Li Heng was about to step into the police headquarters building when her peripheral vision caught two figures. She paused.
Under a tree in the distance stood an upright elderly man, supported by someone.
She had seen him at the hospital — it was Shen Chongnian.
At a distance, Li Heng didn’t move.
Perhaps twins really were different. When she’d first learned the DNA results, her mind had been consumed with how to break the news to Shen Zhicheng — wondering whether it would count as something good happening for him. From start to finish, she hadn’t once considered this old man.
Now thinking back, he wasn’t just Shen Zhicheng’s grandfather — he was hers too.
Under the tree, Shen Chongnian stood still, gazing firmly in one direction without looking around.
Uncle Cheung stayed by his side, unable to tell whether the old master was nervous — but he himself was extremely anxious.
A few hours ago, Shen Zhicheng had called home. On the phone, he’d carefully chosen his words, hesitantly telling Shen Chongnian that his sister might still be alive.
But Shen Chongnian was a man who had weathered countless storms. His grandson’s vague manner couldn’t fool him.
Uncle Cheung knew — the young master was afraid the news would come too suddenly, so he was trying to ease into it gradually. After all, at this age, the old man’s body couldn’t handle extreme joy or grief.
Yet with Shen Chongnian’s temperament, once suspicion took root, he would never let it go — nor would he allow anyone to treat him like a gullible old man.
From the moment he arrived at West Kowloon police headquarters, Shen Chongnian had shed his usual brisk, decisive manner.
He was always punctual, hated waiting, and disliked keeping others waiting. But today, for the sake of this hope, he had waited over an hour — not the slightest trace of impatience showing, standing quietly in place.
Occasionally, Shen Chongnian would exchange a few low words with Uncle Cheung.
“It shouldn’t be a false hope.”
“Master, the cheque the young master wrote was indeed cashed by a private investigator. The investigator said the person being looked into was Inspector Li Heng of the police force.” Uncle Cheung replied gently.
A few hours earlier, he’d been at a loss on how to proceed — it was Shen Chongnian who had made the decisive call, following the lead straight here.
“From what the private investigator said, when the young master was going through the documents, his expression grew worse and worse. He also specifically mentioned that Inspector Li was the same age as himself.” Uncle Cheung added, “Barring any surprises, she is the eldest young lady. That child back then… survived.”
Shen Chongnian said nothing more — he just waited.
When he finally saw Li Heng’s figure appear, the hand gripping his cane tightened involuntarily, his knuckles turning white.
This was entirely different from their chance encounter at the hospital — this time, he came with answers.
Watching Li Heng approach step by step, the usual sharpness in Shen Chongnian’s eyes faded. He was just an ordinary elder, longing for something with all his heart.
He stepped forward slowly, his voice low and hoarse: “It’s… it’s Zhining, isn’t it?”
Over twenty years had passed — he had long since grown old, his hair white enough that he no longer needed to dye it, and he couldn’t go anywhere without his cane.
The past lay buried deep in his heart, all regrets without an outlet. He could only bring a lollipop to his granddaughter’s grave and linger a little — afraid he wouldn’t have the heart to leave.
He had never imagined he would have a chance in his lifetime to see his granddaughter again.
Shen Chongnian slowly raised his hand toward her — it trembled uncontrollably.
Li Heng froze.
In the silence, the old man had already taken her hand first.
“You are Zhining. This time… there’s no mistake.”
Shen Chongnian’s tone grew steadily more certain.
He looked at this child with a pained heart. There was too much to say, too much to ask — how had she been? — and all he could do was repeat himself over and over.
“Grandfather should have found you long ago… should have found you long ago…”
Uncle Cheung stood to the side, overcome with emotion, quietly lowering his head to hide his reddening eyes.
…
All along, Li Heng’s life had been calm to the point of monotony.
Every day after work, she’d eat dinner at the station canteen, take the bus back to her rented little room — no extra entertainment, either endlessly analyzing cases or burying her head in professional books, day after day.
But today, everything was different.
By the time Li Heng came back to her senses, she was already following Shen Chongnian up to this villa on the Mid-Levels.
“Zhining, we’re home.” Shen Chongnian’s tone was warm and gentle.
The DNA identification report from Tech was something Li Heng had brought out of her office before leaving work. Though the results had already been confirmed, it was only right to let the elder see them with his own eyes.
Now Shen Chongnian took the reading glasses Uncle Cheung handed him, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the report.
The results were laid out clearly. He read every word, from top to bottom, over and over again.
“I should have looked more thoroughly back then,” Shen Chongnian said softly. “I let the child suffer all that hardship for nothing.”
Uncle Cheung sighed silently.
In truth, the old master had investigated — but his suspicion hadn’t been that the child was still alive.
Back then, the accident had come too suddenly. Overwhelming grief had consumed Shen Chongnian, and there were countless rivals in the group eyeing him — if he had let his guard down even a little, the entire Shen family would have fallen apart.
To avoid reality — and to shoulder the responsibilities he had to bear — Shen Chongnian threw himself into business in those years. Later, when he heard that Shen Zhicheng was being called a “jinx” behind his back, he sought out his second son. The second son appeared honest and steady, even going so far as to scold his own wife and divorce her, just to appease Shen Chongnian’s anger.
For a long time afterward, the Shen family seemed calm on the surface.
At first, Shen Chongnian only thought his second son lacked ability and was too easily influenced — that’s why he didn’t want to entrust the family business to him. It wasn’t until Shen Zhicheng was sent abroad that he gradually began to suspect that the car accident all those years ago might have been engineered by someone for personal gain. Over the years, he had donated money, equipment, and land to the Hong Kong police, and had asked countless people to investigate in secret — but all he ever got was the word “accident.”
Yet once a seed of doubt takes root, it can never be uprooted.
Shen Chongnian closed the identification report and instructed Uncle Cheung: “Arrange a meeting with the lawyers. Everything that belongs to Zhining — not a single cent less.”
Meanwhile, Li Heng sat on the sofa, accepting a cup of tea from the maid, Fang Jie.
Fang Jie smiled and chatted, saying that despite how he seemed, the young master actually preferred quiet. He had a bad temper, and she only came by occasionally to clean — and had to pick the right time. If she came too early and woke him, though he wouldn’t say anything, he’d wear a sour face all day.
“But the young master is very generous. I only come by now and then to tidy up, but the pay he gives is almost as much as a live-in maid’s wages.”
“Today, the weather was nice, so I came to do some cleaning — and I happened to run into you coming home.”
“Miss, you might not believe this, but when you walked in just now, I felt that you and the young master are alike. Not in looks — but in that feeling…”
Li Heng asked curiously: “What kind of feeling?”
“The feeling of family.” Fang Jie smiled warmly. “It’s good that you’re back. From now on, you two siblings can look out for each other.”
Everyone told Li Heng that this was her home.
She had lived here when she was first born, carried around in adults’ arms through every corner of the house.
But that was from infancy — things she hadn’t seen in her dreams, naturally she couldn’t remember.
She only felt like a stranger, holding the teacup in both hands like a guest who had come from far away.
Until Shen Chongnian led her through the house, room by room.
He said that although he hadn’t lived with his son and daughter-in-law, he used to come over often for meals, bringing toys and snacks to amuse his grandchildren.
“Your parents said you and Zhicheng were still too young — no candy or snacks until you were a few months older.”
“I didn’t understand back then why they were so particular about raising children. But… your father had a bad temper too, so I just went along with it.”
Every corner of this villa held Shen Chongnian’s happiest memories. He had once imagined taking little Zhining to pick out whatever candy she liked when she grew up… and so many other things. Those memories were like shards of glass — the deeper he dwelled on them, the more they hurt. Over time, he stopped wanting to remember.
“Your parents used to live in this master bedroom. They thought wedding photos were old-fashioned and refused to take any — they just traveled everywhere and sent back piles of postcards.”
“Your mother had beautiful handwriting — she wrote every single one. They’re kept in the study at Repulse Bay — I’ll show you another day.”
Uncle Cheung, worried Li Heng might not understand, explained: “The master doesn’t usually live here — he lives alone at Repulse Bay.”
Li Heng nodded.
Living with Shen Zhicheng was indeed too noisy.
“After your mother got pregnant, your father’s work got busier — but whenever they had time, they still traveled everywhere.”
“She used to complain that after you two were born, she’d take the three of you on trips and never bring him along.”
“Those two — they often bickered and played little games. Every time I thought they were fighting and was about to step in, they’d be lovey-dovey again in no time.”
Li Heng listened attentively: “Were they very close?”
“Yes — your parents were more in love than you could imagine,” Uncle Cheung said with a smile. “Even the master used to say he couldn’t stand them.”
That was what her parents were like in their youth — so vivid and alive.
Shen Chongnian’s voice grew a little choked. He continued leading Li Heng to the two rooms at the end of the second-floor corridor.
“When you were first born, you stayed in the nursery in the attic. But these two rooms were prepared for you long ago.”
“We planned to wait until you grew up and redecorate them however you liked — but we never got that chance.”
Li Heng said softly: “I’d like to see the attic.”
Shen Chongnian led her up the stairs, to the attic.
Every corner of the dream that had haunted Li Heng for months was achingly familiar.
She gazed at the family photo for a long time, then stopped in front of the crib, her fingertips brushing over the two neatly folded little blankets.
Shen Chongnian didn’t step inside — he just stood at the doorway.
In his memory, the two children were still tiny babies who could barely turn over, kicking their little hands and feet randomly. He used to stand by the crib, afraid of bumping this one or hurting that one. But in the blink of an eye, they had grown up — and all those lost years could never be recovered.
He thought he had kept himself together well, but when he turned to speak to Uncle Cheung, his voice was already thick with emotion: “Where’s that boy?”
Uncle Cheung didn’t call him out, only replied softly: “The young master hasn’t come back yet — something must have held him up.”
…
Leave a Reply