent sure!"
Sheng Fang circled the little two-wheeler, already picturing himself zooming triumphantly around the courtyard.
He climbed on and, under Zhu Qing’s guidance, tried to place his feet on the pedals—only to topple over, bike and all.
Yep. Flattened like a pancake.
First attempt: Fangfang, flattened.
Second attempt: Heeding Zhu Qing’s advice and learning from his mistakes, he managed half a rotation before—flattened again.
By the third try, Sheng Fang sat stubbornly on the grass, puffing out his cheeks like a steamed bun, refusing to get up.
"Giving up already?" Zhu Qing crouched beside him, deliberately drawing out her words.
In the past, such a taunt would’ve had him leaping to his feet.
But now? He was no longer that impulsive three-year-old!
Fangfang brushed the grass off his knees and said calmly, "Yep."
Zhu Qing’s prepared speech died in her throat.
With all the indifference of a tiny tyrant, Sheng Fang gave the fallen bike a nudge. "You can go now."
