Chapter 104 Beating up a kid!
Lego pieces were scattered all over the floor. Shengfang bent over, turned around once, and finally had no choice but to sit down helplessly.
The young master never does anything for nothing. Since he knew that the Lego stool couldn't support his weight, he decided not to rebuild it.
Remembering his niece's constant admonition to "do things yourself," he pouted and used his chubby little hands to gather the parts into a pile, obediently putting them into the storage box.
The sound of Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping chatting away reached my ears; it was gossip news that only adults cared about.
But somehow, the topic suddenly turned to herself, and Shengfang immediately perked up her little ears.
"Aunt Ping has fed Fangfang like a little piglet," Sheng Peirong joked. "She even made the little stool collapse from sitting on it."
Shengfang suddenly turned her little face away in protest, then lowered her head in frustration, pinching her round little belly.
Qingzai once said that police officers can't be too fat, otherwise they won't be able to build muscle and catch up with bad guys.
"I'm going to lose weight," Sheng Fang said sullenly, turning away angrily.
Sheng Peirong and Aunt Ping exchanged a glance and couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Aunt Ping, my little brother says he wants to lose weight."
"Looks like we'll have to cut back on the young master's meals tomorrow..."
The round little baby turned around, waiting for someone to come and comfort him.
Her cheeks puffed out higher and higher, until her little face was almost twice its size.
"Stop joking." Sheng Peirong suppressed a smile. "We still need to eat. It's the time for us to grow."
"The menu will remain the same tomorrow," Aunt Ping said. "It includes the young master's favorite honey-glazed chicken wings."
The child swallowed hard.
It's honey-glazed chicken wings, very fragrant!
"There's no need to lose weight, just work out." Sheng Peirong patted her younger brother's belly, "Get abs soon."
Aunt Ping's burst of laughter shattered the silence of the living room.
Shengfang turned her head and looked at them with a resentful look in her eyes.
The child is still young, but can accurately discern the sarcasm in the laughter.
These two people are going too far!
I wonder where Qingzai went to work overtime.
Qingzai isn't here, and they're all bullying her uncle!
...
Zhu Qing followed Cheng Xinglang into the haunted house that had been built eighteen years ago.
The scene in the case file was completely different from what I was seeing.
Inside the two-story villa, the mottled bloodstains had long been covered, replaced by oil paintings covering the walls. Cheng Xinglang's paintings, though not professionally done, used bright colors to transform the bloodstains of the past into expansive blue clouds and golden wheat fields, as if using vibrant colors to fight against endless darkness.
"Knowing there was danger, why did you still chase after them?" Cheng Xinglang's voice came from the kitchen, tinged with laughter.
Zhu Qing looked at the clear and bright paintings on the wall: "If the suspects aren't afraid, what are the police afraid of?"
He unscrewed a bottle of water and handed it to her, the cool touch pressing against her fingertips.
"Tell me, what happened?" Zhu Qing took the water.
"Have you had dinner yet?" he suddenly asked.
Before Zhu Qing could answer, he had already turned and walked back to the kitchen.
It's easy to imagine that she would forget to eat when she was busy with her investigation. Cheng Xinglang opened the refrigerator, which was neatly filled with fresh ingredients. Actually, after that incident, he was adopted by relatives. After growing up, his relatives immigrated overseas, and Cheng Xinglang returned to this empty house, but never stayed for long. Until this time, after returning to China for more than a month, he had obviously rearranged it into a decent home.
Zhu Qing leaned against the door frame, watching him skillfully prepare the ingredients.
He moved with ease, his shirt sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms, the knife clashing against the cutting board creating a rhythmic, everyday feel.
“I discovered something while I was in the United States,” he suddenly said. “After my parents’ accident, their research data was altered and the names on the papers were changed, and then sold to foreign pharmaceutical companies.”
For the past eighteen years, he has never stopped investigating.
Even abroad, those seemingly accidental clues were the truth he pieced together bit by bit.
"We can only come back quietly," Cheng Xinglang said in a low voice, putting the steak into the pot. "If we alert them, the crucial evidence could be completely erased at any time."
The sizzling sound filled the air, and the rich aroma of the oil wafted past our noses.
"Shortly afterward, a pharmaceutical factory in China suddenly went out of business."
"A pharmaceutical factory?"
"What's even more coincidental is that the person in charge of the pharmaceutical company was a high-ranking official at Mingde Mental Hospital, and later died under mysterious circumstances." Cheng Xinglang plated the steak and drizzled it with sauce.
Cheng Xinglang discovered this suspicious point.
As Ben said, he was well-connected everywhere, and he completed his studies, which were supposed to last six months, in just four months. His supervisor gave him special permission and also made an exception to conceal his whereabouts.
He must come back and uncover the truth himself.
"What does that have to do with Feng Ningyun?" Zhu Qing took the plate.
Zhu Qing realized that Cheng Xinglang had returned; it was a vague intuition. From his familiar gait in the surveillance footage, to the gentle New Year's greeting at midnight, even the calm "Be careful" in the email, and Feng Ningyun's sudden transfer to the Jianuoan Sanatorium.
A few months ago, they went to the Mingde Mental Health Rehabilitation Center together.
She believes that Cheng Xinglang himself is more concerned about Feng Ningyun's whereabouts than his "younger brother".
"The security at Mingde Saigon Branch is tight, but I discovered that Rong Zimei arranged for her mother to be transferred to another hospital."
As a long-term patient of Mingde, Feng Ningyun may have known the inside story, and Rong Zimei's transfer to another hospital made it easier to make contact.
He entered the sanatorium as an engineer from a medical equipment company, successfully met Feng Ningyun, and even repaired the equipment on the side.
“I showed her a photo of the murderer from back then; they knew each other.”
Feng Ningyun lived in that mental hospital for over twenty years; she knew the madman.
However, she is, after all, a mental patient. Even though she has reunited with her daughter and reduced her medication, and her mental state has become more stable, no one can be sure how much of what she says is true and how much is out of her mind.
"Feng Ningyun said that the madman was taken to the doctor's office at night to eat candy."
Zhu Qing frowned slightly.
For the past month, Cheng Xinglang has been relentlessly investigating the case from years ago.
He followed every possible clue, from current medical staff at the Mingde Mental Health Center to former cleaners, and even unearthed the belongings of several deceased individuals. Until recently, he finally received a handwritten work record from a retired nurse.
From this yellowed list, Zhu Qing saw the name "Lai Danhe".
"The intern nurse at the time was Lai Danhe, who had just died."
“Someone tampered with her work records.” Cheng Xinglang tapped the name on the page with his fingertip. “Eighteen years ago, Lai Danhe was already at the Saigon branch.”
"I found her."
Four days ago, he stopped Lai Danhe in the night market alley of Zhengqin Building.
“She said she didn’t know.” Cheng Xinglang lowered his eyes, his voice low. “Three days later, she died. The same method as eighteen years ago.”
Zhu Qing flipped open the newspaper on the corner of the dining table; the creases revealed recent murder reports.
Over the years, he has never given up, and now he will not just passively wait for the police investigation.
Zhu Qing looked up: "If you were the one who appeared at the sanatorium a month ago, and the witnesses saw you... then the 'younger brother' simply doesn't exist."
Cheng Xinglang completed the investigation efficiently and now recounted the results.
He vaguely sensed that it was precisely because he was getting closer to the truth that this brutal murder had occurred.
“That person in the surveillance footage is indeed me. That means the prime suspect is now me.” Cheng Xinglang raised his eyes. “Am I protecting my brother?”
He looked directly into Zhu Qing's eyes: "Or perhaps, I am the 'younger brother' they are talking about."
“So,” Cheng Xinglang said with a smile, picking up his knife, “let’s fill our stomachs first, then we can get down to business.”
“I’ll go back to the police station with you.”
The dining table fell silent.
The clinking of knives and forks signaled the first time in eighteen years that someone had dined with him in this house.
"Do you think," Zhu Qing looked at him, "it has anything to do with your brother?"
This time, Cheng Xinglang remained silent for a long time.
"I'm not sure."
...
The police originally planned to surround the house in Ho Man Tin.
But now, the situation is different.
After dinner, Cheng Xinglang picked up the file folder and took one last look at this home that had once been soaked in blood.
The oil paintings on the wall have a soft hue under the warm yellow light, and the home returns to its former warmth. You can even look up at the skylight and see a few bright stars.
Zhu Qing's car was parked quietly outside the door.
Along the way, she slowed down the car, as if deliberately slowing down time.
They chatted about trivial matters. Fangfang gave the ocean balls a weird name, which he forgot the next day; Mo Sir had many meetings to attend after his promotion; Cheng Xinglang learned to cook Western food abroad... The topics were scattered, deliberately avoiding those heavy threads and only talking about lighthearted things.
The street scene outside the car window slowly receded, and the streetlights reflected on the window, casting a faint halo.
Suddenly, a dark figure darted out from the right side of the road.
Zhu Qing jerked the steering wheel, the tires scraping the roadside to avoid a collision, the screeching sound of friction echoing in the quiet night. The inertia of the sudden braking caused her to lean forward, her right wrist twisting hard on the steering wheel.
A middle-aged man on a bicycle bowed repeatedly to apologize outside the car window, then quickly pedaled away.
"Don't move."
Cheng Xinglang's hand was already firmly supporting her wrist.
The warmth of his palm seeped through her skin as his fingertips pressed against her wrist bone to check for injuries.
“No bones are broken,” Cheng Xinglang’s voice was very close, “but there may be bruising, remember to apply ice when you get back.”
Zhu Qing tried moving her wrist, and the pain was not obvious.
But my gaze involuntarily fell on his hands, those hands with distinct joints and long, slender fingers.
The carriage suddenly became so quiet that you could hear breathing.
Cheng Xinglang looked up at her.
"I'm fine." Zhu Qing withdrew her hand, the warmth on her wrist still seemed to linger.
The vehicle restarted and drove toward Yau Ma Tei Police Station.
The police station entrance was brightly lit, and several colleagues had already come to greet us.
"Dr. Cheng, when did you develop your counter-tracking skills?"
"You've been hiding well! Tell me, are you trying to avoid reporting back to the forensic department and are you slacking off?"
“Ben complains every day that he can’t find anyone to eat with, just wait until he finds out—”
Zhu Qing got out of the car and reported the case to Mo Zhenbang, vaguely hearing Cheng Xinglang reply in a low voice.
His nonchalant smile echoed in the night, eliciting a burst of laughter from the crowd.
...
Cheng Xinglang came to the interrogation room on his own initiative.
He sat in the chair, relaxed yet poised.
Cheng Xinglang remained calm.
All his emotions were transformed into more precise action. The reappearance of the Cheng family case is, in a sense, a good thing; it's a turning point, meaning that unsolved mysteries have a chance to be re-examined, and the truth of the injustice will come to light.
Mo Zhenbang opened the case files from the past eighteen years and placed them on the table in the interrogation room.
"Eighteen years ago and eighteen years later, the scene was almost identical. The teddy bear was gone, the bed was neatly made, and a few clothes were missing from the child's wardrobe..."
“You were both children, but the murderer only hurt you back then, while letting your brother go.”
"You're in the surveillance footage from the Canoan Sanatorium. Witnesses have confirmed that you met the deceased. And soft-centered chocolates are also a childhood memory for you, right?"
"As for the killer's left-handed characteristic... as a forensic pathologist, you are proficient in using both hands when holding a scalpel."
Cheng Xinglang's gaze fell on the case file photos, and his eyes paused.
Even as a party involved in the case, he had no access to the sealed documents from that time.
Fragments of memory flashed through his mind, and he frowned slightly. Those details, faded by time, remained blurry.
"Dr. Cheng?"
"It's nothing." Cheng Xinglang snapped out of his thoughts and pushed another stack of documents to the center of the table.
"This is the registration information of the pharmaceutical company involved. The time of its closure coincides with the time when my parents were murdered."
Over the past month, Cheng Xinglang's investigation has been more thorough than that of the police.
Pharmaceutical factory transaction records, photocopies of his parents' manuscripts, and even the old schedule of the Mingde Mental Health Center... all the evidence was categorized and organized as meticulously as the newspaper clippings in his office.
“My parents’ research touched on the interests of some people.”
"The person who killed my parents and the person who took my brother away may not be the same person."
Mo Zhenbang frowned slightly as he reviewed the materials he had collected.
"Where were you when the incident happened?" Uncle Li suddenly asked.
“The abandoned pharmaceutical factory warehouse in Kowloon Tong,” Cheng Xinglang said. “The surveillance footage can still be retrieved, but if we conduct a public investigation now, the people behind it will immediately destroy the evidence.”
The police's open investigation and the release of surveillance footage will likely alert the pharmaceutical company to Cheng Xinglang's innocence.
Only by conducting a secret investigation and temporarily taking the blame can the real culprit be made to lower their guard.
"But what if you are the murderer?" Uncle Li squinted and teased, "because the couple is involved in your parents' murder case, so they are retaliating."
"So you've already caught me?" Cheng Xinglang chuckled.
He pushed the last document to the center of the table.
Those were Lai Danhe's work records before her death, with a blurry signature in the corner.
"The rest is up to you."
...
The next morning, sunlight streamed into the bedroom.
Since Shengfang didn't see Qingzai last night, she lay down by her bedside early this morning and gently patted her cheek with her little hands.
"Get up and have breakfast. Aunt Ping made your favorite chicken soup wonton noodles!"
"Come on, come on, we're going to be late..."
He's like a tiny, baby-sounding alarm clock; he's so good that even if you cover it up, he won't stop ringing.
The little face was still pressed against her cheek, soft and squishy.
Zhu Qing covered her face, and mumbled sleepily, "Let me sleep for another five minutes."
"Qingzai, Qingzai—" Shengfang leaned against her pillow and pried her hands away. "You look different today! You look younger!"
Compared to how restless she was the day before yesterday, Zhu Qing now seemed to breathe with ease.
Although Shengfang didn't understand the complexity of the case, the clever baby knew her niece better than anyone else.
My niece was happy, and Fangfang's mood brightened up as well.
"I look younger now," Fangfang said proudly.
Zhu Qing squinted and pinched his chubby cheeks: "How much younger do you want to be?"
Shengfang held up one finger: "Become one year old."
“A one-year-old baby can’t talk yet.” Zhu Qing was the best at handling him. “Quiet, don’t disturb my sleep.”
"But it will cry, and it will be even noisier!" Sheng Fang immediately started crying like a baby, deliberately raising the volume in her ear, "Waaah waaah—"
Zhu Qing covered her head with the blanket: "From now on, I'm going to lock the door when I sleep."
But what if it causes children to have nightmares at night?
In this drowsy moment, Zhu Qing realized that she was actually thinking about this trivial matter, and angrily threw off the covers.
"Can't a person get any sleep?!"
The uncle and nephew were already making such a fuss early in the morning.
Aunt Ping came over to listen to what they were talking about and couldn't help but laugh.
“Praising a young person as several years younger is nothing to be happy about,” Aunt Ping said. “This young master’s skills in flattery are still lacking.”
The baby blinked her inquisitive eyes and asked, "How should I praise her?"
Aunt Ping: "I'm happy when you say I look several years younger."
“Aunt Ping looks like she’s eighteen!” Sheng Fang said.
"Even such an exaggerated statement won't work." Sheng Peirong put on her coat and went upstairs. "Nobody will believe it."
"Wow, this won't work, that won't work either."
"You adults are really hard to please."
Early in the morning, the house was already filled with laughter and joy.
Sheng Peirong asked, "Were you busy until so late yesterday?"
"Cheng Xinglang is back."
Aunt Ping and Sheng Peirong immediately pretended that nothing had happened.
On the surface, the two remained calm, but in reality, their gossipy souls, which they had just suppressed the night before, were stirring again.
"Dr. Cheng is back?" Aunt Ping asked casually.
Zhu Qing was completely awakened and sat cross-legged on the bed: "He's being held at the police station."
Aunt Ping and Sheng Peirong: ...
The little mouth of the flower was also wide open.
"I'm locked up..." Qingzai's tone was as lighthearted as if Dr. Cheng had gone to the amusement park!
...
At the kindergarten gate, the children strode confidently into the school.
The teachers in each class were very resourceful. After a short two-day adjustment period, the children stopped clinging to their parents' legs and crying. They all walked briskly and couldn't wait to go into the classroom to play.
Zhu Qing rubbed Sheng Fang's little head: "You're not allowed to pick me up from get off work after school."
"I'm not going to pick you up!" Sheng Fang shouted as she walked towards the kindergarten, "I'm going to pick up John!"
As soon as he finished speaking, his short legs took off quickly, and he ran straight into the classroom.
The child didn't have a cell phone or a pager, so even if Zhu Qing wanted to settle accounts with him, it would be difficult.
She suddenly remembered the agreement she had made with the school bus driver the day before yesterday—that she would beat up the child when she got home—but she had completely forgotten about it.
The little boy escaped unscathed once again, which explains why he has become increasingly lawless these days.
Before getting back into the car and heading to the Jianuoan Sanatorium, Zhu Qing solemnly wrote down a few words in her notebook.
Remember to discipline the kids when you get home!
The police's expedited transfer order has been approved. Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan met at the entrance of the Jianuoan Sanatorium, holding the transfer order and requesting to meet with Feng Ningyun.
Along the way, Zeng Yongshan kept saying with emotion, "I never thought that even after the case was closed, I would still be able to see Rong Zimei again."
The nurse led Feng Ningyun to the meeting room, where Rong Zimei stayed by her side the whole time.
After the case was settled, Rong Zimei inherited a huge fortune left by her maternal grandfather, but she remained simple, still wearing her familiar plaid shirt and black-rimmed glasses.
She was somewhat surprised to see the police, but still explained her recent situation in detail.
“We moved here a month ago,” Rong Zimei said. “We’re adapting well. Look how well my mother looks.”
Her biological mother, Feng Ningyun, requires professional treatment due to mental health issues. Her adoptive mother, Chen Yulan, although suffering a severe stroke, has improved considerably after careful care.
“Kuang Xiaoyan is awaiting sentencing, as for the real Lin Tingchao…” Rong Zimei’s lips curled into a smile, “She now works at an art gallery with Shen Jingyang and occasionally comes to visit her mother.”
Rong Zimei mentioned that Feng Ningyun secretly switched the two baby girls, and Chen Yulan only found out afterward. This great mother neither acknowledged her biological daughter nor mistreated her adopted daughter.
Until recently, when Rong Zimei brought Lin Tingchao to the sanatorium, Chen Yulan burst into tears upon seeing her biological daughter.
That tragedy, which lasted for many years, has finally come to a good end. The criminals have been brought to justice, the innocent victims have started new lives, and the almost broken families have been restored and found warmth again... Rong Zimei sincerely expressed that she owes everything to the police for giving everything a chance to start over.
Upon hearing these words, Feng Ningyun turned her face away.
Her eyes remained as misty as before.
“I want to give my mother a change of environment,” Rong Zimei continued to explain. “She has lived there for more than 20 years and her condition has not improved, so it would be better to transfer her to another hospital.”
A month ago, when Cheng Xinglang sneaked into the sanatorium, he only showed Feng Ningyun a photo of the murderer from eighteen years ago. Later, based on the small clues from that time, he was able to find Lai Danhe's whereabouts.
Now, Zhu Qing handed Lai Danhe's clear ID photo to Feng Ningyun.
She recognized the other person immediately.
“Little nurse.” Feng Ningyun’s finger landed precisely on Lai Danhe’s photo. “Little nurse has gotten so old.”
When faced with a photo of the murderer from back then, Feng Ningyun was able to clearly identify him as well.
"The nurse gave him some candy."
Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan exchanged glances.
Although the testimony of a mentally ill person cannot be used as evidence in court, Feng Ningyun's identification was too specific and coherent to be instigated by Cheng Xinglang.
This provided a crucial breakthrough in the case.
Lai Danhe and the murderer from back then were indeed connected to the Mingde Mental Health Center.
Was Lai Danhe silenced because of what happened back then?
"Where can we get candy?" Zhu Qing asked, pointing to the murderer's photo.
At this point, Feng Ningyun could not answer.
She was rambling incoherently, only repeating the word "office" over and over again.
After leaving the sanatorium, the police investigation quickly expanded.
The financial transactions between the deceased Lai Danhe and her husband Bao Cailiang, the unusual closure of the pharmaceutical factory years ago, and the personnel files of Mingde Hospital...
The investigation had stalled and reached a stalemate, but now there are suddenly so many more leads, which need to be further screened and verified.
During her visit, Zhu Qing received a call from the police station.
The forensic report is out.
Police conducted a comprehensive investigation into the suspect Cheng Xinglang's shoe size, height, and gait characteristics.
However, the latest forensic report points to another possibility.
"In blunt force homicides, the height of the perpetrator can affect the distribution of the point of force."
"The autopsy revealed that the actual angle at which the killer struck the victim was lower than we had anticipated."
"Didn't the gait analysis say he's at least six feet one inch tall?"
“If the murderer has a short Achilles tendon, or habitually uses tiptoe to exert force, his stride will be correspondingly longer,” Xu Jiale said on the other end of the phone. “Forensic doctor Ye said that Ma Sir from the forensic department was misleading the investigation based solely on shoe prints, and Ma Sir also said that his previous time of death deduction was also problematic.”
Xu Jiale laughed out loud: "The two of them almost got into a fight. Ah Tou was just watching the commotion and only just came back now."
The stride may be altered or disguised by the killer's habits, but the scars left on the victim's body do not lie.
"Based on all the data," Xu Jiale continued, "the murderer is at least six centimeters shorter than Dr. Cheng!"
“In other words,” Zhu Qing’s lips curled up, “Cheng Xinglang has nothing to do with this case.”
“They’ll have to get Dr. Cheng to treat them to dinner this time…” Zeng Yongshan continued, then suddenly realized, “But then again, if this has nothing to do with him, how do you explain Softhearted Chocolate?”
"Just like he said, the person who killed his parents and the person who took his brother away were not the same person."
What is the underlying purpose?
"In the end, it must be related to Mingde."
They talked about the case the whole way as the police car drove back to the police station.
As soon as Zhu Qing stepped into the lobby, a police officer in uniform came to greet her.
“That gentleman…” he pointed to the figure at the reception desk, “said he was looking for you, and has been waiting for a while.”
Zhu Qing looked in the direction the officer on duty was pointing and was taken aback.
Standing at the reception desk was Professor Yang Zhengxiu, a renowned psychology expert and an elder who had watched Cheng Xinglang grow up.
They met at the University of Hong Kong that time.
"Professor Yang?" Zhu Qing stepped forward.
“I gave a lecture in the conference room on the third floor of your police station last night.”
"I heard Xinglang's voice when I passed the inquiry room after class." Professor Yang took out a stack of documents from his briefcase.
“Xinglang underwent an evaluation here when he was eight years old, and I have kept the psychological evaluation report carefully ever since.”
...
After lunch break, there is a short period of quiet time.
At this time, the sleepy-eyed children are dazed and confused, which is when they are at their most adorable and obedient.
Teacher Ji's slender fingers gently ran through the children's soft hair, neatly retying the little girls' messy braids from their sleep.
Coconut Baby is like a light little butterfly, flitting around every corner of the classroom.
"Fangfang!" she exclaimed, rushing to Shengfang's side. "I can't go to ballet class next Monday!"
Why?
"Take a guess!"
Shengfang tilted her head: "Have you caught a cold?"
"I didn't know I was going to catch a cold next week!" Coconut said seriously. "It's my birthday! Are you coming to my birthday party?"
Shengfang's eyes were wide open, her face filled with pure envy.
"That's great!" Fangfang said in a childish voice. "I want my older sister to throw me a birthday party too."
"I want to go too!"
"I want one too! I want one too!"
"Fangfang, is your basement playground finished yet?"
The children chattered excitedly, raising their little hands to sign up for the grand birthday party.
Little Jinbao asked expectantly, "Is it your birthday too?"
"There's no problem," the young master sighed deeply. "What if I beg her?"
As soon as the words were spoken, the children turned and left in unison, their movements swift and decisive.
As she watched the resolute figures walk away, Shengfang, having seen through the coldness of human nature, thought: "So realistic."
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