This past seemed completely unrelated to the serial murders.
Li Heng shook her head slightly, signaling her not to interrupt.
“What happened then?” Li Heng asked at the right moment.
“When I was sixteen, my adoptive mother got sick — the doctors said she had at most three months left,” Yeung Mong Suet said. “After all those years — she was so kind, so gentle — I had truly come to see her as my mother. It was then that I finally let go of my reservations and started calling them Mommy and Daddy. I kept calling her ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy’… She was so happy — she kept smiling — just like that day at the children’s home when she first took my hand and brought me home.”
For a moment, Yeung Mong Suet fell silent, lost in that sorrowful memory. She took a moment to compose herself.
“She still left,” she said. “Before she went — she wanted to hear me call her ‘Mommy’ one last time.”
Even such heartfelt calls and attachment couldn’t keep her adoptive mother, Wai Suk Wan, from leaving.
Unlike the sudden death of her birth mother, her adoptive mother’s death had been foreshadowed. She lay in the hospital bed, day after day, until finally, she closed her eyes. Yeung Mong Suet was also grief-stricken — but she knew it was her adoptive mother’s release. She wept bitterly, said her farewells, and from then on, it was just her and her adoptive father.
“You lived together for many years after that — until two months ago,” Li Heng said, glancing at the international cross-border inquiry report before looking up. “Your adoptive father, Wong San Man, was found dead at home from an overdose of sleeping pills.”
Speaking of the man who had raised her for ten years, Yeung Mong Suet’s eyes showed little emotion.
“When their biological daughter, Wai On Yi, was little, she’d get a beautiful dress every year for her birthday. Every year after that, they’d give me a dress as a birthday gift too,” Yeung Mong Suet said slowly. “About two months ago — it was Wai On Yi’s birthday. That day, Wong San Man gave me a birthday present — a beautiful red dress. He even cooked a big meal himself.”
Fang Zhishan noticed that she now used her adoptive father’s full name.
“He drank a lot that day — he got really drunk, repeating over and over that he couldn’t believe he’d raised me for ten years.”
“You know — after drinking, people say things they’d never say sober. Drunk words are sober thoughts. That night, he looked at me and said ‘I’m sorry’ over and over — that he owed me.”
“He’d been so good to me — everything I had came from them. I should have been grateful… What did he have to be sorry for?” Yeung Mong Suet paused. “But somehow — in that moment — it all clicked.”
Yeung Mong Suet was sharp.
From her adoptive father’s drunken lapse, she sensed something was off.
At ten years old, she’d accompanied her birth mother, day and night, waiting outside the police station, trying to find out if there was any hope for her father’s case. She’d overheard bits of conversation, quietly filing away fragments — the victim’s identity, background, education, and the struggles of starting a business.
She vaguely remembered — the victim and her adoptive father had gone to the same secondary school.
She also remembered — her father’s case had taken over half a year, from investigation to trial to final verdict.
Then, when it was all settled — coincidentally — her adoptive parents came to the children’s home and adopted her.
“Mommy didn’t know. She adopted me because I looked like Wai On Yi,” Yeung Mong Suet said. “And Wong San Man agreed — because he felt he owed me. And he owed my birth father.”
Yeung Mong Suet pressed and probed, and finally pieced together the truth from Wong San Man.
“The victim was Wong San Man’s old classmate from secondary school — and his business partner. They’d worked together in their early years. Later, when they started making money, the other man tried to push him out. In the early days of the business, Wong San Man had operated in some gray areas — and he’d been the one signing those documents. The other man used those files to blackmail him — forcing him to give up his shares and hand over all the money — or he’d expose everything and destroy his career and reputation, leaving him with nothing.”
“That company was Wong San Man’s life’s work. He would never let it go.”
They’d once been friends who shared everything — calling each other brothers wasn’t an exaggeration. But when it came to money, the other man turned on him. Wong San Man saw his true face — the man didn’t just want the money, he wanted to make sure he could never get back up.
Wong San Man refused to be blackmailed. He knew that the other man had all the inside information — and those secrets would be a constant threat, giving him no peace.
“Whether before or after moving abroad, Wong San Man built his business successfully. Someone like that — how could he let himself be pushed around?”
In the end, Wong San Man decided to kill him with his own hands.
At that time, Sha Tin was already chaotic and lawless. He took the victim’s gold and money, staging it as a robbery-homicide.
After the murder, he drove away and spotted Ng Mei Yan and Yiu Chun Fai passing by. To be safe, he bribed them both heavily to give false testimony. And when Yeung Ching Sing happened to appear at the scene and picked up the discarded loot — he became the perfect scapegoat.
“He said he was sorry. He said he didn’t regret killing that man — he’d long hated his face. What he regretted most was harming my father — and those years of guilt had plagued him day and night because of that. He said my father was an unfortunate man.”
“On the surface, they were close partners. And because the police had already arrested my father — with solid witnesses and evidence — Wong San Man was never suspected at all.”
Wong San Man told Yeung Mong Suet that Wai Suk Wan had been the one to propose the adoption.
Wai Suk Wan knew nothing of his crime. She’d simply seen this child at the public hearing — a child who bore a resemblance to her deceased daughter. She couldn’t bear to leave such a child in a children’s home. And this child had given her hope — after a devastating loss that had nearly broken her. Wong San Man had built his business on Wai Suk Wan’s family money, and he’d always listened to her. After much hesitation, he’d agreed to the adoption.
“So the emigration — it was because he was afraid of staying in the country, afraid that the past would catch up with him. He wanted a fresh start, a new environment. He just never expected to take a child with him when he left.”
“And because of me, Wong San Man could never forget what happened that year — he never had a single peaceful night’s sleep again.”
Yeung Mong Suet’s life was once again turned upside down — just like ten years ago.
The man who had lovingly raised her for ten years — was the real killer who had sent her father to prison unjustly.
In that moment, every belief she held crumbled.
“Within days — he killed himself.” Yeung Mong Suet closed her eyes. “Swallowed an entire bottle of pills, left a suicide note, and left me all his money — said it was compensation. Later, I found his medical report — he’d also been diagnosed with a terminal illness.”
Wong San Man had watched his wife, Wai Suk Wan, waste away from illness — until at death, she was nothing but skin and bones. He was afraid — he didn’t want to suffer the same way — so he chose to end it himself.
“He finally found peace — and handed all his pain to me.”
Overnight, she had more money than she could ever spend.
But she could no longer find any meaning in living — until she remembered her birth father.
She’d been too young to return to the country as a child. Now, she was an adult.
In the end, Yeung Mong Suet packed her bags and booked a flight back.
…
If Yeung Ching Sing were still alive, maybe Yeung Mong Suet could have convinced herself to let go of the hatred and start over.
Now that she had the means, she would have done everything to appeal his case and clear his name. The lost time couldn’t be reclaimed — but at least they would have had a future.
But when she returned to Hong Kong, she learned the truth.
Her father had died in prison years ago — and the news had never reached her.
They would never see each other again.
The red dress she’d inadvertently packed in her suitcase — it hadn’t been planned as a murder weapon. It was just an opportunity — which gave her the idea of committing the crimes during the Ghost Festival. She’d originally planned to dress Nannán in red, to fit the tale of a hanging ghost claiming a life.
But after much consideration, she’d spared the child for now. Revenge had its proper order — the first target should be Ng Mei Yan, who had given false testimony back then.
Yeung Mong Suet’s revenge plan slowly unfolded.
“The first to die was Ng Mei Yan,” Yeung Mong Suet said flatly. “The Ghost Festival needs the right atmosphere — otherwise, it wouldn’t draw attention to the old case. She was soft — not hard to handle at all. I asked her to meet me at Ngong Shuen Chau and told her to change into that red dress. She thought the whole time that if she just did what I said, that would be enough.”
“She never expected I was coming for her life. Right before she died, Ng Mei Yan begged me — said Nannán was still young and needed her mother — she couldn’t die. She said she’d spent her whole life wronging me and would make it up to me, little by little.”
“I was young then too — I needed my parents too. No one ever thought about me — why should I think about them?”
“How ridiculous — Wong San Man was the same, and Ng Mei Yan was the same. They all said they’d make it up to me. But how? Could they give me back my parents?”
“While we were struggling, in her panic — her nails scratched my arm.”
“You were worried about blood and skin cells left on her handbag,” Li Heng said quietly. “So after pushing her into the water, you swapped your handbag with hers — to clean up the traces.”
Yeung Mong Suet didn’t deny it.
After leaving Ngong Shuen Chau, she disposed of the yellow dress Ng Mei Yan had changed out of, and the bag with the bloodstains — then headed to the TV station.
She arrived just before midnight.
She’d already collected Ku Cheung Fung’s talismans and found out he was a guest on that night’s supernatural show. She rehearsed her lines repeatedly to leave no trace of doubt — her only concern was how to naturally appear before him.
But to her surprise, after waiting downstairs at the TV station for nearly half an hour — he showed up, cigarette in hand.
“You see — he’d done so much evil that even heaven was helping me.”
That day, with a cigarette between her fingers, Yeung Mong Suet had spoken to Ku Cheung Fung with flawless ease, playing the part of a real journalist — passing him the carefully prepared information as if it were only natural.
“Of course, he might not have believed me. I had a backup plan — I figured he’d take the bait before the body was found. But then I saw him on that obscure supernatural show, actually following my words — talking about the gates of hell opening on the 14th of the seventh month, spirits coming to claim lives.”
“I overestimated him — I didn’t need to go through all that trouble preparing so many plans.”
“The next day — the 15th — it was Yiu Chun Fai’s turn.”
“He’d lived comfortably for ten years — now it was his turn.”
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