The man’s voice was steady, but the woman’s was choked with sobs.
Shen Zhicheng looked toward the entrance: “They’re here.”
Li Heng followed his gaze.
Two figures hurried in, one after the other.
It was their Second Aunt, Cen Pei Lan, and their cousin, Shen Jing He.
With all the officers around, Cen Pei Lan didn’t notice the siblings standing in the corner of the living room.
Shen Jing He, dressed in a suit, stood tall. The moment he stepped inside, he spotted Shen Zhicheng and paused briefly.
Li Heng studied him quietly.
Shen Jing He was Shen Zhicheng’s older cousin — the two had grown up together. But over time, the gap between them grew. The cousin had established himself in finance, while Shen Zhicheng remained aimless and carefree.
Years had passed since they’d last seen each other. Shen Jing He gave Shen Zhicheng a slight nod, then turned his gaze to Li Heng.
He’d heard from his parents about the Shen family finding Zhining, and from his mother that the cousin who was an Inspector was sharp and formidable — someone who didn’t say much but had a commanding presence. She’d said that in front of her, she always seemed to say the wrong thing, as if her thoughts were laid bare. Now, face to face, Shen Jing He recognized Li Heng at once. But with the family tragedy, he didn’t bother with pleasantries. He supported his mother and hurried toward the study.
Soon, the sound of wailing came from the study.
“How could this happen? How could this happen?”
“When I left, he was fine — how could it be so sudden?”
“Jing He — your father was still young. Still so young…”
Compared to her composed son, Cen Pei Lan was clearly beside herself. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes red, and she kept asking why.
The officer in charge of questioning waited until her emotions had settled slightly before approaching with a notebook, speaking gently: “Mrs. Shen — please cooperate with our investigation. Where exactly were you last night?”
Shen Jing He handed her a handkerchief.
Cen Pei Lan dabbed at her tears: “These past few days, Kai Yiu’s been in a terrible mood. I felt I was only in his way, so I went back to my family’s place.”
“Did you have an argument?” Old You caught the key word.
“Yes — he’s always like that. When he’s in a bad mood, he takes it out on me. After that family dinner at Repulse Bay, he came home and found fault with everything I did — blaming me for saying too much, for embarrassing him.” Cen Pei Lan dabbed at the corner of her eyes with the handkerchief.
“He was the one who said a girl shouldn’t have to suffer, especially not a child of the Shen family. I was just following his lead — and somehow it became my fault for being ‘clumsy with words,’ making the atmosphere awkward, and everyone leaving unhappy.”
“How could it be my fault? He was the one who lost control. I was there, trying to calm him down, smoothing things over — and in the end, I got all the blame. After we came home, he snapped at me. I have my pride too — being treated like that made me both angry and hurt. I couldn’t stand staying in this house, so I went back to my family’s place in a fit of anger.”
She continued: “I’ve been at my family’s home these past few days — couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. But I never imagined he would end up like this. If I’d known, I would never have left. It’s my fault — if I’d stayed by his side, would things have been different…”
Shen Jing He put his arm around his mother’s shoulder, comforting her: “Mom — this was never your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”
Cen Pei Lan shook her head, crying so hard she couldn’t speak.
“Mrs. Shen — please think carefully. Had the deceased had any recent conflicts? Any business disputes, financial issues, or personal grudges?”
Hearing this, Cen Pei Lan shook her head firmly: “No — never. Kai Yiu was generous with his friends. Everyone knows how loyal he was. When friends asked to borrow money, he’d write a check without hesitation and never pressed them to pay it back. Why would he have any enemies? He had business failures, sure — but those were normal investment losses. Everyone parted on good terms. If anything, our family usually ended up at a disadvantage — there were never any personal grudges.”
She paused, thinking for a long time: “He only argued with me recently. The day I left, we fought badly — Kai Yiu even smashed an antique vase in the middle of it.”
The officers exchanged knowing glances.
The maid, Auntie Lin, hadn’t mentioned any of this — probably because, as an employee, she didn’t dare speak about the family’s private matters.
Old You continued recording the statement: “Your daughter didn’t come back?”
Shen Jing He spoke up: “My sister has a very important cello solo performance the day after tomorrow — she’s been preparing for it for six months. A family tragedy like this would affect her performance. So I’ve kept it from her for now — I don’t want to disturb her.”
The officers’ expressions shifted slightly at that.
Lin Jiacong murmured behind them: “This is the rich for you — a performance is more important than family? That’s her father we’re talking about!”
“Instead of worrying about these rich people, worry about us,” Gao Zijie whispered. “We’re definitely working late tonight — you got any instant noodles in your locker?”
The more Cen Pei Lan recalled, the harder it was for her to stay composed. She looked at her husband’s body in the office chair and sobbed uncontrollably.
“Did either of you contact the deceased, Shen Kai Yiu, in the past two days?”
Cen Pei Lan shook her head: “We’d just had a fight — why would I reach out? He’s always been like this — after his anger cooled down, he’d come get me, and I’d give him an out. After so many years of marriage, we knew each other’s temperaments. But I never imagined… I’d never get that chance again…”
Shen Jing He said: “I rarely talked to my father. The last time he contacted me was to tell me to go to Grandfather’s for a meal. But I didn’t want to go — I made an excuse about work. He got angry, accused me of not valuing family. But the truth is, Grandfather never really welcomed me or my sister anyway… I got upset too, and we argued. He hung up on me. After that, we didn’t talk or see each other.”
In the living room, Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng sat upright on the sofa.
Shen Zhicheng whispered: “Isn’t it a bit inappropriate for us to be sitting here eavesdropping?”
“How is it eavesdropping?” Li Heng pointed at the wide-open door. “The wind’s just blowing their testimony over here.”
Shen Zhicheng nodded: “We can’t exactly cover our ears.”
…
Before long, Pan Liqin drove up to the Kowloon Tong house.
He walked in quickly, listened to Old You’s report on the scene investigation and the forensic examiner’s preliminary findings, and flipped through the statements from Auntie Lin, the other domestic helpers who had arrived, and the victim’s wife and son — organizing the available information. After the scene was fully wrapped up, Pan Liqin signaled for everyone to pull back and return to the station for a meeting.
Before leaving, Cen Pei Lan finally noticed Li Heng in the room. She stepped forward and grabbed her wrist: “We’re family — you have to help your Second Uncle… you have to find out who killed him.”
Shen Jing He walked up to Shen Zhicheng, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and offered one.
When it was refused, he put the pack away, a flicker of confusion crossing his mind. He’d heard his cousin was a police officer — of course she’d be at a crime scene. But why was his cousin here too?
The mother and son lingered for a moment, confirmed that the police would seal the house for now, and then left.
Though they weren’t involved in the case, Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng stayed at the scene until the wrap-up was complete.
Before getting into the police car, Pan Liqin said to them: “I’ve got the full picture now. You two are not to touch this case at all. There are still some routine tasks at the station — you can work as usual tomorrow.”
“But you don’t have to push through today.” He paused, his tone softening. “With what’s happened at home, go back and rest — take the time to adjust.”
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng acknowledged quietly.
An officer nearby offered to drive them down the mountain.
Li Heng shook her head: “We’ll walk a bit.”
Pan Liqin nodded. Before getting into the car, he held the door open and called after them: “Give your aunt my regards.”
Shen Zhicheng didn’t turn back — just raised his arm and waved to show he’d heard.
One by one, the official vehicles drove past, winding down the mountain road. Their exhaust slowly dissipated, and soon the taillights disappeared around the bend.
The siblings walked slowly down the mountain, silent for a long time.
Shen Zhicheng spoke suddenly: “I really didn’t expect him to go like this.”
He stopped and turned to look back along the winding road.
“I used to play around here all the time. No one was watching — after everyone was asleep, I’d sneak my bike out and ride around.”
“The road up the mountain was steep and long — riding up was exhausting, drenched in sweat. But flying down the slopes — the speed, the freedom — you have no idea how thrilling it was.”
A hint of a smile crept into Li Heng’s eyes: “So that’s how you became a speed demon — the fastest driver, no one could catch you on those mountain roads?”
The words were familiar — Shen Zhicheng smiled, looking down.
Back then, before they’d properly acknowledged each other as siblings, they’d stood in the Cheung Sha Wan back alley, looking up at the night sky, talking to their deceased mother.
Their parents were gone. And now their Second Uncle was gone too — taking with him any chance of uncovering the truth.
The wind brushed past their ears, rustling the leaves along the roadside.
Shen Zhicheng felt a pang of melancholy — not grief for his uncle, but a realization that so many people passed through life in a flash. You never noticed until that moment that the last time you saw them was truly the last.
“Have you ever…” Shen Zhicheng asked suddenly, “experienced losing someone close to you?”
The wind whispered past like a soft murmur, but Li Heng’s pace didn’t change.
“In the orphanage, I had a good friend,” she said softly. “We ate together, shared the same blanket at night. Even the little bunny plush the social worker gave us — we’d each hold one long ear and play together.”
“But then she left.”
“She had a severe congenital illness — she held on until she was eight. The director said it was already a miracle she lived that long.” Li Heng’s voice grew quieter. “Before she died, she asked me — she said she’d been so good, she’d tried so hard to live. What had she done wrong? Why did her parents abandon her? She could barely speak, but she kept asking — she wanted to know why.”
“That was when I made up my mind — when I grew up, I was going to be a police officer. I wanted to find the truth for her, and catch every bad adult who abandoned their children.” Li Heng lowered her gaze, her voice faint. “But I was too young then to understand — being a fit parent was never within any police district’s jurisdiction, nor bound by any law.”
Shen Zhicheng listened quietly.
As a child, watching her friend at the orphanage, abandoned by family, leaving the world with that obsession — she must have thought she too was a child who’d been thrown away.
Shen Zhicheng thought — if only he’d grown up in that orphanage with her. At least they could have been together, leaned on each other.
They could have waited together to be found by Grandfather — and with the Shen family’s top medical resources, they could have helped her friend.
“Where did that come from?” Li Heng shook off the sentiment. “Who do you think could be the killer in Second Uncle’s case?”
“There’s too little evidence right now,” Shen Zhicheng said, thinking seriously. “The study door was locked from the inside, no signs of forced entry — poisoning — plus I heard he’d been depressed lately? Honestly, my first thought is suicide.”
“But from what I know of my uncle, he wouldn’t do that,” Shen Zhicheng continued. “Setting aside suicide — in cases like this, isn’t the first suspect usually the person closest to them?”
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