“Remember that day he went to Sir Pan’s office and gave our boss attitude right there on the spot?”
“Your people are slow to pick up news.” He paused, turning to Li Heng: “They’re still rehashing ancient history.”
The moment the office door swung open, the outside fell dead silent.
The officers who had been huddled together moments ago all opened their files again, sneaking glances to see if the young master’s expression was as calm as usual.
Suddenly, an officer jogged in from outside and announced: “We’ve contacted the victim Ng Mei Yan’s family. They’re on their way to the public mortuary now — should arrive in about ten minutes.”
…
The Team A officers split up, each busy with their assigned tasks.
Besides verifying the victim’s financial records and social connections, some were specifically looking into her relationship with her husband. In cases like this, the person sleeping next to the victim was always the first suspect.
West Kowloon Regional Headquarters wasn’t far from the Kowloon Public Mortuary — Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng drove over and arrived in about fifteen minutes.
The victim, Ng Mei Yan, didn’t work outside the home — she was an ordinary full-time housewife. The ones who came to identify the body were her husband, Tung Chi Ming, and a little girl who looked about five or six.
After Ng Mei Yan left home last night, she never came back — no word from her at all. Tung Chi Ming had waited from last night until this afternoon, unable to reach his wife, growing more and more worried until he finally went to the police station to file a report.
Normally, under standard procedure, the police wouldn’t open a case for a missing adult until forty-eight hours had passed. Who could have guessed that just a few hours later, this was the news they’d receive?
The little girl clearly didn’t understand what was happening. She asked softly: “Daddy, what place is this? What are we doing here?”
Tung Chi Ming, too anxious to comfort his daughter, grabbed her and rushed toward the identification room: “My wife… they said on the phone that my wife is inside.”
The sudden yank on her wrist startled the girl, her little face going pale. She looked at her distraught father: “Mommy — I want Mommy…”
Li Heng stepped in front of them: “She’s too young. This isn’t a place for a child.”
Tung Chi Ming froze, at a complete loss. He loosened his grip on his daughter’s hand, then tightened it again.
Standing beside Li Heng, Shen Zhicheng spoke up at the right moment: “I’ll watch her.”
The door to the identification room was pushed open softly.
Shen Zhicheng led the little girl to a bench in the corridor.
Tears welled in the child’s eyes as she stared at the closed door. Her lips quivered, and she started to cry.
Shen Zhicheng had never soothed a child before. He turned and said: “Stop crying.”
But the moment the words left his mouth, he caught the child’s frail body flinch. He immediately clamped his mouth shut. She held back her tears with all her might.
So young, not yet understanding life and death — and yet she had already lost her mother forever.
Shen Zhicheng’s tone unconsciously softened: “If you want to cry, cry.”
The little girl was remarkably well-behaved. She first nodded slightly at his words, then immediately shook her head. Still, she didn’t burst into tears — just clenched her little fists and quietly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Shen Zhicheng couldn’t stand it. He instinctively patted his pockets.
He wanted to find some candy or a small snack to cheer her up — but after rummaging through them, all he came up with was a Lan Kwai Fong drink card.
He silently tucked the card back into his pocket.
As a newly recruited officer, Shen Zhicheng made a mental note of his first piece of field experience.
Always keep snacks and candy in your pockets from now on.
…
Inside the identification room, Tung Chi Ming only needed one glance at the body before he gasped sharply and turned away.
With his back to the body, his shoulders trembled uncontrollably.
“It’s… it’s her. It’s Mei Yan…”
His voice cracked — he couldn’t even form a complete sentence.
Li Heng stood nearby, waiting until his condition had stabilized somewhat before she began asking questions.
Tung Chi Ming raised a hand and wiped the corner of his eye: “Mei Yan always told me wherever she went. She was very responsible about that kind of thing.”
“This morning, my daughter and I didn’t even have a proper breakfast — I was late dropping her off at school…”
“This isn’t normal. Her first priority was always our daughter.”
His voice was hoarse, broken: “I started feeling uneasy this morning — the more I thought about it, the more something felt wrong. I was so afraid something had happened to Mei Yan. I never thought… never thought it would actually happen.”
Li Heng continued: “What time did she leave last night? She didn’t come home all night — didn’t you try contacting her?”
“Evening — yesterday evening.”
“She said she was going out with her cousin. I figured, ever since she had our daughter, she’d been stuck at home all day, barely keeping in touch with her old friends — she had almost no life of her own. It was rare for her to take a break, so I didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t rush her.”
“I thought she was having fun — maybe had a few drinks, might stay over at her cousin’s place. Who knew…”
Just then, Forensic Examiner Chen spoke in a low voice: “The preliminary rapid test results are in — no alcohol detected in the victim’s system.”
At this, Tung Chi Ming’s face filled with bewilderment: “How is that possible? She said she was going to drink with her cousin — how could there be no alcohol at all?”
Li Heng watched his expression closely, then asked: “In your opinion, is it possible that Ng Mei Yan committed suicide?”
“Impossible. My wife would never kill herself.” Tung Chi Ming shook his head vehemently, his voice rising with anger. “She loved our daughter too much — she would never leave her without a mother at such a young age. You can’t just assume it was suicide because you can’t find out who did this to her.”
“Calm down — this is just routine questioning in an investigation.”
“Just a few days ago, we discussed taking a trip together once I wrapped up this business deal — take our daughter away for a few days. She was looking forward to it every day. The day before yesterday, she even asked me when the client’s final payment would come in.” Tung Chi Ming was still agitated. “My wife would never abandon us.”
The identification process ended quickly. Tung Chi Ming walked out of the room with unsteady steps, bracing himself against the cold wall to keep from collapsing.
When he turned and saw his daughter sitting on the bench, his eyes reddened instantly. He walked over quickly and gently pulled her into his arms.
“Baby girl…”
“It’s just us now. Just the two of us.”
The little girl looked up at her crying father, then turned her head toward the identification room door that hadn’t quite closed.
No one knew how much time passed before Tung Chi Ming wiped the tears from his face.
Li Heng handed over a statement for him to sign and asked: “Do you have contact information for the cousin your wife was supposed to meet last night?”
“I’m busy with work — out early, back late. I don’t have much contact with her family, and I’m not close with Wai Yi either.” Tung Chi Ming frowned, trying to remember, then quickly added: “Oh, right — Mei Yan didn’t have a mobile phone. Once when she was out, she used mine to return a call. She must have called her cousin — the record should still be there.”
He fumbled in his pocket for his phone, his fingers trembling as he opened the call log and scrolled up, line by line.
“It’s been a few days… let me find it…”
“Found it — this should be the number.” After flipping through several pages of records, he finally stopped and handed over the phone. “That’s her — Lee Wai Yi, my wife’s cousin.”
At some point, the little girl had walked over.
Her face was full of confusion. She tugged lightly at her father’s sleeve: “Daddy… is Mommy not coming home?”
The air fell silent.
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng exchanged a glance, then looked at the little girl’s bewildered face. Neither of them spoke.
…
By the time they left the public mortuary, the streetlights were already on.
Shen Zhicheng followed behind Li Heng and asked: “Are we going to Lee Wai Yi’s place now?”
Li Heng suddenly realized there was an advantage to having him along.
Her colleagues had been running around all day, working overtime for hours — everyone wanted to go home. The case couldn’t be solved overnight, and even the least considerate boss had to show some concern for her subordinates. But Shen Zhicheng was different — he’d always liked being out and about, his eyes growing brighter as the night deepened, showing no sign of wanting to call it a day.
Li Heng called the station and got Lee Wai Yi’s exact address. She tossed the car keys to Shen Zhicheng: “To Chai Wan — take the Eastern Island Tunnel.”
He caught the keys.
An hour later, the police car pulled up slowly outside an old apartment building.
“This is what police work is?” Shen Zhicheng said casually. “Doesn’t seem that hard.”
Li Heng shot him a look.
They went upstairs and knocked. The door opened shortly.
Lee Wai Yi had half-dry hair, was wearing loungewear, and held a glass of red wine in her hand — clearly preparing for a nightcap.
Seeing two police officers at her door, her face immediately fell, and her tone turned sharp.
“Here we go again. I’ve told you people so many times — those debts were all his, from his own messing around. I haven’t spent a single cent of it. Why should I be the one paying?”
“If he won’t pay, let the creditors take him to court. Calling the police won’t do anything — I’ll say the same thing no matter where you take this.”
It turned out Lee Wai Yi had mistaken them for officers investigating debt disputes, each sentence distancing herself from her husband.
She turned and walked inside, setting her wine glass on the coffee table: “Which creditor called the cops this time?”
Li Heng spoke: “Ng Mei Yan is dead. She drowned by the river last night.”
Clatter — the wine glass nearly slipped from her hand.
Lee Wai Yi’s head shot up, her face changing color as she stared in disbelief: “What did you say? Who’s dead?”
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng stepped inside and sat down on the sofa.
Lee Wai Yi picked up her wine glass again and took several gulps, trying to steady herself after the sudden shock.
“Her husband just identified the body at the public mortuary,” Shen Zhicheng said.
The glass was empty in no time. Lee Wai Yi’s fingers gripped the glass tightly. After a moment, she said hoarsely: “Give me a second.”
She turned and walked to the kitchen island, intending to pour herself another glass to calm her nerves.
But her hand trembled as she held the bottle — red wine splashed across the countertop.
Li Heng withdrew her gaze and glanced sideways at Shen Zhicheng beside her.
After waiting a long moment, he hadn’t moved at all — just casually looking around.
When he turned his head, their eyes met.
Li Heng gave him a polite nod.
Shen Zhicheng met her gaze, a vague sense of foreboding rising in his chest.
Li Heng softened her tone, her eyes gentle, even carrying a hint of deliberate deference: “Young master, time to take the statement.”
Only then did Shen Zhicheng belatedly catch on. He silently took the notebook and pen from her hand.
Before long, Lee Wai Yi had calmed down a little and walked back.
She sat down on the sofa, her eyes already red-rimmed.
“Ng Mei Yan’s husband said she went out with you last night.”
“No.” Lee Wai Yi shook her head. “She didn’t make any plans with me yesterday. I was home all day — did laundry, washed the sheets. They’re still hanging outside, not dry yet because of the bad weather. Anyway, I never left the house at all. How could I have met up with her?”
Shen Zhicheng kept his head down, writing.
There was really no need to go into such detail about the sheets.
Li Heng continued with her questions.
Lee Wai Yi was very cooperative, her hands clasped on her knees, her fingers unconsciously picking at her nails as she tried to recall.
“We’re cousins, but we’re about the same age — I never called her ‘older sister.’”
“Mei Yan was a good person — soft-hearted. Her first instinct in any situation was to think of others, rarely herself. She’s been like that since we were kids.”
“Her only flaw was her terrible taste in men.”
Li Heng asked: “How was her relationship with Tung Chi Ming?”
Lee Wai Yi murmured, her tone full of regret: “A few years ago, Tung Chi Ming’s business failed and he was drowning in debt. I told her to divorce him, but Mei Yan would rather borrow money from everywhere to support him — she stuck by him through it all. She was always frugal, never spending on herself, always putting the family first.”
“Their relationship… it was okay. They’d been married so many years — it wasn’t like when they were dating. Mei Yan always said that a plain, ordinary life was good enough.”
Shen Zhicheng held the pen, writing continuously.
It had been years since he’d left school — he rarely wrote by hand, and his writing was painfully slow. He’d barely gotten a few words down when Lee Wai Yi spoke again, so he had to look up.
Lee Wai Yi had no choice but to slow down her speech. In the end, she simply stopped and waited for him.
The room was filled with the scratching of pen on paper.
Li Heng looked at her: “Go on.”
“After all those years of hardship, his business finally started turning around, and their finances improved. Tung Chi Ming was decent enough — he never did anything to wrong her. Who could have thought…” Lee Wai Yi sighed. “Mei Yan is three years older than me — she would have been thirty-seven this year. So young — how could she just be gone like that?”
Li Heng caught the key point and pressed further: “Since things were getting better and her husband treated her well, why do you say she had terrible taste?”
Shen Zhicheng had barely caught up when Lee Wai Yi started speaking again, her tone wistful.
Something that could have been said in one or two sentences, she insisted on dragging out with endless tangents. During training, the instructors had stressed repeatedly — to preserve the fullest possible account, not a single word from the witness could be omitted.
He could only keep writing.
“I wasn’t talking about Tung Chi Ming — it’s her ex-husband. He’s a piece of trash. They divorced ages ago, but he still blackmails her over their son, always finding excuses to ask Mei Yan for money. He says the child is hers and she can’t just walk away. Never mind how much she suffered back then. I told her not to give him anything—”
Shen Zhicheng stopped writing and cut in: “Ng Mei Yan had a son?”
“From her ex-husband — he’s already quite big. I think he must be over ten now.”
“Tung Chi Ming never knew about this. Mei Yan kept it well hidden — told us not to tell him.”
“She always cared most about her family. After all the effort she put into building a good marriage, if her past came out…”
At this barrage of information, Shen Zhicheng was even more flustered, his pen flying across the page.
“It must have been her ex-husband — it couldn’t be anyone else.”
“He wanted money, and when she refused, he did this to her.”
“We also found a talisman in the bag she was carrying,” Li Heng said. “Do you know anything about—”
“Talisman?” Lee Wai Yi suddenly said. “Now that you mention it, I do recall something. Mei Yan had seemed off lately — she kept saying she needed to atone for her sins…”
“When I asked, she wouldn’t say more — just kept repeating ‘it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault’…”
There was no way to keep up.
Shen Zhicheng’s temper flared. He gave up and leaned back against the sofa in frustration.
The moment he did, he looked up and met Li Heng’s warning gaze.
“Yes—” Shen Zhicheng sat up straight, burying himself in writing, grinding his teeth as he glared at her — “Madam!”
A long while later, the statement finally neared its end.
“It’s fine if you missed something,” Li Heng said, with rare patience. She paused, then added slowly: “I had a voice recorder on.”
“Shen Zhi-ning.”
Shen Zhicheng’s hand was about to fall off. He slowly looked up: “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“Didn’t want to.”
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