The room fell silent for a moment.
The child’s clear voice had long since faded into the stairwell, but the nursery rhyme seemed to linger by their ears, humming on behalf of the pile of bones.
The child passing by with its mother playing a game—it was a coincidence.
But it had unintentionally solved the mystery of the faded writing on the paper.
Someone remembered Madam’s calm “Caught you now” from moments ago, and a chill ran down their spine.
Li Heng broke the silence first: “First, confirm the victim’s identity.”
Those words were like a stone dropped into still water—her subordinates finally snapped back to attention.
“Contact the landlord of this unit as soon as possible, and the cousin who handled the rental arrangements.”
“Check the missing persons registry across Hong Kong over the years—male, aged eighteen to twenty-three, reported missing within the last six to eight years.”
“Continue searching the scene.”
The team dispersed at her orders. A voice came from the balcony—
“Madam, we’ve got something.”
…
The unit wasn’t large. Both the wardrobe and drawers had been emptied, covered in thick dust—no signs of habitation.
Li Heng walked over. Tiny particles of dust floated up in the golden evening sunlight.
The balcony was even narrower, with cleaning tools piled up—the metal buckle on the broom had already rusted. Officers were conducting a thorough search and found a new lead.
The flowers had long withered. When her subordinate lifted the flowerpot, she pulled out a thin metal pad that had been wedged almost completely into the groove beneath it.
A palm-sized metal pad, its edges no longer sharp, pressed into a curved arc matching the base of the flowerpot. Exposed to sun and rain on the balcony, whatever pattern had been printed on it had long since faded.
Li Heng held it up with one hand, squinting as she examined it in the setting sunlight.
“A non-slip metal pad?” Meng Zai leaned in.
Meng Zai—real name Lin Jiacong—was always a bit slow on the uptake. As he leaned closer, his shadow fell over it, blocking the light completely.
Old You smacked him on the back of the head.
Li Heng used tweezers to hold the edge of the metal pad for a closer look: “Can we still lift prints from this?”
Her colleague looked helpless. “That’s asking a lot. There’s obvious corrosion—the prints are most likely compromised. We can only try our best.”
There was more than one flowerpot on the balcony, all arranged neatly—showing that the owner had once taken good care of them.
Just then, someone ran upstairs and handed over a statement form. “Madam, the housewife’s statement is done.”
Li Heng took the statement.
“She still remembers that the young man who lived here before was called Xiao Wei. She doesn’t know his full name.”
“His girlfriend often didn’t come back until the early hours of the morning. Auntie Wang is a light sleeper—at night, she could hear the woman’s high heels going ‘clack-clack-clack.’ If it weren’t for the fact that Xiao Wei was genuinely a good person—once helped her carry a bag of rice up the stairs—she would definitely have filed a noise complaint.”
He paused briefly, opening his mouth as if to say something more, then hesitated.
At the very end of the interview, Auntie Wang had added huffily, “And thank Madam for the stamps…”—through gritted teeth.
He wasn’t sure whether he should relay that to Madam.
“How long did Xiao Wei live here?”
“About two years.”
The reason Auntie Wang remembered so clearly was that when Xiao Wei moved in, her child was just in the middle class of kindergarten; by the time Xiao Wei moved out, the child was about to start Primary One. The exact months were all marked in the statement.
“Dr. Chen’s estimated time of death is six to seven years ago—which puts it right around the period Xiao Wei lived here.”
At the time, Auntie Wang had sighed, lamenting that back then she was still a young girl, and in the blink of an eye, her youth was gone—time waits for no one.
The officer who took the statement, however, was simply puzzled. When they had gone door to door earlier, Auntie Wang had played dumb to every question. Now it seemed she was just of the “less trouble, the better” mindset—but how did Madam know at a glance that she had information, and manage to extract it?
“Then the tenant suddenly disappeared. She assumed he’d moved out and didn’t think much of it.”
Li Heng looked up.
“Was he a student, or did he just look like one? Where did he study? What did he do for work?”
“Besides that girlfriend, did anyone else come looking for him?”
“He was just an acquaintance—a neighbor…” the officer hesitated. “She probably doesn’t know.”
“Don’t give me ‘probably.’” Li Heng handed the statement back. “Did she never see anyone, or did she just not pay attention? Ask until you get a definite answer.”
“Also, continue looking into Xiao Wei’s relationships with the neighbors.”
The officer acknowledged and jogged back downstairs.
The rest immediately lowered their heads and got back to work, afraid of drawing fire.
Li Heng had been transferred to the West Kowloon Regional Crime Unit less than a week ago, and her subordinates hadn’t yet figured out her temperament. All they knew was that she had excelled at the police academy, was recommended to apply directly for the probationary inspector program, and had risen through the ranks faster than a rocket.
“Madam.” Old You answered a phone call and came back from outside.
Old You had the most seniority in the team, the widest network of contacts, and never did things by the book. What younger officers would spend days processing through official channels, he could usually wrap up with a single phone call.
“I checked the missing persons files based on the characteristics,” Old You said. “Six years ago, a nineteen-year-old male named Liang Wei, five foot nine, was reported missing by his family.”
“Pull his medical records and compare them with the skeletal remains.”
Old You picked up the thread: “I’ll arrange for the family to come in for identification.”
“The girlfriend is the key figure,” Li Heng said. “Find her as soon as possible.”
The colleagues wrapping up at the scene were still busy, loading evidence and equipment one after another into the row of police vehicles parked outside.
“About what time will we be done?” Fang Zhishan glanced at her watch and asked softly.
Someone shook their head, gesturing with their chin toward Li Heng: “Madam hasn’t left yet, and you’re thinking about going home?”
Fang Zhishan was new to the force, always a bit timid. The moment she accidentally made eye contact with Li Heng, she immediately pretended not to see and quietly averted her gaze.
Li Heng stepped out of the unit and walked down the stairs.
Lin Jiacong followed, organizing evidence bags as he went.
Li Heng’s pace slowed. “This metal plate—what do you make of it?”
“It’s for padding flowerpots.” Lin scratched his head. “There are cleaning tools on the balcony—water gets everywhere. Probably used for non-slip purposes.”
“There are evenly distributed wear marks in the middle.” She stepped down the last stair.
He quickly lowered his head to examine it more closely.
Footsteps sounded from behind—Forensic Officer Chen and his assistant came down the stairs carrying their tool kits.
As he passed, Dr. Chen casually added: “Madam, one more thing to note. Though the victim’s skull is fractured, whether he was walled in before or after death will require further testing to determine.”
Li Heng nodded. “I’ll await your report.”
Dr. Chen waved and walked off.
Lin Jiacong stood there, suddenly feeling a chill run down his spine.
The stove cavity was enclosed and narrow. If the person had still been alive at the time—struggling, begging for help inside the cement, clawing with his fingernails, scraping desperately…
And the person outside the stove, cruelly playing a game of hide-and-seek with him.
Lin swallowed hard. Just as he was about to speak, a low engine roar came from the end of the street.
Everyone turned to look.
A sports car was approaching, its headlights blazing in the dimming dusk.
The car sat low to the ground, its bright color eye-catching. It screeched to a stop just outside the police tape.
The door swung upward, and a young man stepped out with long legs, landing with casual ease.
Sunglasses hid most of his expression, revealing only a sharply defined jawline. He stood there in casual clothes, yet his presence was impossible to ignore.
A uniformed officer stepped forward to block him, only to see the man casually tap his earlobe with a fingertip, signaling that he should listen to the instructions coming through the radio.
Sure enough, the Chief Superintendent’s voice came over the radio.
Lin Jiacong retreated back to his colleagues and lowered his voice: “That’s Shen Zhicheng! This whole plot of land belongs to their family. The tabloids love writing about him—either street racing or dropping out of school. The whole of Hong Kong knows that the Shen family’s spoiled second-generation heir is arrogant and illiterate.”
“Meng Zai, you should switch careers and become a paparazzo!” someone beside him laughed.
Lin was usually most interested in these wealthy family secrets: “I heard something happened to his father’s branch of the family back in the day—the whole thing collapsed, and now all the power is in his uncle’s hands. This so-called crown prince only lives off his trust fund.”
“The strange part is, why send him here?”
Outside the police tape, a middle-aged man in a dark suit didn’t step forward, keeping his distance, standing ramrod straight.
Uncle Xiang gazed at Shen Zhicheng’s figure with complicated eyes.
He had watched the young master grow up. Back then, when the young master’s parents met with a sudden upheaval, he was taken in by his second uncle’s family. Now he was a regular fixture in the tabloids, and everyone came to understand—it was less “taking in” and more “deliberately raising him wrong.” By the time Old Master Shen realized he needed to step in, Shen Zhicheng’s reputation was already in tatters.
Now Old Master Shen had ordered Shen Zhicheng to oversee this piece of land.
Partly because the project needed to give the old neighborhood a proper account, and partly because this grandson—if things kept going this way—would truly be beyond saving.
“Who says the whole of Hong Kong knows about him?” Old You teased. “I guarantee Madam doesn’t read Star Weekly.”
“I heard he’s the same age as our Madam,” Lin shrugged. “Same age, and one’s a Chief Inspector in the Regional Crime Unit, while the other’s a wastrel who only causes trouble. Worlds apart.”
Fang Zhishan exclaimed in surprise: “Same age?”
Li Heng had just emerged from the stairwell and didn’t notice the newcomer. Her gaze was still fixed on the metal plate in the evidence bag.
The edges had been cut—clean, straight cuts. In the center of the plate was a blurred yet uniform outline. If pieced back to its original shape… it was a wine glass.
Could it be a custom coaster from an entertainment venue?
A dance hall, a karaoke bar, or a nightclub!
A dull thud came from behind—the sound of a car door closing.
Shen Zhicheng took off his sunglasses, revealing an overly striking face.
Impatience flickered in his brows and eyes, the arrogance of a second-generation heir on full display.
Li Heng didn’t even lift her eyelids as she walked past him.
“Hey.” Shen Zhicheng called out to her lazily, “You’re the police chief?”
Li Heng turned her face slightly, her gaze brushing past him, her pace unbroken.
Shen Zhicheng raised an eyebrow. He had never been ignored like this in his life.
The two passed each other.
Shen Zhicheng’s gaze inadvertently fell on that cold face—and suddenly paused.
He had an odd feeling, as if he had seen her somewhere before.
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