The dream that had haunted Li Heng for months seemed to have finally dissipated once her life truly settled onto the right track.
She was no longer troubled by the music box, the exploding car, or the fragments of that dim attic. She sank peacefully into the soft covers and slept soundly, fully recharging her energy.
When she woke up, her cheeks felt slightly sticky.
Li Heng touched her skin, paused for a moment, and then realized — it hadn’t been a dream. Someone had actually put a face mask on her.
Who would do such a silly thing? The answer was obvious.
When Li Heng walked out of the bedroom, her hair was slightly tousled, her eyes still heavy with sleep: “Do I need to wash it off?”
Shen Yong Xuan didn’t look up — she was focused on tending to her fingertips, every detail from her hair to her nails perfectly maintained.
She answered casually: “Go rinse it off.”
Li Heng walked into the bathroom.
When she came out, her skin was clear and bright, tiny droplets of water clinging to her thick lashes. Her eyes were clear and sharp, black and white. With the usual sharpness of her work faded away, still half-asleep and unusually compliant, she cooperated without resistance.
Shen Yong Xuan had already returned to the guest room, sitting at her vanity with bottles and jars scattered before her like they were queuing up.
She patted her face gently, glancing at Li Heng from the corner of her eye: “You’ve never used a face mask before, have you?”
It wasn’t a question — it was a statement.
Shen Yong Xuan knew well that her niece, who had grown up outside the family for over twenty years, might have struggled just to put food on the table in her early years — she wouldn’t have had the time or mind for such things.
“Police officers are out in all weather — sun and rain — you need to take care of your skin even more. Come here.”
“I work in an office — I’m not on patrol.”
Though she murmured a quiet protest, when Shen Yong Xuan gestured for her to bring over the vanity stool, Li Heng still found herself obediently doing as told.
Faced with the entire vanity covered in skincare products, Shen Yong Xuan worked methodically — demonstrating patting motions, then lifting and firming, her application of eye cream around the orbital bone especially precise and professional. Bottle after bottle, every step was performed with practiced ease.
Li Heng followed along, patting her face casually.
Shen Yong Xuan grabbed her hand: “You’re not trying to slap your face off — you have to wait for the skin to absorb it.”
She stood up, walked to the bed, and lay down slowly, her head hanging over the edge: “Try it on my face.”
Li Heng pulled the stool over and sat beside her.
She followed Shen Yong Xuan’s instructions, opening the bottles one by one in order. After each gentle pat, she paused, patiently waiting for the skin to absorb it.
Shen Yong Xuan’s detailed instructions continued in her ear.
“This one is mainly for hydration — pat it gently onto the face. Let the skin drink up the moisture — only then will it look plump and radiant.”
“The blue bottle is for firming the contours — lift from the bottom up, gently… don’t be so rough.”
“This one tightens pores — it also moisturizes.”
“The red jar — only take a tiny amount. Apply it locally, just a dab.”
Li Heng’s head was spinning.
These tedious steps were even more complicated and harder to remember than legal codes and case leads.
Just then, the glass door on the other side of the private rooftop slid open.
“Awake yet?” Shen Zhicheng’s voice came through. “I’m coming in.”
It hadn’t been from dawn till dawn — just a few hours, but he’d caught up on sleep, rare and deep. When he woke up, he felt completely refreshed.
He padded over quietly, about to knock — but found the bedroom curtains open and the room empty.
He made his way to Shen Yong Xuan’s door and stopped.
“Aunt — did you move your beauty salon home?”
“Haven’t had a facial in a while — book me an appointment tomorrow,” Shen Yong Xuan said, eyes closed, enjoying herself, her tone lazy.
Li Heng looked back and saw Shen Zhicheng leaning against the doorframe, head tilted, watching with an amused grin.
Her hand froze mid-air.
Uh-oh — she’d been caught as a beauty apprentice.
How could Aunt do this to her!
Shen Zhicheng’s lips curved upward: “Police Boss — are you still half asleep?”
“Don’t stir up trouble here.” Their aunt finally opened her eyes, shooting Shen Zhicheng a sidelong glare.
Then she patted Li Heng’s hand: “Don’t listen to him — keep going.”
…
It was a rare day with no overtime — they could even leave early.
Life felt slow and unhurried. Everyone in the house had their own quiet time.
At dinner time, Shen Yong Xuan sent Shen Zhicheng to get the delivery menus from the entryway.
She flipped through them several times, her brow slightly furrowed: “It’s the same dishes over and over.”
“Eating delivery every day isn’t a long-term solution,” Shen Zhicheng chimed in.
Shen Yong Xuan nodded in agreement.
She remembered that Shen Chongnian was famously a gourmet — in the old days at Repulse Bay, his private chef was skilled in all kinds of cuisines. And Fang Jie, who helped out at Shen Zhicheng’s place, was a good cook too — the soup she’d made the other night had been clear and nourishing, much better than the tea restaurant’s delivery.
“Skip the order.” Shen Zhicheng set down the menus and business cards. “Tonight — I’m cooking!”
The living room fell silent. Li Heng and Shen Yong Xuan maintained a tacit understanding — neither said a word.
He actually believed he had the talent to be a master chef.
Shen Zhicheng got up decisively and turned to Li Heng: “Let’s go downstairs to the market and buy groceries.”
“Aunt, you cook at home.” He turned to Shen Yong Xuan and added, “Enough for three.”
The young master always acted on impulse — whatever came to mind, he did it right away.
Last time, the fried egg he’d casually made for Li Heng had been eaten clean, so he decided to build on that success and show off his skills.
“Do you have cash?” Li Heng asked.
“I gave it all to the herbal tea shop owner last time.” Shen Zhicheng held a black credit card between his fingers.
Before Li Heng could shoot him a look, he added: “Don’t worry — I’m not going to swipe this at the market. I’m going to withdraw cash.”
Li Heng sank into the sofa, unwilling to move: “Go by yourself.”
Shopping alone was boring. Shen Zhicheng paused at the door for a moment, then had no choice but to head out.
Only Li Heng and Shen Yong Xuan were left in the house.
After a while, Shen Yong Xuan spoke up: “Did he just ask us to cook?”
She was used to talking without lifting a finger — a string of questions followed.
“Do we need to rinse the rice first?”
“How much water?”
“Do we need to control the heat…?”
Li Heng turned her head: “There’s no rice.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
Just then, a knock came at the door.
“He must have forgotten something.” Shen Yong Xuan got up and opened the door. “There’s no rice at—”
The moment the door swung open, she fell silent.
Li Heng had been lounging on the sofa, but now she turned her head.
Most of the figure at the door was blocked by Shen Yong Xuan — but she could clearly see a rosewood cane touching the ground.
Li Heng sat up straight, surprised: “Grandfather?”
…
Shen Chongnian walked slowly into the room, silent, and sat down on the sofa.
Li Heng and Shen Yong Xuan stood side by side, exchanging quick glances.
“We have a traitor among us,” Shen Yong Xuan muttered under her breath, annoyed. “A real turncoat.”
“It wasn’t Zhicheng who tipped me off,” Shen Chongnian said in a low voice. “I figured it out myself.”
During the phone call with Shen Zhicheng that afternoon, he’d heard a familiar female voice on the other end. Though years had passed, he would never mistake his own daughter’s voice.
But now, face to face, he didn’t know what to say.
The atmosphere in the room was incredibly tense.
The three of them sat on the sofa, watching TV.
Li Heng’s gaze moved between her grandfather and her aunt.
The old man looked at his daughter — clearly a hint of relief in his eyes, his gaze drifting toward her now and then, quietly taking her in.
And Shen Yong Xuan, who usually had plenty to say, remained silent — not even glancing in his direction.
Finally, there was a sound at the door.
Li Heng immediately got up to open it.
Shen Zhicheng — who in the original plot had always lurked in the shadows — now stood there with a bag of rice slung over his shoulder like a laborer, fresh vegetables from the market in his other hand. He’d never experienced this kind of ordinary routine before — but now he looked lively and at ease.
“It hit me halfway that we didn’t have any rice. Sister Siu at the market pointed me to where to buy it.”
“Everyone at the market said they’d never seen such a handsome guy before — they thought it was fun and kept adding extra ingredients, telling me to come back often.” Shen Zhicheng said as he changed his shoes. “Tonight, I’ll really show off my skills.”
Before he could finish, Li Heng gestured with her eyes toward the living room — and Shen Zhicheng glanced over.
He instantly lowered his voice: “How did Grandfather get here?”
Three generations of the Shen family — each with their own rebellious streak.
If Grandfather was second, then Aunt was first. Shen Zhicheng was the youngest in rank — he couldn’t outdo them.
And now, they were all gathered together.
The atmosphere was so heavy that Shen Zhicheng nudged Li Heng with his elbow.
“What?”
“The only one who can break this tension is Grandfather’s favorite — the sweetest, most well-behaved granddaughter.”
“It’s on you.”
One second, two seconds, three seconds…
A smile tugged at Li Heng’s lips, her voice soft: “Grandfather.”
Shen Zhicheng remembered the first time he met Li Heng — at Tonight’s Nightclub, she’d been smooth and charming, her smile practiced and bright.
And now, she was pulling out the same tricks — winning over the elder with ease.
“Grandfather, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Li Heng walked over and sat beside him. “Shen Zhicheng’s cooking for you.”
Shen Chongnian paused — the hardness in his eyes softening, his brow finally relaxing.
“This kid — he can even cook?”
…
Soon, a clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen.
Shen Zhicheng had overestimated himself. After a flurry of activity, ingredients were scattered across the counter in a messy pile — complete chaos.
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