Fang Zhishan and Wen Jie were huddled at their desks, saying they’d seen Madam chatting with a handsome guy downstairs.
That instantly piqued Shen Zhicheng’s curiosity.
He jogged down the stairs and spotted the man they were talking about at the drop-off area in front of West Kowloon Regional Headquarters.
The summer sun poured down, filtering through the dappled shadows of the trees, casting alternating patches of light and dark on the ground.
The man was tall and lean, the sleeves of his black shirt casually rolled up to his forearms. He held two cups of coffee and handed one to Li Heng. The two stood side by side in the bright light, seemingly discussing professional matters, yet the atmosphere was relaxed and warm.
Shen Zhicheng stopped at a moderate distance and watched them for a moment.
No wonder Wen Jie said he could charm the whole neighborhood. In this heat, wearing a black shirt — talk about choosing style over comfort.
Shen Zhicheng muttered under his breath.
Having a sauna, are we?
Li Heng took the coffee and said: “Nannán’s mother is the first victim in this case. The child is only five — she didn’t witness the crime, but the psychological impact has been significant. By procedure, should we arrange psychological intervention?”
In the past, Li Heng would have been entirely focused on the case, rarely following up on the aftermath. But Nannán was so young — thinking of her with her head down, biting back tears — she felt a pull to help this child.
“I understand.” The man’s voice was clear and warm. “The police force has a child psychological support program. I’ll contact the Youth Services Office and arrange counseling for her through the proper channels.”
Li Heng nodded slightly. Her fingers paused around the cup, hesitating for a moment: “And one more thing.”
In the original plot, Shen Zhicheng had eventually ended up taking his own life. Years of accumulated trauma had evolved into severe psychological issues that nearly suffocated him. Even if he now had an older sister, sharing breakfast or working on a jigsaw puzzle together — those were just small, everyday moments. They couldn’t smooth over the deep wounds.
She alone couldn’t pull Shen Zhicheng out of that abyss. Professional help was needed.
She looked up: “I need a favor.”
He noticed her expression and set aside his casual demeanor, looking at her seriously: “Go ahead.”
“It’s about my—” Li Heng started, but caught sight of Shen Zhicheng walking briskly toward them.
She stopped mid-sentence: “I’ll tell you another time.”
“Alright.” He gave a slight nod. “I’ll go process my onboarding first. I’ll organize the case files and touch base with you later.”
After they said their goodbyes, Li Heng turned and headed back upstairs.
Shen Zhicheng fell into step beside her: “Who was that?”
“Dr. Tong from New Territories North,” Li Heng said. “West Kowloon has had a lot of major cases recently, requiring psychological intervention for victims and psychiatric assessments for suspects. The regional headquarters submitted a request. Tong Yi Wei has been transferred from the Criminal Psychology Support Unit and will be stationed at West Kowloon temporarily.”
Many cases would proceed more smoothly with professional psychological assessments involved.
Just like the Haddon House stove-body case — if the police had recognized Chi Ah Min’s psychological issues earlier, they wouldn’t have had to go through so many detours.
Shen Zhicheng acknowledged with a grunt, then pressed: “Do you two know each other from before?”
Li Heng thought for a moment: “We’re acquainted.”
“So he’s a friend?” Shen Zhicheng walked with his hands behind his back, teasing: “Didn’t know our Police Boss had friends.”
Li Heng turned back, curious: “Don’t you?”
At that, Shen Zhicheng pursed his lips: “You’re looking down on me now, Madam!”
…
Before arresting Ku Cheung Fung, Li Heng had already instructed the officers to set aside their other tasks and focus on investigating the Feng Shui master’s background.
By the time she returned to the CID room, several officers had come back one by one with verified information and laid the materials on the table.
“Madam — we’ve looked into Ku Cheung Fung’s background. Before the murders, he did have clients coming to him for Feng Shui and fortune-blessing — the shop kept records. We went through everything and found no connection between him and the two victims. But that’s not surprising — if he’s the killer, he could have deliberately erased any traces.”
“We also checked the financials. Riding on these two murder cases, he made a fortune just from selling those ‘blessed’ jade pendants. After the news broke, people lined up to hand him money.”
“Before all this, though, his finances were a complete wreck — broke, with no regular transactions in his account for a long time. According to his neighbors, he’s been single all his life, and whenever he had money, he’d gamble it away. Everyone avoided him, afraid he’d ask to borrow.”
“Then, just these past few days, Ku Cheung Fung has been on top of the world — strutting around every day like he owned the place, head held high, finally getting his moment.”
“No wonder he’s so smug — even his old neighbors are treating him with respect. He’s been soaking up the glory.”
“I heard Ku said the other day that he’d foreseen this day would come. Tsk — such a petty man’s triumph.”
Speaking of Ku Cheung Fung, the officers shook their heads.
The man had been putting on airs his whole life, but in reality, he was a complete failure. His Feng Shui shops opened and closed repeatedly. He’d even set up a stall in Temple Street, swindling neighbors, sometimes even wearing sunglasses and pretending to be a blind fortune-teller.
“He’s fifty-seven now — he had a brief period of success about twenty-odd years ago, but it’s been downhill ever since.”
“Most fortune-tellers like him — no real skills — would have switched careers long ago,” Old You said. “But this Ku Cheung Fung doesn’t have an ounce of real talent. He’s scraped by on scams and cons. He’s not cut out for this trade, yet he insists on playing the part with his compass.”
Li Heng quickly flipped through the materials: “Follow the money trail — focus on verifying whether he has any debt disputes.”
Just as she finished speaking, Fang Zhishan walked in briskly from outside: “Madam, Wong Sai Mui has been brought in.”
“Arrange the identification.”
In less than ten minutes, the identification procedure was ready.
Following protocol, Shen Zhicheng brought Ku Cheung Fung into the identification room and assigned him a numbered spot. In his childhood eyes, this Feng Shui master had been tall and imposing, spouting talk of ghosts and gods that made him instinctively afraid. But now, looking at him, he was just an ordinary old man, weathered and putting on a front.
To avoid interfering with Wong Sai Mui’s identification, Shen Zhicheng gave Ku only a cold glance, then kept his eyes straight ahead. After confirming everyone was properly positioned, he turned and left the room.
He leaned against the wall in the corridor outside, thinking of the way Li Heng had publicly taken Ku away in front of everyone.
So decisive and high-profile. As if she was using her actions to sweep away the dark cloud that had hung over him for over twenty years.
At that thought, a smile crept onto his face.
Inside the identification room, Wong Sai Mui stood nervously in the corner.
Li Heng stood beside her: “This is a one-way mirror — you can see the people inside clearly, but they can’t see you. Take your time identifying.”
Hearing that, Wong Sai Mui waved her hand lightly in front of the glass.
Seeing that the row of people inside didn’t react at all — no one could see her — she felt reassured.
Wong Sai Mui frowned, uneasy: “If I identify him, what if he comes after me later…”
Another officer said: “We’ll be here the whole time. And for the next steps — he’s now a suspect in two murder cases. After your identification, he’ll be formally detained. We’ll also register your safety — if anything happens, you can contact us anytime.”
Only then did she dare to step closer. She started from the first person, slowly moving along.
Wong Sai Mui examined carefully until her steps stopped in front of the third person.
“He’s cut his hair short today, and the moles are gone…” She pointed at Ku Cheung Fung’s position, scrutinizing closely. “But it’s definitely him. That day, he gave me a thousand dollars to say those things.”
…
The news of Li Heng barging into the live broadcast and arresting Ku Cheung Fung had reached Pan Liqin — her superior — through station gossip.
“Li Heng!” He pushed open the CID room door and zeroed in on her among the young officers discussing the case. “You stormed into such a huge live show, without so much as a phone call in advance. If the other party comes after you for this, can you bear that responsibility yourself?”
Seeing Pan Sir so furious, all the officers immediately fell silent, holding their breath as they turned to look at Li Heng.
Li Heng was organizing documents, not even looking up: “Let them come after me.”
Beside her, Shen Zhicheng stepped half a step forward, full of confidence: “Don’t worry — the Shen family’s legal team has never lost.”
At this, the officers nearby lowered their heads, stifling their laughter.
Pan Liqin was momentarily speechless: “Fine — you’re all in this together now!”
Was Team A now completely aligned with Li Heng?
“The trigram symbol on Ku Cheung Fung’s business card matches the drawing style of the talisman fragments found at the crime scenes. The eyewitness from the first crime scene, Wong Sai Mui, confirmed that she was bribed by him to give false testimony. Additionally, reporter Choi Man Kai from New Knowledge Weekly captured him appearing at the perimeter of the second crime scene.” Li Heng stood up, pushing several documents toward Pan Liqin. “Sir Pan — the evidence chain is sufficient for the arrest.”
Her decision to make the arrest wasn’t impulsive.
What Ku Cheung Fung had done to a young Shen Zhicheng was one thing — but this was official police business, and she wouldn’t mix the two.
Work came first. Personal matters came second.
She had simply, in the course of her work, taken the opportunity to seek justice for that child who had been falsely accused of being “haunted by vengeful spirits.”
“Sir Pan, Madam knows what she’s doing.” Old You stepped in to speak for her. “The public would find out sooner or later anyway. Having the public see this so-called master exposed as a con artist live on air is better than issuing a press release later and having some elderly folks not believe it — which would only make things more confusing. At that moment, with the live broadcast down to its last few minutes, there really wasn’t time for multiple layers of approval.”
“Exactly — I can testify to that!” Lin Jiacong poked his head in. “When the live audience heard that Master Ku was suspected in a murder case, they all snapped out of it real fast. Word spread quickly — those ghost stories probably won’t be going much further.”
Li Heng stood nearby, listening to their voices, her heart stirring.
“Public opinion is already hard to suppress — a large-scale live clarification like this actually calms the rumors faster.”
Pan Liqin’s gaze swept across the officers in the room.
Almost everyone nodded in agreement.
He could tell — even if Team A wasn’t completely united with Li Heng…
At the very least, their loyalty had shifted to her side.
“Handle it yourself anyway.” Pan Liqin’s brow relaxed a little at the conviction in her eyes, though his tone remained gruff. “But at least we’ve got a suspect. Close the case as soon as possible, so I can report to the higher-ups and the public.”
He thought about the barrage of calls from his superiors that was sure to come, and shook his head helplessly: “Next time you pull something like this, you’d better inform me. You’ve made my life hell tonight — definitely going to be working overtime.”
Li Heng acknowledged.
Just then, Gao Zijie hurried over, lowered his voice, and shared some newly gathered intel with the group.
Just received word — Ku Cheung Fung didn’t actually have a lawyer at all. He’d been bluffing earlier. He’d been clutching his pager and using the station’s phone, calling his assistant over and over, telling him to find a lawyer and get him out.
“He was so high and mighty just now, saying he wouldn’t answer a single question before his lawyer arrived… You’d think he had a whole legal team backing him up.” Gao Zijie curled his lip in disgust. “That act — I’m guessing he learned those lines from TV.”
Several officers laughed, mimicking the stale dialogue from TV dramas.
“Sir, you need evidence — watch out, I’ll sue you for defamation.”
“Hong Kong is a society governed by law — Madam, you can’t just wrongfully accuse people…”
“This is an abuse of power — I’ll definitely file a complaint against you!”
At the word “complaint,” Shen Zhicheng raised an eyebrow.
He’d said that too — he’d said he was going to file a complaint against Inspector Li.
Li Heng glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been two hours since Ku Cheung Fung was detained.
The psychological tug-of-war was about right.
She organized the case files: “Go to Tech and get the final forensic identification report on the talisman comparison from Xu Le’er.”
Shen Zhicheng immediately stood up.
But Li Heng spoke first: “Zhishan, you go.”
In the original plot, Xu Le’er had suffered too much because of Shen Zhicheng.
Though Li Heng couldn’t fully grasp her feelings, some unnecessary entanglements could be deliberately avoided.
Shen Zhicheng sat back down: “Then what do I do?”
Li Heng glanced at the darkening sky outside: “Nothing else — you can head home.”
Ku Cheung Fung was Shen Zhicheng’s childhood nightmare.
He’d seemed calm all day, but in reality, he was used to hiding his emotions. It was well past quitting time — letting him go home to decompress and reset was the most prudent move for now.
She turned to the rest of the team: “The rest of you — finish up what you’re working on and call it a day. Old You and I will stay to continue the interrogation.”
After several late nights, today they could finally knock off early. The officers’ faces lit up with relief as they tidied up their work with renewed energy.
“Me?” Shen Zhicheng asked. “Go home by myself?”
Gao Zijie leaned over his desk, hiding his mouth behind a case file, and whispered to Lin Jiacong beside him: “What else — does she have to walk him home?”
“Don’t talk about him like that.” Lin Jiacong said seriously, “We’re all colleagues.”
Gao Zijie stared at him in disbelief, moving the file aside: “Hey — since when are you on his side?”
Lin Jiacong spread his hands helplessly —
What could he say? The young master had called him “Ah Chung.”
…
In the interrogation room, Li Heng and Old You sat before Ku Cheung Fung, their gazes sharp.
Old You slapped a stack of documents down in front of him.
The cleaner’s statement, the paparazzo’s scene photo, the talisman comparison report — all the evidence laid out clearly.
“The evidence is solid. Confession gets you leniency. Think it over.”
Outside, the sky had darkened completely. Old You raised his voice: “Been stalling for so long — ready to talk yet? If not, we can wait. The force has plenty of people, and we’ve got all the time in the world.”
By now, Ku Cheung Fung was a far cry from the man in front of the camera.
His face was dark, his hands clenched tightly together — clearly still making a last-ditch struggle.
“I want to make a call,” Ku said. “Don’t think I don’t know my rights — I’m entitled to contact a lawyer. You can’t stop me.”
“No point contacting your assistant anymore,” Old You cut in coldly. “Our colleagues just checked your Feng Shui shop — all the valuables are gone. He’s not coming back to get you a lawyer or help you out.”
“The live broadcast was cut off — the whole studio audience, the whole city saw it. A Feng Shui master exposed as a fraud, suspected in two murders, taken away by police on the spot.” Li Heng stared at him calmly. “You think you can make a comeback? Whether the public believes your ghost stories or the Hong Kong police — you know the answer yourself.”
When that female officer had appeared so suddenly, Ku had instinctively tried to resist — but the two male officers had pinned him down. The heavy handcuffs clicked around his wrists. The live audience and the host all froze, faces full of shock. As the woman had said — how could he not know? His time in the spotlight was over.
Ku Cheung Fung finally slumped, his shoulders sagging: “I had tens of thousands of dollars in my shop drawer — I asked him to deposit it for me. How could he just run off…”
As he spoke, the interrogation room door was knocked on.
Li Heng rose and took the latest investigative documents from the officer at the door, giving a low instruction: “Look into Ku Cheung Fung’s assistant immediately — verify his whereabouts during the crimes and confirm whether he was involved.”
“That’s my money — money I worked so hard to get. How could he just take it…” Ku kept muttering. “I want to report this — I want to report him to the police!”
“Reporting that will be handled by a dedicated officer later,” Li Heng said, flipping open the newly received documents. “You had a large gambling debt — creditors showed up at your door regularly. Then, on the 15th of the seventh lunar month — that’s August 10th on the Gregorian calendar — that debt was paid off in a single lump sum.”
“So — driven to desperation by gambling debts — you killed for money.” Li Heng’s gaze locked onto Ku Cheung Fung. “Isn’t that right?”
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