Yesterday afternoon, the little girl had hung her head, big teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
The child already knew that Ng Mei Yan had been killed. Even though she was still too young to fully understand, because Madam sister had said she’d helped catch the bad guys, she wanted even more to do something.
A gentle female voice came through the receiver: “Nannán, we mustn’t disturb the police while they’re working. Your mommy’s case — they will definitely get to the bottom of it. They’re very busy right now and can’t be distracted.”
“How about I drop off your drawing at the police station after work?” the teacher offered helpfully. “That way, you won’t get in the way of their investigation, and you’ll still be doing your part.”
“But…” The little girl’s voice was clearly disappointed, yet she still couldn’t bring herself to hang up.
Li Heng was preoccupied with the composite sketch progress and couldn’t spare much attention.
But hearing the child’s earnest voice, she couldn’t help but relent.
“Alright,” she said. “I’ll be right there.”
The moment she stepped out of the office, she ran into Shen Zhicheng, who had just returned from interviews.
“Come with me.” Li Heng didn’t slow down.
Without a word, Shen Zhicheng followed, taking the car keys she handed him.
Lin Jiacong followed behind, carrying a thick stack of freshly verified documents. Watching this scene, his lips curled downward.
When he’d been paired with the young master on fieldwork earlier, the guy had acted every bit the pampered rich heir. How come he was so diligent in front of the boss?
The young master was actually brown-nosing his superior.
Lin Jiacong turned around and muttered in sudden realization: “So he’s a bootlicker!”
…
When Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng arrived at the kindergarten, a female teacher was already holding Nannán’s hand at the entrance.
Seeing them, she bent down to speak softly to the child, then stepped forward.
“You must be Madam and Sir from the Major Crime Unit? Nannán was worried you wouldn’t find the way, so she insisted on waiting here.” Teacher Wai led them into a parents’ lounge and said gently: “Nannán has been especially well-behaved. Today’s art class theme was ‘draw Mommy.’ After she finished, she said she wanted to help you solve the case.”
“I know this might be a bit of an interruption, but the child hasn’t been doing well these past two days. I really couldn’t bear to refuse her, so I called 999 and asked to be transferred to your West Kowloon headquarters. I’m sorry,” Teacher Wai said.
Nannán looked up, waited for the teacher to finish, then held out the drawing with both hands, eager to give it to the officers.
“It’s no trouble.” Li Heng crouched down and took the drawing Nannán handed her.
The child’s strokes were cute and unpolished, capturing the image of her mother as she saw her.
The woman in the drawing wore a knee-length dress. Nannán had used crayon to fill it with large swaths of bright yellow, the color roughly smudged beyond the skirt’s outline — clearly done with small hands carefully rubbing. Her fingertips were still faintly stained with yellow.
Nannán looked up at Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng with innocent, hopeful eyes.
In the bottom right corner of the drawing was Nannán’s full name. She’d only just learned to write — the three characters were uneven, one big and two small, as if dancing. Li Heng’s heart softened. She was about to say something when her gaze fell on the woman’s shoulders in the drawing.
Besides the yellow dress, Nannán had drawn two thick lines on the shoulder.
The crayon lines were crooked and almost blended with the yellow dress — hard to spot without close attention.
“Nannán, what are these two lines you drew?” Li Heng asked.
Nannán stood on tiptoe, following the direction of Madam sister’s finger, and said in her little voice: “That’s Mommy’s bag.”
Li Heng’s gaze flickered.
She clearly remembered that only an elegant handbag had been pulled from the water with the body — containing Ng Mei Yan’s Octopus card and Chinese medicine receipt. But that handbag had thin, short straps — it could only be carried by hand, never worn over the shoulder.
Shen Zhicheng also crouched down, his voice gentle: “Are you sure Mommy was carrying this bag?”
Nannán tilted her head, thought for a moment, then nodded firmly.
Li Heng immediately called the station and asked Teacher Wai if she could use the fax machine.
A few minutes later, the evidence photo of the handbag came through.
The freshly printed paper was still warm. Li Heng held it out: “Wasn’t Mommy carrying this bag when she went out?”
“Nannán, do you recognize this bag?”
“This bag…” Nannán held the paper in her little hands and stared at it for a long time. “I think I’ve seen it too.”
After all, she was still just a child. Nannán was only five — she couldn’t be pressed for more details. At this point, it was hard to get a definitive answer.
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng exchanged glances, both filled with confusion.
Had the victim been carrying two bags when she left that day? Why would she do that?
Nannán stood quietly to the side, neither fussing nor causing trouble.
Teacher Wai reached out and gently rubbed her little head, coaxing: “Nannán, how about you go over there and look at some picture books for a bit?”
After Nannán obediently trotted off to the corner and sat down, Teacher Wai lowered her voice.
She said softly that the child was truly pitiful. Ever since she started kindergarten, her mother had always been the one to pick her up and drop her off — her father was busy with work and rarely appeared. After what happened, the child knew she would never see her mother again — she had taken it very hard.
“Nannán can’t even sleep well during her afternoon nap. She wakes up crying, tears all over her face.” Teacher Wai looked down and sighed softly.
Li Heng gazed at the little girl’s small back in the corner.
She was looking at the picture book, her little hands flipping through the pages one by one — it was hard to tell if she was really understanding any of it.
Her tone steady, Li Heng said: “I’ll notify the psychological intervention team to follow up.”
“Thank you.” Teacher Wai said, with a hint of sorrow. “As teachers, we all know we should be honest with children and not deliberately hide things from them. But something this big — Mr. Tung really shouldn’t have told her so soon. Life and death is a lesson far too heavy for a five-year-old to bear.”
Li Heng’s gaze fell again on Nannán’s drawing.
Two bags… had the child misremembered, or had the police missed something?
“Actually, the reason I’m telling you all this is that I hope the police will take this case more seriously and do everything to find out the truth,” Teacher Wai said, her tone heavy.
Shen Zhicheng held his pen and slowly jotted down her words in his notebook.
Just then, someone nearby called out: “Teacher Wai — come fill out the subsidy paperwork for the end of the month.”
“Then please have another teacher look after the child for a moment.” Teacher Wai stepped out of the lounge and carefully instructed: “When the police are done here, remember to take her back to the classroom.”
After Teacher Wai left, Shen Zhicheng pulled a piece of candy from his pocket.
On his first day, he’d made a mental note to carry small snacks when out on duty — and now it finally came in handy.
He held out the candy: “A reward for our little witness.”
Nannán thanked him obediently, took the candy with both hands, unwrapped it, and popped it into her little mouth.
Shen Zhicheng watched the child.
Nannán still didn’t fully understand — but as she grew older, she would. Until the person who killed her mother was found, this child would never truly be able to let it go.
Li Heng noticed the child eating candy and said immediately: “She could choke on that.”
Shen Zhicheng paused: “Then what do we do?”
“Don’t disturb her, and don’t let her run or jump,” Li Heng said. “Let her finish it slowly.”
So the two sat beside her, waiting quietly.
Normally, a few quick crunches and the candy would be gone.
But Nannán couldn’t bear to eat it in one bite. She only let it melt on the tip of her tongue, savoring it — holding it in her mouth for a long, long time.
The sweet taste of the candy slowly spread, and a shy smile finally appeared on Nannán’s face.
Which made her eat even more slowly.
After what felt like ages, Shen Zhicheng rested his chin on his hand: “Even dim sum tea isn’t this long.”
Li Heng also propped up her chin: “I’m getting sleepy just waiting.”
…
Back in the car, Li Heng carefully tucked Nannán’s drawing into her document folder.
One mystery remained unsolved, and a new lead had emerged. The investigation was growing more tangled from every direction — and the connection between the two cases still hadn’t been found. The more they tried to sort it out, the more chaotic it became.
The police car passed by the same department store. The glass curtain wall now displayed a brand-new giant fashion poster — a model in a sleek dress from the same brand as the red dress Ng Mei Yan had been wearing when she died, standing out prominently on the streets of Causeway Bay.
Li Heng recalled their interviews. Only five of the same red dress had been sold in all of Hong Kong. She and Fang Zhishan had visited each buyer one by one — all five dresses were still in their possession, not a single one missing.
So where did the sixth red dress — the one on the victim — come from?
Her gaze fell on the corner of the giant poster, where a line of small text noted that the brand had launched in China not long ago — its first domestic store.
“This brand was just introduced to Hong Kong a few months ago. We need to find out whether the brand has opened counters in other parts of China outside Hong Kong,” Li Heng said, organizing her thoughts. “If not, that’ll make things easier. Seasonal fashion takes too long to ship by sea.”
“You mean it was likely brought back by someone from an overseas counter?” Shen Zhicheng turned his head.
“After checking the mainland counters, we’ll focus on reviewing entry records from the past month — that’ll be our breakthrough,” Li Heng said.
When they returned to the station, a group of officers was gathered around the composite sketch that had just come out.
Wong Sai Mui recalled that the man had a prominent mole at the corner of his mouth and another below his eye. Though older, his hair was stylish — covering his ears — and he’d worn a hat.
“How are we supposed to find him? A mole at the mouth and one below the eye — it’s distinctive, sure, but even with clear features, the city’s huge — where do we even start? It’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Not to mention the cleaner was trembling the whole time she did the sketch — she might not even remember clearly. This could all turn out to be useless work.”
“The case has dragged on to this point without any real breakthrough. Looks like we’ll be pulling another all-nighter.”
“On Yiu Chun Fai’s side — Cheung Man Wah’s suspicion has been cleared. She said she was with a friend that night, but that friend left on an early morning business trip the next day and couldn’t be reached until now. That lead was finally verified.”
“You should have seen Cheung Man Wah’s attitude — giving us dirty looks, acting like she was above it all, as if we’d been wasting time because the police couldn’t do their job.”
As they spoke, Shen Zhicheng walked past.
The parachuted-in young master was as difficult as the rumors said. They couldn’t just pretend he was invisible — his cold aura made the atmosphere tense.
Lin Jiacong pursed his lips and looked away: “Now the leads on Yiu Chun Fai have dried up too.”
“But I still think those two talismans are connected. There’s no way it’s a coincidence — two deaths on consecutive days, and talismans found at both scenes.”
“Who knows if Tech can actually piece together the pattern.”
“Madam, the composite sketch is done.” Gao Zijie handed the portrait to Li Heng.
Li Heng took it and said to the officers nearby: “Make copies of the portrait and distribute them to all districts — have the uniformed officers keep an eye out during patrols. Also, go through the archives — missing persons, those with criminal records — cross-reference the features and see if anyone matches.”
“It’s still early — the dockworkers are busy unloading cargo. It’ll be hard to interview them all at once,” Old You volunteered. “I’ll take a couple of people later to the area around the crime scene and ask around to see if anyone saw him.”
“Track him down as soon as possible.” Li Heng nodded, then added: “Get in touch with the brand — find out where else they’ve opened counters in the region.”
She turned to Shen Zhicheng: “You’re on the immigration records line.”
The group acknowledged their assignments.
Li Heng took the composite sketch and walked toward her office.
Only when her figure had disappeared did Fang Zhishan murmur: “Madam’s been busy all day — she definitely hasn’t had lunch.”
Shen Zhicheng was at his desk, about to pull up the immigration records. At those words, he glanced at the clock on the wall.
He picked up his mobile phone and made a call.
Half an hour later, two waiters from the Peninsula Hotel walked into the office area carrying elegant meal boxes.
“Mr. Shen’s afternoon tea has arrived.”
Everyone was taken aback as the waiters laid out delicately plated pastries on the table. A rich aroma filled the room instantly. Some instinctively glanced toward Shen Zhicheng’s seat — only to remember he’d left to process some paperwork.
One waiter professionally introduced each item.
Truffle mushroom cream rolls, baked lobster puff pastries, foie gras mini toasts, fish maw cream tarts…
The Peninsula Hotel’s tea spread was undeniably extravagant. The aroma drew even Team B from next door — they poked their heads in, whispering among themselves.
Inside her office, Li Heng stared at the composite sketch, lost in thought.
It felt familiar — yet the more she studied it, the more something seemed off.
Two knocks at the door. Old You came in beaming, carrying a plate of afternoon tea.
“The young master’s treat,” he said, jerking his chin toward the door with a grin. “Afternoon tea time, Madam — have some.”
Li Heng took it, her fingers pausing slightly.
Shen Zhicheng wasn’t gentle with everyone. All his patience was reserved for those closest to him.
Beneath it all, he carried an air of arrogance that made him clash with his colleagues — and by extension, with the entire police force.
She realized she didn’t really know Shen Zhicheng at all.
So much of what he carried was hidden beneath his careless exterior.
She only hoped he wouldn’t always keep his spikes up, pushing everyone away — only to turn those spikes on himself when he was alone.
And she, too, was slowly trying to let down her guard.
Trying not to push away the warmth offered to her.
Old You was pleasantly surprised that Madam hadn’t refused. He smiled and turned to leave.
Outside, Team A was already eating with gusto, the atmosphere light and lively.
When Shen Zhicheng pushed open the CID room door with the immigration records, he saw smiles on everyone’s faces.
He’d only intended to order lunch for Li Heng — but because his instructions were too vague, the Peninsula Hotel manager had prepared a large spread.
And so, his sister’s lunch had inadvertently become the whole team’s afternoon tea.
Everyone was enjoying themselves, and they thanked him sincerely.
Shen Zhicheng wasn’t used to seeing smiles that were so straightforward — without calculation, without flattery.
He paused for a moment, momentarily at a loss for words.
Officers from Team B passed by, pretending to be passing through, their eyes constantly darting inside.
The two teams had always been rivals — the grudge ran deep. They competed fiercely over clearance rates, neither willing to back down. When Team B had afternoon tea, they’d leave their door wide open, cheering and making a racket just to make Team A jealous. But when the cases got tough and manpower was needed, Team B would keep their office door tightly shut.
Previously, Team A’s leader had been too soft-hearted. Even one of their own officers, Ah Lik, had been borrowed by Team B and never returned. Over the years, Team A had taken plenty of hits.
“I heard the higher-ups had a meeting just now and tore your Team A apart. Word is — if you don’t come up with something soon, the case is getting transferred to us. I don’t really care either way, but you lot are the ones losing face.” Senior Inspector Tse from Team B stood at the door, arms crossed, with a mocking smile. “I thought you’d caught wind and were working overtime.”
“The investigation’s not going well, but you sure know how to enjoy yourselves.” His gaze swept over the table of pastries. He let out a scoff. “Anyone would think this was a victory celebration.”
The moment he finished, everyone in Team A stiffened involuntarily.
The atmosphere turned cold instantly. Fang Zhishan was a bit bewildered. She glanced at Old You, who shook his head slightly — so she pressed her lips together and pretended not to hear. Wen Jie frowned deeply, kept her face straight, and continued organizing documents without a word. Lin Jiacong and Gao Zijie exchanged glances, barely concealing the anger in their eyes.
Shen Zhicheng leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed: “So much fire in your belly — have a bowl of bird’s nest soup to cool down.”
The remark broke the silence.
Old You laughed. Lin Jiacong and Gao Zijie’s brows relaxed too.
Team A officers all picked up their bowls and spoons.
Senior Inspector Tse looked at Shen Zhicheng, who was clearly putting on the airs of a rich young master: “You—”
The door to the Inspector’s office creaked open.
Li Heng walked out.
Tse turned his gaze toward her.
The case was under heavy pressure, rumors flying everywhere — and this bunch was feasting at the station. Anyone else might not have been so harsh, but this was Li Heng — the famously uncompromising Inspector of West Kowloon.
Her footsteps drew closer.
Tse tilted his chin toward Team A, a look of amusement in his eyes.
Everyone in Team A immediately straightened up, quietly putting down their bird’s nest soup.
But the next second, Li Heng walked straight over, picked up the last bowl of bird’s nest soup, and took the spoon Shen Zhicheng handed her.
“Waiting for something?” She looked up at Senior Inspector Tse, her tone cold and protective. “Wasn’t planning to share.”
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