The cleaner auntie’s voice trembled badly, her rambling words carried away by the sea breeze—every echo grating on the ears.
“The yin energy was really heavy last night—I didn’t even dare to look.”
“It must have been a water ghost. Water ghosts specially pull living people down to take their place.”
She suddenly grabbed Li Heng’s hand tightly, her voice panicked: “That woman last night—she must have been talking to a water ghost. The ghost was polite, speaking softly—she couldn’t hear clearly, so she leaned in closer and got pulled in.”
The more the auntie spoke, the more scared she became. She didn’t even dare to glance at the sea, as if something really lurked beneath the surface, ready to crawl up at any moment and drag another person down.
Shen Zhicheng stood at a moderate distance, his expression unreadable, but he subtly shifted his stance.
It was August on the solar calendar—he never kept track of lunar dates. As a idle rich kid who never had to worry about making a living, he barely remembered what day of the week it was—every day was a day off. Naturally, he had no idea about the seventh month’s fourteenth day being when the gates of hell open.
It wasn’t until he heard the cleaner auntie’s spiel that he suddenly remembered—that day at the cemetery, he’d forgotten to ask the caretaker to burn incense for those wandering spirits he’d disturbed.
Shen Zhicheng quietly changed direction and turned his back to the scene.
The area was bustling with activity.
When the victim was pulled from the water, she was wearing only a dress—no pockets. Her mobile phone, pager, ID, and house keys were all missing. The police suspected she’d been carrying a bag when she fell in, and the Marine Police continued searching underwater.
Gao Zijie crouched on the ground, meticulously examining the surrounding area for any traces left behind. Old You held a radio, coordinating with the command center and updating them on the scene.
A number of nearby container workers and dock laborers passed by, glancing over curiously.
Lin Jiacong and Fang Zhishan were outside the cordon, dispersing the crowd and maintaining order.
“Step aside—police investigation.”
“If you have information, come forward. If not, don’t linger around here.”
The Shen family heir, with his distinguished bearing, always stood out in a crowd. Lin Jiacong spotted him immediately and pulled Fang Zhishan aside, lowering his voice to gossip.
“It’s him again. On that stove-body case, he barely showed up after the beginning.”
“Half a month ago, the paparazzi caught him throwing money around in Lan Kwai Fong. The old man Shen was so pissed he supposedly cut off several of his credit cards—don’t know if it’s true.”
“Must be nice being rich—do nothing and still never run out of money. Unlike us, working from dawn to dusk, finally about to knock off, and then a phone call drags us back to overtime.”
“Hotpot… Auntie’s hotpot… who knows when we’ll ever get to eat it now.”
Lin Jiacong was always chatty, muttering nonstop.
Fang Zhishan murmured a few words of agreement, then couldn’t help wondering: “Senior, why would Mr. Shen be here? Is this area also Shen family property?”
The two of them huddled together gossiping—it was quite conspicuous. Old You was about to remind them to focus, but as his gaze swept over, he caught what Shen Zhicheng was holding.
It was clearly an Auxiliary Police Force reporting notice, stamped with the police force’s official seal.
Old You’s heart dropped. Sensing trouble, he quickly walked over.
Shen Zhicheng, expressionless, handed over the notice and said flatly: “Processing the paperwork—Auxiliary Officer, Shen Zhicheng.”
His demeanor didn’t suggest a newcomer at all—more like he was there for an inspection.
The officers who had been busy with their tasks all froze. Heads turned in unison—some even forgot to close their mouths.
The higher-ups had said someone would be transferred in—everyone had taken it as good news, hoping the new colleague would share the load. No one expected it to be Shen Zhicheng.
Team A already had a cold-faced, strict inspector they hadn’t fully adjusted to yet.
And now they were getting a notoriously spoiled heir with a terrible reputation—clearly high-maintenance.
The days ahead were probably going to be even tougher.
…
In the corner, the cleaner auntie’s statement wasn’t finished yet.
Li Heng had noticed Shen Zhicheng’s appearance and disappearance, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it.
The cleaner auntie was still frowning, speaking urgently: “They all say that on the fourteenth of the seventh month—”
Li Heng had heard too many superstitious speculations. She kept her patience and said steadily: “Let’s set aside ghosts and spirits for now—just tell me what you saw with your own eyes. Think back carefully to last night and describe it clearly, step by step.”
Only then did the auntie begin to recount the events haltingly, bit by bit.
With Li Heng’s guidance, the timeline gradually became clear.
“I don’t usually work this late—it’s just that recently, some dockworkers have been drinking beer here at night. The empty cans are worth money, so I stay a little longer to collect more.”
“At around eleven at night, I saw that woman. She was wearing a red dress. The wind by the river was strong—her skirt was blowing around, but she didn’t even bother to smooth it down. She looked just like a female ghost from the TV dramas—it gave me the creeps.”
“She was standing there alone, mumbling to herself, as if she was talking to someone. I wanted to get closer to listen, but I couldn’t make out a single word.”
“I’m just an old woman—I didn’t dare stay. It was too frightening, so I hurried away.”
Li Heng pressed on: “How are you so sure it was around eleven?”
“By the time I got home, the TV was playing ‘Family Ties.’ My husband watches it religiously every night. I told him to go to bed, but he said the show had just started.”
An officer nearby added: “‘Family Ties’ is a popular family talk show—it airs at a fixed time every day.”
Li Heng nodded, turning back to the auntie: “Go on.”
“The show starts at 11:10 every night. I live close by—just a ten-minute walk—so it must have been around eleven.”
“Did you see anyone suspicious around at the time?”
The auntie shook her head without even thinking.
Ngong Shuen Chau was a muddy, undeveloped area—no apartments, not even a shop nearby.
Before them was Victoria Harbour, but all you could see were cranes, containers, and docks.
Because it was so undeveloped, ordinary citizens rarely came here—mostly just laborers.
“It’s usually very quiet here—not even a bench,” the auntie said. “And last night the weather was bad—foggy, just like today. Even those dockworkers who drink beer here didn’t show up.”
As she spoke, the forensic team arrived. Forensic Examiner Chen gave Li Heng a slight nod, his assistant following closely with the forensic kit.
Li Heng instructed Fang Zhishan: “Finish up the statement, double-check everything, then have her sign it.”
“Got it—I’ll be right there.”
Li Heng turned and followed Forensic Examiner Chen.
“What’s the situation at the scene?”
“The Marine Police just pulled her out—the scene hasn’t been disturbed.”
Forensic Examiner Chen put on his gloves: “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s begin.”
Just then, Old You hurried over, briefly reporting on what they’d gathered from the perimeter, then lowered his voice: “Madam, there’s a new recruit—Auxiliary Police, assigned to our team. You’ve met him before.”
Li Heng looked back, her gaze landing on Shen Zhicheng.
More than met him.
She’d been wondering why he kept showing up at crime scenes—now it all made sense. No wonder he’d been so secretive lately.
“Let’s focus on the work,” Li Heng said flatly.
She had always kept her personal and professional lives separate. Her businesslike tone also made it clear to Shen Zhicheng that he was truly here to work.
He stepped forward and glanced at the body—and immediately froze.
The body lay flat on a waterproof sheet. Her red dress was soaked through, the color slightly faded and bleeding onto her skin. Her face was pale, eyes tightly shut, her cheeks somewhat swollen—she had long stopped breathing.
This was the first time Shen Zhicheng had seen a dead body up close. His breath caught, and his Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily.
“The body’s in decent condition—it hasn’t been in the water too long,” Forensic Examiner Chen said. “No signs of bloat yet.”
Shen Zhicheng instinctively took half a step back, holding his breath.
Li Heng turned: “Give me the clipboard.”
He froze for a moment—but Gao Zijie had already handed over the clipboard and evidence camera.
Forensic Examiner Chen conducted a thorough preliminary examination.
“Time of death is roughly around eleven last night—give or take half an hour.”
“Died from drowning while alive—not a post-mortem disposal.”
“The skin has started to show immersion wrinkling and bleaching…”
Li Heng asked: “Can we rule out suicide for now?”
“There are signs of struggle on the body’s surface. But even in cases of suicide, drowning triggers a survival instinct—people struggle in their final moments. So we can’t rule it out yet—we’ll need further test results.”
Li Heng looked at Shen Zhicheng.
His face was pale—clearly struggling to hold it together.
Li Heng remembered her first time at a crime scene. Everyone said Madam Wen was famously strict, quick to scold—but even she hadn’t forced Li Heng to tough it out that day.
It was a natural physiological reaction. Everyone needed time to adjust the first time they saw a body.
“You don’t need to be here. Go help Zhishan with the statement.”
Shen Zhicheng immediately moved to the other side.
Behind him, Forensic Examiner Chen’s calm, professional assessments continued.
“There’s a faint pressure mark around the wrist—could be from seaweed, or from rubbing against a railing.”
“The mark will become more pronounced over time.”
On the other side, the cleaner auntie was still adding details.
“Her expression—it looked like she was terrified by something. Like she’d lost her soul.”
Shen Zhicheng stopped beside Fang Zhishan.
Fang Zhishan spoke patiently: “Auntie, let’s set that aside for now. Any other details?”
“The fog last night was terrifying—thick and swirling, almost like someone was waving.”
“This area used to have no railings—the gravel slopes were especially slippery. I’ve heard countless people have died here. They say every year, the water ghost has to drag someone down as a replacement.”
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