Chapter 11: “Little Officer, the investigation comes first.”

By the age of three and a half, Sheng Fang wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen his eldest sister. Perhaps the encounters were few, and his memories had long since blurred.

But just moments ago, hiding around the corner of the hallway, he heard his second sister receive a phone call and rush out urgently—it seemed to be related to their eldest sister.

The second young miss of the Sheng family had limited mobility, and every time she went out, it was quite a production.

The Young Master peeked out with his fluffy little head and tiptoed downstairs lightly, making sure his second sister hadn’t been wheeled into the elevator yet. He slipped away faster than a rabbit.

Zhu Qing barely had time to react, her hands gripping the doorknob outside the children’s room.

She leaned forward, looking down toward the garage.

“Whoosh”—the tiny Young Master ducked into the trunk.

It was the exclusive vehicle of the second young miss, equipped with wheelchair restraints in the back compartment.

Before long, the weary-looking second young miss was wheeled into the garage by a servant.

The wheelchair was securely loaded into the car.

The engine roared as the car slowly pulled out of the garage.

Zhu Qing stood there, belatedly realizing—

The Young Master had gone to investigate.

And she—was left behind?

A penniless little policewoman with no car or driver’s license, but she would never let a clue slip through her fingers.

After all, with her police badge in hand, commandeering a vehicle was perfectly legal when necessary.

The Sheng family’s driver was already waiting by the car but hesitated to start the engine until Steward Cui gave a slight nod through the glass window.

“Madam is investigating.”

The door closed, and Zhu Qing swiftly fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the black sedan gradually pulling away ahead.

“Follow them.”

Old Jiang’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

The recent string of incidents in the Sheng family had left everyone reeling. His mind was still numb, but over twenty years of driving skills had long become muscle memory. The tires rolled over the fallen leaves in the Mid-Levels Villa area, and Steward Cui’s figure in the rearview mirror gradually shrank to a tiny black dot.

“Madam,” Old Jiang couldn’t help but ask, “why are we following the second young miss’s car?”

Zhu Qing’s gaze remained locked on the taillights of the car ahead, her tone unchanged: “She left something behind.”

……

The car wound through the mountain roads for a long time, and Zhu Qing’s eyes involuntarily fixed on the trunk of the car ahead.

If the Sheng family’s Young Master couldn’t hold back, wouldn’t he start pounding on the trunk?

Although Steward Cui said the second young miss visited her elder sister Sheng Peirong without fail on the first of every month, Old Jiang knew nothing about this.

Everyone had heard that the eldest young miss of the Sheng family had moved to the fresh air of Shek O fishing village, but at this moment, the black sedan ahead turned into the gates of a sanatorium.

Old Jiang was baffled when he heard Madam instruct him to stop.

The sanatorium was hidden among lush greenery, quiet and desolate. Notices for visitors were posted on the walls, stating that unregistered guests needed special approval from the director to enter.

Security at the private sanatorium was extremely strict. Zhu Qing only passed the guard’s inspection by claiming she was delivering medicine to the second young miss.

Legs couldn’t move as fast as wheels. By the time Zhu Qing reached the open-air garage, the second young miss had already been wheeled away by servants to visit her sister.

The Sheng family was tight-lipped about Sheng Peirong’s current condition. What exactly had happened to the eldest young miss of the Sheng family?

“It’s stuffy in here!”

Zhu Qing’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

In front of the car’s trunk, Sheng Peishan’s personal driver, Uncle Zhao, stared wide-eyed at the little head poking out from the trunk.

Uncle Zhao looked utterly shocked, frantically turning around to search—but the second young miss was already nowhere to be seen.

He quickly said, “Young Master, I’ll have someone pick you up right away—”

“Less talk.” The deliberately fierce little voice commanded. Sheng Fang, with his chubby hands gripping the edge of the trunk, nimbly flipped himself out and landed on the ground.

The Young Master solemnly brushed off the nearly nonexistent dust from his hands, then turned to join Zhu Qing.

“Let’s go.”

…

For Sheng Fang, this outing felt like an unexpected adventure.

The sanatorium’s environment was surprisingly pleasant—shady trees, birds singing, and fragrant flowers—rivaling the back garden of the Mid-Levels Villa.

Despite his precocious demeanor, the Young Master was still a child at heart. His steps slowed as his round, curious eyes took in the surroundings.

Zhu Qing coaxed, cajoled, and even dragged him along, leaving long streaks on the ground from the little master’s stylish sneakers.

During her student years, Zhu Qing had worked countless part-time jobs, but playing the role of a kindergarten teacher was a first.

She wasn’t good at handling children, her tone stiff and resigned: “Little Officer, the investigation is urgent.”

A three-and-a-half-year-old couldn’t understand the cases from TV dramas, but he knew how impressive brave detectives were.

He focused himself, his short legs moving furiously as he quickened his pace to find his second sister, though his eyes still darted around, even stealing glances at the medicine carts pushed by nurses.

As Hong Kong’s most elite private sanatorium, the Canossa Convalescent Home had security so tight it was staggering. Even the police couldn’t take a step inside without a search warrant.

This was why, since Sheng Peirong’s admission, not a single detail had leaked.

Zhu Qing stood at the base of the ward building and looked up.

How many secrets were hidden beneath the glamorous façade of the Sheng family? From Sheng Fang’s existence, the death of the eldest son-in-law, the second daughter’s disability, to Sheng Peirong’s concealed hospitalization—each matter was tightly wrapped in secrecy.

All along, the information known to the outside world had only ever been the carefully crafted illusions of the Sheng family.

The elevator’s digital display remained stuck on the fourth floor, unmoving.

This meant Sheng Peirong’s room was on the fourth floor.

Down the hallway, at the very end, was a suite with a private garden. The nursing station was set at a distance, with precision instruments displaying vital signs.

Sheng Fang strained to keep a straight face, pretending to be calm. Just moments ago, the female officer had told him—

Don’t act rashly.

To avoid surveillance, Zhu Qing and Sheng Fang had taken the stairs.

The stairwell window was half-open, and the lingering smell of smoke—left behind by someone—hadn’t fully dissipated yet.

The Young Master pinched his nose in disgust and crouched to sneak toward the ward, only for his hoodie’s little hood to be yanked back.

Zhu Qing pressed a finger to her lips in a “shush” gesture.

The conversation from the nursing station came through clearly.

“Just now, the patient’s fingers moved slightly. Dean Luo immediately notified Second Miss Sheng… But now—it’s gone quiet again.”

“Second Miss Sheng is inside with her, reading the newspaper to her as usual.”

The nurses discussed the patient’s condition.

Initially, due to severe post-traumatic stress disorder, the patient would often sit motionless, silent, even refusing to eat. It was her husband’s insistence on tube feeding that kept her alive. But years of depression later led to a sudden stress-induced cardiomyopathy, and after resuscitation, she became comatose.

Zhu Qing leaned against the wall.

Assuming that the deceased He Jia’er from the Fireplace Bone Case had some connection with Professor Cheng, who has since passed away, Sheng Peirong is now the only person who might provide clues to unravel this mystery.

The nurses’ conversation continued.

“In the past few years, with Professor Cheng by her side, she was slightly better. But ever since his death, her vital signs have grown weaker.”

“I heard she used to be an iron lady, never batting an eye at the negotiation table…”

Sheng Fang tugged at Zhu Qing’s sleeve, his little face filled with confusion.

Only then did Zhu Qing realize that the widely circulated rumors of a “family feud over inheritance” were completely false. After her daughter’s accidental death, Sheng Peirong had already suffered a mental breakdown. Old Mr. Sheng had fabricated the story of a wealthy family dispute merely to save face.

“Perhaps for the patient, being conscious is more painful than being comatose,” the older nurse said slowly. “During that time, she would hold onto that notebook every day, waiting. She waited until the clasp wore down and the dark green leather cover faded to white…”

A thought flashed through Zhu Qing’s mind.

During the Hong Kong Rising Star Journalism Program event back then, the organizers had distributed notebooks and pens as souvenirs.

In the commemorative photo, He Jia’er held a dark green notebook, proudly tucking the pen into her shirt pocket.

“What notebook?” a younger nurse asked.

“The one with gold embossing on the cover… It got lost when we moved her to another room.”

“She always said it contained news about her daughter…”

The young master of the Sheng family was patted on the shoulder.

Action!

The nurses whispered among themselves until footsteps were heard, abruptly cutting off their idle chatter.

“Who are you—”

Chen Chaosheng’s bizarre death appeared on the surface to be a suicide out of guilt.

But the suicide scene was too “perfect,” and the suitcase in the bedroom remained a thorn in her heart.

Chen Chaosheng, Cheng Zhaoqian, He Jia’er…

What was the connection between them?

The notebook was stuffed with case materials.

Zhu Qing pulled out the Sheng family portrait taken at the completion of the Mid-Levels Villa and pointed at the second son-in-law, Chen Chaosheng. “Has this gentleman visited?”

The nurses exchanged glances, when suddenly—

The little boy stood on tiptoe, resting his round chin on the nurse’s station.

“Nurse sister,” the Young Master actually played cute, blinking his eyes. “Second brother-in-law promised to bring me a glowing Iron Man model!”

“Haven’t seen your second brother-in-law come by,” the nurse instantly understood, smiling.

Meanwhile, Zhu Qing pretended to accidentally drop the photo from the Hong Kong Rising Star Journalism Program event.

The photo spun in the air, and the older nurse instinctively caught it.

Her gaze noticeably froze when she saw the photo. “This notebook—”

Zhu Qing stared at her.

The nursing home nurses strictly followed employee guidelines and dared not speak out of turn.

After an oppressive silence, she handed the photo back with a smile. “Their notebooks seem to match the pens.”

The door lock clicked.

“Do you need to use the restroom?” Zhu Qing turned her attention back at the sound. “I’ll take you.”

“Okay, Marisa.”

The Young Master seized the opportunity, giving her the name of a Filipina maid.

The two figures, one tall and one small, rounded the corner of the hallway and gradually disappeared into the distance…

Zhu Qing asked, “Has anyone ever told you you’re like a little movie star?”

Sheng Fang put on a solemn expression with his childish face and said—

“You sound like a cop fishing for information.”