The victim’s cousin, Lee Wai Yi, said the last time Ng Mei Yan came over was half a month ago. Chai Wan was remote — a round trip took hours. If it got late, she’d stay over, and the two cousins would sleep together like they did as children, sharing their innermost thoughts.
“But that was a long time ago — at least over a month.”
“Anyway, yesterday, she didn’t make any plans with me.”
Li Heng’s gaze rested on her: “Where were you on the night of the incident? Is there anyone who can vouch for you?”
“I was home the whole time. My husband ran off with a mountain of debt — I live here alone now.” Lee Wai Yi’s expression turned sour, her voice rising sharply. “Wait — are you actually suspecting me of murder? She’s my cousin! We had no bad blood — how could I do such a thing?”
“Just routine questioning — standard procedure.”
Lee Wai Yi still looked displeased, but she tried to recall last night’s events.
“I was definitely home at that time last night — I didn’t go out. There are creditors showing up at my door all day — I was afraid I’d run into them if I left.”
“Oh, right — last night, around ten or eleven, I called my good-for-nothing husband several times. I’d curse him out as soon as he picked up — we spent the whole time arguing.”
“The telecom records should show it — exactly what time I called, how long each call lasted — everything’s clear.”
Li Heng signaled Shen Zhicheng to make a note.
He didn’t respond verbally, but his pen kept moving.
As the questioning neared its end, Shen Zhicheng handed a few pages of notes to Lee Wai Yi: “Take a look.”
“If it’s correct, sign at the bottom right,” Li Heng added.
A thick stack of statements — the fruit of a full hour of frantic writing. By now, Shen Zhicheng had quietly set aside the arrogance he’d walked in with. Being a cop was nowhere near this easy — just taking statements alone was enough to drive anyone crazy.
The night grew deeper. Lee Wai Yi saw them to the door.
Having downed two glasses of wine in quick succession, she swayed slightly, bracing herself against the doorframe, bits and pieces of memories spilling out.
“We were really close as kids. Then I moved to Hong Kong with my parents, and we lost touch.”
“It wasn’t until we bumped into each other on the street years later — we were both overjoyed.”
“Mei Yan had a tough life — her parents died early, and she carried everything on her own.”
“In her first marriage, she suffered more than I can say — but she never cried when she told me about it. She said the hardest days were behind her — now her husband loved her, her daughter was sweet, and her life was worth it. Tell me — she was only thirty-seven. How could it already be a whole lifetime?”
“I remember now — her ex-husband’s name is Ah Fan. Surname Yeung.”
Shen Zhicheng looked at Li Heng, notebook in hand.
Drunken rambling — did he have to write that down too?
The next second, Li Heng’s eyes signaled him.
He had no choice but to lower his head, using the clipboard as support, and keep writing.
“For a while, we saw each other often. Later, she had kids and a husband to take care of, and I had my own mess at home — we didn’t have time to get together as much.”
“She didn’t have many friends in Hong Kong — it was natural for her to use me as a cover.”
“But Madam, Sir — why would she say she was going out with me last night? The only person she’d meet behind Tung Chi Ming’s back is that Yeung guy.”
With that, Lee Wai Yi let out a soft sigh and closed the door.
The room fell quiet. She leaned against the door, feeling hollow inside.
Her cousin was gone, just like that.
When a person dies — does it feel as if they were never here at all?
Outside, the hallway was dim.
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng walked down the stairs one step at a time, their footsteps overlapping and echoing in the silence.
Shen Zhicheng’s arms hung limp at his sides: “My hands — are they broken yet?”
Without looking back, Li Heng said: “Young master, we’re just getting started.”
The moment Shen Zhicheng heard that title, his brows furrowed.
Every time she used that mocking tone, nothing good followed.
He said sternly: “Stop calling me ‘young master’!”
…
Chai Wan wasn’t exactly quiet at night.
The lights in the factory buildings went out one by one. In the public housing estates, warm yellow light spilled from every window.
The police car was parked downstairs at Lee Wai Yi’s building. They got in.
“Where to now?” Shen Zhicheng asked.
Chai Wan was out of the way — a round trip took over two hours. On top of that, the questioning at Lee Wai Yi’s had delayed them. It was already late.
Li Heng glanced at her watch: “Head back and rest. Work again tomorrow.”
Click — Shen Zhicheng fastened his seatbelt: “Police boss — aren’t you even going to feed me?”
If he hadn’t mentioned it, Li Heng would have forgotten about eating entirely.
With any other colleague, she wouldn’t need to worry about meals — but this young master’s hands were barely functional, his shoulders slumped. She couldn’t send him home hungry.
Without another word, she stepped on the gas and headed straight for Causeway Bay.
The neon lights of Causeway Bay glittered brilliantly, the streets bustling with noise and crowds.
Li Heng had never been particular about food — anything to fill her stomach would do.
She pulled up at a roadside stall and ordered a bowl of fish ball noodles, then turned to look at Shen Zhicheng.
“You’re kidding — you’re taking me to a street stall?”
Li Heng didn’t respond. She simply said to the vendor: “One more bowl for him.”
The stall only had a few flimsy tables set up on the roadside, their legs uneven, propped up with cardboard to keep them steady.
Two bowls of fish ball noodles arrived, steaming hot, the aroma hitting them. Only then did Li Heng realize she was famished too.
Shen Zhicheng took out a tissue and wiped the greasy tabletop, then slowly snapped apart his disposable chopsticks.
By the time he’d finished all that fussing, Li Heng had already eaten nearly half her bowl.
The victim’s ex-husband had become the breakthrough in the case. All the required procedures were done, and it was time to clock out with a clear conscience — yet she still ate hurriedly.
Shen Zhicheng couldn’t help asking: “Why do you eat so fast?”
The street corner was packed with people, hawkers’ shouts nearly drowning out their conversation.
Li Heng’s reply came measured and soft: “Always been this way. Habit.”
Shen Zhicheng was silent for a moment.
The private investigator’s report had only glossed over her childhood in the orphanage. But he could roughly imagine — in that environment, even getting a hot meal took both luck and strength. From a young age, she must have learned that even among other children, weakness couldn’t survive. Even eating was a race against time — otherwise, you wouldn’t get enough to fill yourself.
Shen Zhicheng said nothing. Silently, he pushed his untouched toppings into her bowl.
He wanted to tell her — those days of being alone and helpless were long over. No one was going to fight her for food anymore.
Then he lowered his head and took a bite.
From initial disdain for the street-side setting to fully accepting the taste — it took only a few seconds.
The savory flavor spread through his mouth. He took a sip of soup, then looked up, somewhat surprised: “Not bad at all.”
Li Heng pushed some of her toppings back into his bowl.
Like two kids, trading back and forth until they’d lost count of whose bowl had more.
“We can order a few more bowls. You’re an Inspector, after all — high salary bracket.” Shen Zhicheng deliberately put on an exaggerated tone. “Besides, you’re Shen Chongnian’s granddaughter — a hundred bowls of fish ball noodles wouldn’t be too much.”
Li Heng looked up and said something.
Shen Zhicheng leaned in: “Louder — can’t hear you.”
Cars and people streamed past, vendors shouting, bargainers haggling, traffic humming — all blending into a noisy din. It was hard to hear each other.
Li Heng didn’t repeat herself, but she noticed the clumsy yet direct way Shen Zhicheng was accommodating her. She slowed down her eating.
From the orphanage to living alone, to joining the police force — she had always moved at her own pace.
Until suddenly, she had family — an identity as both a sister and a granddaughter — and her life’s trajectory was thrown off course.
She’d known about the inheritance for a while, but had never really thought about it.
The night her grandfather got the DNA report, the lawyers had already contacted her. The document was covered in numbers — so many zeros they made your head spin. But looking at that long string of digits, Li Heng had always felt that money had nothing to do with her. It didn’t feel as solid as saving up for a down payment herself.
After the reunion, everything deviated from her original plan. She was being pushed forward.
She wasn’t used to giving, and she wasn’t used to readily accepting others’ kindness — that had always been the case.
But now, someone was telling her, again and again, to just take it.
“It doesn’t matter if we don’t have time to do the transfer right away,” Shen Zhicheng said quietly. “Pick a place to live first.”
…
As a child, Li Heng slept in a common bunk room at the orphanage — children of all sizes packed together, squeezing into any empty spot they could find.
Kids who’d known hardship all knew how to protect themselves. Older children put on fierce faces, blustering and claiming territory. So before age six, for a long time, Li Heng tried to make herself as small as possible, giving up any extra space she had.
After six, she was shuffled through three foster families. In each one, she slept in the guest room — as if she’d always known that as long as she stayed in the guest room, she’d always be just a guest.
Then came the police academy dormitory, then the tiny partitioned room she’d rented to save up for a house…
After all these years of drifting, Li Heng had never had a real home.
A home that was completely hers.
She’d always had to rely on herself, so she instinctively didn’t trust good fortune that fell from the sky. Nothing in this world came for free — let alone such a massive fortune.
But Shen Zhicheng didn’t give her time to overthink it, nor any room to refuse.
He made a quick phone call, and less than fifteen minutes later, someone delivered the keys.
On his first day in Team A as an auxiliary officer, Shen Zhicheng had learned just how relentless police work could be. So his top priority in choosing a place was proximity to the station — being able to sleep an extra thirty minutes each morning was already a win.
“First thing in the morning — while everyone else is still commuting, you just walk downstairs and you’re already at the station.”
“Midday, if you’re tired, you step out of the station, go downstairs, take the elevator, and you’re home for a nap.”
“After work, while everyone else is still stuck on the road, you’re already back in your room lying down!”
Shen Zhicheng had never actually held a regular job, yet he could rattle off plenty of advantages to living near the station.
He then told her that he still had a few properties in the Kowloon City area. They’d been rented out before, but after he fired the caretaker for being dishonest, the units had been sitting vacant.
They first drove back to West Kowloon Regional Headquarters to return the police car.
The police force had many rules, and the handover process was tedious. Shen Zhicheng stood to the side waiting.
When she finally finished the paperwork, he spoke up eagerly: “Done? Let’s go check out the places.”
The first was a modern apartment complex.
Shen Zhicheng unlocked the door and casually introduced it: “Four-bedroom, two-living-room layout — about 1,700 square feet. Comes fully furnished with appliances. The lobby downstairs has a doorman, and there’s security monitoring — very safe.”
“This is the master bedroom — the window faces the station directly.”
He led her into the kitchen, where pots, pans, and utensils were all provided.
“If you want to cook, go ahead — even the fridge is brand new.”
“If you don’t cook, do what I do — have Fang Jie come by a few times a week.”
“Grandfather always says you work too hard — you should have some nourishing soups to build up your strength.”
Leaving the apartment, the next property was a standalone townhouse.
The living room was spacious, the ceilings high, with an expansive view.
“Quiet yet lively — not bad compared to the Mid-Levels.”
“The living room’s big enough to host the entire Major Crime Unit for dinner.”
“Look — sitting here, everyone could drink, play video games, and—” Shen Zhicheng paused because he noticed Li Heng was studying everything carefully.
Every corner, every room — she examined them all closely.
Shen Zhicheng leaned against the entryway, not rushing her.
From the time they’d met until now, he rarely saw her like this — with a slight, subtle hesitation.
She opened and closed doors gently, as if she were in a place that didn’t belong to her — cautious, with a hint of unconscious curiosity.
“You don’t have to save up like that anymore,” he said.
Before she could respond, Shen Zhicheng added: “I bet you’ll like the third one best. Let’s go.”
Li Heng hadn’t expected that after a full day of investigating, questioning, and taking statements, she’d still be viewing properties.
Yet she looked at each one with immense care. She’d once thought that saving enough to move into her own home would take years — maybe a very long time. Every step closer to that dream, she’d felt hopeful, but also knew it was still far off.
Who could have imagined that day would come so suddenly?
So she really could have a home of her own.
“This one’s a penthouse with—” Shen Zhicheng pulled out the keys.
Li Heng walked in: “A rooftop unit.”
“A connoisseur.” Shen Zhicheng turned back.
What made this place most appealing was the master bedroom’s direct access to a private balcony.
Step outside and you’re in the open air. With a little setup, on nice days you could sit on the rooftop, soak up the sun, and read — just the thought of it was relaxing.
“The space is big enough — you could even grow some plants.” Shen Zhicheng glanced at her. “Though you don’t really strike me as the gardening type. Or in the summer, you could BBQ up here and have cold beer. In winter, invite colleagues you’re close with for hotpot.”
“If you don’t have any close colleagues,” Shen Zhicheng pointed at his own nose, “what about me?”
The corner of Li Heng’s mouth lifted slightly.
The rooftop was wide and open. Looking out, you could take in the entire night view of Kowloon City.
Li Heng walked around and stopped at the other end: “Is the rooftop shared?”
“Only two units on this floor,” Shen Zhicheng said. “The other one — I didn’t sell it and didn’t rent it out. Just left it empty.”
After viewing just a few properties, it was already deep into the night.
As they locked up and left, Shen Zhicheng said: “Tell me which one you like tomorrow, and I’ll have someone help you move — full service, all in one go.”
“If you don’t like any of these, we’ll look at more.”
“Actually, it doesn’t matter if it’s a bit farther — you can take any car from the garage.”
Li Heng stopped in her tracks, her tone complicated: “You’re…”
Shen Zhicheng raised an eyebrow: “Moved, aren’t you?”
“Like an overly enthusiastic real estate agent.”
Shen Zhicheng shot her a glare.
Li Heng opened her mouth as if to say something more.
Shen Zhicheng understood, though.
She wasn’t used to expressing herself. Her walls were high — she kept everyone at arm’s length.
“We’re family.” He cut off the unspoken concern before she could voice it.
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