A uniformed officer introduced Shen Zhicheng to Li Heng.
Li Heng gave a slight nod, offered no pleasantries to the young heir, and immediately turned to delegate tasks.
“Zhishan, go to the Land Registry and pull the renovation records for this property. Pay attention to whether the stove location was ever modified.”
“Old You, contact the property management and track down records of the former watchmen. Screen for anyone who resigned after the incident.”
“Push for the forensic report—I want preliminary results by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, Madam!”
Shen Zhicheng’s gaze lingered on her for a moment.
He was certain—he had never seen this female officer before.
Uncle Xiang stood a few meters away.
The dutiful bodyguard was waiting to report back to his grandfather.
“Sham Shui Po is a key demolition project for the group,” Shen Zhicheng said casually. “It’s already on the news. We’re signing next week, and the Shen family doesn’t want any ‘corpse hidden on the premises’ scandal on the front page.”
The officers exchanged glances. No one said a word.
Whatever Madam’s usual style, dealing with this rich kid was simply unbearable.
Shen Zhicheng gave her an appraising look, his gaze drifting lazily across the scene. “I’m keeping tabs on the case progress.”
“Police work doesn’t accommodate outsiders,” Li Heng turned and walked straight out.
But a few steps later, the young heir’s voice came from behind.
“Superintendent Zhou.”
He pressed the speakerphone button on his mobile phone.
The Chief Superintendent’s voice came through: “Li Heng, after all, this land belongs to the Shen family’s project. The paparazzi are watching closely. If this blows up, it won’t benefit either the Shen family or the police. It’s only reasonable for the Shens to want to stay updated on the case. Be accommodating. And Mr. Shen can provide site records to assist with your work.”
Li Heng turned around and met the heir’s smug, fearless gaze.
Someone muttered under their breath—”The Shen family just donated a shooting range to West Kowloon Headquarters last month.”
Shen Zhicheng twirled the mobile phone between his slender fingers and tossed it through the driver’s side window.
Lin Jiacong stepped forward: “Madam, are we heading back to the station now? We don’t have enough vehicles—maybe—”
The police cars were already full.
Li Heng took a deep breath and walked toward the passenger side of the sports car.
“Get in,” she said over her shoulder. “We’re going to Portland Street first.”
Hong Kong’s entertainment venues were scattered far and wide.
By comparison, Portland Street was the most chaotic, with the widest variety of establishments. Someone there might recognize the coaster.
Shen Zhicheng got into the car and casually slammed the door.
Silence hung inside for a few seconds.
Li Heng buckled her seatbelt: “I’m treating you only as a person connected to this case. Don’t pull any stunts. Don’t overstep and interfere with police work.”
“Relax.” Shen Zhicheng rested one hand on the steering wheel. “You do your thing. I’ll handle mine.”
Li Heng’s patience had run out. She turned her head away, unwilling to say another word.
Just then, Shen Zhicheng started the engine—and the high-profile sports car’s roar instantly thundered through the entire old street.
The deafening rumble echoed everywhere. The car seemed poised to rocket forward at any moment. The spectacle was so grand that even the fish ball vendor at the end of the street stood on tiptoes to look over.
Li Heng twisted her brow in exasperation. “Do rich people always have to be this flashy when they go out?”
Shen Zhicheng turned his face to meet her gaze.
He raised his hand.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
The convertible roof folded backward, the entire top lifting open.
Suddenly, the two of them sat as if in the middle of the road, half-exposed, making a grand spectacle of themselves.
The officers who hadn’t left yet stared wide-eyed. The old residents of Sham Shui Po poked their heads out one after another, and curious, probing gazes instantly flooded in from all directions.
Li Heng was completely dumbfounded. Her gaze turned clear and earnest. “Are you out of your mind?”
…
The summer days were slow to darken. By the time the sports car pulled out of Sham Shui Po, the sky had only just begun to dim.
Li Heng leaned back in the passenger seat, watching the neon lights stream backward along the streets.
She had already sent the evidence back with her subordinates, but the shape of that metal pad and the wear patterns along its edges were already etched into her mind. She pulled out a pen and paper from her pocket and sketched out the clue.
The police had too little evidence at this point. Rather than passively waiting for the lab reports, it was better to start with this one lead and try knocking on some doors.
Portland Street at night was always like this. People staggered out of entertainment venues, drunk and unsteady, some still raising their arms and calling for another round.
Li Heng set her sights on establishments that had been open for over six years and were willing to commission custom metal coasters to elevate their image—then launched a needle-in-a-haystack investigation.
At the first place, the bartender was shaking a cocktail shaker behind the counter, keeping time with the music.
“Square coasters?” He looked baffled, shouting over the noise. “Never heard of ’em. We don’t have anything like that!”
Next came the second, third, fourth…
After questioning bartenders and waitstaff, Li Heng blended into the booths and asked patrons who were playing drinking games.
She had lost count of how many places she’d been to when the pager on her waist buzzed.
She found a phone booth and called back.
“Madam, Liang Wei’s father came in to identify the remains. He said Liang Wei had stitches on his right brow bone from a fall when he was a kid. Dr. Chen examined the remains and confirmed there’s a healed mark on the brow bone.” Officer Gao Zijie’s voice came through the receiver.
Li Heng acknowledged with a sound, her gaze drifting to the street corner—where she spotted Shen Zhicheng crouched by a roadside stall, gesturing and bargaining with the elderly vendor.
Not far away, the middle-aged man in the dark suit was a familiar face, standing under a streetlamp, his eyes fixed on Shen Zhicheng’s direction.
The street was bustling with people. A gray-haired granny pushed her cart over—a stainless steel tub with the words “Sheng Kee Fish Porridge” pasted on it.
It was already nine o’clock. Fruit stalls and dessert vendors were setting up one after another.
The street vendors who had been here for years might know more.
“We’ve also contacted the landlord’s cousin. She was the one handling the rental back then. The lease agreement shows the tenant was indeed named Liang Wei.” Gao Zijie continued his report. “She was busy with work at the time and didn’t even notice when the lease expired. It wasn’t until she went to collect the rent that she realized he was already gone. Liang Wei never contacted her once—didn’t even take back his deposit.”
“Madam, the death characteristics closely match Liang Wei in the missing persons file. Should we make a preliminary identification?”
“Wait for the medical record comparison results first. For now, investigate along the Liang Wei lead.” Li Heng hung up and stepped out of the phone booth.
From the stall ahead came Shen Zhicheng’s voice.
“Hey.” He was scooping some preserved fruits into a plastic jar. “Lend me some money.”
The vendor auntie beside him looked helpless. “This gentleman gave me five hundred dollars, but I just set up my stall and really can’t make change.”
“No money.” Li Heng turned to leave.
“Put it on her tab?” Shen Zhicheng said earnestly. “She works in Kowloon City—she’s not going anywhere.”
“But… we’re just a small business…”
The auntie looked from one to the other, thoroughly troubled.
What rotten luck today. Neither of them was normal.
Li Heng didn’t want to speak to him anymore. She turned and ducked into an alley.
“Forget the change.” Shen Zhicheng tossed out the words, grabbed his jar of preserved fruits, and followed after her.
The auntie stood there stunned for a long moment, staring down at the five-hundred-dollar bill in her hand, then at their retreating figures.
What luck today!
Li Heng’s pace never slowed. She weaved between the stalls and vendors, her hand still gripping the paper with her sketched clues.
No fewer than ten entertainment venues. No fewer than a dozen street vendors. Everyone gave the same answer: never seen it, don’t know.
Shen Zhicheng followed at a distance, unhurried and lazy, as if he’d finally found something to pass the time.
He finished his preserved fruits, then somehow acquired a can of soda. Leaning against a railing, chin slightly raised, his tall figure stretched long under the streetlamp.
It wasn’t until much later that Li Heng stood in front of a herbal tea stall.
The uncle running the stall pulled out a blackened piece of metal from under the pot. “You mean this?”
A coaster of the same material and shape—used by the vendor for heat insulation and protection—though the markings on it were still illegible.
“I remember. Back in those days, I had a stall in Tsim Sha Tsui East. The back alleys of the high-end nightclubs were always tossing out stuff. We vendors would often pick up useful things.”
“Wait… I think I remember now, Madam. It should be Jinxiao Nightclub!”
…
They drove to Tsim Sha Tsui East.
Jinxiao Nightclub was a fairly large establishment. Shen Zhicheng casually tossed his car keys to the valet at the entrance.
The missing corner of the metal plate now vaguely matched the emblem on the nightclub’s purplish-red neon sign—it was definitely this place.
Shen Zhicheng: “Police chief, do you have a search warrant?”
“Which nightclub welcomes the police?” Li Heng gave him a look like he was an idiot.
Shen Zhicheng scanned her plain clothes. “Walking in like that, people will think it’s a Vice Unit raid.”
Li Heng didn’t retort. She pushed open the door and walked in.
The dance floor was thunderous with music, smoke swirling everywhere, men and women pressed tightly together, swaying.
Just as the wave of sound hit—
A slick, bright smile suddenly bloomed across Li Heng’s cold, expressionless face.
The frosty inspector instantly turned smooth and sociable, naturally reaching up to rest her hand on Shen Zhicheng’s shoulder.
Her eyes curved, her smile flawless. “Get someone to receive us. Our Shen family’s young heir is throwing a retro party tonight—we’d like to invite any staff who’ve been here for six years or more to come out and have a chat.”
The server, as if greeting a distinguished guest, said eagerly: “One moment, we’ll arrange it right away!”
Shen Zhicheng was caught completely off guard.
“? “
…
The two were shown into a private booth.
As soon as the door closed, the music from outside fell silent.
Before long, the veteran staff members were brought in one by one.
The floor manager’s face split into a beaming smile. “So this is Young Master Shen? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
“And this is Young Master Shen’s friend?” The manager gestured. “Please, have a seat, have a seat!”
Who was friends with her?
Shen Zhicheng was about to say something, but the questioning had already begun.
“That’s right, these are our nightclub’s signature coasters. Custom-made by the boss—high cost, classy.”
All the employees who had worked at Jinxiao Nightclub for over six years stood in a row, some of them half-drunk, half-awake.
The questions at a “retro gathering” were indeed nostalgic, and no one fully caught on.
“Liang Wei?”
“Never heard of that name. Who uses their real name in a nightclub scene?”
“Everyone goes by nicknames—Big B, Brother Xiong, Sangou, Lame Ming, Iron Head Yong…”
“Think again. Short hair, black-rimmed glasses, gentle and refined.” Li Heng gestured, indicating height. “About this tall. Had a pretty girlfriend with multi-colored hair.”
“With so many people coming and going every day, how can anyone remember?”
Everyone shook their heads.
No one knew how long passed before a woman in a cheongsam in the corner suddenly spoke up.
“Are you talking about Amanda’s boyfriend?”
At that, a few of them slowly snapped back to attention.
“The one who came every day to wait for Amanda to get off work? That was years ago!”
“Always wore black clothes, carried a backpack, had a book in his hand.”
“That shy kid who’d blush at the slightest tease?”
From there, the distant memories came flooding back like a dam breaking.
Amanda—they called her Amin.
Back in the day, she was the hottest star at Jinxiao Nightclub.
“All of us girls used to say—” An older woman lit a cigarette and shook her head. “Amin shouldn’t lead that boy on.”
“You… are you looking for Amin?”
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