The police investigation was proceeding in an orderly manner.
The origin of the red dress Ng Mei Yan had worn before her death remained unknown. Police had obtained the department store’s surveillance footage and were working to identify the mother-daughter pair who had purchased the dress.
Yiu Chun Fai’s former girlfriend, Cheung Man Wah, had initially concealed her relationship with the deceased, and her alibi for the time of the crime was also being repeatedly verified.
As the night deepened, the lights at West Kowloon Regional Headquarters went out one by one.
Li Heng finished organizing the case files and stepped out of her office — only to see a familiar figure still at his desk.
“Why haven’t you left yet?” She glanced at him.
“Helping you move.”
Only then did Li Heng remember the settled plan to move.
Yesterday had been too busy — it had been delayed until now.
“There are still some odds and ends at the rental to pack up,” she said. “It’s late — no rush.”
“I brought the keys.” Shen Zhicheng jingled the keys in his hand, stood up, and said matter-of-factly: “What good stuff could you possibly have in that cramped little room? Toss it all — nothing worth keeping.”
He reached out, took the files she’d organized, and urged her out the door.
It was just one street away — not even a single traffic light in between. Just a few minutes’ drive, and the sports car slowly pulled up.
They took the elevator upstairs.
And just like that, hurriedly, without any psychological preparation, Li Heng stepped into her new home.
The living room was spacious and bright.
A light-colored blanket lay on the sofa — brand new, soft — adding a touch of warmth to the space.
Shen Zhicheng turned on the air conditioning and said: “Fang Jie came by during the day to clean — it’s spotless. You don’t need to do a thing.”
The bedroom sheets were laid out neatly.
The bathroom had brand new toiletries and a change of clothes ready.
Li Heng walked to the window and pushed it open.
The night breeze brushed gently against her face, offering a full view of Kowloon City’s nightscape.
Lights glittered everywhere.
Now, among all those glowing windows, one was hers.
There was no need for any more organizing. Other people moved in with just a bag — Li Heng didn’t even need that.
She walked through the door and already had a real home.
“The previous tenant really took good care of this place.” Li Heng passed by the sofa, touching the appliances. “Even the electronics look brand new — like they’ve never been used.”
“Of course.” Shen Zhicheng leaned back on the sofa, his tone carrying an undeniable pride.
Li Heng looked around at everything — it still didn’t feel quite real.
“Nine o’clock tomorrow morning, sharp.” Shen Zhicheng glanced at the time, slowly stood up, and tentatively asked: “Any room for negotiation?”
“None.” Li Heng didn’t hesitate.
“Then I’m going home to sleep.”
The Shen family heir shot her a sideways look, turned, and walked out the door.
A minute later, his voice came from the other end of the rooftop.
“Hey—”
Li Heng quickly crossed through the bedroom and stepped out onto the private rooftop — the part she loved most.
On the other end of the rooftop, Shen Zhicheng’s door stood open.
He poked his head out and waved at her: “I’m home.”
“Didn’t you say this place wasn’t for rent or for sale?”
“I never said I wouldn’t live here myself.” Before pulling the door shut, he added loudly: “Get some sleep, Police Boss—”
He paused, his tone lifting, carrying a hint of boyishness: “Police Sis.”
…
Li Heng’s emotions were always steady — she rarely experienced great highs or lows.
But on this moving night, she was truly happy.
Fang Jie had even prepared new pajamas in her size ahead of time.
In the bathroom, she turned on the shower. She took her time washing up — no more rushing through a public bathroom queue, no more worrying about coming home too late after work to find the water heater turned off, leaving the temperature unreliable.
After her shower, the exhaustion of the day was washed away.
She walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge — it was completely empty. Perhaps Fang Jie hadn’t had time to stock it, but Li Heng didn’t feel disappointed at all. There was never room for extra appliances in a partitioned room; all her life, she’d never owned a fridge of her own.
The thought of gradually filling the empty fridge — with fresh meat and vegetables, bringing the warmth of a lived-in home — filled her with a kind of fresh excitement, like a child with a new toy.
Everything was heading in the right direction.
That day, Shen Zhicheng had said that because she’d been offered incense for over twenty years as a “living” person, that’s why she’d had bad luck.
But in truth, Li Heng knew — although she’d faced many challenges she had to overcome alone, she wouldn’t call herself unlucky. She’d grown up safe, had the chance to study, chosen a job she loved, and though solving cases was difficult, it was also full of challenge. Life was simple and steady, moving forward step by step.
But that was just “not unlucky.”
It wasn’t until this moment — moving into this brand new home, finally having a stable place to live — that Li Heng suddenly felt she was starting to become lucky.
For the first time, she lay down in a warm, soft bed.
She turned off the light, let her tense nerves fully relax, temporarily set aside the anxiety of the case, and closed her eyes in peace.
It was the most restful, most comfortable sleep Li Heng had ever had.
But that peace didn’t last until dawn.
The dream came without warning — still that attic. Heavy curtains blocked out all light, the enclosed space almost suffocating.
Shen Zhicheng lay on the floor, his face pale, drained of all color.
In the dream, Li Heng walked toward him step by step, gently, gently nudged him — then reached out a finger to check his breath.
He was dead.
This time, the surroundings were deathly quiet. No one was there to wake the panicking Li Heng.
She stood in the attic, her gaze sweeping every corner — finally landing on the empty bottle of alcohol and the scattered pills.
Those vague, fragmented dreams had finally broken through all barriers, weaving together in order.
The recurring images appeared before Li Heng’s eyes once more — no longer chaotic.
So this wasn’t a dream. Nor was it a memory of the past.
It was a predetermined script.
Li Heng finally understood, too late.
She and Shen Zhicheng were nothing more than the villain siblings in a sweet romance novel.
The stubborn, cold older sister. The dissolute, melancholic younger brother.
From start to finish, they had been trapped in their own making, entangled and tormenting each other — until death.
From their first meeting in Sham Shui Po, to the intertwining of their paths, to Xu Le’er in Tech uncovering the secret of their DNA match — all of that was just a few lines in the story. They finally acknowledged each other, became superior and subordinate in Team A, worked cases together, then moved into new homes as neighbors — none of it was coincidence.
It was all written into the original plot. Brief warmth before the tragedy.
Scenes from the original storyline played out in her mind one after another.
During the stove-body case, Shen Zhicheng had been inadvertently influenced by her and developed the idea of joining the police force. Three hundred and seventy hours of auxiliary officer training — he put in extra hours every day, pushing himself to complete it, just to reach that day.
It was the first time he’d wanted to stand up, the first time he’d had a real dream — to become a police officer, to earn his sister’s recognition.
But his very nature was incompatible with the strict rules of the police force. He took reckless approaches in investigations and repeatedly violated regulations.
If he’d been a full-time officer, he might have gotten leniency — a disciplinary action, a chance to correct his ways, without losing his job.
But he was just a dispensable auxiliary officer on Team A.
Li Heng could have stepped forward, pleaded for him, helped him keep the job.
But before it happened, the two had already argued fiercely. Shen Zhicheng had refused to admit fault, saying he was sick of this boring job anyway and had never really wanted to be a real cop. Seeing him like that, she’d chosen to handle it strictly by the book.
The other officers on the team had always been distant with him anyway, annoyed by his rich-kid attitude — none of them were willing to speak up for him either.
In that moment of the original plot, Shen Zhicheng stood in the Chief Inspector’s office.
He looked quietly at everyone, the light in his eyes dimming little by little — until only self-mockery remained.
Shen Zhicheng suddenly understood — someone like him didn’t deserve a dream.
The opportunity he’d clung to so desperately, the chance he’d fought so hard for — it had all been a joke.
He left the force, moved out of the Kowloon City rooftop unit, and returned to the attic on the Mid-Levels.
From then on, he sank completely, reverting to his old reckless life — and never appeared again.
At that time, Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng had only recently acknowledged each other. Their bond was thin. When this younger brother vanished from her world, she simply thought everyone had their own path — a moment of warmth couldn’t last forever, just like those foster families who’d sent her back to the orphanage. They came, and they left.
Only later did she learn that Shen Zhicheng had never been psychologically healthy.
He seemed carefree on the surface, but inside he was full of self-loathing. Alcohol, insomnia, dragging himself through endless dark nights. As a child, he’d repeat “I’m sorry” over and over to the family photo. When the music box broke, he’d sat in the attic all night — all those vulnerabilities, he’d always hidden them.
The Kowloon City rooftop unit had never actually been rented out. Shen Zhicheng had quietly bought it and carefully furnished everything.
He wanted to give his sister a home — and to be close to her.
Having an older sister in this world had nearly become the light in his life.
But in the end, Li Heng hadn’t held onto him.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t — she’d never even reached out.
From then on, they lived as two parallel lines.
At the end of the story, the cold fate of the villain siblings was laid out.
Li Heng spent her life obsessively solving cases, only to be framed by a killer, expelled from the police force, and imprisoned unjustly. After her release, she carried the stigma and fought the killer to the end. In the end, she lay in a pool of blood, her faith shattered, closing her eyes forever with regret and the lingering warmth of what might have been.
And Shen Zhicheng — died quietly in the attic.
Not by accident — but after exhausting the last ounce of will to live, he took pills and ended his own life.
The story ended there, completely.
Li Heng’s eyes snapped open. She broke free from the darkness, her chest heaving.
She finally understood — that wasn’t a dream.
It was reality. It was what was destined to happen, what was about to happen.
But for now, they were both still alive.
Li Heng slowly rose, pushed open the door to the rooftop, and stepped out of her room.
She stood quietly in the night, her gaze fixed on the unit next door.
A warm, dim light was still on in Shen Zhicheng’s place.
…
Li Heng walked over and gently pushed open the glass door.
Passing through the empty bedroom, she found Shen Zhicheng in the living room.
In the middle of the soft carpet, a pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces lay scattered.
He looked down, his long fingers picking up a piece and fitting it slowly into place — his gaze calm and focused.
Li Heng leaned against the doorframe, watching him in silence.
There were too many details in the original plot — she needed time to process them all.
So his sleep had always been poor since childhood.
As a child, the old music box had lulled him to sleep — the moment the melody played, he’d curl up on the cold floor and obediently drift off. But as he grew older, the melody stopped working. He’d lie awake all night until dawn, finally falling into a shallow sleep — until noon.
He also drank a lot.
At night, alone in the corner, he’d down bottles of alcohol, numbing his mind.
And Shen Zhicheng really was afraid of ghosts.
As a child, some so-called master had declared he was a jinx born to bring death to his family, plagued by little demons. Those words sank into the heart of a young child. He’d pat himself all over, trying to chase the demons away — his voice trembling. That fear had seeped into his bones, following him into adulthood.
Shen Zhicheng had sent out countless cries for help — but she’d never noticed before.
She’d kept her walls up, watching him approach with cool detachment. Even when her heart stirred, she’d remind herself that once she depended on warmth, she’d likely be sent back to where she started.
But now — Li Heng knew the entire original plot.
This time, she would never stand by and watch him walk toward destruction.
She would pull him back — and pull herself back too.
Li Heng took a deep breath, stepped over to him, and tapped the back of his head.
Shen Zhicheng flinched: “How do you walk without making any sound?”
Still rubbing his head, he added indignantly: “And you hit people!”
Li Heng sat down beside him: “Want me to help you with the puzzle?”
Shen Zhicheng paused — clearly not expecting that.
Li Heng reached over and picked up the remote from the sofa.
Always so quiet and cold — it wasn’t good at all.
As if the bleak ending in the dream was bound to come true.
She pressed the power button.
The TV screen lit up, and the sound of a program filled the empty living room.
The two sat side by side on the carpet.
One picked up a piece, then the other — slowly piecing together the scattered puzzle. Time trickled by quietly. They’d look up at the TV now and then, then back down, patiently searching for the right pieces.
No one knew how long passed before Li Heng frowned, staring at two nearly identical puzzle pieces: “This is so boring.”
Shen Zhicheng nudged her arm: “Admit it — you don’t know how to do this at all.”
Li Heng looked up, about to retort — when her gaze inadvertently fell on the bottom of the TV screen.
It was already three in the morning. The show was a rerun of Family Ties.
Scrolling across the bottom of the screen was a line of text:
Due to the special Ullambana Festival programming on August 9th, Family Ties has been postponed to the following day.
Li Heng sat up straight and gave Shen Zhicheng’s shoulder a firm tap: “Look.”
“That cleaner auntie said that on the day Ng Mei Yan died, the TV at home was playing Family Ties.”
Shen Zhicheng turned to stare at the TV: “But that day… they were airing the Ghost Festival special?”
They both fell silent for a moment — then spoke in unison:
“So — she was lying!”
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