Li Heng was quiet for a moment.
Accepting all of that so readily — she always felt it wasn’t right. Taking so much kindness without giving anything back would complicate things, blur the lines, and make it impossible to ever disentangle herself.
She was afraid of the trouble — and even more afraid that once she let herself depend on that warmth, she’d end up right back where she started.
But Shen Zhicheng said they were family.
“Let’s go.” Li Heng pushed down her emotions, turned, and walked away. “Tomorrow, nine o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.”
The night wind still carried the heat of midsummer.
She’d only taken a few steps when Shen Zhicheng’s agonized howl came from behind.
“Nine o’clock? Just take my life now!”
Li Heng didn’t look back — but for some reason, she felt like laughing.
She couldn’t say exactly why — only that a warmth spread through her chest, and her steps, though slower, no longer felt heavy.
…
The next morning, Li Heng was the first to arrive at the station.
Not long after, Gao Zijie walked in through the CID room door, carrying a takeout box of instant noodles with egg and spam.
“Pull up all the information on the victim Ng Mei Yan’s ex-husband,” Li Heng said.
Gao Zijie was taken aback: “She had an ex-husband?”
“Name’s Yeung Fan.” Li Heng paused, then added as he was about to set down his noodles and head out: “Finish eating first.”
Gao Zijie acknowledged her and, while using his chopsticks to scoop up noodles, quietly glanced up.
Since when did the boss become so easygoing?
At 8:50, the CID room gradually came to life.
Officers filed in one by one, organizing case files while murmuring about last night’s case.
“A woman in red — just thinking about it gives me the creeps.”
“Have you guys heard that supernatural radio show? It’s called Yin Yang, hosted by Szeto Pui Ling.”
“Yeah, yeah — ‘A Date with Ghosts’! They promoted it as a supernatural show, but they were worried about scaring kids and getting complaints from parents, so they moved it to this time slot.”
“It’s been on for a few episodes now — all about eerie topics. Last night I couldn’t sleep, so I turned on the radio, and someone called in live. The atmosphere was, wow—”
Someone joked that at least it was daytime, and the station had plenty of yang energy — not enough to scare anyone to death.
The conversation eventually shifted back to Shen Zhicheng.
“Think Mr. Shen will be late today?”
“Definitely! No way a rich young master shows up on time.”
“If he shows up by noon, that’d already be generous.”
Everyone assumed there was no way Shen Zhicheng would be punctual.
Until the clock on the wall steadily ticked to 9:00 AM.
The CID room door swung open.
Shen Zhicheng walked in, unhurried, still wearing that lazy air — but not a minute off, arriving right on the dot.
He settled into his seat.
Three alarm clocks had been blaring under his pillow, finally dragging Shen Zhicheng — who normally slept past noon — out of bed.
He hadn’t forgotten about the full-service moving arrangement either, pressing Li Heng to make up her mind.
“The rooftop unit,” she said.
Shen Zhicheng gave her an “OK” sign and threw himself into work.
All morning, Team A officers worked separately, pushing forward with the investigation.
After lunch, Li Heng came out of her office: “Meeting.”
Everyone filed into the conference room, and the case analysis officially began.
There were few leads on the whiteboard.
After Li Heng briefly laid out the case’s framework, the officer in charge of organizing Ng Mei Yan’s recent whereabouts and social connections spoke up first.
“The victim, Ng Mei Yan’s, movements over the past month were very routine. Every morning, she’d drop her daughter off at kindergarten, stop by the market on the way back to buy groceries, and rarely went out. Sometimes she’d stay home all day, then pick up her daughter from school in the evening. And it wasn’t just the past month — ever since her child started kindergarten, this had been her daily routine for years.”
“Her social circle was also very simple — no conflicts or grudges with anyone. Her finances were stable — not much in savings, but no debts either. Given how frugal she was, that money was enough to give her some security.”
“Her husband also had no financial issues — his business was running smoothly and on track.”
“As for suicidal tendencies — the neighbors all said it was impossible. Two days before the incident, someone ran into her at the market, and she was holding a travel agency flyer, saying she wanted to take her daughter on a trip. Another neighbor mentioned that Ng Mei Yan said her daughter had never seen snow and wanted to take her somewhere snowy.”
Li Heng took the statements and flipped through them: “How was their marriage?”
“At least on the surface, it seemed good — they’d often go for a walk downstairs hand in hand after dinner.”
“On the night of the incident, around ten o’clock, Tung Chi Ming was still at home putting his daughter to bed. The child was used to being with her mother — when she woke up and didn’t see her, she cried. A neighbor heard the noise and came to check — Tung Chi Ming answered the door.”
“From Ng Mei Yan’s home to Ngong Shuen Chau, it takes over forty minutes by car — so Tung Chi Ming has a solid alibi.”
“It seems this father isn’t very competent either — his wife was only out for one night, and he couldn’t even get the child to settle down.” Old You remarked casually, then stood up. “On my end — the victim hadn’t visited any temples recently, nor did she attend any ritual ceremonies. Other than the talisman in her handbag, there were no traces of incense, candles, or joss paper at the scene. It doesn’t look like anyone was conducting any rituals nearby.”
Old You paused, then added thoughtfully: “We tried our best to piece together the talisman fragments found in the bag, but they’re still incomplete. We suspect seawater exposure over a long period caused the damage.”
Shen Zhicheng, seated in the front row, spoke up: “The handbag’s zipper was intact — it seals well. Even if the talisman was damaged, the fragments should have stayed inside.”
“Exactly — that’s the suspicious part.” Old You nodded. “There were no marks on the zipper, and we can’t find the remaining fragments, so for now, we can’t trace where the talisman came from.”
Li Heng turned to Gao Zijie: “What about the victim’s ex-husband — any progress?”
“There’s a discrepancy with what her cousin Lee Wai Yi said.” Gao Zijie handed over freshly printed documents. “Marriage records show that Ng Mei Yan only held a marriage certificate with Tung Chi Ming — legally, she had no ex-husband. But back in her hometown, she did have a relationship with a man and had a son with him.”
The police had contacted Ng Mei Yan’s former partner, Yeung Fan.
According to him, they were young and irresponsible back then, and she got pregnant unexpectedly. His family looked down on Ng Mei Yan for being pregnant before marriage and gave her a hard time. She later came to Hong Kong alone to stay with relatives. Their feelings for each other were never strong to begin with, and they gradually lost contact. Since they’d never formally registered their marriage, they weren’t considered husband and wife.
“We checked immigration records — she hadn’t returned to the mainland recently. The last time that man came over was three months ago.”
“Seeing that Ng Mei Yan’s current husband was well-off, that man got greedy. Every time he blackmailed her — if she didn’t pay up, he’d expose everything to Tung Chi Ming. She cared too much about keeping it secret, so she let herself be manipulated.”
“In the end, Yeung Fan just wanted to squeeze some money out of her. Apart from talking tough, he didn’t do anything more extreme.”
“Yeung Fan also said he didn’t want anything to happen to Ng Mei Yan — otherwise, who would he and the kid shake down for money?”
Li Heng flipped through the documents: “Ng Mei Yan mentioned ‘atoning for sins’ before she died — could that be related to this child? Did something happen to her son?”
“Her eldest son is already seventeen, still in school — no word of anything happening to him,” Gao Zijie said. “But the son isn’t close to her — he basically treats her as a long-term cash cow.”
“The problem is, Ng Mei Yan was a housewife — the whole family relied on Tung Chi Ming’s income. And since Tung Chi Ming had no idea she had another son, the amount she could secretly send was very limited.”
Gao Zijie added that when Yeung Fan heard about Ng Mei Yan’s death over the phone, his first reaction was to ask how much money she’d left behind — it needed to be saved for the son.
It wouldn’t be long before he rushed over to Hong Kong, and when he met Tung Chi Ming, there would likely be a major fight over money.
After a round of updates, the whiteboard was gradually filling up.
But still — no breakthrough.
“We still don’t know who the victim was supposed to meet on the night she died.”
“The talisman’s origin is unclear — was it for worship, blessing, or some other purpose?”
“She lived a quiet, simple life — what did she do that needed atonement?”
Every lead had hit a dead end. The case had barely begun, and it was already stuck.
The atmosphere in the meeting room was heavy.
Li Heng looked down, her fingertips slowly turning over the documents in her hand.
The officers sat in silence.
Suddenly, Wen Jie hurried in.
Her expression was grave: “A private residential building on Prince Edward Road — we just got a call. Someone’s been hurt.”
…
The scene was a mid-range private building on Prince Edward Road.
One wave after another. On the drive over, the officers were burdened and sighing. Why did another case have to land on Team A? They hadn’t even sorted out their current workload — Team B should take some of it.
“I ran into someone from Team B at lunch today. Their Kiki brought back lunch for the whole team so they could eat during the meeting — they’re swamped too.”
“The bottom line is we’re short-staffed. If only they’d send us eight or ten more officers.”
“Dream on!”
The neighbor who’d called it in and the building caretaker were already waiting downstairs. They stood on tiptoe, craning their necks when they spotted the police car.
The weather was sweltering. As Li Heng got out of the car, she noticed the caretaker holding a bag that gave off a faint sour smell.
“What happened?” Li Heng approached and saw the bag was printed with the name “Ah Wong Tea Restaurant.”
The caretaker quickly explained: “Mr. Yiu from Block A on the 11th floor ordered delivery from the tea restaurant this morning. It was left at his door but never picked up. With this heat, it went bad fast — a neighbor called down to complain. I came up to knock, but no one answered for the longest time.”
The neighbor who lived next door chimed in: “I live in Block B — Mr. Yiu’s neighbor. I was out on the balcony collecting laundry just now and happened to look over at his place. I saw his large vanity mirror had fallen over, pinning him down — there was a big pool of blood behind him. I called out, but he didn’t respond — it didn’t look right.”
After discussing it, the neighbor and the caretaker grew worried and called the police.
Shen Zhicheng was already getting the hang of things, notebook in hand, taking down the statements.
Last night, because he was still new, Li Heng had made sure to turn on her voice recorder. But even with the recording, the follow-up report would still need to be handwritten — it wasn’t enough to just record everything. He had to practice this part.
“Call an ambulance first.” Li Heng’s brow furrowed immediately. Before she’d even finished speaking, she was already leading the team toward the elevator. “Let’s go up.”
The group took the elevator upstairs.
The caretaker didn’t have a spare key, and the old lock wouldn’t budge no matter how they tried to pick it. In the end, several officers had to force the door open together.
The moment they entered, they saw a middle-aged man lying on the floor in the center of the living room.
A large vanity mirror had fallen on him, pinning him down completely.
The neighbor and the caretaker had panicked and just called the police — they might have missed the critical window for rescue.
Without a word, Li Heng crouched down, pressed her fingers to the side of his neck, and checked for breathing.
She stood up: “He’s already gone.”
Just then, Lin Jiacong came up from downstairs and reported: “I asked around down there. The homeowner’s name is Yiu Chun Fai — a very well-known top-tier tutor around here. A lot of parents send their kids to him. I heard he’s produced quite a few students who got into prestigious schools — he’s highly regarded.”
“The neighbors all say he’s a good person — he even gives free tutoring to the neighborhood kids.”
“His wife passed away early. His two sons emigrated two years ago and have been urging him to join them. He was planning to work a few more years before retiring — who knew…”
Li Heng said in a low voice: “Secure the scene immediately, set up the cordon, and don’t leak any details to the outside for now.”
“The victim is a renowned top tutor — once this gets out, it’ll blow up,” Old You added.
“Too late,” Shen Zhicheng’s gaze swept past the window. “There’s a reporter across the street taking photos.”
Li Heng’s expression shifted, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. She turned and said: “Jiacong, Shen Zhicheng — move the mirror.”
The two stepped forward, each taking one side of the mirror, and slowly lifted the heavy vanity mirror.
In that instant, everyone froze.
Despite the sweltering summer heat, the victim was wearing a long red trench coat.
Stranger still — beneath the trench coat, there was nothing else.
He lay there on the floor, naked under the coat, which was splayed open.
The body was already visibly stiff. As the officers moved closer, they noticed his right hand was clutching fragments of a talisman.
“Isn’t that… kind of similar to the one from Ng Mei Yan?” Old You drew in a sharp breath.
Shen Zhicheng’s expression changed abruptly, his breath catching — yet he didn’t step back half a step.
Without a word, Li Heng moved slightly in front of him, blocking the shocking sight from his view.
Her expression remained unchanged as she turned to Lin Jiacong: “Chase up Forensic Examiner Chen again.”
“Just called — he said three minutes.”
Shen Zhicheng stared at Li Heng’s back, momentarily stunned.
She hadn’t said anything, her expression calm — as if she just happened to be standing there.
But he understood that, no matter what, this was something he had to get through on his own.
Today was already a little better than yesterday.
Shen Zhicheng took a deep breath, then stepped forward and stood steadily beside her.
…
The neighbors were whispering among themselves in clusters, the caretaker running back and forth, his sweat impossible to tell if from heat or fear.
Forty minutes later, Chief Inspector Pan Liqin arrived at the scene in a hurry.
But before he could even enter the building, he was surrounded by a swarm of reporters.
Cameras and microphones were thrust at him from all directions.
“Sir Pan, the two cases share striking similarities — is this a serial killing? Will there be a third victim?”
“Feng Shui master Ku just said on TV yesterday that the yin energy on the fourteenth of the seventh month is especially heavy this year, with the gates of hell wide open and spirits claiming lives. With this news breaking, it’s bound to cause widespread panic among the public…”
Downstairs, reporters’ questions came one after another.
In the stairwell, a few officers stood eating boxed meals with chopsticks, the atmosphere heavy.
This level of media attention meant the case was under enormous public pressure from the very start.
The reporters’ sharp questions continued to echo.
“Sir Pan — the first case: a woman in red found drowned. The second: a man in red found naked in front of a mirror.”
“There are already rumors circulating that this is the work of water ghosts and lustful spirits claiming lives in succession. How does the police respond?”
Shen Zhicheng looked at his boxed meal and suddenly lost his appetite: “The fourteenth of the seventh month — the gates of hell open.”
Li Heng turned to him: “Today is already the fifteenth.”
Shen Zhicheng raised a hand in resignation, signaling her to stop: “You don’t have to comfort me—”
“I’m not.” Li Heng shook her head and explained: “Mid-July, ghosts run amok.”
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