Zhang Huijing’s information was much easier to find. She was the same age as Chi Amin—twenty-nine years old—and worked as a clerk at a company in Cheung Sha Wan. Her registered address was in a Shek Kip Mei estate. As Maggie Cai Meiqi had said, Zhang Huijing’s life was far more stable than Amin’s.
The police car stopped downstairs at her company. After hearing the police’s purpose, the receptionist politely asked them to wait and dialed the internal line.
A moment later, Zhang Huijing walked out.
She had long, straight black hair falling over her shoulders, wearing a plain knit sweater. A long skirt covered her ankles, and she wore cloth shoes underneath.
Identical twins share the same features—narrow phoenix eyes, a delicate nose bridge—but Zhang Huijing’s demeanor carried a timid gentleness and quiet composure. Her left leg was disabled; with each step, half her body tilted slightly, her movements slow and careful.
She led the officers to the reception room and spoke softly: “Madam, sir, may I ask what this is about?”
…
Every year around this time, Shen Zhicheng would spend a long while at the cemetery.
That afternoon, Shen Chongnian walked into the cemetery leaning on a cane, supported by Uncle Xiang.
Uncle Xiang was worried, his expression heavy. For over twenty years, the old master had rarely set foot here—a parent burying a child was hard for anyone to bear. He had chosen to turn a blind eye, just to keep his own heart from breaking.
“Grandfather.” Shen Zhicheng stood up.
Shen Chongnian’s gaze settled on him, heavy and stern, his tone brooking no argument: “How much longer is this Sham Shui Po matter going to drag on?”
He paused, then added: “Don’t make your parents down there still worry about you.”
Shen Zhicheng’s eyes dimmed for a moment.
“Since you know that, why are you standing here scolding their son?” He laughed, his tone turning light again. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll feel sorry for him?”
Shen Chongnian’s cane struck the ground hard. “Nonsense!”
“Alright.” He waved a hand. “The neighbors need to be satisfied, and the group needs answers. I’ll go now.”
Shen Zhicheng turned and walked away, as if none of it had gotten to him.
Watching his retreating figure, Shen Chongnian was silent for a long time before slowly walking toward the three tombstones lined up side by side.
“How did this child turn out like this?” Shen Chongnian suddenly spoke, as if asking no one in particular.
Uncle Xiang didn’t know what to say. He stood to the side, full of emotion.
He knew the Shen family’s upheaval best. Back then, the eldest son died suddenly in a car accident, and the battle over the company’s shares raged for two full years. Everyone assumed that one of Shen Chongnian’s surviving children would take over. But Shen Chongnian’s hair turned white overnight, and he returned to the board to steady the ship—and never stepped down again.
During that time, Shen Zhicheng was taken in by his second uncle for a few years, then sent abroad. Everyone only heard good news—that he was excelling in his studies, sensible and well-behaved. But when he came back, he was a completely different person. The sweet, obedient little boy had become prickly and defiant, impossible to read.
What had happened during those years alone overseas? No one knew. And Shen Zhicheng himself would never say a word.
Shen Chongnian stopped in front of the smallest tombstone.
The inscription bore the name of his granddaughter who had died young: Shen Zhining.
“Master, the dead cannot return. Please accept my condolences.” Uncle Xiang paused, then looked back toward where the figure had disappeared. “The young master will improve.”
Shen Chongnian handed his cane over. “You keep saying the same thing over and over. Aren’t you tired of it?”
Uncle Xiang just smiled and said nothing more.
Shen Chongnian slowly bent down, just as he had done for over twenty years, and pulled a lollipop from his pocket.
He carefully unwrapped it and placed it gently before the tombstone.
“Zhining, Grandfather has come to see you.” His voice trembled slightly, carried away by the wind.
…
Zhang Huijing lowered her head, her slender hands cupping a steaming teacup.
“My sister and I were very close,” she said softly. “In winter, we’d squeeze onto one small bed, huddled together, and we wouldn’t feel cold.”
“Then we were separated. I went with our mother, and my sister stayed with our father.”
At twelve, she only knew to obediently follow what the adults decided. Zhang Huijing still remembered the car pulling away, her sister chasing after it, crying and begging their mother to take her too.
Chi Amin ran desperately behind the car. Zhang Huijing cried just as hard inside the vehicle, until her voice went hoarse—and she looked up to see her mother’s face streaked with tears. Only then did she understand that taking her alone was already everything her mother could do.
After that day, Zhang Huijing never saw Chi Amin again.
Her mother told her that her sister was doing well, that her father had changed for the better and had a new life. Her mother never lied. She believed it, and never doubted.
Maggie had said that Amin was aloof at heart, but worldly and sharp-tongued. In contrast, Zhang Huijing was introverted and not particularly articulate.
“Mother missed my sister too, but she simply didn’t have the strength.”
“She worked so hard. At first she was a clerk at a cosmetics company. A few years later, she started a business with a colleague, working from dawn to dusk, slowly building up enough to get by.”
“Mother always said—it didn’t matter if times were tough. As long as I grew up healthy and safe, she feared nothing. Once I was grown, she’d never be afraid again…”
“That uncle later got together with Mother. They’ve settled overseas now and live very happily.”
“When you’re little, you just believe what the adults tell you.” Her eyes reddened. “When I grew up, I went back to our old hometown—but it had already been demolished. I couldn’t find them.”
“I know… my sister hates me.”
Li Heng pushed the farewell photo from Jinxiao Nightclub across the table.
Zhang Huijing’s fingertips paused, gently landing on Amin’s face in the photo, murmuring to herself: “How did she live all these years?”
She had never known that her sister would end up working at a nightclub.
Amin in the photo was smiling brightly. But was her sister really doing well? She couldn’t convince herself. If she were truly well, how could she have been missing for six years without a single person reporting her disappearance?
Zhang Huijing’s tears finally fell beyond her control.
She wiped them away hastily, her voice muffled: “I’m sorry. I lost composure.”
The officers’ hearts grew heavy.
These were two sisters who couldn’t fight against fate. Even after seventeen years apart, the pain of their forced separation could still bring tears at the mere memory.
Li Heng tapped the photo with her finger and pointed at the person beside Amin. “This man is called Liang Wei. Do you know him?”
Only then did Zhang Huijing notice the man in the photo. She furrowed her brow slightly, trying hard to recall for a long time.
“It seems…” She picked up the photo and brought it closer. “A bit familiar. Like I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
“Wong Kok Li Kee Dai Pai Dong?” Lin Jiacong prompted.
At that reminder, a buried, fleeting memory was unlocked.
Zhang Huijing nodded in realization. “Yes. That was so many years ago. It seemed like he mistook me for someone else.”
Lin Jiacong said quietly: “That explains Wen Zhibang’s statement. Six years ago, Liang Wei thought Zhang Huijing was Amin—he mistook her for the wrong person.”
Zhang Huijing looked up, unease flickering in her eyes as she looked at the officers before her. “What happened to my sister? Is it related to this man?”
Just then, several of their pagers went off simultaneously.
Old You glanced at his, then immediately jogged out to call back.
When he returned, his footsteps were hurried: “Madam, he’s appeared!”
…
By the time Shen Zhicheng was rushed to Sham Shui Po, Hart Street was already packed with people.
“Someone on the rooftop is about to jump!”
“Call 999—”
“So young—what could be so unbearable?”
“Hey, if you want to die, don’t drag the neighbors down with you!”
The old residents craned their necks, gossiping. Despite the blazing sun, they fanned themselves with flyers and refused to leave.
Shen Zhicheng followed their gaze. At the edge of the rooftop of the Desheng Building stood a figure. From this distance, the person was just a tiny black speck, indistinct.
Shen Zhicheng’s heart sank.
The Hart Street land issue hadn’t been settled yet—his grandfather had already been driving him crazy—and now this?
He pushed through the crowd, rushed into the stairwell, and took the steps three at a time up to the rooftop.
The door at the top was wide open.
The man stood at the edge of the rooftop, his feet already hanging over the void. Hearing the commotion, he slowly turned his head, his eyes bloodshot.
Shen Zhicheng recognized Liang Wei at a glance.
The man from the nightclub photo, the subject of the missing person posters—here he was, right in front of him.
Liang Wei was even thinner than in the photo. He had taken off his black-rimmed glasses, his face unshaven and haggard.
“What are you doing?” Shen Zhicheng said impatiently. “Six floors won’t kill you. At worst, you’ll end up crippled.”
Liang Wei treated him like a random passerby. He gave Shen Zhicheng a dull, empty look, then turned his head back toward the old tenement buildings below, soon to be demolished.
Almost at the same time, a crisis negotiation team rushed up, quick and well-coordinated.
“I’m Lin Ziqian from the police crisis negotiation team.”
Lin Ziqian stood at a safe distance. Noticing Shen Zhicheng, he raised his hand, signaling him to step aside.
The scene was chaotic—no time to ask questions.
“Sir, I’m here to help you. If you have any concerns, feel free to speak openly.” His tone was gentle.
Liang Wei didn’t turn around. “I don’t need help.”
“Just a chat. It’s dangerous here—how about stepping back to a safe area?”
“Everything can be discussed. Whatever’s troubling you, tell us—we’ll figure out a way to help.”
Liang Wei’s eyes remained hollow, devoid of any emotion.
There were too many unhappy things. Six whole years—living like a rat, hiding in the shadows, creeping through life. When his mother passed, he didn’t dare go back. His father was unwell, and he still couldn’t show his face.
“When did it start?” Liang Wei suddenly spoke, his voice flat and lifeless. “My luck has always been this bad.”
The sirens blared from below—police cars, fire trucks, ambulances—all intertwined with the murmurs of the old neighbors, drifting near and far.
“Where it started…” he said. “That’s where it ends.”
“Don’t do anything rash!” Lin Ziqian immediately stepped forward, signaling to his team members on both sides. “At least tell me what happened?”
The old tenement’s rooftop was cluttered with debris. The team members on both sides used the cover to move toward Liang Wei’s flanks.
Shen Zhicheng frowned. Feeling he was in the way, he was about to turn and leave—
But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Liang Wei close his eyes and suddenly lean forward.
He cursed under his breath and lunged forward almost on instinct.
The negotiation team members on both sides rushed forward at the same time.
A wave of screams erupted from below.
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