Chapter 6 “Hey, help me out.”

After several humiliating defeats against the female officer, Sheng Fang finally figured out a winning strategy—brandishing a small handkerchief with exaggerated bravado to intimidate.  

A child trying to act mature, but how much cunning could one expect from someone so young? Zhu Qing felt three classic comic-style black lines sliding down her temple, like the speechless expression in old picture books.  

It wasn’t until the tutor arrived on time that the housemaid Marisa, returning from the kitchen, realized the Young Master had gone missing in broad daylight. By the time she panicked and started searching, the commotion had already caught the attention of Sheng Peishan and Chen Chaosheng.  

Faced with the stormy expression on the second son-in-law’s face, Marisa knew she was in trouble and wisely turned to the second young miss to plead for mercy.  

The unexpected death of the puppy had already left Sheng Peishan with red, tearful eyes. She had begun to worry that the sudden brake failure of her husband’s car a few days ago wasn’t just an accident. Now, with her little brother suddenly missing, she connected these incidents to the Fireplace Bone Case.  

“Chaosheng,” Sheng Peishan gripped Chen Chaosheng’s hand, “It’s the killer, it must be the killer!”  

The servants gasped.  

Who would be foolish enough to kill someone and hide the body right under their own noses? Everyone had assumed the old case was the work of the construction workers back then, but now the second young miss was suggesting the killer might still be among them…  

Chen Chaosheng rested a reassuring hand on his wife’s trembling shoulder and barked sharply, “How could a person just vanish into thin air? Stop standing around—go look for him!”  

“Peishan, the police are already here, don’t panic yet…”  

Only then did Sheng Peishan snap out of it. Just as she was about to ask the officers for help, Steward Cui returned from the garden with Sheng Fang in tow.  

“Young Miss,” the old steward smiled kindly, “The Young Master is here. He just ran off to play.”  

Sheng Peishan seemed dazed for a moment before visibly relaxing. Chen Chaosheng apologized, explaining that too much had happened recently, and his wife was simply too tense, hence her outburst.  

With the child safely returned, the second young miss pulled her little brother close, finally at ease.  

Meanwhile, Zhu Qing had just stepped inside when she heard the orders from above.  

Mo Zhenbang’s gaze lingered on Chen Chaosheng’s face for a moment. “About the brake failure—take a statement from Mr. Chen.”  

…  

The Fireplace Bone Case needed investigating, the puppy’s mysterious death needed investigating, the brake failure needed investigating… So far, the three pieces of information didn’t seem strongly connected. Zeng Yongshan couldn’t hold back any longer. The moment Chen Chaosheng left after giving his statement, she nudged Zhu Qing’s arm.  

“This Mr. Chen isn’t quite what I expected.”  

“Everyone says he’s a gentle, refined gentleman, but in person, he’s decisive and commanding.”  

“No wonder. If the second son-in-law didn’t have some steel in him, someone as gentle as the second young miss would’ve been devoured long ago by the wolves on the board of directors.”  

They had assumed the Sheng family’s business was just a rivalry between the eldest and second daughters, with maybe the three-year-old child thrown in.  

But now it seemed neither Sheng Peirong nor Sheng Peishan cared about the inheritance—instead, Chen Chaosheng had become the natural choice to take over the group.  

Zhu Qing looked up at the sky. “Being a rich young miss sure is lucky. When you’re young, Daddy shields you from the storm. Now that Old Mr. Sheng has passed, the sky hasn’t fallen—there’s always someone to hold it up for her. They say Mr. Chen fell for the second young miss at first sight. When they were dating, he even suggested their future children take her surname. Old Mr. Sheng was overjoyed!”  

Zhu Qing asked, “Who told you that?”

Zeng Yongshan’s eyes instantly widened as she frantically patted Zhu Qing’s arm. “You’re actually gossiping with me!”

“It was just something Steward Cui mentioned casually while making tea.” She slipped her hand into the crook of Zhu Qing’s arm and linked them together. “Steward Cui said the second young lady once wanted to be child-free like avant-garde people to develop her entertainment career, and Mr. Chen indulged her. Later, that car accident damaged her health, yet Mr. Chen still stayed by her side, cherishing her dearly.”

The enthusiastic physical contact made Zhu Qing stiffen slightly. She tried to pull away but was held even tighter.

Meanwhile, Mo Zhenbang had already walked into the garden, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, listening to the forensic colleague who came with Zhu Qing report on the evidence examination progress.

“After soaking in chemical solution, letter indentations appeared inside the ring band, but the prolonged high-temperature burning made the patterns unclear. Sir Ge needs to conduct secondary processing.”

“How soon can we get results?”

Zeng Yongshan stood on tiptoe, looking toward Chen Chaosheng, who had quickly gone inside to check on his wife after completing his statement.

“So sweet…” Zeng Yongshan said. “When will I ever meet a white knight like that!”

Zhu Qing’s focus remained entirely on the deceased’s ring, staring at the evidence bag from a distance. “Tomorrow, at the earliest tomorrow.”

“Really?” Zeng Yongshan’s face instantly lit up with a smile, her almond-shaped eyes curving like crescents.

Zhu Qing turned to her blankly. “What?”

“I’m going to take that seriously!” She skipped in a circle, humming an unknown Cantonese tune as she cheerfully went to join her colleagues.

…

The police’s evidence collection continued, with several officers kneeling on the lawn, collecting fibers from the pet dog Bobo’s sleeping pad, food residues, and other samples, carefully packing them into evidence bags for further analysis back at the station.

Dusk had fallen, and a light breeze stirred. Chen Chaosheng tightened the shawl around Sheng Peishan.

“Elder sister loved Bobo the most,” Sheng Peishan said. “If she knew how cruelly Bobo died…”

The CID had routinely investigated the whereabouts of the Sheng family villa members during the time of the incident.

During that period, Sheng Peirong and her husband Cheng Zhaoqian were abroad, eliminating them as suspects. As such, the police had never met this eldest daughter of the Sheng family.

But now, several officers found themselves increasingly baffled by the feuds within wealthy families.

It was said that Sheng Peirong and her father Sheng Wenchang had severed all ties, unwilling to even burn incense for him after his passing. Yet now, it seemed she wasn’t entirely heartless after all.

Sheng Peishan gently wiped her tears with her fingertips, saying anxiously, “Sir Mo, I know you’re busy with official duties, but tonight could you…”

Sheng Peishan meant she hoped investigators could stay overnight for protection until the true cause of Bobo’s death was determined.

The CID primarily handled criminal investigations and didn’t normally provide personal protection services. She knew this put the police in a difficult position, but with so many incidents happening within just two days, the second young lady of the Sheng family couldn’t shake the feeling that the murderer was lurking somewhere in the shadows of the Sheng residence, and their safety could be threatened at any moment.

“Peishan.” Chen Chaosheng shook his head gently. “This isn’t standard procedure.”

“What if we get special approval from Superintendent Di from Regional Crime Unit?” Sheng Peishan gripped her husband’s sleeve tightly. “I have limited mobility, and my younger brother is just a child. If that murderer… The child is innocent!”

“If your people stay, at least the murderer wouldn’t dare act recklessly.”

Chen Chaosheng’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “This—”

“It’s human nature,” Sir Mo pondered. “How about this—Jiale and…”

The air grew heavy as the officers exchanged uneasy glances.

This was highly irregular—they should have waited for the specialized unit. But everyone knew their boss only cared about solving cases, never following protocol. Besides, if the Sheng family really called the Commissioner’s office, the outcome would remain the same.

Zhu Qing spoke up, “I’ll stay.”

Though the bus from Mid-Levels to Wong Chuk Hang ran infrequently, the trip was only about ten kilometers. At most, it would take Zhu Qing forty minutes to return.

Better to remain at the Sheng residence and focus on uncovering the truth. After all, the Sheng household held far too many secrets.

…

The Sheng family arranged two guest rooms for Zhu Qing and Xu Jiale.

“The key lies in the ring’s inscription, but after cross-referencing He Jia’er’s surgical records, the identity of the remains is likely confirmed,” Mo Zhenbang said before leaving. “Rein it in for now—wait for Old Ge to process the inner markings of the ring again.”

“Keep a close watch tonight. Don’t give Sir Weng another reason to nitpick.”

Xu Jiale escorted Sir Mo to the door. “But the connection between He Jia’er and this villa—”

Before he could finish, Mo Zhenbang had already gotten into the car. The door slammed shut, cutting off the officer’s question, its trailing note drowned out by the roar of the engine.

Upstairs in the guest room, the maid, Sister Zhang, smoothed out the bedspread. “Madam, the bathroom is fully stocked with new toiletries. The pajamas are—”

“No need.”

Late at night, the servants retreated to their quarters.

Zhu Qing went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Clutching the tumbler, she walked through the long corridor connecting the two villas.

A skeleton had once been hidden in the fireplace. She vividly remembered the tremor in her chest upon seeing the white bones—yet she felt no fear. Only a burning need to know what the victim was trying to say through those remains.

“Who’s there?”

A figure stirred. Steward Cui emerged. “Madam.”

Everyone avoided this fireplace, holding their breath as they hurried past the hallway without a backward glance.

But Steward Cui gazed at it for a long moment. “When the master was alive, he loved playing chess with the young mistress by the fireplace…”

“You seem to miss Old Mr. Sheng deeply.”

“There used to be a Christmas tree here. A photo of the master and the young mistress in front of it still sits in his study.” Steward Cui sighed absently. “It’s late, Madam. You should rest.”

The guest room arranged for Zhu Qing was at the far end of the second floor.

Past the spiral staircase at the end of the hall was direct access to the children’s room.

Only Sheng Fang lived on the third floor, next to Marisa’s room.

Spotting Zhu Qing, the young master of the Sheng family poked out his fluffy head. “Lady cop.”

She corrected him, “It’s ‘Madam,’ not ‘lady cop.'”

“Who doesn’t know that?” The Young Master lifted his chin. “I have a tutor.”

The three-and-a-half-year-old was no illiterate child.

The door to the children’s room stood ajar. The balcony had been sealed off, but the adults had forgotten about the drainpipe—this was the Young Master’s secret base, where he would slide down the copper pipe to sneak into the garden.

Zhu Qing leaned against the railing beside the balcony. “After today’s disappearance, this secret passage will have to be locked too.”

The usually precocious Young Master sighed dramatically, finally resembling an innocent child.

Bending down, Zhu Qing suddenly made a discovery. “From this angle, you can see Bobo’s playhouse.”

“Of course.” The little figure wrapped in silk pajamas, like a proud corgi with short legs, declared, “Bobo catches the Rainbow Frisbee when I throw it!”

“Did you notice anything unusual from this morning until noon?”

Zhu Qing thought she must be foolish to seek testimony from a child…

The child sat cross-legged on the floor, chubby cheeks propped in his hands: “Bobo barked ‘woof woof woof’ at him—”

Him?

Puzzled, Zhu Qing crouched down. Only when her gaze lowered to the child’s height did she realize that through the window of Bobo’s toy house, the figure by the dog kennel was clearly visible.

Chen Chaosheng stood beside his wife, gently wiping the edges of a photo frame before placing it next to the doghouse.

The night breeze fluttered the shawl around Sheng Peishan’s shoulders, her silhouette frail and vulnerable.

“I heard Second Brother-in-law say they’re going to make a tombstone for Bobo,” the curly-haired little one asked. “What’s a tombstone?”

Zhu Qing froze for a moment, then turned to see Sheng Fang looking up at the starry sky.

Starlight reflected in the child’s clear eyes.

According to Zeng Yongshan’s gossip, the Sheng family still hadn’t told Sheng Fang about his parents’ deaths in the plane crash. Whether it was to protect the child’s innocence or simply indifference to his feelings, the police had no intention of probing into the wealthy family’s secrets.

Could a three-and-a-half-year-old truly understand the meaning of death?

Zhu Qing only remembered that at his age, she was still negotiating with the older kids in the orphanage. They traded plush toys donated by volunteer sisters, pretending to befriend her, coaxing her to climb down from her bed with her little pillow—only to steal her spot and snatch the toys back, leaving her by the drafty window.

So, warmth had to be fought for.

The winter night’s wind was too cold. After that, Zhu Qing never played with toys or made friends again.

“Hey, help.”

The mischievous Young Master still lacked manners, but perhaps it was the sight of his tiny feet kicking as he walked back alone to his room—

She saw the lonely little girl from the orphanage.

“Help with what?” Zhu Qing followed him.

“Making the tombstone.”

Marisa tidied the children’s room more than three times a day, yet the desk was already a mess again.

Sheng Fang found some cardstock and safety scissors, sitting on the bay window. His small fingers gripped the blunt scissors clumsily, cutting the paper into a lopsided rectangle. Then he scurried around the room, digging through the ruins of his toy kingdom to find the flattened “corpse” from his earlier battle with Marisa.

The Young Master clattered a tin of crayons onto the floor.

The chubby crayon stubs rolled to Zhu Qing’s feet.

“Write the epitaph,” Young Master Sheng said solemnly. “Here lies Ultraman.”