“Aunt, come help.”
“I don’t know how.”
“At least tie my apron for me!”
Shen Yong Xuan reluctantly stepped forward with a sour face to lend a hand.
In the living room, Li Heng sat beside Shen Chongnian, chatting with him about everyday matters.
Shen Chongnian had never been good with younger generations. His granddaughter had only been home for a little over a month, and most of that time had been consumed by police work. The two rarely had moments like this — sitting together and talking properly.
He tried to find topics that might interest her.
“Grandfather heard from the young people at the company that some singer is having a concert — would Zhining like to go?”
“Or are you interested in the equestrian open? All the younger crowd is going to watch — I’ll have someone book you a private box.”
These trendy topics were completely foreign to Li Heng. Her life was plain and dull — she didn’t listen to music, barely knew any singers, and as for equestrian events, she’d change the channel without hesitation if it came on TV, let alone go watch in person.
Shen Chongnian seemed prepared — he pivoted to the case she’d been working on day and night.
Li Heng could tell her grandfather had been following the case closely. He’d familiarized himself with all the publicly available information in the newspapers and magazines.
Shen Zhicheng always said Grandfather only cared about business. But now she saw that he would pay attention to what the young employees at the company liked, quietly take note, and earnestly — if clumsily — try to find common ground to talk about with his grandchildren.
As for her job — no matter how much he felt frontline work was dangerous, he kept his objections to himself and quietly followed her progress.
Shen Chongnian was also changing.
“No matter how big or small the case — safety always comes first.” His tone was gentle as he cautioned: “Zhining — make sure you stay safe.”
“I know,” Li Heng assured him. “It’s really not that dangerous. I haven’t fired my gun in a long time.”
Shen Chongnian drew in a sharp breath.
This child — she used to fire her gun often?
The commotion from the kitchen continued.
Shen Yong Xuan stood to the side, pinching her nose with one hand and shielding her face with the other: “Do you know how bad cooking fumes are for your skin?”
Shen Chongnian turned to his granddaughter: “What’s she doing in there?”
“Tying his apron, probably.” Li Heng laughed.
After a long wait, Shen Zhicheng emerged with a serving plate: “Seafood feast — dinner’s ready!”
Li Heng took Shen Chongnian’s arm and helped him to the table.
It was hardly a feast.
Cooking four dishes and a soup all at once was too much for Shen Zhicheng. He’d wisely given up and thrown the rice and all the seafood he’d bought into one pot — one big stir-fry.
But at least everything was cooked through, and at a glance, it looked presentable.
The four of them sat down at the table.
A faint warmth filled the room — the clink of spoons against bowls carried a hint of home.
Even if two of them still wouldn’t speak to each other.
Shen Chongnian took a spoonful of fried rice and put it in his mouth.
Shen Yong Xuan sat across from him, ignoring their conversation, her gaze fixed on the TV screen — her movements elegant and composed as always.
“Grandfather — how is it?” Shen Zhicheng asked.
He knew his grandfather was famously picky — he’d probably say it was too salty, too bland, or ignore the question and ask when he’d stop fooling around and come back to take over the business.
But unexpectedly, Shen Chongnian just said quietly: “It’s delicious.”
It was just a simple bowl of fried rice — but it was the most comforting meal he’d had in years.
His granddaughter was here. His grandson had grown so much. And his daughter had even come back.
The atmosphere at the table gradually warmed.
Finally, Shen Chongnian spoke: “Your uncle’s family will be coming over next week. Make time to come home for a meal.”
Li Heng’s gaze flickered — she instinctively glanced at Shen Zhicheng beside her.
In the original plot, Shen Chongnian had been privately investigating the car accident from years ago — once suspicion took root, he was determined to confirm his suspicions. But in the end, the story never revealed whether it had truly been an accident.
“I’m not going.” Shen Yong Xuan flatly refused. “No point seeing them.”
Shen Zhicheng was silent for a long moment.
He’d been distant from his uncle since childhood. Even though his uncle had later blamed everything on his wife — Shen Zhicheng still didn’t believe he was innocent. Those rifts couldn’t be smoothed over — and there was no need to try.
Shen Chongnian looked at his grandson: “What about you?”
“Not going either,” Shen Zhicheng said coldly.
It was rare for the family to sit down together for a meal, so the old man didn’t press further.
Just then, Li Heng spoke up: “What day? I’ll come after work.”
Shen Chongnian was visibly taken aback.
Shen Zhicheng, seeing this, immediately changed his tune: “Then I’ll go too.”
…
The CID room in the morning was a far cry from the scene of a few days ago.
After half a day’s rest, Team A was lively again.
After being so busy they didn’t even have time to visit the pantry, now that things had quieted down, the morning was spent slowly organizing the case files while chatting idly. Even at lunch, they lingered longer at the station canteen, took a stroll downstairs, and meandered back to the office area, laughing and chatting along the way.
“Sir Pan even slicked his hair back this morning — he’s off to record Police Report later. All those days complaining that the higher-ups don’t understand, that the pressure of investigations is too much — and now that our team’s cracked the case in record time and stolen the spotlight, who knows how smug he must be inside.”
“He even picked a bright tie today — who in their right mind buys a rose-pink tie to wear!”
“Now that this case is closed, we’ve not only made a breakthrough but also uncovered that old case — two birds with one stone. Sir Pan said a happy occasion lifts the spirits — even his outfit’s getting in on the celebration.”
The officers also talked about that old case from ten years ago.
During yesterday’s interrogation, Yeung Mong Suet had confessed to all her crimes without a hint of self-defense or excuse. Her only concern, right up to the end, had been that old case — afraid that after she went to prison, the police would stop investigating.
“Sir Pan’s already contacted the officers from Sha Tin who handled the old case. After all these years, when they revisited it, the case seemed almost too clean — which made it even more suspicious.”
“They’ve decided to formally reopen the investigation and dig deeper into the truth behind that case.”
“It’s a pity that the two witnesses — Ng Mei Yan and Yiu Chun Fai — are both dead. But both of them had come into unexplained sums of money back then — Sha Tin will follow that lead.”
Shen Zhicheng suddenly spoke: “Madam used to be at Sha Tin station.”
Li Heng nodded: “I hadn’t even joined the force yet — I was still a student.”
Lin Jiacong’s face broke into an understanding grin.
The little rookie had even memorized her superior’s resume — he’d definitely done his homework.
“That old case wasn’t handled by Madam’s later team — it was another unit’s case,” Old You said. “I spoke with Ah Yiu from Sha Tin this morning. They’ve tracked down the victim’s wife. After so many years, many of the details had faded. But upon reflection, there had indeed been some conflicts between her husband and his partner, Wong San Man. However, she was close friends with Wong San Man’s wife, and since the killer had already been caught, she didn’t mention a word in her statement out of consideration for the friendship between the families.”
With the old case reopened, all the overlooked details would be investigated one by one.
But even if the truth came to light, Yeung Ching Sing — who had been wrongfully convicted — would never know.
Pan Liqin walked out of his office, heard the chatter, and couldn’t help but sigh.
“That’s why I always stress — investigations must be rigorous, thoroughly rigorous. Not a single oversight is acceptable. That old saying — ‘better to convict the wrong person than let the guilty go’ — that was from decades ago, ancient history.” Pan Liqin reflected. “Cases back then were handled carelessly — who knows how many miscarriages of justice were caused.”
“One murder case destroyed a family,” Li Heng said. “But the suspect also had family who cared about them.”
Even though the case had been solved, the truth behind it was too heavy — the officers couldn’t help but reflect.
“If only the investigation had been more thorough back then — it wouldn’t have come to this.”
“Hopefully, Yeung Ching Sing’s name will be cleared soon…”
The room fell silent for a moment.
Gao Zijie broke the quiet: “Oh, by the way — this morning, Nannán came in with her father to see Dr. Tong for follow-up counseling. I happened to run into them downstairs and walked them up to the third floor.”
“After everything that’s happened, Tung Chi Ming is filled with guilt and remorse. Ng Mei Yan was always reserved and stoic — she kept her secrets so well that not a crack showed. Back then, he thought the money was just something she’d managed to borrow from various sources to tide them over. He never imagined she’d been bribed to give false testimony.”
“In the years that followed, he never brought up repaying it. It was a sizable sum — since Ng Mei Yan never mentioned it, he went along and acted as if it had never happened.”
“Tung Chi Ming also told me that Yeung Fan — Ng Mei Yan’s ex — showed up a few days ago, demanding inheritance money for their son. That’s when Tung Chi Ming learned his wife had another child from before. He admitted that while it bothered him that she’d kept it from him, after all those years of marriage — even if he’d known back then — he would have accepted it in the end.”
“It’s just too late to say all that now. Tung Chi Ming was never a great husband… but Nannán is still young — hopefully, he’ll step up and be a real father from now on.”
Everyone let out a collective sigh.
Just then, a field officer pushed the door open and reported: “Madam — there’s someone outside who wants to see you. It’s Yeung Mong Suet’s uncle.”
…
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng went to the reception room together.
Yeung Mong Suet’s uncle, Wong Sui Ho, sat nervously, his hands clasped, restless and uneasy.
The moment he saw the reception room door open, he shot up: “Two officers — I’m so sorry to bother you.”
His eyes were full of anxiety. He chose his words carefully before speaking: “I saw the papers — I’ve been worried about Mong Suet since this morning. But I knew you were busy and didn’t want to interrupt, so I waited until after lunch to come.”
“I heard Mong Suet is in trouble.” His voice was urgent. “She… how is she now? Is she okay?”
The serial murder case had rocked the entire city. Yesterday, the suspect had been arrested and confessed to all her crimes during interrogation — the police had immediately released an official statement.
Wong Sui Ho had read the notice in the newspaper, pieced together the cause and effect from scattered news reports, and rushed over to the station.
“Everyone’s saying that Mong Suet got tangled up in these two deaths because of her father’s case back then.”
“Mong Suet was always different from her parents — she’s had a strong will of her own since she was a child. But no matter what, murder is a terrible mistake. She should have come to her family to talk things over. She’s still young — she acted impulsively and took two lives.”
“It’s my fault too. I didn’t even know she was in Hong Kong… I should have met with her sooner — stopped her before she did something foolish, something wrong.”
Li Heng and Shen Zhicheng sat across from him, listening to his words.
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