The Chief Inspector’s office was very quiet.
Not only was Pan Liqin well aware that Li Heng was handling official business and remained silent, but even the seemingly unruly young heir—who had been provoked earlier—merely expressed his defiance through his expression, sitting still without making a sound the entire time.
Neither of them could hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but judging by Li Heng’s expression, she had clearly heard something of great importance. The usually composed and steady Li Heng looked noticeably more solemn.
Li Heng was still holding the receiver, her breathing slightly uneven.
The voice on the other end was crystal clear, each word forming sentences that struck straight at her eardrums.
Xu Le’er said that the DNA database had automatically completed its match—that she and Shen Zhicheng shared a biological relationship.
The words were perfectly clear, yet her thoughts lagged behind, her mind going blank before she could process anything.
“Madam, are you still there?”
“I’m here.” Li Heng’s voice remained steady. “Anything else?”
“Not for now.” Xu Le’er paused. “Are you okay?”
There was a hint of concern in her tone.
Li Heng, transferred from Sha Tin to West Kowloon, had an exceptionally impressive resume and had long become a topic of discussion in the station. Xu Le’er was well-liked and had acquaintances in every department. Having picked up bits and pieces of gossip over time, she’d pieced some things together. Colleagues from Sha Tin all said that Inspector Li was extremely cold and aloof, always keeping to herself, never forming personal relationships with anyone. And the reason—someone had noticed on her personnel file that the acceptance letter from the Wong Chuk Hang Police Academy had been sent to an orphanage.
Such privacy shouldn’t have been pried into, but in a place like the police station where tongues wagged freely, secrets never stayed hidden—they spread in just a few exchanges.
It was precisely because Xu Le’er knew all this that she was particularly sensitive when she saw the kinship match result.
“I’m fine.” Li Heng steadied herself, trying to refocus on work. “Send over the DNA comparison data between Zhang Huijing and the hair found at the crime scene first. Whether the court accepts it or not, having extra corroborating evidence is always good.”
“No problem. I’ll send it over later.”
After hanging up, Li Heng’s gaze fell back on Shen Zhicheng’s face, with a hint of scrutiny.
She had been haunted by the same dream over and over, deeply troubled.
In that dream, again and again, she saw a resplendent room, a spinning colored glass globe, and a singing music box.
Slowly, the fragmented dreams became more frequent—even more complete. She inexplicably felt that the crib should have held two children.
And that out-of-control, exploding car—those hands that had used every last ounce of strength to shove her out the window.
The palpitations and unease that had often surged over her all these years had never been some undiagnosable ailment.
It was her heartbeat, tightly bound to another heart.
As tangled thoughts surged, Li Heng stared at Shen Zhicheng, a dazed look flickering across her eyes—one she didn’t even notice herself.
The next second, Shen Zhicheng glared back at her: “What are you staring at?”
Li Heng took a deep breath, suppressing the strange feeling in her chest, and responded with a dismissive silence. She stood up.
Now was not the time to dwell on this. Her superior had already issued a final deadline for the case. She had to push aside all personal thoughts and bring her focus back to the investigation.
“What did Tech say on the phone just now?” Pan Liqin tapped his finger lightly on the desk. “You know as well as I do—after Liang Wei jumped off that building, plus all the rubbish those tabloids have been printing, the whole of Hong Kong thinks the culprit’s already been caught. But so far, the police haven’t made any official announcement.”
“Even when I went to the tea restaurant this morning, I heard customers talking about it—people are getting anxious.” He paused, then gestured toward Shen Zhicheng. “The Shen family is also concerned about the case progress. As you can see, Mr. Shen came all the way here in person.”
“The process is moving forward.” Li Heng looked at Pan Liqin. “The case will be closed soon.”
Pan Liqin reminded her: “Mr. Shen wants the detailed—”
Li Heng cut him off: “Sir Pan, the more time we waste here, the later the closure report will be.”
Shen Zhicheng glanced up at Li Heng.
So this cold face wasn’t just for him—even facing the Chief Inspector, she maintained the same businesslike demeanor.
Just as he was about to speak, his eyes happened to meet Li Heng’s.
In that brief moment of eye contact, her gaze flickered almost imperceptibly.
Pan Liqin frowned and pressed further: “It’ll only take a few minutes. At least give us a clear answer.”
Shen Zhicheng chimed in flatly: “Sir Pan, you can just tell me the same.”
Li Heng turned and walked straight out of the office.
The door to Pan Sir’s office remained open for a long while.
She walked down the long corridor, step by step, for what felt like an eternity.
Accompanied by the echo of the empty hallway, Shen Zhicheng’s casual voice came from behind.
“Come on, Sir—you don’t know anything?”
…
Li Heng stood quietly in the corridor for a few minutes.
There was a fully automatic coffee machine in the corner, but she searched all her pockets and couldn’t find a coin. Colleagues hurried past from time to time, nodding briefly at her in greeting. Li Heng still couldn’t match most of their faces to their names, and merely gave a faint nod in return.
After a moment, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the CID room.
Team A was still buzzing with activity—phones ringing one after another, everyone rushing about, moving quickly. Throughout the entire station, she was the only one who had just experienced an earth-shattering upheaval.
Li Heng forced her attention back to the case.
There seemed to be something else from Xu Le’er’s call at Tech—something that had flashed past her ear without her catching it. She tried to calm herself and replay the conversation in her mind.
Gao Zijie was flipping through the recent interrogation records, organizing them while muttering to himself: “Six years ago, you had to queue three days to collect the ashes? My grandmother passed away in my Form Five year—let me think…”
He paused: “That was eight years ago. You could collect them on the spot back then.”
Old You strolled over with his thermos, resting one hand on the edge of Gao Zijie’s desk: “Eight years and you’re still doing that math? Might as well go back to Form Five—”
He stopped mid-sentence, catching something off. “Wait—you’re saying eight years ago, you didn’t have to stay at the funeral home waiting for the ashes?”
Gao Zijie compared that with the statements Old You and Li Heng had taken at the Yuen Long funeral home, thinking carefully.
“I remember… that day, my sister-in-law brought my nephew along. The kid kept crying the whole time. My mom told them to wait in the car, said the ashes would be ready in three hours.”
Li Heng walked over. “Are you sure?”
“My sister-in-law waited in the car the whole time—didn’t leave early. My brother, my dad, and I went to pick up the ashes together. Later, my nephew said he was hungry, so on the way out, I stopped at Yuen Long’s Yu Jie Tofu Pudding shop to buy him some bowl pudding.” Gao Zijie’s tone grew more certain as he recalled the details. “I can confirm it.”
Li Heng and Old You immediately picked up the funeral home records again.
Six years ago, Ah Min’s father, Chi Guodong, was gravely ill, and she returned to her hometown in Yuen Long to care for him. After Chi Guodong passed away, she was left alone to handle the funeral arrangements. The timeline of the death and burial records was clearly laid out, and the funeral home director had explicitly stated at the time that from the delivery of the body to the completion of all procedures, the entire process took a full three days. It was precisely on that basis that Chi Ah Min had what seemed like an airtight alibi.
But the truth was—six years ago, there was no such long wait.
“Why did the funeral home director lie?” Old You frowned deeply.
“Contact the funeral home directly,” Li Heng said. “A phone call will do—a trip to Yuen Long takes too much time.”
Old You nodded, found the contact number for the Yuen Long funeral home, picked up the receiver, and dialed.
A few seconds later, he raised a finger to his lips, signaling everyone to be quiet, and switched on speakerphone.
The conversation quickly devolved into a frustrating deadlock.
“By six years ago, the cremation furnaces had already been expanded. Ashes could generally be collected the same day—unless there were special circumstances.”
“I told you, special circumstances are all recorded in the file. Check it yourself. If there’s no special notation, it means the family collected the ashes that same day.”
“When did I ever say it would take three days? I’ve been here for decades—are you saying you know the procedures better than I do?”
“Sir, we’re all busy here. Could you get your facts straight before calling?”
After several rounds of this back-and-forth, Li Heng suddenly snapped out of it and gestured for Old You to hang up.
Old You slammed down the receiver: “What an attitude! He said it himself, and now he’s denying it. From now on, when we take statements out in the field, we’re bringing a recorder!”
“Old You, do you remember? That day at the funeral home copy room, the clerk who received us was just an administrative staffer—the director just happened to be passing by.” Li Heng thought out loud. “We mentioned that Ah Min was running around handling everything alone—such a big affair, and she didn’t have a single person to help her.”
Old You quickly flipped through the statements. He’d handwritten the records himself and couldn’t be bothered to write any more than necessary—so those casual remarks hadn’t been noted down.
“I sort of remember,” he said, catching on. “We mentioned that Ah Min’s parents had been separated for eleven years by then.”
Old You slapped his thigh, half amused and half exasperated: “He never actually checked the specific year on Chi Guodong’s funeral file. He only heard our conversation and mistakenly thought it was eleven years ago.”
Li Heng: “Over a decade ago, cremation furnaces were in short supply—families really did have to wait.”
Old You got back in touch with the funeral home director.
After some back-and-forth, the misunderstanding was finally cleared up.
Everything was back to square one.
At the time of the crime six years ago, Ah Min had no alibi at all.
“What does this mean?”
“What if—back then, the entanglement between Ah Min, Zhang Huijing, and Liang Wei was even deeper than we imagined?”
Back at the starting point, the case was riddled with even more questions.
Why did Liang Wei choose to show up right when the police approached Zhang Huijing? And why did Zhang Huijing’s handwriting appear at the crime scene?
Li Heng stared at the thick stack of case files.
Ah Min, Zhang Huijing, Ah Min, Zhang Huijing…
Leave a Reply