“When I was learning the trade, my master always said: the biggest taboo in our line of work is a crooked heart. Retribution may be slow, but it always comes. Someone like Ku Cheung Fung — sooner or later, he’d get what was coming to him.”
Li Heng asked: “Was that child a local around Temple Street? What year did this happen?”
The fortune-teller nodded: “I used to see her around here — her father sold ding-ding candy under the footbridge. As for the year… I can’t recall exactly.”
“You might want to ask Granny Luk at the herbal tea shop. She’s lived here for decades — the most helpful person on the whole street. Nothing happens around here that she doesn’t know about — she’s famous as Temple Street’s go-to.”
“We just came from the herbal tea shop — didn’t see her there.”
“Her grandson runs the shop now. The old lady doesn’t like being out front.” The fortune-teller pointed toward the tea shop. “There’s a small courtyard out back where she boils the tea. Granny Luk spends all day there soaking up the sun — go look for her there.”
…
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng went back to the herbal tea shop at the end of the street.
The young owner’s tone was dismissive as he waved them off: “My grandmother’s at that age — she’s confused about everything. She wouldn’t know anything about your case. She can’t help you.”
The next second, the Shen family heir spoke up and ordered four hundred cups of herbal tea — to be sent to the company’s office building in the name of Shen Chongnian, one cup for every employee.
The owner was stunned at first, then broke into a wide grin: “Thank you for the business, thank you. But I don’t have that much stock right now — I’ll need to brew more.”
Shen Zhicheng waved: “No rush. Just send it over whenever it’s ready.”
Li Heng glanced sideways at him.
They could have just shown their badges — but this young master had precious little patience. Anything that could be solved with money was easier than wasting words.
“Grandfather always says I never take care of the company — well, now I’m doing something for the employees,” Shen Zhicheng explained.
Li Heng raised an eyebrow: “Such bitter herbal tea — and you call that a perk?”
“Madam, you wouldn’t understand. Our Luk’s herbal tea uses real ingredients — one cup clears heat, moisturizes the lungs, and soothes all irritation — of course it’s a perk.” The owner chatted as he led them through to the courtyard out back, calling out to an elderly woman: “Grandma — these two police officers want to ask you about the old days on Temple Street.”
Granny Luk was a kindly elderly woman with silver hair, lounging in a rattan chair, soaking up the sun.
Li Heng walked up beside her, her tone gentle: “Granny, we’d like to ask you about a few people.”
Granny Luk looked up, smiling warmly at her, but didn’t respond.
Li Heng realized immediately — the old lady’s hearing wasn’t good.
She crouched down in front of Granny Luk, slowed her speech, and made sure she could read her lips: “Granny — do you remember the family that used to live around here — the one that sold ding-ding candy under the footbridge? They had a daughter.”
Granny Luk just smiled, still no response.
Li Heng turned to Shen Zhicheng, tilting her chin toward him.
Shen Zhicheng pointed at his own nose unwillingly: “Me?”
But since the boss had spoken, he had no choice. He leaned in close to the old lady and repeated the question at the top of his voice.
After he was done, he shot Li Heng a sideways glare — she had a mouth too, why did he have to be her human megaphone?
This time, Granny Luk nodded: “Ah Sing’s family. That child was the most well-behaved — whenever she had time, she’d sit under the footbridge doing her homework.”
Li Heng pressed: “Does Ah Sing’s family still live on Temple Street?”
Shen Zhicheng repeated it loudly.
Granny Luk shook her head and sighed repeatedly: “Ah Sing — poor man, such a hard life. Just when things were starting to get better, he was arrested by the police.”
Shen Zhicheng was taking notes while leaning in to relay questions — it was a chaotic mess.
He looked up to find Li Heng sitting calmly, having even dragged over a red plastic stool from the corner of the courtyard to sit and soak up the sun with Granny Luk.
“Granny — did Ah Sing go to prison?”
“Yes, yes, he went to prison…”
“What did he do?”
Granny Luk shook her head: “Ah Sing was such an honest, timid man — how could he have killed anyone…”
The old lady struggled to hear, often asking back. Every sentence had to be shouted and repeated, confirmed again and again.
What should have taken ten or twenty minutes to record ended up taking over an hour.
Li Heng listened carefully, piecing together Granny Luk’s fragmented words to clarify what had happened back then.
The man who sold ding-ding candy under the footbridge was called Ah Sing — honest and hardworking. His family of three lived in poverty. But for a while, it seemed like he’d come into some money — he bought his wife a gold necklace and his daughter several new dresses. It was the first time Granny Luk had seen them living so well. But the good days didn’t last — Ah Sing was soon arrested on suspicion of murder.
Not long after, Ah Sing’s wife died in a car accident. Only their daughter was left.
Then the child disappeared too — no one ever saw her again.
Li Heng asked: “Granny — what was Ah Sing’s daughter’s name?”
“That child had such a good nature.” Granny Luk rocked in her rattan chair. “When she got that new dress, she treasured it like gold. She’d pass by my tea shop and stand at the door asking me if she looked pretty. I said, let Granny treat you to some herbal tea — and she immediately covered her mouth and ran off laughing.”
Most of the kids on Temple Street ran wild all day, getting dirty and messy.
But she was always clean. At that age, what child didn’t love to play? She was just so careful with that new dress, afraid of getting it dirty.
“Her name should be Siu Suet,” Granny Luk said. “I told my husband back then — Ah Sing didn’t give her the wrong name. That child’s face and her dress were both snowy white.”
Li Heng’s heart tightened: “Was her name Yeung Mong Suet?”
Granny Luk squinted, thinking for a long time, then shook her head: “I only knew her as Siu Suet. Her full name — I really can’t remember.”
…
After leaving the tea shop, Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng went on to visit more of the neighbors.
There were too many people coming and going on Temple Street, trying to make a living. Ah Sing was just a small vendor selling ding-ding candy under the footbridge — honest and unremarkable. Almost no one remembered him.
No one could say his full name, or recall the exact year of the incident, or know what crime he’d been accused of — so they couldn’t even determine which police district had handled the case.
With only scattered leads, the two had no choice but to return to the station.
It was the second time that day they’d brought Ku Cheung Fung in for questioning.
He sat across from them, hands clasped, his face full of impatience.
It wasn’t until Li Heng mentioned the ding-ding candy vendor Ah Sing, his wife who died in a car accident, and the child Siu Suet who had caused a scene at his stall — that his expression slowly shifted.
“I do remember a child…”
“You’re saying that child — that female journalist — was the little girl from back then?”
Ku’s face paled.
“A woman came to me one day, saying her husband had been arrested and was being charged with murder. She said she’d spent the whole night waiting outside the police station with her daughter, desperate. She came to me for a fortune — wanted to know if there was still hope for her husband’s case.”
“She was dressed in rags, her clothes faded from washing — clearly she had no money. I didn’t take it seriously. I casually told her her husband was destined for prison. The only way to avert it was if she or her daughter suffered a bloody calamity.”
Ku said that after hearing that, the woman had frozen completely.
Later, the little girl came running to his stall, saying her mother had been hit by a car and killed.
Li Heng’s expression darkened.
Had Ah Sing’s wife, in her desperation, gone to Ku for a fortune — and been driven to the edge by his reckless words?
After that, the little girl, full of hatred, had left Temple Street and vanished.
“She was the one without a brain — that’s got nothing to do with me…” Ku’s voice carried a hint of fear, though he tried to act calm. “When are you going to let me go? I didn’t kill anyone — you’ve already found that out. So why am I still locked up?”
Li Heng looked at him coldly, her words measured and deliberate: “Bribing Wong Sai Mui to give false testimony — obstructing justice. Using two murder cases to incite panic and selling overpriced ‘blessed’ jade pendants — fraud. Those two charges alone are enough to convict you. As for whether your words about a ‘bloody calamity’ led to someone’s death — we’ll continue gathering evidence and see this through.”
“Ku Cheung Fung — you’ll be rotting in prison!” Old You slammed the table, his voice booming.
Ku froze completely, his face going ashen.
He’d always thought he was just making money off Feng Shui — at worst, it was unethical, not criminal. He’d been waiting for the police to clear him of the murders and let him go. Losing his reputation as a Feng Shui master was just bad luck, he’d accept that.
But he’d never dreamed that these old debts would come back to haunt him — and that he might actually go to prison.
“Off—officers, both of you!” His voice began to tremble. “I didn’t — I didn’t mean to… This has nothing to do with me!”
Even after the interrogation room door closed, his stammering pleas still echoed in Li Heng’s ears.
She didn’t look back, pushing down the surge of emotion, and gave the order: “First, pull the case files from that year.”
…
Old You made a trip to the old records room at the police headquarters building.
When he came back, his brow was furrowed.
“Madam — we don’t have enough to go on. All we know is ‘Ah Sing,’ the ding-ding candy vendor under the Temple Street footbridge. No full name, no ID number, not even the exact year. There are thousands and thousands of paper files — are we supposed to request the entire West Kowloon force to help look through them? That’s not realistic…”
Meanwhile, Shen Zhicheng and a few other officers were going through the entry records line by line.
When the young master had first parachuted into Team A, the officers had sighed among themselves, convinced he’d only cause trouble and be useless.
But as they worked with him, they found he had sharp observational skills — he just lacked patience by nature. After sitting too long, he’d get up and pace around.
The tedious, repetitive screening work was enough to make anyone’s head spin.
“Anyone want milk tea?” Shen Zhicheng asked.
The officers perked up immediately, chiming in one after another.
“Iced milk tea — no tea base, all milk — thanks!”
“Yin-yang with less ice, please.”
“Hot chocolate — not too sweet.”
Thirty minutes later, the afternoon tea arrived.
Shen Zhicheng carried a cup of iced yin-yang coffee tea and pushed open the door to the conference room — only to pause at the sight before him.
Li Heng was still buried in the case files.
She had pulled out every relevant statement and spread them across the table, covering it completely.
She read each one carefully, then walked to the whiteboard to reorganize and summarize the leads.
There were too many things Li Heng couldn’t make sense of. Which lead was the key, and which was just irrelevant noise?
If Ku Cheung Fung was being targeted by the child Siu Suet from back then, what did Ng Mei Yan and Yiu Chun Fai have to do with it?
Why had these two people been killed one after another?
Li Heng’s gaze swept across line after line of testimony — then stopped. Her fingertip landed on one sentence.
“A few years ago, Tung Chi Ming’s business failed and he was drowning in debt. I told her to divorce him, but Mei Yan would rather borrow money from everywhere to support him — she stuck by him through it all.”
That was from the statement of Lee Wai Yi — the cousin of the first victim, Ng Mei Yan.
Next, she quickly pulled out all the statements related to Yiu Chun Fai.
“Back then, he was just an ordinary secondary school teacher on a single salary — supporting both of us through school and caring for our grandparents on both sides.”
“Back then, we never even dreamed we’d have the chance to study abroad.”
That was from the statement of Yiu Ho Sun — the son of the second victim, Yiu Chun Fai.
Li Heng stared at these two passages.
Outside the conference room, a few officers peeked in.
Lin Jiacong muttered under his breath: “Our Madam — she’s so deep in the case she’s losing her mind?”
Old You smacked the back of his head.
Just then, Shen Zhicheng’s mobile phone rang — it was Shen Yong Xuan.
Her voice was barely a whisper: “I heard knocking — it’s Uncle Cheung and your grandfather talking outside. Why did they show up all of a sudden?”
“Aunt, you handle it yourself.” Shen Zhicheng kept his voice low and hung up quickly.
The conference room was very quiet.
No one dared to go in and disturb her. In the end, it was Shen Zhicheng who tiptoed in and placed a cup of iced yin-yang coffee tea in front of her.
Li Heng’s fingertip touched the cup’s edge, then she pulled her hand back.
She slowly stood up, her furrowed brow finally smoothing out — no more hesitation.
“Look into two things immediately. First, the year Tung Chi Ming’s business failed — when Ng Mei Yan borrowed money to help him get back on his feet.” Li Heng’s tone was certain. “Second, the year Yiu Chun Fai suddenly sent his two sons abroad to study.”
“If both events happened in the same year, at the same time — narrow the timeline, lock in the date, and cross-check all homicide cases in Hong Kong from that period.”
Team A officers sprang into action.
The freshly baked egg tarts and toasted buns went cold. The ice in the milk tea melted completely.
No one had time to take a single bite or sip.
…
But that sacrificed afternoon tea paid off — at six in the evening, the case finally saw a breakthrough.
One by one, the officers reported their findings.
“Ten years ago, Tung Chi Ming and Ng Mei Yan had just gotten married. His business hit a wall and was on the verge of bankruptcy. It was Ng Mei Yan who borrowed a sum of money from somewhere and helped his company recover. But the source of that money can’t be traced — Tung Chi Ming couldn’t say who she’d borrowed it from.”
“Also ten years ago, Yiu Chun Fai’s two sons, Yiu Ho On and Yiu Ho Sun, successfully went abroad to study. At the time, he was still just an ordinary secondary school teacher — not the tutoring king he later became. His income wouldn’t have been enough to cover the costs.”
Just as they finished speaking, Shen Zhicheng and Lin Jiacong pushed open the CID room door and strode in.
“Madam — we found the old case file!” Lin Jiacong spoke quickly. “Ten years ago, Yeung Ching Sing was charged with murder. He refused to confess to the end, and eventually died in prison.”
Shen Zhicheng set the file down: “Case files from ten years ago are all paper-based — not entered into the system. We could only see the case number for Yeung Ching Sing, not the full witness list. But after going through it line by line with Ah Chung, we found—”
He paused, looking around at everyone.
“Turns out — the two victims, Ng Mei Yan and Yiu Chun Fai — were both key witnesses in Yeung Ching Sing’s murder case back then.”
The CID room fell silent for a long moment.
At this point, the case’s threads were finally becoming clear.
Ng Mei Yan’s talk of “atonement,” the talisman clutched in Yiu Chun Fai’s hand, and Ku Cheung Fung’s poisonous words —
At this moment, three seemingly unrelated leads finally wove together.
Pointing directly at the real killer.
Leave a Reply