Chapter 57 "Has Superman arrived?"
As I said before, how can a three-and-a-half-year-old child compete with an adult?
The child, Shengfang, failed to play dumb and was unwilling to accept the criticism, so he hung his head and sulked.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Zhu Qing was about to leave, and he quietly raised his eyelids again.
"Qingzai, where are you going?"
Temple Street Night Market.
Zhu Qing had read all the information in that file more than once.
Psychologist Xu Mingyuan's next target was a deaf-mute woman. She had never been to school, had no formal employment record, and the police had very little information about her. According to the registration information, Song Sijia lived with her parents, and they could only visit her parents and old neighbors again. They heard that she now made a living by setting up a stall at the night market.
With thousands of subdivided flats throughout Hong Kong, deploying police resources might be able to locate her current address.
The problem is, time is too tight.
And the night market—
The night market only operates at night, so tonight and tomorrow night are the police's last chance.
Inspector Mo has requested reinforcements from his superiors, and the entire B team has been mobilized.
Zhu Qing rushed back to her residence to get the sign language manual. Holding the blue-covered "Police Sign Language Quick Reference Manual" in her left hand, she quickly put on her shoes while dealing with the clingy little Fangfang.
"I want to go too!"
"Can't."
"Temple Street Night Market is right next door! Take me there for a visit..."
Zhu Qing said seriously, "This is work, blossoming."
She had to meet up with her colleagues as quickly as possible.
Zhu Qing stepped out of the house: "I'm leaving now."
With the keen sense of a future senior inspector, Shengfang had already sensed just how challenging Qingzai's task was.
He put his hands together and said, "You said I was a lucky star last time!"
It was the time when Qingzai got drunk after just one cup; I not only praised him for being cute and smart, but also held his little face and sighed how wonderful it was to have him...
They even said the baby is a lucky star!
Shengfang blinked her eyes and said "Please, please," using all her charm and coaxing a hundred times.
With a "click," the door slammed shut.
Fangfang was confined inside the room, while the hurried footsteps outside the door gradually faded into the distance.
That heartless Madam, she left on her own.
Zhu Qing started frantically studying the sign language manual in the elevator, and after getting out of the elevator, she distracted herself by pulling out her mobile phone.
At the police station, Inspector Mok assigned them to groups. She and Ho were in one group. By then, the other members had already set off, and they needed to make contact first.
"Where are you?"
"I'll be there in three minutes."
Behind Zhu Qing, a "ding" sounded, and the elevator doors opened again.
The young master, who had changed into his outdoor clothes, put his hands in his pockets and glanced at her as he came out.
"Niece, you're here too. Where are you going?"
Zhu Qing: ...
Aunt Ping followed the young master of the Sheng family with a troubled expression. The child said he wanted to go to Temple Street to eat mango shaved ice without mango. There was nothing she could do; the young master was a small business owner, and at most she could try to persuade him gently. If she couldn't convince him, she could only take him out with her.
"Bloom," Zhu Qing warned, "I'll settle the score with you later."
"See you there." Fangfang was fearless, and even turned back to wave as she walked ahead, "Qingzai, I'm going first."
...
Haozai leaned against the fortune-telling stall at the entrance of Temple Street, observing the crowds coming and going.
The fortune-telling stall, adorned with a banner proclaiming "Ironclad Predictions," swayed gently in the autumn night breeze. The fortune teller's stall displayed copper coins and divination sticks, actively soliciting customers.
"Young man, you have a radiant face; you're sure to have some romantic opportunities soon..."
"Young lady, I see you are destined for unexpected wealth. Would you like to request a Taoist talisman to clear your path?"
"Sincerity is key; if you don't believe me, you don't have to pay!"
Haozai pulled out his police badge and waved it in front of the fortune teller's brown sunglasses: "Uncle, pretending to be a blind man?"
The fortune teller ripped off his round sunglasses: "Seriously, officer? The Major Crimes Unit is even handling this now?"
Haozai glanced at him sideways, then turned back to continue searching for his target in the crowd.
I didn't find Song Sijia, but I did spot a familiar figure on the crowded street.
"Zhu Qing!" He suddenly stood on tiptoe, raised his arm high above his head, and swung it back and forth dramatically. "I'm over here!"
The children were already holding their bowls of shark fin soup and eating.
Actually, before Zhu Qing came back, Aunt Ping was patting the little boy to sleep in his room. But when she suddenly heard her niece come home, the drowsy child suddenly woke up and refused to lie down anymore.
Aunt Ping wasn't having an easy time either. After much pleading with her boss, they finally agreed that the young master could only play for thirty minutes. Once the half hour was up, he had to go back to sleep. Otherwise, she would complain to Zhu Qing, and not just verbally, but also by writing a long complaint letter.
Aunt Ping used her niece to scare people, and she was always right. Sheng Fang pouted and nodded obediently.
The young man weaved through the crowds at the night market, wanting to try everything he saw, looking around and hurrying along to save time.
After strolling around for a while, the child even "bumped into" his niece on Temple Street.
This little baby's true colors are written all over her face. Even if you pretend not to see her, your mouth is stretched to your ears, and you're all smug.
"Young master, let's go buy some shaved ice," Aunt Ping coaxed, bending down. "We'll go home after we eat."
As Haozai hurried through the crowded Temple Street, he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed.
"I just spoke with Yongshan on the phone. They have four people selling books on Women's Street alone."
"Mr. Mo told us to target the bookstall first, but if she's about to commit suicide, will she still come out to set up the stall?"
"If it were me, I'd probably just lie there motionless before I die. What's the point of making so much money? I'd have nowhere to spend it anyway, so why not burn it all for me—"
Zhu Qing frowned: "Doesn't that mean the hope is slim?"
"Yeah." Haozai forced a smile, but kept walking.
The police currently have very little information. They only know that the patient's name is Song Sijia, but what does "Song Sijia" actually look like? When her parents mentioned their daughter, they just scoffed and said that they had given birth to a money-losing child who was deaf and mute and only knew how to be a burden.
Take her picture—doesn't taking pictures cost money?
These are the original words of Mr. and Mrs. Song.
We have too little information, but time is of the essence.
Everyone knows that the hope is extremely slim.
But what if the odds are against you?
If you can't find him at the night market stalls, go to a subdivided flat. You have to search the entire Hong Kong to find him.
We must find Song Sijia...
If Xu Mingyuan's inducement has succeeded, everyone knows what might happen next.
They have no time to complain.
Haozai lowered his voice and said dejectedly, "Even if I stood on the street right now and shouted 'Song Sijia,' she wouldn't hear me."
This is the dilemma they face, and a common problem for other team members when carrying out their tasks.
But there are always more solutions than problems; they must confront the root of the problem.
Zhu Qing and Haozai walked along, their eyes scanning every stall on the street.
Finally, they spotted an inconspicuous bookstall around the corner.
The stall owner was a young woman in her early twenties, tidying up the books on her stall. When she saw them stop, a warm smile appeared on her lips.
"Just browsing."
"What would you like to buy? Three martial arts novels are 10% off, and used books are buy one get one free."
"Look at these books, anyone who knows their stuff knows how hard they are to find, you definitely won't find them in bookstores."
They exchanged a glance, both seeing disappointment in each other's eyes.
A few steps away from the shaved ice stall, Sheng Fang practically lay on the metal cart, clutching her change, watching the owner's actions with bated breath.
The shop owner turned the handle of the ice machine, and snow-white crushed ice poured out, piling up into a small snow mountain. He then produced a bottle of mango juice from somewhere, poured it over the ice, and was about to insert a decorative paper umbrella when suddenly—
A sharp whistle pierced the noise.
"A street vendor!"
"Officers, arrest them! Pack up and leave!"
The whole street erupted in chaos. The stall owners frantically rolled up their goods, while the fortune teller, pretending to be blind, snatched away the "Ironclad Predictions" banner, his footsteps hurried and disorderly.
This scene is very similar to the Great Migration that the young master of the Sheng family watched on a TV documentary.
Super exciting.
Shengfang, tilting her head to watch the commotion, suddenly jolted and turned around abruptly—
Qingzai, help! The shaved ice has run away!
...
Zhu Qing caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye—
The owner of the shaved ice stall pushed his tin cart at breakneck speed, weaving through the crowd, the wheels clanging loudly as they rolled across the pavement.
"Snowflakes! Don't run!" The little boy kicked his short legs and chased after it, but the more he ran, the further away the toy car got. His chubby little face trembled with each step he took. "Snowflakes! They're melting!"
Aunt Ping was so anxious that she kept stamping her feet. She was old and couldn't run fast. When she saw Fangfang, who was small and mixed in with the crowd, she didn't have time to think and chased after her with all her might.
"Young master, stop right now! There are cars coming across the street!"
Zhu Qing was completely confused.
Fangfang's small figure was almost swallowed up by the scattering crowd. It was too dangerous, so she took a step forward and chased after her.
Haozai reacted just as quickly: "I'll do it!"
In the midst of this chaotic chase, Zhu Qing missed the first bookstall but unexpectedly stumbled upon the second.
It was a comic book stall, and the owner was a young man wearing glasses.
It wasn't him.
Zhu Qing didn't stop walking. She noticed that Haozai took three steps at a time to stop Fangfang, and her eyes continued to scan the surroundings.
A street stall displays handicrafts and miscellaneous goods.
Bamboo cricket cages, wind-up tin toys, colorful marbles in glass jars...
Her gaze froze.
At the stall, a small, thin figure was hurriedly packing up. Everyone around her was running around, but she was a beat slower, and even the whistle didn't reach her.
Because she is deaf, she only notices the commotion when the rest of the group is packing up, and then hurriedly begins to tidy up.
"Song Sijia?" Zhu Qing called out.
The thin little girl kept her head down, her brow furrowed.
Until Zhu Qing waved her hand in front of her, attracting her attention.
She looked up, her eyes blank.
Zhu Qing repeated it again, this time slowing down her speech to make her mouth movements clearer.
"Song-Si-Jia?"
The other person gestured with their hands, a hint of doubt in their eyes.
Song Sijia responded, but Zhu Qing couldn't understand it.
She quickly opened the sign language manual and flipped through it rapidly.
At this moment, Shengfang was already eating her shaved ice, shaking her head and looking very satisfied.
This is how Haozai won him over.
"Aunt Ping, the boss forgot to collect the money."
The young millionaire wasn't about to take advantage of others; he licked his lips and said, "I'll return it to him tomorrow."
Haozai returned panting, his gaze passing over Zhu Qing and landing on the deaf-mute man who was gesturing something.
His eyes widened instantly, and he exclaimed in surprise, "Found it?!"
Song Sijia subconsciously shrank back, still protecting the goods on her stall with her hands.
She didn't know who the two people in front of her were, and she frowned nervously.
Zhu Qing took a deep breath, slowly squatted down, and began to use the sign language gestures in the manual.
“Don’t be afraid.” She gestured while speaking slowly, looking into the other person’s eyes. “We just want to talk to you.”
...
Song Sijia can read lips, but she cannot read.
Zhu Qing and Hao Zai, however, do not understand sign language at all.
The sign language manual only taught enough for simple communication with her. For example, Zhu Qing could understand Song Sijia's gestures for "why" and "what."
It's simply impossible to fully understand what the other person is trying to express.
Haozai used Zhu Qing's mobile phone to contact Mo Sir.
"Inspector Mo, we've found her, we've found Song Sijia."
"We can't communicate with her, should we call a sign language interpreter?"
For Zhu Qing, the only option for now is to stall in the most primitive way.
She was still inexperienced; she only brought the sign language manual with her when she went out, but forgot to bring paper and pen.
Fortunately, Song Sijia took out a notebook from her pocket, randomly flipped to a blank page, and made a gesture to Zhu Qing.
Since the recipient was illiterate, Zhu Qing could only draw on it. Just like holding simple lines drawn by a child, her drawings were also simple sketches.
After Haozai finished informing Ah Tou, he turned around and happened to see Zhu Qing leaving a simple thumbs-up drawing on the paper.
Haozai: ……
Although they didn't know what use this would be, it was the only way they could keep her calm for the time being.
After all, it's unrealistic to mention Dr. Xu Mingyuan or his inducements using newly learned sign language or simple drawings.
Zhu Qing wasn't sure if the other person could fully understand her lip reading, so she referred to the sign language manual, pointed to the illustrations, and gestured to Song Sijia.
"Safety."
"No, don't be afraid."
Song Sijia's brows were furrowed, and she leaned back in a defensive posture.
It's like they might turn around and run away at any moment.
"Qingzai..." Shengfang's voice drifted from not far away.
The young master of the Sheng family can't finish a whole serving of shaved ice; it's too cold. It's autumn now, and the wind is getting chilly, and he's still a baby.
He finally obeyed and obediently placed his little hand in Aunt Ping's palm, ready to go home. He originally wanted to say "goodbye" to his niece, but Qingzai was too busy and only nodded to Aunt Ping, without looking at him again.
Aunt Ping whispered a reminder to Sheng Fang.
"Young master, Qingqing will definitely settle accounts with you tomorrow."
"Still not asleep at 10 o'clock, wandering around downstairs. And just now, chasing after the shaved ice cart, it almost went into the road..."
Actually, he didn't intend to rush into the road, but the boy knew that his explanation would be rejected, so he didn't explain further.
He turned around and looked at his niece's back, feeling a little scared.
“Aunt Ping,” Sheng Fang said with a heavy heart, “I hope she can solve the case today.”
It's estimated that only after the case is solved will Qingzai be in a good mood to let him off the hook.
The little girl kept turning back to look at Qingzai, who was working.
"Keep trying, Qingzai!" He silently clenched his fist.
In front of the grocery stall, Song Sijia waved her hand in front of her.
It's unclear whether they're refusing to communicate or simply expressing fear.
Zhu Qing didn't know how long she gestured before her tense shoulders finally relaxed.
Finally, Song Sijia drew a smiley face in her notebook and handed it over.
Zhu Qing wasn't sure if this kind of communication would be effective, but until sign language and social workers arrived, this was the only thing she could do. Little Fangfang had a pair of adorable dimples, and when he drew little figures, he would add two small dimples at the corners of his mouth. Zhu Qing imitated him, adding an even bigger smile next to the smiley face.
The other person's gaze softened noticeably.
The world is noisy and chaotic, and Song Sijia can't hear it.
However, she could see the kindness.
Fifteen minutes later, Mo Zhenbang arrived, along with a sign language interpreter.
“We can’t rule out the risks, so let’s take Song Sijia back to the police station first and tell her tactfully—” Mo Sir said to the sign language interpreter, “Our police force must protect her according to procedure.”
"I'll contact a social worker right away," Haozai said.
They haven't stopped for a moment in days.
On the way back to the police station, Zhu Qing could still hear the piercing whistles from the night market.
She rubbed her aching temples.
Found it, just like that.
The subsequent series of processes felt like being pushed along by time.
Inside the CID office, colleagues were still busy, some coming in, some going out, bringing news one after another.
"It was Inspector Mo and Uncle Li who personally interrogated Xu Mingyuan. He was very disappointed when he heard the news that Song Sijia had been found."
"The social worker has arrived and has been staying with Song Sijia. The sign language interpreter has explained things clearly, and she is no longer panicked. She must have felt insecure because the night market was too chaotic and she couldn't hear or express herself."
"But Song Sijia was unwilling to identify Xu Mingyuan. The sign language interpreter said that Song Sijia had a deaf-mute friend who told her that the address of the Kang En Medical Center Healing Association was published in the newspaper. She only went to the institution to give it a try, and sure enough, no one understood sign language. Her world was silent, too quiet and lonely. Song Sijia did not really have any hope for this healing association, nor did she expect anyone to understand her."
"Who knew that she would run into Xu Mingyuan unexpectedly after leaving Kang En Medical Center that very day."
“Xu Mingyuan lived at his aunt’s house when he was a child. His neighbor next door was a teacher at a special school who knew sign language, so he could communicate with Song Sijia using sign language.”
Zhu Qing noted: "When did Song Sijia begin receiving treatment from Xu Mingyuan?"
Ten days ago.
That is, shortly after You Minmin's death.
“Song Sijia told the sign language interpreter that Xu Mingyuan was the best doctor she had ever met. He was very patient and willing to put himself in the patients’ shoes and think about their needs.”
"She was indeed unwilling to identify him."
“If Song Sijia is unwilling to testify, we cannot sue him.”
"The other four victims will never be able to speak again. The treasurer of the healing society can only prove that he illegally obtained patient information, but his crime should be instigating suicide."
"What should we do? Is there any other way?"
In the criminal investigation team's office, everyone fell silent.
The tranquility after the hustle and bustle leaves one feeling physically and mentally exhausted.
Is that all?
Everyone was prepared for a tough battle, but it felt like punching cotton.
“But no matter what, we saved Song Sijia from committing suicide,” Liang Qikai said. “At least, we did it.”
...
When Zhu Qing arrived home, it was already late at night.
In truth, none of the officers in Major Crimes Unit B wanted to go home. Even after finding Song Sijia, the broken chain of evidence brought the case to a standstill once again. Burdened by this sense of powerlessness, no one was willing to give up; they just hoped to persevere a little longer and think of another way.
Perhaps there are still clues hidden in the heavy case files, or perhaps a certain detail was overlooked by them.
It was Mo Zhenbang who told everyone to go back.
Investigating cases is important, but people can't afford to break down. Inspector Mok ordered all officers not to stay overnight at the police station. Everyone could feel this consideration, but obediently following orders was impossible. Even when they went home, they had to bring thick files with them, close their bedroom doors, and continue working.
The list of names for the healing session was spread out on Zhu Qing's desk.
The names were densely packed, most of them marked with blue and black pens. There were a total of 470 female members. Originally, 19 of them could not be contacted, but now Song Sijia has been removed.
There are 18 people left.
Zhu Qing reclassified the remaining lists according to date.
The healing society has been established for three years. Could some of the members who joined in 1993 and 1994 have already passed away?
Is it possible that there were more than four victims?
If the case remains unsolved, then digging up this long-forgotten tragedy might provide evidence to convict Xu Mingyuan.
The desk lamp was always on.
Although the door was tightly closed, a faint light shone through the gaps underneath.
Aunt Ping has a habit of getting up at night. Noticing that she hadn't rested yet, she stood outside the door and sighed with heartache.
It felt like going back decades, when Sheng Peirong was young and worked just as hard. Zhu Qing, like her mother, always did her best in whatever she did.
Very light footsteps came from outside the door; it was Aunt Ping knocking.
When she came in, she was carrying a cup of warm milk.
"Aren't you asleep yet, so late?" Aunt Ping placed the glass on the corner of the table.
"Almost done." Zhu Qing looked down, her gaze still fixed on the file. "Check a few more lists."
Aunt Ping knew that saying more was useless, so she secretly planned out tomorrow's menu.
We need to make a variety of nourishing soups, one for each day, to properly nourish the child.
Aunt Ping closed Zhu Qing's door.
She adjusted the angle of the desk lamp, and the dim yellow light fell on the file, illuminating every word.
Zhu Qing knew that this wasn't the only light on tonight.
Every detective in Major Crimes Unit B has yet to take a break.
Everyone will open the old case files, compare them with the medical records found from Xu Mingyuan's clinic, and cross-reference them with the list of healing sessions.
They worked together to find the members on the list who were temporarily out of contact, and after confirming their safety, they crossed their names off the list.
Confirm one, then exclude another.
Zhu Qing closed the last file, finished the warm milk in the glass, got up and went to the kitchen to rinse it in the sink.
The door to the children's room wasn't closed tightly. It was probably before going to bed, and Fangfang wanted to keep a close eye on her niece's movements when she came home, so she asked Aunt Ping to leave the door slightly ajar.
Zhu Qing looked inside and found that Fangfang had kicked off the blanket again.
She went inside.
The baby likes to curl up in a ball while sleeping, with his little head not touching the pillow, which he holds in his arms while he's asleep.
She had said long ago that she would buy Fangfang a plush toy so that he could hug it to sleep. Every time, the little guy would put on a stern face and say that it wasn't cool at all, but then he would turn around and treat the pillow as a teddy bear.
Zhu Qing bent down to tuck the blanket around him, and was about to leave when she heard him mumbling in his sleep.
"Snowflake ice... Run, run, don't run!"
"Qingzai, time to plant watermelons, time to harvest watermelons—"
Zhu Qing moved closer to listen, and then closer to look.
This little kid is even smiling in his dreams.
...
Before the meeting began the next morning, Hao Zai discovered a notebook tucked inside the case file.
This was left behind by Song Sijia, to exchange "smiley faces" with Zhu Qing. He accidentally brought the notebook back yesterday when he was helping to tidy up the stall.
Opening the light green cover, you'll find small stickers inside the notebook.
“And this too.” He turned to the inside page.
On the first few pages, there were a few lines of crooked writing.
It's like a child who has just learned to write, unable to control the pen well, and unfamiliar with the strokes, so the characters they write are bigger than a coin.
Song Sijia wrote a few simple words in her notebook.
Such as "big", "small", "sky", etc...
And when she wrote the number "8", she drew two small circles and connected them together.
There were many more lines of numbers in the notebook.
The police were able to deduce some of the figures, which might be the daily income from the stall.
Some are unrecognizable and seem meaningless.
"The notebook is new, and the purchase date is written on the bottom of the cover. So, these words and numbers must have been written recently as well."
Zhu Qing leaned closer: "Is Song Sijia learning to write?"
"In other words, a deaf-mute person who is completely illiterate..." Haozai pondered, "...suddenly starts learning to write at the age of twenty-five?"
The other officers gathered around.
"Yesterday at her stall, she had her hair tied in a very high ponytail, it looked like it was tied with a pearl hair tie." Zhu Qing pondered for a moment, then asked Haozai, "Isn't the jewelry stall next door?"
Did Song Sijia buy her hair accessories from the stall next door, or did she trade them with items from her own stall?
The discussion continued until they entered the meeting room, and the sounds of their conversation still lingered in their ears.
Song Sijia seems different from the other four victims. Their medical records are filled with despair, while she has just learned to write and records her daily income with simple numbers, with cute little stickers next to the income.
According to her psychological treatment records, Song Sijia is a patient with severe depression, just like several other victims.
In reality, this file is not worth referring to, because Xu Mingyuan would never leave behind any information that could be detrimental to him. He has kept all the patient files for so many years because he knows that this information can never convict him.
In the meeting room, some people were silent, while others whispered.
Zhu Qing twirled her pen, her brows furrowing slightly.
She suddenly asked, "When did Song Sijia move out?"
"She probably moved out not long ago... Actually, her family owns a house, it's in a bit out of the way, but it's not uninhabitable."
“Now Song Sijia is renting a small room in a subdivided flat. The room is small, but the rent is not low. If she can only earn this much by setting up a stall, she will probably only have enough left to eat.”
“I checked her parents’ records. When Song Sijia was a child, she had a high fever. They missed the best time for treatment, which caused her to become deaf and mute. As a result, they disliked her and it was impossible for them to give her a hearing aid. Even if these parents had money, they would not be willing to buy a hearing aid for their child. Besides, they were short of money themselves.”
"On the other hand, could this string of incomprehensible numbers be Song Sijia's savings? Each sticker she puts on means she's one step closer to buying a hearing aid."
Zhu Qing stopped writing with her pen: "If Song Sijia tried to escape to get away from her parents, then this is completely different from the other four victims."
A heated discussion instantly erupted in the conference room.
“Wang Yingtong was diagnosed with difficulty conceiving at the hospital. She always hoped that her husband would tell her that he would love her even if they didn’t have children.”
“Ding Panxiang raised her intellectually disabled son alone, giving everything to him, but receiving no warmth in return. It’s not that she had to expect anything in return, but knowing that the next five, ten, or even twenty years would be utter darkness… that’s why she chose to leave this world with her son.”
"Deng Qiaorong said that she had nothing left, and asked if her younger siblings and parents could treat her better... Later, she suddenly realized that why should others treat someone who has nothing well?"
"You Minmin wants to be seen..."
But Song Sijia was different.
She ran away from her family because she had become aware of her situation—
She doesn't need her parents anymore.
Even if she leaves them, her world won't collapse.
Song Sijia earns money by setting up a stall, learns to write, and uses small hair accessories to please herself, saving money to buy a hearing aid...
Her world was not entirely bleak.
Her life is getting better little by little.
"Is it possible that she never intended to commit suicide?"
“That’s exactly what Song Sijia told the sign language interpreter and social worker. Maybe she wasn’t being withdrawn; it was the truth…”
"From the very beginning, Xu Mingyuan never saw her as his target. To guide a positive girl to commit suicide, what an enormous undertaking that is!"
Mo Zhenbang concluded, "So Xu Mingyuan put her on the list for—"
The answer is obvious.
“It’s a smokescreen. He never intended to include this deaf-mute girl on the list.” Xu Jiale suddenly stood up. “Looking out of Xu Mingyuan’s office window, you can see not only the Kang’en Medical Center across the street, but also our police car parked at the door.”
“He deliberately kept Song Sijia’s information, but his real target was someone else.” Zeng Yongshan’s eyes narrowed. “The real file has likely already been destroyed!”
Just when the atmosphere was at its most tense, Liang Qikai rushed up.
“Xu Mingyuan’s aunt—” He placed a stack of photos on the table. “Xu Mingyuan is well-off, yet he lets his aunt, who suffers from dementia, live in a place like this. There’s no real reason behind it; the old lady lives here simply for the sake of having some fun.”
In the photo, the three-person room looks crowded, but Aunt Xu and her two old friends are sitting around a small square table with faded paint, their eyes and brows full of smiles.
This is a promotional photo that Leung Kei-kai found at the Kowloon Sanatorium.
“These two are friends the old lady made at the Kowloon Sanatorium,” Liang Qikai explained. “The nurse said that the sanatorium is like an old-fashioned housing estate, and the old lady likes to chat with her friends here, finding those high-end sanatoriums too deserted. When she first moved here, she often sat in the courtyard with her old friends, basking in the sun and chatting about everyday things... but later, her condition worsened, and she gradually became less energetic.”
“The nurses and caregivers were initially reluctant to say much, and it took me a lot of effort to get them to talk about it. Xu Mingyuan gives them money every month, hoping they will take better care of my aunt.”
Every Tuesday, Xu Mingyuan would visit his aunt.
If the police's initial assumptions were wrong, Tuesday did not represent darkness, punishment, or torment at all.
Uncle Li realized: "That day at the radio station, I heard the program director say that the last-minute adjustment of the premiere time made them very frustrated."
Zeng Yongshan quickly ran out of the meeting room and picked up the phone to verify.
The sound of files being flipped through quickly echoed in the conference room.
Soon, Zeng Yongshan hung up the phone.
"The 'Yin Yang' program was originally scheduled to premiere on the weekend, but due to the inability to secure a time slot, it was temporarily changed to Tuesday for earlier broadcast."
“You Minmin did not deliberately choose Tuesday to commit suicide; she wanted to do it all during the premiere of the ‘Yin Yang’ program.”
“It’s not Tuesday…there’s no Tuesday pattern at all.” Someone slammed their fist on the table. “What exactly was Deng Qiaorong’s time of death? The tea stall supervisor said that they only discovered it when she didn’t come to work the next day. In other words, the time of death is not certain at all. It might be Tuesday, but if it was past midnight, it would be Wednesday.”
If there is no such "Tuesday deadline"—
Time has become even more pressing.
Police are still unable to determine whether Xu Mingyuan has identified a fifth target.
There is no way of knowing when his meticulously planned death ritual will take place.
This unknown situation put the entire major crime squad on high alert.
"Among the members of the healing society, there are still three names whose identities are yet to be verified!"
The members of Major Crimes Unit B once again opened the files of the healing session.
Every passing second serves as a reminder to them—
This is the final moment.
...
Monday afternoon, 3:15 p.m., the clock at Yau Ma Tei Police Station ticked.
Xu Mingyuan's 48-hour detention period is about to expire, and the evidence in the hands of the police is still thin.
As officers escorted him through the common room, an old-fashioned television was broadcasting live footage of Hart College's 60th anniversary celebration.
Amidst the snow-like noise, news subtitles scrolled—
This is the first all-inclusive school in Hong Kong, and its affiliated Weston Kindergarten is simultaneously preparing for an arts and cultural performance.
"Now for a special report." The female anchor's voice echoed down the corridor, "Attendees include founding alumni, current members of the Education Department..."
Xu Mingyuan suddenly stopped.
He stared silently at the television screen.
Memories of the consultation room flooded my mind, lingering and echoing in my heart.
The girl clutched the hem of her school uniform, her face pale.
Why are they bullying you?
"At the school anniversary ceremony, in front of everyone... smash it in front of them. These students who bullied you will suffer for the rest of their lives."
"During the ceremony, what wish would you like to make? Fly down with the balloon—"
The girl kept her head down, always kept her head down.
He handed her a tissue: "Don't be afraid. Don't you want to be free?"
The escorting police officer urged, "It's time to go."
Xu Mingyuan's lips curled into a strange smile: "Officer, can I watch this program?"
Meanwhile, at Weston Kindergarten, the school's 60th anniversary celebration was being broadcast.
The only difference is that the program is not presented as a news report; the sister school's anniversary ceremony is broadcast live to related organizations via closed-circuit television.
In the kindergarten's audiovisual room, the children sat cross-legged on the soft floor mats.
The principal pointed to the television screen and said in a gentle voice, "These are all outstanding senior students from Hede Academy."
"They can perform piano, cello, ballet..."
"We can enjoy the upcoming arts performance together and see how the older children showcase themselves on stage." The principal's gaze swept over each child's focused little face. "First, there will be a wishing ceremony with releasing balloons. When you move up to the middle school, you can also participate in such meaningful activities."
On the television, the scene changes.
A girl in a white dress appeared on the rooftop of the teaching building.
The red ribbon around her waist was the same color as the string on the balloon in her hand, and they were intertwined.
The kindergarten children's mouths were agape in an "o" shape, and their little voices chattered all at once.
"No, no..."
"Don't release the balloons!"
"Can I play with it?"
The ceremony host's enthusiastic voice rang out.
"Now approaching us is Lin Xiyin, a recipient of the first-class scholarship and a student from Class 5A."
The camera zooms in and freezes on the girl's face.
Her eyes were empty and lifeless as she slowly walked towards the edge of the rooftop.
The white skirt was lifted by the wind on the rooftop, and her hair danced wildly in the wind.
A strand of short hair behind Lin Xiyin's left ear sticks up unnaturally.
The roots of her hair were uneven, as if they had been haphazardly twisted with scissors, creating a stark contrast with her shoulder-length black hair.
The worn-out canvas shoes were stuck on the edge of the rooftop.
She looked up at the balloon tied with a red string in her hand.
The girl released the balloon, her toes dangling in the air, and leaped into the air—
The students erupted in screams across the playground.
The camera shook violently, the host lost his voice instantly, and chaos erupted on set.
The air suddenly froze, the balloon string was released, and it flew away.
At that very moment, a figure darted across the screen like lightning.
Zhu Qing's hand brushed against the balloon string, and just as the girl was about to fall, she tightly grabbed her wrist.
"Hold on tight!"
Give me your other hand!
One by one, the officers rushed forward and, like a relay race, firmly grasped the vulnerable girl.
They exerted all their strength, their arms bulging with veins from the effort, as if this could atone for the lives they couldn't save—
Wang Yingtong, Ding Panxiang, Deng Qiaorong, You Minmin.
In their despair, they thought death was the only way out. If only someone had pulled them back then, if only they could have held on a little longer...
It was just a tiny difference; if I had stayed in this world, perhaps everything would have been different.
If you survive, everything will be different.
The girl's slender figure, along with her white skirt, floated high above the teaching building of Hede Academy.
Until her other hand was supported and pulled upwards little by little...
The police officers finally pulled the girl back from the brink of death.
The sunlight gently caressed the girl's bloodless face, her frail body trembled uncontrollably, and tears fell silently.
The television screen froze at that moment.
At this moment, Xu Mingyuan stood frozen in place in the police station.
In the kindergarten's audiovisual room, the children stared wide-eyed.
"Whoosh—"
"Is Superman coming?"
"It's the police! Madam and officers!"
The baby dashed to the TV in one stride.
The principal almost stopped breathing, gasped, covered her mouth, and stared intently at the television.
Her heart was pounding like a drum. After a long while, she finally found her voice: "Little one, sit down first."
"I'm not sitting down!" Sheng Fang stood in front of the TV, bouncing around more excitedly than popping candy. "See that? It's my niece!"
He proudly raised his little face: "My niece."
Jinbao and Xiaoyesi sat below, their eyes sparkling.
They waved their chubby little arms and swayed freely, as if they were watching a concert.
The two babies cupped their little hands to their mouths and cheered.
Wow! Woo-hoo!
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