Chapter 7: Mr. Nice Guy  

Zhu Qing spent a restless night at the Sheng residence.  

Neither the uncomfortable metal-framed beds at the orphanage nor the faded ones at the Wong Chuk Hang Police Academy dormitory could compare to the comfort of the guest room in this villa. However, the ever-growing annotations in her notebook reminded her—this wasn’t a vacation, but a mission.  

Both Xu Jiale and Zhu Qing had stayed up all night. By dawn, after breakfast delivered by the maid Aunt Ping, their CID colleagues arrived.  

“Here to relieve us?”  

Zhu Qing shook her head. “It’s the autopsy report for the Maltese dog.”  

Last night had been an exception, but today, everything was back to normal.  

As for why the CID had rushed over so early… it was bitterly ironic. The Sheng family’s legal team had swiftly completed the procedures, yet while the expedited DNA report for the human remains hadn’t arrived, Bobo’s autopsy report was already in hand.  

“There were no abnormalities in Bobo’s cause of death.”  

The report was filled with professional jargon and lengthy details, but Zhu Qing’s gaze lingered on the line that read, “External force ruled out as cause of death.”  

Uncle Lai glanced at the report and let out a cold laugh.  

The second Sheng daughter clutched her skirt tightly, murmuring, “Was it really just an accident?”  

Uncle Lai turned his face away.  

Murdering a dog—what a ridiculous idea for a rich girl. Was the killer worried the dog would compete for inheritance, or did it witness the crime and had to be silenced?  

He had no patience for fools.  

By the time Zhu Qing left, the guest bed remained neatly made.  

Most of the time, the Sheng family’s Young Master was confined to the third-floor nursery and the hallway outside. Especially now that the secret passage had been sealed off by his second brother-in-law, Marisa hovered around him like human-shaped surveillance, never letting him out of her sight.  

Sheng Fang rested his chubby little chin on the stair railing, watching Zhu Qing prepare to leave.  

“Aren’t the police supposed to protect the people?”  

“We have a case to solve,” Zhu Qing replied, looking up. “Behave, and I’ll nominate you for a Good Citizen Award.”  

Her tone was icy, but her words sounded like she was coaxing a child.  

The child being coaxed pouted, his face full of disdain, like a cartoon supervillain. “Pfft, as if you can solve cases.”  

No idea what the kid was so proud of.  

A colleague’s voice called out impatiently. Zhu Qing responded with a quick “Coming!” and headed downstairs, only to hear Sheng Fang’s urgent little voice again.  

“Give me your phone number!”  

Zhu Qing turned back. “I don’t have one.”  

“Pager?”  

“Don’t have that either.”  

Marisa, the Filipina maid, was always learning from daily life.  

Her eyes darted left and right, absorbing the concise Mandarin exchange between them.  

The Young Master scrutinized her with a stern expression. “Are you… broke?”  

“Are you nouveau riche?”  

Dead silence.  

Marisa held her breath, not daring to make a sound—  

Had the Young Master lost again?  

……  

The contractor who had overseen the Sheng villa’s construction a decade ago now ran a building materials company. Though the business had grown considerably, it had started as a ragtag operation, and its record-keeping was far from meticulous. Early crew rosters hadn’t been preserved.  

Still, by cross-referencing the construction contracts and material purchase lists provided by the Sheng legal team with the visitor logs submitted by the property manager, they managed to uncover some leads.  

Leaving the hillside, Zhu Qing and Uncle Lai headed to Yongjian Building Materials. The company’s gilded sign at the entrance exuded grandeur, and a secretary escorted the two officers into He Yongjian’s office.  

“So you’re Cement Jian?” Uncle Lai sneered.

He Yongjian was no longer the same man he used to be. Now dressed in designer labels, his gold tooth glinted under the light. The former contractor had grown both in stature and temper, with even his old coworkers addressing him respectfully as “Boss He.” So when the officer casually called him “Concrete Yong,” displeasure flickered in his eyes.

Zhu Qing’s gaze swept the room before settling on the statue of Guan Yu. She withdrew her eyes and took a seat at the rosewood tea table.

He Yongjian stared at Zhu Qing for a long moment before grinning cheekily. “Madam, you’re quite the looker. Fancy grabbing tea at Zhou’s after your shift?”

Uncle Lai’s expression darkened, about to slam the table, when Zhu Qing began marking lines on the reports submitted by “Yongjian Construction Materials” with her pen.

Zhu Qing: “Boss He, the number of fire hydrants your company reported the year before last doesn’t seem to match what I saw today.”

Boss He had hit a wall. His flirtatious smile froze instantly.

Uncle Lai, on the other hand, nearly laughed.

This young woman…

He Yongjian pretended to sip tea to mask his embarrassment, clearing his throat awkwardly before returning to the matter at hand.

“Working overnight shifts every day—none of the construction crew complained. Who wouldn’t want extra cash to go home for the New Year?”

“Back then, the old folks in the tenements at the foot of the hill kept throwing water to protest. Old Mr. Sheng offered a 30% pay raise and told us to handle it ourselves… Rich folks, you know. If money can solve it, it’s not a problem.”

Zhu Qing recalled what Uncle Lin from the mid-levels property had said that day—

The foreman mentioned that Old Mr. Sheng later changed his mind, refusing overnight work and delaying progress by months.

“Why was the construction halted later?” Zhu Qing asked.

It was so long ago that his memory was hazy. He Yongjian frowned, thinking hard.

“Halted… Now that you mention it, yeah, that did happen.”

“Oh.” His brow smoothed as he slapped his thigh. “Mr. Chen told us to take our time—they weren’t in a hurry to move in.”

“Which Mr. Chen?”

“How many Mr. Chens could halt an entire construction crew? Of course, it was the Sheng family’s second son-in-law.”

“Was the second son-in-law in charge of the construction? What about the eldest?”

“The eldest never showed up. The second son-in-law was Old Mr. Sheng’s favorite… He even said so himself during inspections—that the second son-in-law knew how to handle people better. The eldest? Just a lecturer spouting empty theories. You know how boring that is.”

Uncle Lai: “Were there any abnormalities during the fireplace construction?”

“None at all.” He Yongjian waved a hand. “The police have asked this many times. If there were, I’d have said so already.”

“On December 19th and 20th—” Zhu Qing glanced down at the construction blueprints and property logs. “A worker named Li Fa never showed up again after those days.”

“With hundreds of workers coming and going, you expect me to remember each one?” Boss He fiddled with the tea set. “This Li Fa you mentioned—no recollection.”

Zhu Qing looked up, holding his gaze. “Fine. We’ll keep digging.”

He Yongjian’s hand paused, the teacup clinking against the tray.

“Wouldn’t want to delay Boss He’s money-making.” Uncle Lai left the pointed remark behind as he stood, signaling their return to the station.

As the two walked away, He Yongjian suddenly chased them to the elevator.

“Officer!”

“The relief sculpture behind the fireplace—the boss said the marble shipment was delayed. Then it arrived suddenly, but the crew had been transferred to the Repulse Bay site, so we brought in a replacement. It was Ah Fa… my distant cousin.”

“Ah Fa wasn’t familiar with the process and rushed the job. He told me later over drinks that what should’ve taken five days, he finished in two.”

The case of the white bones in the Sheng family’s fireplace had drawn public attention.

He Yongjian was worried that media exposure of the rushed construction might reveal potential safety hazards. If the news spread, it could tarnish their building materials company’s reputation, which was why he hadn’t brought it up voluntarily.

“Actually, sir…” He Yongjian said placatingly, “the fireplace never had any quality issues. Could we keep this from the reporters?”

Uncle Lai and Zhu Qing exchanged glances.

Their concerns had nothing to do with whether the company’s golden reputation would be ruined.

As the elevator doors were about to close, He Yongjian anxiously emphasized—

“Keep it confidential!”

In the confined elevator space, Uncle Lai asked, “What do you think?”

After what felt like a long pause, Zhu Qing’s speculation drifted to his ears.

“It might not be that Li Fa worked fast.”

“Finishing in two days—more likely, the killer had already hidden the body inside the fireplace before it was sealed.”

…

When Zhu Qing and Uncle Lai returned to the police station, Ho Tsai was boasting about the sights he’d seen the night before when he accompanied Sergeant Mo to the nightclub.

“That bottle was called Louis something—wrapped in rose gold foil, and they even wore white gloves to open it!”

“The corkscrew was set with rubies. They said it belonged to that real estate tycoon Boss Huang, used last month for his fifth wife’s birthday celebration…”

Xu Jiale exclaimed in regret.

What bad luck—why hadn’t Sir Mo taken him along to broaden his horizons?

“You’re not missing out,” Little Sun teased. “You’ve even lived in a Mid-Levels mansion.”

“A Mid-Levels haunted house!”

Mo Zhenbang waved the case notes, signaling everyone to gather in the meeting room.

“Sir Mo’s takeout will be here soon,” Sister Zhen, the clerical staff, chimed in. “He specially ordered egg tarts from Lee Kee and stocking milk tea for you all.”

“Know you lot can’t work on an empty stomach.”

Zeng Yongshan immediately dashed to the meeting room, snagging the folding chair by the door. “Lee Kee’s egg tarts are so flaky and fragrant—you have to fight for them fresh out of the oven!”

“Let’s get to work!” Ho Tsai stepped up to the whiteboard, taking the case notes from Mo Zhenbang before he could reprimand them.

“Colleagues at the nightclub all said He Jia’er was very well-liked. Everyone adored this elite university student and looked out for her often.”

“The victim’s parents suspected she’d made enemies at the club… but in reality, He Jia’er not only had no enemies, she was thriving.”

“In the two weeks before she disappeared, her jewelry, clothes, and shoes were all new—she was drowning in gifts, and every night after work, a luxury car would pick her up.”

“Her girlfriends said she’d landed a wealthy catch… but though He Jia’er usually got along with everyone, she was tight-lipped about it, never revealing a word.”

Xu Jiale: “Maybe the guy’s identity wasn’t something she could disclose?”

“Wealthy catch?” Zeng Yongshan scoffed. “In that kind of place, what decent guy would there be? Probably some married man.”

“Knock knock knock—”

A knock interrupted their thoughts.

The forensics senior delivered the urgent DNA report: “Sir Mo, Sir Ge asked me to bring this over.”

The report was fresh out of the lab, hotter than Lee Kee’s flaky egg tarts. Mo Zhenbang immediately opened the folder.

Without any suspense, the victim was confirmed to be He Jia’er.

Everyone’s gaze turned to the scribbled notes on the whiteboard.

Motives for homicide usually boiled down to a few things: revenge, love, money disputes…

Mo Zhenbang said, “Notify the family.”

“The Mid-Levels Villa was renowned for its strict security back then. Even construction workers had to register with their credentials to enter. He Jia’er was an outsider…”

“With four security personnel on duty simultaneously during that time frame, it would have been impossible for an outsider to get in.” Uncle Lai picked up Zhu Qing’s train of thought, sharing the findings from their afternoon at Yongjian Construction Materials.

Zhu Qing added, “But if it was someone from the inside, no registration would be needed.”

Xu Jiale looked puzzled. “Of course you don’t need to register when returning to your own home. What does that prove?”

Intermittent murmurs broke out as Mo Zhenbang’s gaze settled on Zhu Qing. “Go on.”

“Residents of the Mid-Levels Villa could drive straight into the garage,” Zhu Qing explained. “Once the construction team left, the body was stuffed into the hidden slot behind the fireplace.”

Mo Zhenbang mused, “Perhaps from the very beginning, the focus shouldn’t have been on the construction workers hiding the body.”

The Sheng family, hailed as ‘model citizens,’ hadn’t yet moved into the villa when the crime occurred. Fireplace installation required professional craftsmen, and even the most sensational tabloids refrained from wild speculation, merely lamenting the villa’s bad feng shui for being tied to such a tragedy…

By the time the White Bone Case came to light, the Sheng family had fully cooperated with the police investigation—providing alibis, restoring old surveillance footage at great expense, and supplying testimonies from domestic help. The entire package appeared flawless.

“Yongjian mentioned,” Uncle Lai pondered, “that back then, it was the second son-in-law who specifically instructed the construction team to finish work promptly at eight.”

The tense atmosphere finally eased as several officers exchanged knowing glances.

Seemed it was time to invite this “fine gentleman” up for a cup of coffee.