Chapter 9: The Golden Shackle  

The Sheng family villa descended into chaos once again. Steward Cui’s legs trembled uncontrollably, and he barely managed to stay upright by gripping the doorframe tightly.  

Shattered glass and broken cups littered the floor, left uncleaned for far too long. The maids, their faces ghostly pale and panic-stricken, screamed as they scrambled to pack their belongings and flee the terrifying scene.  

“Another death, another death!” A shrill cry echoed through the empty villa.  

After the White Bone Case came to light, gossip magazines across Hong Kong eagerly awaited the next act in the Sheng family’s drama. Steward Cui had mentioned that only by offering triple salaries had Second Young Miss barely managed to keep the staff from leaving.  

But now, even thirty times their wages wouldn’t stop the trembling servants from packing up and fleeing overnight.  

Mo Zhenbang contacted the police station for backup.  

Zhu Qing ordered, “Take him back to his room.”  

Marisa’s hands shook violently as she guided Sheng Fang by the shoulders. Her Mandarin faltered, her tongue nearly tied in knots.  

Yet, surprisingly, the Young Master was unusually compliant this time. With his head bowed, he obediently walked ahead of Marisa.  

Once the door to the third-floor children’s room was firmly shut and the sound of the lock clicking echoed through the hall, Zhu Qing stepped into the study.  

Chen Chaosheng was dead.  

He still wore his impeccably tailored suit, his loosened tie hanging askew. Slumped over the desk, the highball glass before him was empty. His lips had turned a ghastly shade of blue, froth clinging to them—a horrifying sight.  

Amid the wail of sirens, colleagues from the Criminal Intelligence Bureau and the Forensics Department arrived one after another, followed closely by the coroner carrying a toolkit.  

“Male victim, approximately thirty-five years old. Preliminary assessment indicates cyanide poisoning.”  

“Exact toxin type and time of death will require toxicology analysis and stomach content examination…”  

A colleague carefully bagged the wine glass and the half-empty bottle of champagne as evidence.  

On the desktop computer, a suicide note detailed the entire ordeal.  

Being the son-in-law of a wealthy family was a shackle forged from gold.  

Chen Chaosheng had understood this from the very day of his marriage.  

During their courtship, all he had to be was the perfect, attentive lover to the young heiress. But after marriage, moving into the grand family estate, every action had to be measured and impeccable… His father-in-law’s yacht required his personal oversight for maintenance, his mother-in-law’s jewelry needed him to arrange insurance, and if anything went wrong with the Mid-Levels Villa renovations, the phone calls came—scathing reprimands raining down on him.  

He did possess some managerial talent, but what use was it? Within the conglomerate, not only did the old foxes on the board play double games, but even newly hired employees looked at him with subtle disdain.  

Luxury cars, mansions, trust funds, stocks… When status accumulated to a certain point, what he truly desired was dignity.  

It was during that time that he met He Jia’er.  

Ten years ago, He Jia’er had been a top student at the University of Hong Kong, forced into selling drinks at a nightclub due to her father’s gambling debts. Unlike Sheng Peishan, who had never known hardship, He Jia’er was brilliant, stubbornly intelligent, and refused to accept her fate. At first, Chen Chaosheng had only wanted to help her, but gradually, he fell in love.  

He showered her with gifts—couple rings, designer handbags—and made time to pick her up after work whenever possible.  

He Jia’er restored Chen Chaosheng’s sense of dignity as a man. They shared a blissful period together, but what she wanted went far beyond that.  

He Jia’er pressured him to divorce.  

Absurd. How could he possibly divorce? If he chose to leave, everything he had would vanish like a bubble.

This female university student was no longer willing to remain just the woman behind him. Times had changed—was he still living like in the old society, keeping a wife at home while hiding a mistress outside?

He Jia’er gave him an ultimatum: if he didn’t come clean with his family, she would go find this Mrs. Chen herself.

Chen Chaosheng loved her, but he loved everything he had now even more. During those days, his father-in-law had entrusted him with overseeing the construction of a luxury mansion. To placate He Jia’er, he took her to the hillside.

That was the last time Chen Chaosheng gave her a choice. If she was willing to endure and wait until the day he took over the Sheng family business, he could buy her a house on the hillside.

He Jia’er mocked him—a live-in son-in-law actually dreaming of inheriting the power of a wealthy family.

Her sharp, piercing words shattered his self-respect.

Chen Chaosheng silently walked to the car and took out the hammer from the trunk.

Then, only deathly silence remained before the fireplace.

…

The servants and the butler gradually calmed down and were finally able to cooperate with the police in giving their statements.

“The second son-in-law and the second young miss had a very good relationship. Just last night, they were together in the backyard by Bobo’s playhouse, staying with her for a long time.”

“The second young miss wasn’t much trouble. She might have had some small tantrums occasionally, but the second son-in-law always managed to soothe her quickly. He treated her exceptionally well—how could he bear to leave her alone…”

“When the second son-in-law drove back yesterday afternoon, he was on the phone. I was washing the car in the garage and heard him sounding very urgent… something about finding the foreman of the construction team from back then as soon as possible.”

As for Sheng Peishan, she returned to the villa within an hour.

The officers waited for her reaction, imagining countless possibilities—would this pampered young lady break down into hysterical sobs or faint on the spot?

Yet reality was far quieter than they had anticipated.

After listening to the police recount the truth Chen Chaosheng had left in his suicide note, she simply closed her eyes slowly.

“You said he left a ring by the computer—” Sheng Peishan asked softly, “May I see it?”

It was a plain platinum ring.

Engraved on the inner band were the initials of He Jia’er’s name—a pair with the one found in the fireplace.

The ring was sealed in three layers of evidence bags. Sheng Peishan unconsciously raised her hand but was stopped mid-air by the police.

Her hand fell back, fingers brushing against her own bare knuckles.

It took a long time before Sheng Peishan found her voice again.

“In all these years of marriage, we never had the habit of wearing wedding rings.”

“A ring from ten years ago… Did he keep it for that girl until now?”

Zeng Yongshan stood nearby, her chest tight. Upon learning that the seemingly perfect Mr. Chen had committed suicide out of guilt, she had muttered the whole way here, but no amount of sentiment could ease the shock in her heart.

She had clearly seen Mr. Chen’s endless tenderness toward the second young miss, only to now hear he had been entangled in an affair with the deceased He Jia’er. It turned out they had all misjudged him.

“Are you alright?” Zeng Yongshan asked with cautious concern in her eyes. “Do you need someone to stay with you?”

Sheng Peishan forced a faint twitch of her lips but couldn’t even muster a complete bitter smile. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”

She said that if her husband were to pass away unexpectedly, perhaps she wouldn’t know what to do. Yet the truth was, his hands were stained with the blood of an innocent life, and at the very moment she trusted and relied on him the most, he was entangled in sweet affection with someone else…

At this moment, Sheng Peishan felt nothing but numbness—as if shedding tears or letting her heart ache would only make her seem more pitiful.

In just three short months, Sheng Peishan had lost her parents, her husband, and even her beloved dog to illness…

But she insisted she wasn’t that fragile.

In the past, the second young miss of the Sheng family had been the pampered jewel of everyone’s eyes.

A severe car accident took one of her legs, leaving her to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.

“If I were the type to give up, I would’ve done so over a decade ago when the accident happened,” Sheng Peishan said with self-deprecation.

Her wheelchair stopped before the floor-to-ceiling window of the Sheng family villa. She gazed outside.

Under the scorching sun, she tightened her fluffy shawl around herself—just as she always did.

…

The police investigation continued.

Even the computer keyboard was taken away for fingerprint collection.

Everyone felt it was too cruel to ask Sheng Peishan to complete her statement at such a time, yet she was willing to cooperate with the authorities.

“I’m fine,” Sheng Peishan said. “This farce needs to come to an end.”

Zhu Qing took out her notepad and began recording.

“Miss Sheng, have you noticed any unusual behavior from Chen Chaosheng in the past two days?”

“Chaosheng has always been like this—keeping his worries buried deep, never letting me share the burden.”

“After my father passed, the corporate affairs became overwhelming. He often worked until dawn. But on the day the white bones were discovered, he stayed home with me…”

“I thought it was out of concern. But looking back now, he was already unsettled from that moment.”

“What about yesterday?”

“Bobo was gone… He stayed by my side, insisting on arranging a tombstone for Bobo overnight. He called his assistant to follow up—that wasn’t like him, Madam. He’s always so composed, but last night…” Sheng Peishan’s voice suddenly trembled. “She was so innocent… Tell me, when a man kills the girl he claims to love with his own hands, does he feel guilt?”

Zhu Qing met Sheng Peishan’s reddened eyes. “True love doesn’t end in harm.”

Silence stretched between them.

After a pause, Sheng Peishan’s gaze swept thoughtfully over Zhu Qing’s face before she suddenly asked an unrelated question—

“Madam, I hope this isn’t inappropriate… You seem so young. Did you join the police force right after graduation?”

…

The police spent the afternoon collecting statements from Sheng Peishan and several servants.

Zhu Qing neatly sealed the evidence bags.

She never believed a killer capable of calmly hiding a body would suddenly be overcome by conscience. There was no guilt weighing on his heart, no torment of remorse—all these years, he had lived just fine.

Mo Zhenbang, however, argued that Chen Chaosheng had simply known the police would eventually track down He Yongjian, the former head of the construction team, and uncover records of his orders to halt work at night and Li Fa completing five days’ work in two. Fearing the collapse of his perfect image, he had made this choice.

After all, incriminating construction records were far more convincing than a guilty conscience.

“When Second Master returned to his room last night, the little master even growled at him, ordering him not to seal his ‘secret passage.’”

A three-and-a-half-year-old child always thought baring his teeth like a tiger would be enough to intimidate anyone.

“Actually, yesterday afternoon, the second son-in-law had already asked me to seal off that passage,” Steward Cui recalled. “The household chores have always been his responsibility…”

A child’s testimony doesn’t count as evidence; it can only serve as a reference.

But following procedure, Zhu Qing still needed to question Sheng Fang.

“You think he’ll obediently tell you?” Mo Zhenbang remarked.

As Zhu Qing knocked on the little tyrant’s door, Mo Zhenbang and Uncle Lai stood with arms crossed, leaning against the spiral staircase, watching the show.

Could a rookie police officer handle a rebellious kid?

With a click, the lock on the children’s room opened, and Marisa stepped aside, beads of cold sweat still on her forehead.

The commotion downstairs had quieted down. She had just managed to brush it off with the excuse of a “police drill,” though she wasn’t sure if it had worked.

At that moment, the young master of the Sheng family sat cross-legged on the carpet, fiddling with a limited-edition Transformer.

Hearing the noise, he lifted his eyelids slightly.

“Sheng Fang,” Zhu Qing said, “have you ever watched cop shows?”

The TV in the children’s room played from morning till night.

The young master puffed out his chest. “TVB, right?”

“Want to play a game?” Zhu Qing deliberately lowered her voice. “You don’t have to say anything now—”

Sheng Fang cut her off, his childish voice firm and resounding: “But anything you say may be used in court!”

The atmosphere was heating up.

Zhu Qing paused, then pressed her advantage: “Yesterday…”

The young master turned his back and wagged a short finger. “Police investigation—no comment.”