Chapter 5: Another Incident  

In moments of extreme grief, people often find themselves unable to utter a single coherent sentence.  

This illiterate elderly couple could barely stand, leaning on each other for support. Their eyes were fixed on the words in the evidence display, their ears filled only with the creaking noise of an old ceiling fan. For a moment, they forgot to ask anything.  

Zhu Qing: “The inner ring of the ring doesn’t have—”  

“The evidence is still undergoing further testing,” Uncle Lai interrupted, raising his hand.  

The ring found in the fireplace alongside the skeletal remains had been carefully bagged by Zhu Qing herself, wearing gloves. She clearly remembered there were no engravings on the inner surface.  

But Uncle Lai was more experienced. Coincidences like this didn’t exist—the timing of the couple’s daughter’s disappearance a decade ago, her physique, the surgical marks they described, the ring’s design… every detail matched the characteristics of the remains.  

“Let’s wait for the detailed report from forensics,” Uncle Lai said cautiously.  

The couple remained dazed.  

The scent of rheumatism plaster from Mother He’s waist drifted into Zhu Qing’s nose. She asked, “How did He Jia’er go missing?”  

The old woman wiped her tears with a handkerchief.  

The couple ran a newspaper stand, working hard to support their only daughter’s education. He Jia’er was determined—excellent in both character and academics from a young age, she was admitted to Hong Kong University.  

A university student who emerged from a tin-roofed newsstand in Kwun Tong, He Jia’er had an unyielding stubbornness in her bones.  

“Jia’er always said that after graduation, she’d earn big money and buy us a thousand-square-foot flat.”  

“People like us, used to living in subdivided flats, wouldn’t even dare to dream of it.”  

The old woman’s eyes clouded as she recalled the past.  

In her memories, her diligent daughter bent over a low table studying, enduring the hottest days without even turning on the fan… It felt like a dream. The voice of the madam snapped her back to reality.  

“Why did she start working at a nightclub?”  

Father He couldn’t evade Zhu Qing’s sharp gaze. Hesitating, he adjusted his collar, revealing a faded azure dragon tattoo on his forearm.  

The old woman clenched her withered hands, glaring at her husband. “It’s all his fault—he started gambling again!”  

In his youth, Father He had sworn off gambling by cutting off a finger as a vow. But when their daughter’s acceptance letter from Hong Kong University arrived, he straightened his back—only to relapse into gambling. He borrowed money to cover his losses, and as interest piled up, debt collectors splashed red paint on their door. The sticky red liquid dripped down the house number. Mother He wept helplessly.  

Their university-educated daughter stepped up. Alone, she went to negotiate. Using her prestigious student ID as collateral, He Jia’er saved her father’s remaining fingers—but the debt still had to be repaid. She took a job as a waitress at a nightclub, using her tips to pay off his gambling debts, finally waking him up.  

“Jia’er was capable. She cleared the debt in three months.”  

“But the money came so easily… She still went back during holidays.”  

“We’ve been poor all our lives. Jia’er—she had never seen so many beautiful handbags and clothes before.”  

According to Mother He, their once-obedient student daughter had been dazzled by the glamorous world, choosing a shortcut to wealth.  

Zhu Qing flipped through the missing person case file.  

He Jia’er disappeared after a fierce argument with her parents. Their daughter, who had never stayed out overnight before, didn’t return home for an entire night.  

One night turned into another, with no word from her.  

Only then did the couple report her missing.  

“Why did you hide the nightclub job?”  

“We couldn’t. The neighbors said if the university found out, they’d revoke her degree.”

“I thought it was the people from Portland Street who led her astray…”

“Actually, it’s us, her parents, who dragged Jia’er down. If only the scholarship hadn’t been gambled away—”

“It’s my fault.” Father He suddenly slapped himself. “Blame me, it’s all my fault…”

The old woman broke down sobbing: “Who could be so cruel, not just killing her but hiding her body in the fireplace, roasting her bones black without even turning them to ashes… What kind of grievance did Jia’er suffer…”

Zhu Qing turned to look at Uncle Lai.

Uncle Lai nodded slightly: “The DNA results will be out by next Wednesday at the latest. Arrange for them to give another detailed statement.”

……

Zhu Qing sat at her workstation, the case files beside her with a takeout cup of Iced Lemon Tea—every officer in Team B had one.

This was the afternoon tea Sir Mo had treated them to. Progress in identifying the victim meant another all-nighter for everyone.

Mo Zhenbang pinned the graduation photo of He Jia’er from the decade-old missing person case onto the whiteboard.

The yellowed old photo showed a ponytailed college student smiling brightly at the camera, making it hard to connect her with the skeletal remains found in the fireplace.

“The victim had undergone leg surgery. Based on detailed medical records, the remains are highly likely to be He Jia’er.”

“He Jia’er’s parents mentioned that although she worked part-time at a nightclub—a mixed environment—she was tactful, good at reading people, and skilled at resolving conflicts.”

“To their knowledge, she hadn’t offended anyone or had any grudges.”

Ho Tsai took a sip of his Iced Lemon Tea and popped a throat lozenge into his mouth, the icy coolness sharpening his focus.

“College students are so independent. Do you really think she’d report everything to her family?”

A few colleagues murmured in agreement.

Even if you haven’t been a parent, you’ve been a child. No matter how filial, people often share only the good news. Besides, Mother He had clashed with He Jia’er multiple times over the nightclub job. The two couldn’t understand each other, and bringing up work troubles at home would only add to the tension.

“Boss, I didn’t tell my mom about being called a ‘damned cop’ the other day either…”

“During the Central shootout, I even said I was on a date at Ocean Park!”

As they chatted, someone tossed the conversation to Zhu Qing, who had been silent: “Right?”

Sergeant Mo rapped the whiteboard sharply with a folder: “Focus!”

After the meeting, he asked Zhu Qing to stay behind and handed her a dormitory application form.

“Your monthly salary exceeds the public housing limit, but you can apply for the disciplinary forces dormitory reserved for police personnel.”

“It’ll take at least a few months to process. Hang in there.”

Mo Zhenbang had reviewed her police academy records and transfer documents.

Orphaned since childhood and raised in a welfare home, she now lived in the academy dormitory, commuting by minibus with at least three transfers, leaving Wong Chuk Hang before dawn. Sometimes, after late shifts, the young woman would just crash on the floor of the CID room—tough as nails.

“Even if it’s small and shared, it’s better than sleeping in the CID room.”

“Thank you, Sir Mo.” Zhu Qing was succinct, redirecting the conversation by flipping through the case files, which included a newly added note. “But He Jia’er’s parents said the plain ring was engraved with letters. How do we explain that?”

Sir Mo took the note Zhu Qing handed him.

The elderly couple had tried to sketch the inscription inside the ring, but the markings resembled homemade English letters—utterly indecipherable.

Mo Zhenbang: “Looks like ghost scribbles.”

“Sir Mo, should we request an expedited scan now?”

The new recruit worked with professional efficiency, even exuding a hint of pressure.

Mo Zhenbang shot her a sidelong glance, squinting as he crushed the cigarette butt between his teeth. Ash fell as he signed the document: “Forensics’ Sir Ge is going to blame me for issuing another Death Warrant.”

Zhu Qing smoothly took the expedited request form.

“Tell them I want to see the scan of the metal indentations inside the ring before the end of today!”

“Yes, Sir.”

…

“Knock knock knock—”

Xu Jiale returned, gently rapping on the conference room door and lowering his voice: “Sir Mo.”

“The Sheng family has more trouble.”

Not long after jewelry tycoon Sheng Wenchang’s passing, the Sheng household had been plagued by incidents. No sooner had the Fireplace Bone Case been filed than rumors began spreading.

The television stations had only this much information, broadcasting nearly identical reports with different headlines from morning till night. Inspector Weng had visited the CID room three times already, loosening his tie in agitation each time. By day’s end, Mo Zhenbang’s face darkened at every internal phone ring.

Now, hearing of new trouble at the Sheng residence, Team B left Zhu Qing to submit the expedited request to Forensics and handle wrap-up duties while the remaining members followed Sergeant Mo to the hillside.

The old butler’s trousers still bore grass stains when he spotted the familiar officers and hurried over: “Officers, Bobo is dead!”

Upon learning Bobo was the Sheng family’s Maltese dog, Mo Zhenbang took a deep breath to maintain composure.

Did taxpayers really think the police had nothing better to do? Now even pet deaths warranted reports? Since when did the West Kowloon Serious Crimes Unit handle pet funeral services?

The butler continued: “Bobo was perfectly healthy yesterday, then suddenly fell ill this morning. Could it be… poisoning?”

As luxury cars pulled into the garage, Chen Chaosheng arrived in haste. Having heard about the incident over the phone, he went straight to his wife’s room upon entering.

Mo Zhenbang watched his anxious retreating figure.

“Cancelled his meeting immediately after his wife called,” Zeng Yongshan remarked. “No wonder they call him the model husband!”

…

Sheng Peishan composed herself before being wheeled into the living room by her husband.

“Sorry for the trouble,” Sheng Peishan said, her eyes red and swollen as she dabbed at tear stains with a tissue.

The young mistress clutched a photo frame—a picture of her with Bobo from happier times.

Her pale fingers lightly traced the image of the small dog she’d held in her arms, fresh tears falling.

“Bobo got me through my darkest days…”

“Now what terrifies me most is something happening to Chaosheng.”

“I thought it was coincidence at first, but if Bobo’s death wasn’t accidental, could that brake failure have also been…”

Chen Chaosheng grasped her hand: “Old cars malfunction—it was just an accident. You’re overthinking again.”

After a pause, he soothed: “How about I discuss with Lawyer Hu? Rules are rigid, but people are flexible. Staying in the old house for a full hundred days might be too much for you.”

“But…”

The perfect couple—his handsome features paired with her beauty. In Mr. Chen’s eyes, Zeng Yongshan saw profound tenderness and concern.

Even after years of marriage, these two remained inseparable, inspiring undeniable envy.

Mo Zhenbang: “You mentioned earlier that Mr. Chen’s car experienced brake failure?”

…

The Young Master rarely used the secret passage to come downstairs and play in broad daylight.

Helplessly, Marisa had grown wiser and no longer left the key to the children’s room unlocked or carelessly misplaced. Hearing the commotion outside, his curiosity got the better of him, and the little repeat offender resorted to his old tricks again.  

Last night, the child had played with the air conditioner, turning the temperature down to the lowest setting. By morning, he woke up sniffling. Marisa tucked a cartoon handkerchief into the collar of his shirt and even added an extra layer to his pants.  

Strange—today, his pants had unusually strong friction.  

Sheng Fang slid down the pipe slowly, moving like a little sloth.  

As he descended gradually, he caught sight of the female officer he’d just had a falling-out with the night before.  

Zhu Qing quickened her pace toward the Sheng residence.  

Typically, the forensics team would preserve the integrity of evidence after initial examination. The platinum ring had long been hidden in the ashes of the fireplace. The high-temperature environment had formed a dense oxide layer on the metal surface, and routine cleaning could only remove surface stains.  

But soaking it in a special reducing agent could strip it away.  

Zhu Qing waited as her forensics colleagues worked overtime. As the oxide layer was peeled off, engraved letters gradually appeared inside the ring.  

The English letters inscribed inside the ring could very well advance the case.  

With this exciting discovery, Zhu Qing rushed to the Sheng residence in a speeding car with her senior from forensics.  

Just as she rounded the wrought-iron arched gateway, she spotted the Young Master dusting off his little hands after sliding down the pipe.  

The Young Master wore a smug little smirk of triumph.  

His cheeks puffed out as he pinched the handkerchief to blow his nose.  

Seeing the snot bubble perched on the child’s nose, Zhu Qing recoiled.  

As for Sheng Fang—earlier, he had firmly resolved never to acknowledge this female officer again.  

Yet at this very moment, he dropped into a tiny horse stance.  

The young master of the Sheng family channeled his resentment into a Wing Chun opening stance, his short arms extending and retracting as his chubby hands waved the grubby handkerchief menacingly.  

“Eww—”