Everyone was furious at the outside slander against Yiu Chun Fai.
When the conversation turned to why he’d left the school, the principal held back his emotions and let out a sigh: “When he submitted his resignation, I actually tried to persuade him to stay. But his two children were both studying abroad — expenses were indeed high. Tutoring paid better, and he wanted to earn more to support them. It was only natural, so I didn’t try to stop him.”
Coming out of the school, Shen Zhicheng walked straight to the passenger seat of the police car.
Lin Jiacong organized the statements, placed them in the back seat, and started the engine — silently bemoaning his lot.
He’d seen the statement from Lee Wai Yi from a few days ago — several full pages, all handwritten by this newbie. Yet now, the guy was completely hands-off, treating him like a driver, lounging around as if he were just visiting the set.
“The tutoring center isn’t this way.” Shen Zhicheng suddenly spoke up, pointing. “Take the old street through Yau Ma Tei.”
Lin Jiacong turned the car around, and they soon pulled up outside the premier tutoring center where Yiu Chun Fai had worked.
There were more staff here. Shen Zhicheng and Lin Jiacong split up, each conducting interviews.
Lin Jiacong went into an office and spoke with a female teacher who had been close with Yiu Chun Fai.
“Mr. Yiu was very popular with the students — parents fought to get their kids into his classes.” Her tone was full of regret. “His life was just tutoring center and home — back and forth, all his energy on teaching. He didn’t have the kind of affairs the rumors are spreading — he barely even gave himself any personal time.”
“Did he have any conflicts or disputes with anyone?”
“Not that I know of. Mr. Yiu was very amiable — he never turned down a colleague who asked him to cover a class. At most, some parents would kick up a fuss at the front desk if they couldn’t get into his class. But usually, Mr. Yiu would reserve a spot for them in the next session. It’s not like a parent would kill him over something like that.”
His pen flew across the statement paper.
In just over ten minutes, he’d filled two full pages.
Everyone’s assessment of Yiu Chun Fai was positive.
This dedicated, kind-hearted teacher stood in stark contrast to the outside rumors.
The female teacher cooperated patiently throughout. After answering all the questions, Lin Jiacong handed over the statement for her to sign.
Just then, the office door opened and Shen Zhicheng strolled in.
The young master never followed rules and did things his own way. Without a word to Lin Jiacong, he looked directly at the teacher.
“Ms. Cheung, I heard you and the deceased Yiu Chun Fai had a relationship before — you broke up later, is that right?”
Lin Jiacong was taken aback — he hadn’t expected Shen Zhicheng to have uncovered information he didn’t know about.
Cheung Man Wah’s face instantly turned awkward. Clearly, she didn’t want to bring up the past.
“That was so many years ago — we broke up a long time ago. I didn’t really want to mention it.” Cheung Man Wah hesitated for a moment, then slowly began. “He was widowed early and never remarried. When he first joined our tutoring center five years ago, I was single too. We had a lot of professional interactions, and things naturally developed.”
“At first, I thought he was single because he hadn’t found the right person. But later I learned that Chun Fai had no intention of remarrying at all.”
“He’d already planned to emigrate in a few years. But my family and my kids are all here — I couldn’t follow him.”
“At our age, we knew it wasn’t going to work, so there was no point in wasting each other’s time. We talked it out and parted amicably.”
“That was two years ago. Since then, we’ve been good colleagues — we got along very well.”
Shen Zhicheng casually pulled out a chair and sat down across from her.
“On August 10th, between three and four in the morning — the time frame when Yiu Chun Fai was killed — where were you? Is there anyone who can vouch for you?”
Cheung Man Wah’s face changed, a flash of anger in her voice: “What are you implying? Are you suggesting I killed him? All the veteran teachers here know we broke up two years ago — we never had any bad blood since. If you don’t believe me, go ask around!”
“Back then, we each had our own plans. At our age, dating and breaking up is normal.”
“Just because of that, I’d kill him?”
Shen Zhicheng recalled the tone Li Heng used when taking statements and mimicked it.
“No need to get worked up — just routine questioning.”
…
After leaving the station, Fang Zhishan kept flipping through her notebook the entire way, re-examining the loose ends in Ng Mei Yan’s case as Li Heng had instructed.
“Madam, Ng Mei Yan was very frugal in daily life — never any major expenses. Tung Chi Ming’s business was already back on track, and the family had some savings. She could definitely afford a mobile phone, but she was always reluctant to spend, saving wherever she could.”
She paused, then turned with a puzzled look: “But didn’t we already verify all this? The family relied solely on Tung Chi Ming’s income, and daily expenses were high. Ng Mei Yan had to take care of her daughter and couldn’t go out to earn money — so she could only cut costs.”
Li Heng spoke: “If someone pinches pennies on everyday expenses, what would make them splurge on a red dress?”
Fang Zhishan didn’t catch on at first. She flipped through her notes for a long time before looking up with surprise: “Was that dress expensive?”
“I checked the brand label,” Li Heng said. “I looked through a fashion magazine last night — it’s a current season piece, priced quite high.”
Fang Zhishan pursed her lips and quietly glanced sideways at Li Heng.
She could picture it — Madam must have stood at a newsstand with a straight face, flipping through magazines among the clothes and handbags, searching for that red dress’s brand.
“Such an expensive dress wouldn’t have sold many units.” Fang Zhishan’s eyes lit up, her energy renewed. “The salesperson might still remember the buyer — maybe we can dig up a key lead.”
She made a mental note in her notebook — from now on, when investigating cases, she’d pay extra attention to the victims’ clothing details.
“Exactly.” Li Heng acknowledged, turned at the fork in the road, and pulled the police car to a stop in front of a department store. “This brand has only one counter in all of Hong Kong.”
Fang Zhishan quickly put away her notebook and followed Li Heng at a brisk pace into the department store.
The brand’s counter was elegantly decorated — a consistent, high-end look throughout.
The salesperson was ironing new arrivals and looked up in surprise when the two officers showed their badges. She quickly composed herself and stepped forward to assist.
“Madam, this is the red dress!” Fang Zhishan pointed to the dress displayed in the corner of the rack.
The salesperson asked, puzzled: “Is there something wrong with this dress?”
“Does this red dress sell well?”
“The color is too striking, and it doesn’t suit many occasions. When it first arrived, we displayed it on a mannequin, but hardly anyone asked about it — that’s why it got moved to the corner.” The salesperson was honest. “At nearly four thousand dollars, very few people are willing to spend that much.”
Fang Zhishan immediately pulled out a photo of Ng Mei Yan and handed it over: “Do you remember this person? Did she come here to buy this red dress?”
The salesperson studied the photo carefully for a long time, frowning as she tried to recall: “We haven’t sold many of these red dresses… but…”
She paused, her tone uncertain: “I don’t remember seeing this lady.”
“I do recall — about two or three days ago, a heavier-set woman came in with a teenage girl. It looked like she was buying it for her daughter. That was the only one we sold in-store.”
Li Heng pressed on: “How did she pay? Any card transaction records?”
“No.” The salesperson shook her head. “She paid in cash. For such an expensive piece of clothing, most people use cards — that’s why it stood out to me.”
The salesperson walked to the counter, opened the inventory log, and checked.
“Since this dress arrived, we’ve only sold five units. Most were delivered directly to regular customers’ homes in Repulse Bay and the Peak — the only in-store sale was to that mother and daughter.”
“Give me the delivery list.” As she spoke, Li Heng turned to Fang Zhishan: “Go to the department store’s security office and pull the surveillance footage from the day of the sale.”
After leaving the department store, the two went door to door with the delivery list, verifying each one.
All the customers on the list could produce the corresponding red dress — but upon hearing the dress was tied to a murder case that had the whole city in an uproar, each of them changed color and quickly instructed their servants to get rid of it.
After a round of checks, only that mother-daughter pair who had paid in cash remained suspicious.
After verifying the information at a luxury residence in Ho Man Tin, Li Heng and Fang Zhishan immediately drove to Ng Mei Yan’s home.
With the family struck by tragedy, Tung Chi Ming hadn’t gone to work today. His daughter, too young to be left alone, was still sent to kindergarten as usual. It was around dismissal time when they arrived — he’d rushed out to pick her up, flustered and nearly late. The officers waited outside for a while before seeing Tung Chi Ming hurrying home with his daughter.
Tung Chi Ming looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot, his expression dazed.
When he saw the two officers, he forced himself to perk up: “Madam — what brings you here? Is there news about my wife’s case?”
Fang Zhishan spoke: “We’d like to ask about a few more things. Regarding the red dress your wife bought before she passed — had you noticed it before? Or did she ever mention it?”
“Red dress?” Tung Chi Ming shook his head in confusion. “No — I’m usually busy with work. I don’t really pay attention to those little things at home.”
“Then on the day of the incident, what was your wife wearing when she left?”
“I… I can’t remember.”
Li Heng said nothing, her gaze falling quietly on the little girl beside him.
The child was clutching her father’s shirt tightly, as if she had something to say.
“What’s wrong?” Li Heng crouched down, softening her tone. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Mommy — when she went out that day…” The little girl’s voice was small. “She wasn’t wearing a red dress.”
Tung Chi Ming stared at his daughter in disbelief — clearly caught completely off guard: “Baby, are you sure? Don’t say things you’re not sure about.”
The little girl nodded firmly, her voice steady: “She wore yellow. Mommy said —”
Li Heng gently placed a hand on her small shoulder: “What did Mommy say? Take your time.”
“Mommy said — yellow is my favorite color,” the little girl said softly.
Li Heng looked at her innocent face.
She didn’t know if the child had been told about her mother’s death — and even if she had, it was probably beyond her understanding.
Li Heng reached out and patted her little shoulder: “You have such a good memory.”
“Will what I said,” the little girl looked up, “help you find the bad person who hurt Mommy?”
Li Heng’s heart tightened.
Perhaps Tung Chi Ming, exhausted and overwhelmed, hadn’t deliberately hidden the truth from her — so the child understood everything.
“Yes.” Li Heng nodded solemnly. “Your words have helped us a lot.”
The little girl pressed her lips together, trying to force a smile.
But in the end, she hung her head, and tears rolled down her cheeks.
…
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