Shen Zhicheng had always been carefree and easygoing, brushing things aside without ever truly taking them to heart. It was rare for him to freeze up completely, his thoughts grinding to a halt.
But just now, when Li Heng’s flat, matter-of-fact words fell into his ears, all surrounding sounds seemed to cut off—and his mind went blank.
In truth, his bond with his parents and his twin sister wasn’t particularly deep. Everyone said that before they turned one, he and his sister had been held in their parents’ hands like treasures. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, Shen Zhicheng couldn’t scrape together a single memory related to them. If not for that old family portrait in the attic, he wouldn’t even remember what they looked like.
The clearest memories from his childhood were only of the three cold stone tablets in the cemetery. As long as those tablets stood, they would stay there forever.
And that music box carried far too much weight.
Li Heng had simply taken it and tossed out a sentence so lightly—his first reaction was nothing but wariness and doubt.
“Say that again,” he said.
Li Heng could clearly see that this usually flippant playboy had, for the first time, shown an icy cold look in his eyes.
The repair shop owner watched with bewilderment too—a music box as old as an antique, so broken it couldn’t even make a sound, yet someone was willing to pay a fortune to fix it, and someone else was dead set on buying it. When he heard they were siblings, it suddenly clicked—he thought to himself, sure enough, birds of a feather flock together.
“So you’re family.” The owner put on a placating smile. “That makes it easy—you two sort it out amongst yourselves.”
“Not everything is a joke.” Shen Zhicheng reached out to snatch the music box from her hand.
The young master’s face darkened, as if his boundaries had been crossed—he went straight for it.
But her grip was far stronger than he’d expected. She held it tightly.
Their hands froze in midair—he simply couldn’t pry it away.
The person before him had a terrible attitude.
There was no point in beating around the bush. Li Heng couldn’t be bothered to think of a more tactful way to say it.
“The blood samples were compared. DNA matches.” Her tone was cold, like she was just handling official business. “Since you heard me, I won’t waste more words.”
She dropped that line and turned to walk straight out of the repair shop.
The shock of the news hit Shen Zhicheng too hard—he stood there dumbfounded, only snapping back to reality when Li Heng pushed open the door and the police car started up.
The last time, coming back from Kai Tak Airport, he’d already gotten a taste of her driving skills. Just as he was about to speak, the music box was already gone, and the police car’s rear end disappeared around the street corner, leaving only a trail of exhaust dispersing in the air.
He turned back to see the repair shop owner giving him an awkward, ingratiating grin.
“What are you standing there for?” Shen Zhicheng snapped. “Why aren’t you calling the police? Someone’s robbing the place.”
The shop owner reminded him with difficulty: “That miss… seems to be a police officer.”
…
Li Heng was heading back to the station with the supplementary statements from Chi Ah Min’s colleagues, her gaze occasionally drifting to the music box in the passenger seat.
She had always been steady. From the moment the DNA results came out to now, as she accepted everything, her emotional journey hadn’t been particularly turbulent.
The feelings had come and gone—she had already calmed down.
The police car pulled into the West Kowloon Regional Headquarters parking lot. Li Heng turned off the engine and gathered her documents.
After getting out and taking a few steps, she suddenly turned back, retrieved the music box, and took it with her.
Shen Zhicheng was capable of anything—he might even blow out the police car window and come charging in to rob it.
When she pushed open the door to the CID room, dusk had already fallen. The workday was long over, but her colleagues were still busy.
Unlike the chaotic, directionless flailing of the past few days, the case was now nearing its close—everyone could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and they worked with renewed energy.
Fang Zhishan came up to take the documents: “Madam, Sir Pan asked me to contact Chi Ah Min’s mother, Zhang Fengying earlier. He said Ah Min’s mental state is unstable and needs a family member to accompany her.”
When they first reached Zhang Fengying, though reluctant, she had hesitated and then agreed to accompany her. But when she learned that it was Ah Min who had accidentally knocked over the wine bottle seventeen years ago, her attitude flipped instantly. She said, in a hardened tone, that she was done—as if she’d never given birth to that daughter. She wouldn’t get involved in Chi Ah Min’s affairs anymore—the police could find a social worker instead.
“No way—that’s too harsh…” Lin Jiacong frowned, then paused. “But why did you tell her that?”
Fang Zhishan’s ears flushed bright red. She explained anxiously: “She was really emotional at the time, kept pressing me about Ah Min’s condition. I thought family members had a right to know… I didn’t think it through. I’m sorry.”
The whole room fell silent for a moment.
Li Heng spoke: “There’s still follow-up work on this case. Zhang Fengying would have found out sooner or later anyway.”
A few officers sighed at that.
“To be fair, it’s not wrong to tell her. Keeping it hidden only makes Chi Ah Min’s life harder.”
“She hasn’t truly had a mother’s love since she was twelve—she’s probably used to it by now. If Zhang Fengying came back, offered warmth, and then suddenly took it away one day—that would be the real cruelty to Chi Ah Min.”
Amidst the sighs and murmurs, the atmosphere grew heavy.
Just as the mood was turning somber, a voice came from outside—a field officer: “The social worker is here—Team A, come handle the handover!”
…
The social worker had barely arrived when medical personnel followed closely into the station.
Several of them, together with Team A officers, escorted Chi Ah Min to the hospital for further evaluation and treatment.
Before Liang Wei had given his full confession, hardly anyone had noticed anything unusual about Chi Ah Min. Even after she saw Zhang Fengying and fell into a dazed, silent stupor—her expression vacant—the police had assumed it was just a suspect putting on an act. But now, knowing the full truth, when they looked at her again, their feelings were completely different.
The officers had already outlined the next steps.
If the psychiatric evaluation confirmed that Chi Ah Min had lacked civil capacity at the time of the crime, she would be arranged for compulsory treatment in accordance with the law. If not, she would go through the normal judicial process. Everything depended on the final assessment.
At the same time, the door to the interrogation room was gently pushed open.
Two officers escorted Liang Wei out on either side, preparing to transfer him to the remand center for further proceedings.
And so, the two figures met in the station corridor.
Only a few steps apart—two people who had once loved each other, now separated by the chasm of a life taken.
As they passed each other, Liang Wei hurriedly looked away, not daring to glance back at her.
Chi Ah Min, however, stood still for a moment, her hollow gaze fixed on his profile. Then she stopped walking altogether, looking at his desolate retreating figure.
Fang Zhishan, standing beside her, asked softly: “Do you remember him?”
Chi Ah Min’s eyes were unfocused as she tried to recall: “You showed me a photo. He’s the man in the picture.”
At those words, Liang Wei’s back stiffened.
He and Chi Ah Min had both dropped out of school early to scrape by, crushed by their families. They had once supported each other through the hardest times, believing that if they could just get through it, things would slowly get better. But one wrong decision—and he had pushed her to where she was now.
Liang Wei suddenly thought—perhaps receiving treatment was actually a good thing for Chi Ah Min. Trapped in a split personality, she could temporarily escape reality—but in the long run, she would only sink deeper.
She couldn’t deceive herself forever. In the end, she would have to walk her own path.
Liang Wei knew—Ah Min had always relied on herself in this life.
She knew how to plan ahead, saving money bit by bit like a small animal stockpiling for winter. That was why the Zhang Huijing who came back to life afterward had never ended up in a miserable state.
“Sir.” Liang Wei suddenly turned back. “What will happen regarding her sister’s remains?”
The officer replied formally: “Based on Zhang Fengying’s current statement, Chi Xiaojing’s remains were buried by Chi Guodong in the back mountain of Yuen Long. We will refer the case to the relevant departments for further verification and search for the remains. Once confirmed, they will be properly handled according to procedure.”
Liang Wei listened, and felt a slight sense of relief settle in his heart.
He knew—this was probably the wish Ah Min had carried for so many years, never once spoken aloud.
…
That day was Shen Zhicheng’s unluckiest day.
He’d come to Apliu Street—first told that the music box parts couldn’t be found and probably couldn’t be fixed, then robbed, and then subjected to nonsense from the robber.
His sister had died young—in that car, blown up and burned on the spot. The intense blast had hurled small objects from the car, including a rubber-soled baby shoe. Infants’ bones had a high water content and burned more completely—leaving almost no trace. Only that charred baby shoe proved she had been in that car.
His sister? What a joke.
Shen Zhicheng left that secondhand repair shop, only to find his sports car completely blocked at the entrance of Apliu Street—no way to speed off.
But despite everything, that cold-faced cop, though always wearing a sour expression, wasn’t the type to be so reckless without reason.
His mind was in chaos. He picked up his mobile phone and dialed.
With a hefty rush fee, enough to mobilize all the resources of the most famous private investigation agency in Mong Kok, they went to work for him.
Late that night, he finally got the news.
The living room was vast and empty. Shen Zhicheng sat on the sofa and opened the sealed envelope.
Li Heng’s life story was condensed into just a few pages of paper.
“Her date of birth is listed here, but the exact day is unknown—only the year can be confirmed,” the private investigator said.
Shen Zhicheng’s gaze landed on Li Heng’s birth year. He said quietly: “Same age as me.”
“The child was found by an elderly morning walker in a pile of dead branches. She was covered in wounds and barely breathing—a few kind-hearted people immediately rushed her to the hospital.”
“She may have been abandoned by the bridge at night, but because she was so light, and there was a strong wind that day, she rolled down the slope under the bridge.”
“She was only wearing one shoe.”
Shen Zhicheng’s heart jolted.
At one year old, he’d had a dangerously high fever and had been barely conscious. Growing up, he’d always heard that it was because his sister had been trapped in the burning car.
“Here are the medical records from back then.”
“The rest were just external injuries—the most severe was extensive abrasions on her back, likely from broken glass when she rolled down the slope.”
Since no family member came to claim her, the hospital notified the Social Welfare Department while treating her, and a social worker followed up. The social worker placed her in an orphanage in Fanling, New Territories, and settled her in.
“Based on the child’s height, weight, and teeth development, she was estimated to be about one year old when abandoned.”
“The orphanage director set the day she was taken in as her birthday. She was later named Li Heng.”
The private investigator, noticing Shen Zhicheng’s increasingly somber expression, continued: “Throughout her childhood, Li Heng was placed in three foster families—none of which worked out well.”
Shen Zhicheng remembered that day at the hospital when he’d asked Li Heng if anyone had ever taught her manners.
She’d replied with a sneer: “No. Never.”
“Pretty, cute children are easily chosen. Actually, not long after, there were other families who wanted to adopt her—but Li Heng refused.”
“I heard that family didn’t give up—they came back several times and even asked the director to help persuade her. But she wouldn’t budge. She stayed in the orphanage until she came of age.”
The private investigator reported each detail one by one.
At first, Shen Zhicheng could still grunt an “mm” in response—but gradually, as he read through the pages of her difficult past, his expression grew darker and darker, and he fell completely silent.
“Mr. Shen? Mr. Shen?”
Without looking up, Shen Zhicheng said coldly: “Do I have to applaud every word you say?”
The private investigator coughed and rubbed his nose.
After that, Li Heng had made her own way, step by step, out of the orphanage.
“The youngest inspector in West Kowloon’s Major Crime Unit,” the private investigator said. “That’s all the information we have on her.”
A few hours of expedited investigation were paid for with a cheque. The private investigator took it, grinning from ear to ear.
Shen Zhicheng stuffed the documents back into the sealed envelope, stood up, and walked out.
By the time the roar of the sports car outside faded away, the private investigator was still sitting on his sofa. He scrambled to his feet and hurriedly shut the door behind him.
In the midsummer heat of Hong Kong, the villas on the Mid-Levels stood in scattered tiers, interwoven with the starlight of the night.
The sports car hugged the curves, speeding dangerously fast.
Shen Zhicheng remembered the first time he’d met Li Heng.
Even then, he’d had a strange feeling—like he’d seen her somewhere before.
Of all cases, it had to be a twin case. Of all places, it had to involve a Shen family property. Hong Kong wasn’t that big—yet they kept running into each other, again and again.
What about before that? At times he hadn’t noticed—maybe they’d crossed paths many more times.
But every single time, he hadn’t recognized that she was his sister.
The car window was rolled down, the night wind hot enough to burn, whipping his hair across his forehead.
At a red light, Shen Zhicheng flipped through the documents countless times.
What kind of investigator was this—couldn’t even find her address?
He kept picking up his phone, leaving messages for the paging center one after another, urging them to page her.
Once, twice, three times…
He wouldn’t stop—he was determined to wake her up.
…
Li Heng lived in a single room in an old tenement building, with walls so thin she could hear the neighbors chatting every day—the soundproofing was atrocious.
Late that night, the dream that had haunted her for so long came again.
This time, it was no longer the fragmented melody of the music box from infancy, the speeding car, or the explosion’s flames…
Before her appeared a dimly lit attic. The curtains blocked out the light. In the corner stood a slightly oversized crib.
“Crash—”
The spinning glass globe that had never stopped rolling fell to the floor and shattered into pieces.
Ahead, Shen Zhicheng lay on the floor, motionless.
All around was utter silence.
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