Early the next morning, Li Heng returned to the station and brought Ku Cheung Fung in for questioning again.
For over a decade, Ku had intermittently set up a stall on Temple Street. When he ran out of money, he’d go back to the streets. When he got lucky and scraped together a decent sum, he’d try his hand at opening another Feng Shui shop.
He couldn’t remember ever having any real conflicts with anyone on Temple Street. Racking his brain, he only muttered that even if there had been, they were just trivial squabbles — no one would go to such lengths to frame him over them.
In the CID office, Shen Zhicheng was simultaneously working on the entry record cross-check. Since he was only an auxiliary officer with just 370 hours of training, Li Heng hadn’t assigned him to work alone. Lin Jiacong, Gao Zijie, and Fang Zhishan worked together with him, step by step sifting through and eliminating information, gradually narrowing the scope of the investigation.
At noon, Shen Zhicheng walked to Li Heng’s office door and called her to join him for lunch at the station canteen.
From a distance, he caught sight of that “sauna” psychologist from last time.
Dr. Tong was still in a crisp shirt, two buttons undone at the collar, chatting and laughing softly with a colleague nearby.
Their eyes met.
Tong Yi Wei was the first to nod, his demeanor warm.
“Psychological Support Unit — Tong Yi Wei.” Li Heng introduced him briefly with her tray, then motioned toward Shen Zhicheng: “This is Shen Zhicheng.”
Just as she finished, Xu Le’er also came over with her tray and introduced herself cheerfully: “Tech Unit — Xu Le’er!”
Li Heng turned to meet her bright smile.
Even though she wanted to avoid the entanglements of the original plot, she couldn’t bring herself to coldly reject such genuine warmth.
Xu Le’er’s eyes curved into crescents as she said enthusiastically: “Let’s eat together!”
Before long, Lin Jiacong also came over with his tray, calling Fang Zhishan and Gao Zijie to join.
A small round table filled up in no time.
Lin Jiacong shoveled a big mouthful of shrimp fried noodles, his cheeks stuffed full, and mumbled: “Doesn’t this feel like a department team dinner?”
A few officers from Team B passed by and couldn’t help but glance over.
This team could not only eat together — they were actually growing stronger?
Around the table, everyone chatted casually.
Li Heng turned to Tong Yi Wei and asked about Nannán’s follow-up counseling.
Tong Yi Wei glanced at his watch and said quietly: “We’re scheduled to start in about thirty minutes. Want to come along and see?”
…
Tong Yi Wei’s office was on the third floor, next to a counseling room.
A teacher from Nannán’s class accompanied her.
The teacher looked troubled: “It’s really hard to find the time — I have a dozen kids to watch in one class. I could only come during the lunch break, and I had to ask another teacher to keep an eye on them.”
“Nannán is a sensitive child. She needs someone familiar around to feel at ease. I’ve been with her this whole time, so she’s relaxed a little — but her mood is still low.”
Li Heng asked: “What about her father?”
“The father’s been busy with work — he really couldn’t make it. He had to ask us teachers to help out more.” The teacher sighed. “I heard he’s been looking for a nanny to take care of Nannán.”
Several days had passed since Ng Mei Yan’s case. The lives of those around her were slowly returning to normal, moving forward.
Only Nannán remained stuck in the darkest moment, sitting nervously in front of Dr. Tong, her little head hung low, refusing to look up.
Tong Yi Wei was incredibly patient, gently guiding her with a soft tone, playing with sand trays to engage her, and constantly watching for changes in her emotions.
Through the transparent glass, Nannán suddenly noticed Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng standing outside.
She obediently lifted her little face, blinked, and shyly pressed her lips together — as if greeting them.
Shen Zhicheng waved at her.
Soon, Nannán’s attention was drawn back by Dr. Tong. She finally reached out her little hand to take the small sand shovel he offered and placed a tiny plastic castle in the center of the sand tray.
Li Heng watched for a moment, then turned to Shen Zhicheng: “Let’s go to Temple Street.”
Shen Zhicheng looked toward the therapy room: “Aren’t you worried about her?”
“Tong Yi Wei is very professional — she’s in good hands.” Li Heng’s expression steadied, her tone resolute. “Right now, finding the killer is more important.”
…
The two drove to Temple Street.
During the day, Temple Street was quieter than at night. Stalls were sparse, but many old neighbors sat on stools by their doors, chatting leisurely.
But as they went door to door — stall owners, shopkeepers, longtime residents — no one had any strong memory of Ku Cheung Fung.
He had set up his stall on Temple Street back then, coming and going irregularly, and it had been so many years ago. People vaguely recalled that there had been a fortune-teller at the end of the street — always trying to snatch the best spot from others, and when he couldn’t get it, he’d sneer and start calculating fortunes, declaring people were cursed with bad luck — a real scoundrel. Only now, as they talked, did they realize that fortune-teller from back then was actually the “Master Ku” they’d seen on TV.
“He was younger then — he often wore sunglasses and pretended to be blind — I didn’t recognize him at first.”
“As for grudges… I don’t think so.”
“There were so many people coming and going, setting up stalls — we were never that close with them.”
The two exchanged a helpless look and continued walking.
Passing by a stall, a man was busy setting up his booth, his fortune-telling banner wobbling unsteadily. Just as the pole was about to fall, Li Heng reached out and steadied it. The cloth banner reading “Unerring Divination” fluttered in the wind, catching the eye.
It was a fortune-telling stall.
“Thank you, miss.” The fortune-teller beamed. “Looking at your features, you have the face of great wealth and nobility. How about I read your fortune — give you some guidance?”
Li Heng refused without a second thought.
She had never believed in such street-side charlatans, always holding that one’s fate was in their own hands.
But just as she finished speaking, she paused, then shoved Shen Zhicheng in front of the fortune-teller.
“Read his.”
…
The fortune-teller looked at Shen Zhicheng and asked: “Sir, what would you like to know?”
Li Heng cut in: “Tell him whether he’s been haunted by little demons since childhood.”
The fortune-teller was taken aback, then narrowed his eyes, pinching his fingers and muttering: “Miss, don’t speak nonsense. This gentleman has a proper, distinguished bearing — far from being plagued by little demons, he’s blessed with good fortune.”
Li Heng reached into Shen Zhicheng’s pocket, pulled out some change, and pushed it across the table: “Anything else? Take another look.”
The fortune-teller pocketed the money, his smile widening. He brought out a bamboo fortune-telling tube and handed it to Shen Zhicheng.
At Li Heng’s quiet urging, Shen Zhicheng hesitated, took the tube, and gave it a gentle shake.
Soon, a bamboo stick fell onto the stall.
The fortune-teller picked it up, glanced at the inscription, and shook his head with flourish: “The fortune says you had a difficult early life, with many hardships in your youth. But after those trials, your luck will turn exceptionally strong — from here on, everything will go smoothly, with both fortune and blessings!”
“It’s a top-tier fortune.” Li Heng’s eyes lit up as she turned to Shen Zhicheng. “See? Ku Cheung Fung was a liar.”
Shen Zhicheng couldn’t help but laugh.
He’d long understood that Ku was nothing but a fraud, and his arrest only confirmed it. But back then — at three years old — how could he have known?
And here was Li Heng, who didn’t believe a word of this fortune-telling nonsense, going along with it — getting another fortune-teller to use his own words, a top-tier fortune, to overturn the lies of the first.
All just to put his mind at ease.
“Ever heard the saying — a fortune-teller can fool you for eight or ten years—” Li Heng leaned in close to Shen Zhicheng and lowered her voice, “—and you’ve been fooled for far longer than that. It’s time to let it go.”
Shen Zhicheng smiled and nodded: “I know, Police Sis.”
Just then, the fortune-teller chimed in: “The Ku Cheung Fung you mentioned — is that the one on TV?”
Shen Zhicheng and Li Heng exchanged a glance, a spark of excitement in their eyes, and nodded quickly.
“You know him?”
“Knowing someone like that is a curse for seven lifetimes.” The fortune-teller let out a derisive snort, full of contempt. “I look down on that Ku. He’s the one ruining our trade’s reputation.”
As he tidied his fortune tubes, the fortune-teller recalled the old days.
“When he set up his stall here back then, his head was full of schemes. I never told anyone — otherwise, his reputation would’ve been ruined long ago.”
The street was quiet, the stall not busy. The fortune-teller spoke unhurriedly.
“He came to me one day, wanting me to work with him in a con. He’d tell someone they had a dire fortune, scare them into paying to have the calamity lifted. Then, after the customer passed by my stall, I’d pretend to read their fortune and say — ‘I saw dark clouds over your head earlier — how is it that the negative energy is fading now? You must have met a benefactor who lifted the curse.’”
“Ku promised me a cut of every job, as long as I played along.”
“I cursed him out on the spot.” The fortune-teller spat. “What kind of fortune-telling is that? It’s low-down swindling. I would never sink to that level!”
Li Heng pressed: “Do you know if he ever offended anyone on Temple Street?”
Thinking of the “female journalist” lead, she added: “For example — did any child ever have a conflict with him?”
The fortune-teller fell into thought.
After a long pause, he spoke slowly: “Now that you mention it, I do remember something. There was this child — couldn’t have been older than primary school, maybe middle school at most — small and thin. She came to Ku’s stall making a scene, crying and shouting that Ku had ruined her mother’s life and that she was going to smash his stall.”
“Ku was unreasonable even back then — stealing stalls, cutting off other people’s business — it was common. He made a huge mess. And since she was just a kid, he didn’t take her seriously at all.”
“He shoved her hard and cursed her out, saying she was blocking his business.”
“It was late, most people had already packed up, and Temple Street was quiet. I saw it clearly — she hit the ground hard and couldn’t get back up for a long time. Her eyes — dark and bright — just stared straight at Ku. In all my years, I’d never seen such a terrifying look in a child’s eyes. It sent a chill down my spine.”
Shen Zhicheng frowned and asked: “Do you know what Ku did back then that ruined the child’s mother?”
“I wouldn’t know — I’d stopped having anything to do with him by then, wouldn’t even exchange a word.” The fortune-teller shook his head and sneered. “Someone like him, willing to say anything for money, pushing people to the edge — I had no respect for him.”
Leave a Reply