Chapter 106. No more waiting after the expiration date.
The police car turned a corner on the mountain road and drove into the Kadoorie Hill villa area.
This case has an unusual feel to it, and the series of murders has made Zhu Qing extremely vigilant.
She looked in the rearview mirror at the little boy peering out the car window.
Even though this little guy always boasts that he's a police officer, when it comes to real danger, Fang Fang has absolutely no ability to protect himself. If someone grabs him by the collar, they can just take him away.
Zhu Qing lowered her voice: "Aunt Ping, you must stay at home during this time, especially keep a close eye on Fangfang."
Hearing the solemn tone in her voice, Aunt Ping immediately nodded.
She clenched her small, blooming hands even tighter: "I'll keep a close eye on the young master."
Mo Zhenbang rolled down the car window and eased the atmosphere in a relaxed tone: "Don't worry too much. Security at Kadoorie Hill is very good. I'll also talk to the kindergarten and ask them to be more vigilant. As long as you don't wander around aimlessly, your safety is guaranteed."
Her radiant face fell again, and the downward curve of her lips became even more pronounced.
Are they banning him from wandering now? But wandering is his favorite thing!
"Can you lock me up in the safe house too?"
“It can be arranged.” Zhu Qing raised her eyebrows, “but she can’t share a room with Dr. Cheng.”
"Never mind then!" Sheng Fang changed his mind, resting his chubby chin against the car window frame. Safety was ingrained in his mind, and he obediently did not lean out.
The children eagerly anticipate riding bicycles with Dr. Cheng.
He was a perfect cycling instructor. Unlike Zhu Qing's free-range philosophy of letting the child learn naturally by falling a few times, Dr. Cheng was incredibly patient, trying again and again, carefully guiding the little one to steady the back seat. The bicycle, once relegated to the sidelines, has now regained its little owner's affection, all thanks to him.
"My bicycle..." Fangfang said, her little head drooping.
Hearing that the child had come specifically to ask Cheng Xinglang to ride a bicycle, Mo Zhenbang was genuinely puzzled: "It's just riding a bicycle, who can't you ride with?"
Their large lawn is big enough to ride around several times. Isn't the scenery better than the area downstairs from the police station?
“He likes Dr. Cheng.” Zhu Qing smiled and turned around, ruffling her flowing hair.
Cheng Xinglang always had a knack for dealing with children.
Even though he was a bit annoying and always made Shengfang get angry... his imaginative games brought surprises to the children, which Shengfang found hard to resist.
"Of course I like it!" Sheng Fang said matter-of-factly, then retorted, "Don't you like it?"
Aunt Ping couldn't help but chuckle and quietly pricked up her ears.
This child always asks questions that are innocent yet incredibly insightful. What exactly is Qingqing thinking? Both she and the young lady are secretly concerned and have tried to find out indirectly several times.
Zhu Qing ignored him: "We're here. Go back to your home!"
...
After seeing off the children, Mo Zhenbang turned the car around and drove towards Saigon.
However, before heading to the Mingde Mental Health Center, he made a detour to the Jianuoan Sanatorium.
They need to know more details about the man with the scar on his right hand that Feng Ningyun mentioned.
Zhu Qing dialed Rong Zimei's number.
When the police car stopped in front of the Jianuoan Sanatorium, Rong Zimei was already waiting outside, with an apologetic look on her face.
"I'm really sorry, but my mom is still talking incoherently today. One minute she says she has a scar on her left hand, and the next minute she says it's on her right hand. You might have to make a wasted trip."
Zhu Qing waved her hand gently, indicating that she understood.
As I entered the ward, Feng Ningyun was sitting on the edge of the bed eating dinner. Hearing footsteps, she turned around and her eyes followed her daughter.
Compared to her previous state of madness when Zhu Qing saw her at the Saigon branch, Feng Ningyun's mental state has improved significantly recently.
Although her bulky figure and casually tied hair are completely different from the elegant ballerina in the file, it is safe to say that this period was the most relaxed and carefree phase of her life.
At least for now, she is at peace.
Mo Zhenbang pressed for details about what happened back then.
Who exactly is that man with the knife scar on his hand? The clues the police currently possess are fragmented, and even cross-referencing Mingde with the pharmaceutical factory, the direction remains unclear. If Feng Ningyun could recall more details, even just as a reference, it could help the police narrow down their investigation.
"Can you think about what that person looked like again?"
Feng Ningyun flinched, her fingers gripping the hem of her hospital gown tightly, and looked at Rong Zimei with a puzzled expression.
“If she really can’t remember, then don’t force her,” Rong Zimei said. “After all, as you said, that was eighteen years ago… Even a normal person would find it hard to remember something that happened eighteen years ago.”
Mo Zhenbang nodded silently.
At this moment, Zhu Qing squatted down in front of Feng Ningyun.
She took out her notebook from her pocket, turned to a blank page, and gently guided, "Can you draw?"
How did you see them back then?
Feng Ningyun looked at Zhu Qing.
Her eyes were still not clear enough, but after some hesitation, she still took the pen.
Feng Ningyun slowly began to draw on the paper. Her brushstrokes were stiff, and the lines were uncontrollably crooked, but her posture while holding the pen was exceptionally serious.
The police stood by, waiting quietly, until the figure on the paper gradually took shape.
You can tell they are two short-haired figures from behind.
One of them, with his uneven hair, was clearly the perpetrator of the serial indiscriminate killings years ago, while the other was the person Feng Ningyun had mentioned who offered him "candy."
The person in the painting raises their hand, and there is a twisted line from the back of the hand to the forearm, like a winding scar.
This is the angle from which Feng Ningyun secretly saw it from a hidden corner back then.
"You didn't see their faces, did you?" Zhu Qing asked.
Feng Ningyun shook her head and handed the notebook back.
Then, she received a compliment that "it's very well drawn," and turned to smile at her daughter like a child.
...
After leaving the Jianuoan Sanatorium, Mo Zhenbang rubbed his temples: "If I keep going along with her nonsense, I think I'll start to go crazy too."
“This is the only lead on the pharmaceutical company’s trail,” Zhu Qing said. “Inspector Mo, cherish it.”
He watched as Zhu Qing solemnly put the notebook into her coat pocket and let out a long sigh.
The police car drove towards the Saigon branch of the Mingde Mental Health Rehabilitation Center.
As before, security was tight here, and the police had to show their warrants to enter. Zhu Qing remembered Mo Sir's instructions and remained cautious and discreet. When she mentioned needing to complete the information for the transferred patient Feng Ningyun, she didn't blush or skip a beat, just like it was the real thing.
The person in charge of receiving the police was a young nurse. When she learned the purpose of the police visit, she pulled up the medical records from recent years, but she was clueless about many details.
“I’ve also heard about the case related to Ms. Feng,” the young nurse said. “It seems like several months have passed.”
“That’s how the judicial process works,” Zhu Qing said calmly. “As long as there’s no verdict, the case isn’t over.”
“Indeed, every profession has its own intricacies. It’s the same in our psychiatry department; a patient’s treatment cycle can be measured in years. Our work isn’t over until they’re fully recovered and discharged.” The young nurse said, continuing to flip through the patient records. “Even after discharge, a relapse can occur if triggered by a stressor…”
Suddenly, a loud, boisterous cheer rang out, immediately drawing the attention of Zhu Qing and Mo Zhenbang.
On the lawn, a middle-aged man grinned.
Zhu Qing remembered him, the pitiful man who raised his younger siblings from childhood, never having been a child himself for even a day. Now, suffering from schizophrenia, he lived in his own world like a three-year-old child, while his younger siblings, whom he had painstakingly raised, never came to see him again.
"Sister," he suddenly said, tilting his head, "today is my sister's birthday."
A gentle, middle-aged female doctor knelt down, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and said softly, "Dongdong is so wonderful; he still remembers his sister's birthday."
Her voice was as gentle as if she were coaxing a child: "But you should also remember your birthday, that's even more important."
The man looked puzzled: "My birthday..."
"It's in August, so we have to wait another six months," she said with a smile. "I'll remind you when the time comes, okay?"
"Okay, okay!" A childlike anticipation, beyond his years, appeared on the man's face. "I also want to..."
"You want to eat cake, don't you?" the female doctor replied. "I'll prepare a fruit cake for you, just for you to eat by yourself, you won't share it with anyone else."
The young nurse leading the way explained in a low voice, "This patient always gives the best food to others. We've been teaching him to think more about himself... but no matter how many times we've taught him, he just can't remember. Even if he acts like a three-year-old, he's still a sensible 'child'."
"Thank you, sister!"
When the activity ended, the man was skipping and hopping as the nurse led him back to his ward.
The young nurse introduced the two police officers to the female doctor: "Vice President Zong, they are police officers from the Major Crimes Unit, here to complete Feng Ningyun's medical records."
"This is our Vice Dean Zong Zhuoxian. She should be able to answer your questions."
Vice Dean Zong rose gracefully, looked at the two with slight surprise, and then nodded, "Please follow me."
In the vice president's office, Zhu Qing got straight to the point: "Ms. Feng mentioned in her statement that she witnessed a violent incident when she fell ill. We need to provide more details, as this is important for her treatment assessment and sentencing."
Zong Zhuoxian astutely countered, "But as far as I know, Ms. Feng's hospitalization was not directly related to the case. In that case, would her testimony be helpful to the case?"
After all, she is the vice president of the hospital, unlike a young nurse who is easily fooled.
Zhu Qing opened the transcript without changing her expression: "I cannot disclose the details of the case. Although Ms. Feng is not directly involved, her testimony is very helpful in gaining sympathy from the jury."
"I see." Vice Dean Zong nodded thoughtfully.
Mo Zhenbang then followed up by asking, "Ms. Feng mentioned seeing someone with a scar on their right hand. Are there any medical staff in the hospital with that feature?"
“How can you believe everything a mental patient says?” Vice President Zong said. “Ms. Feng can’t even tell left from right.”
“But she described it very specifically, a winding scar on her right hand,” Zhu Qing insisted. “We just want to confirm whether the person Ms. Feng saw was the cause of her worsening condition.”
“Many doctors and caregivers in this profession have work-related scars, but if you ask me who has a scar on their right hand, I really don’t remember.” The vice president stood up helplessly and asked someone to fetch the employee list.
The police waited a moment, and then the employee list was delivered.
Vice Dean Zong took the document but did not look at it immediately. Instead, he turned to the assistant who had delivered it.
"You usually walk around the ward a lot, could you help me see which colleagues in the hospital have scars on their right hands and mark them?"
The assistant flipped through the roster, recalling the names as he marked them.
Suddenly, the assistant remembered something: "Could Ms. Feng have seen Dr. Song? I remember his hand was burned during an experiment. I think it was his right hand, but I can't quite remember."
"However, Dr. Song has gone to attend a medical conference and will not be back until tomorrow afternoon."
Mo Zhenbang and Zhu Qing remained expressionless, but their pens paused slightly on the paper.
The blurry signature on nurse Lai Danhe's work record from back then was vaguely the character "Song".
“Dr. Song does have scars on the back of his hand.” The vice president rubbed his temples wearily. “However, our hospital’s treatment is absolutely standardized and professional. I believe that Dr. Song would never use violence against a patient. In fact, dealing with mental patients is sometimes like taking care of children; children also talk nonsense.”
Mo Zhenbang understood and said, "I understand. It's like a child saying that the teacher hit them, but it was just a pinch on the cheek, and the teacher can't defend themselves."
"That's true." Vice President Zong's expression softened somewhat. "I hope you will investigate thoroughly to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings. Every one of our doctors is dedicated to treating patients."
...
As soon as he stepped out of the Mingde Mental Health Center, Mo Zhenbang immediately took out his mobile phone to contact the police station.
"Investigate these people immediately and compare their connections with the Weisheng Pharmaceutical Factory from back then." He spoke quickly, reciting the names of the people with scars on their right hands on the list. "Focus on investigating this male doctor named 'Song Junli,' including his bank account statements and property transfer records from eighteen years ago."
Back at the police station, the investigation began immediately.
Uncle Li walked into the conference room with a stack of documents: "We found the logistics partner of the pharmaceutical factory back then. The original logistics company has gone bankrupt, and now the boss has a new business, which is very successful and thriving."
Zeng Yongshan deftly wrote the logistics company owner's name on the whiteboard and then pasted his photo next to it.
The man in the photo is dressed in a suit and smiles at the camera.
"Wei Feng, 53 years old, is the chairman of Fengsong International Logistics, specializing in cross-border fresh food transportation."
Mo Zhenbang nodded approvingly: "Well done, your investigation approach is becoming more and more organized."
Upon hearing this, Zeng Yongshan smiled and continued her report: "There's something strange. Three months before the original logistics company went bankrupt, they suddenly purchased refrigerated trucks."
"After the company went bankrupt, Wei Feng remained silent for two years before registering a new company. But it is worth noting that during those two years, he had no work record at all, and his tax records were blank. Logically speaking, he should have had no source of income."
“We also checked his family background. Both his parents and his parents-in-law came from ordinary families.”
“But this is the same person who suddenly started a new company. Look at the registered capital.” Zeng Yongshan circled the registered capital figure with a red marker. “Did this money fall from the sky? The source of funds for the new company is a mystery.”
Xu Jiale squinted: "Now he's a glamorous big boss, a famous 'Fresh Food King' in Hong Kong."
Mo Zhenbang tapped the whiteboard: "Don't alert Wei Feng yet, keep a close eye on his logistics chain."
He turned to another group of officers: "How's the investigation going with Song Junli's case?"
"Hey! How can it be that fast..."
"How long has it been since you called back to assign the task?"
Mo Zhenbang gave them a disgruntled look: "Aren't you going to hurry up?"
As the discussion drew to a close, someone reminded them, "Shouldn't the shift at the safe house be changing?"
"We've already sent reinforcements over." Uncle Li smiled as he packed up the documents. "We were able to chat all night last night, but today we're on duty with unfamiliar officers. I bet Xinglang is going to be bored to death."
...
Cheng Xinglang was left alone in the safe house.
I chatted with Zhu Qing and Xu Jiale all night last night, until dawn. Now that I've woken up from a nap, it feels surreal.
For the past month, during his clandestine investigation, he had never let his guard down. Now that he had handed over all the leads to the police, he should have been able to breathe a sigh of relief, but his mind was constantly filled with those images: Professor Yang's car accident, his missing brother, and the bloody photos of crime scenes in the old case files…
It was a nightmare from eighteen years ago, yet it lingered until now, and Cheng Xinglang had never let it go. However, he had been acting very strangely these past few days. Occasionally, he would recall the struggles and cries for help of the fragments, which would flash through his mind and then abruptly disappear.
He wanted an answer more urgently than anyone else.
My phone suddenly vibrated, and an unfamiliar number popped up on the screen.
Cheng Xinglang answered the phone, and a lively and enthusiastic voice came from the other end.
"Dr. Cheng! This is my eldest sister's mobile phone number!"
From motorcycles to bicycles, Cheng Xinglang and Sheng Fang have developed a deep friendship.
Now that they are both in the same boat and locked up, Sheng Fang no longer says that Dr. Cheng is not a decent person.
They are all innocent people.
The officers handing over the shift were unfamiliar faces transferred from headquarters; aside from nodding and exchanging greetings, there was no further interaction.
Cheng Xinglang decided to continue chatting with Sheng Fang.
Has your niece gone home?
The baby is still too young to fully appreciate how deliberate the shift in her words was.
"Qingzai came back, changed her clothes, and left again!"
"She has to work overtime every day..."
Zhu Qing just went home briefly and left again in a hurry. To save time, she might have to stay overnight at the Yau Ma Tei apartment next to the police station for the next couple of days, so she came back to pack a few clothes.
"I want to stay there too," Sheng Fang said dejectedly. "But you're not taking me."
Sheng Fang kept saying that once the case was over, he would definitely go back to the Yau Ma Tei apartment with Qingzai.
Just the two of them, without my older sister and Aunt Ping!
The call lasted for a long time, until the police knocked on the door to deliver a late-night snack.
Cheng Xinglang shook his head and chuckled, never expecting that he would one day have a long phone conversation with a four-year-old.
"Dr. Cheng." The officer handed over the lunchbox and then took out a paper bag. "The CID madam asked me to give this to you."
The paper bag contained a set of comic books.
He bought it to cheer her up when she was hospitalized with a broken clavicle.
Now, they are back in his hands, accompanying him through this period of "protection".
...
After tossing and turning all night alone in her Yau Ma Tei apartment, Zhu Qing made up her mind that she must go home tonight.
Last night, her cell phone was practically exploding with calls from Fangfang. The little one called almost every hour to express how much she missed her. Plus, with her uncle, mother, and Aunt Ping gone, the house felt so empty…
She tidied up the clothes she had just brought, thinking to herself that it was all for nothing.
The police station is just a three-minute walk from the Yau Ma Tei apartment.
Zhu Qing ate her breakfast and immediately began working as soon as she sat down at her workstation.
The police continued to employ a cautious investigative strategy, and even at this point, they had not made the investigation public.
After a detailed investigation, at least according to public records, Dr. Song Junli had no direct connection with Weisheng Pharmaceutical Factory, but this did not dispel their doubts.
The police were unable to find him at the Mingde Mental Health Center the day before, but they finally caught up with Dr. Song, who had just returned from a meeting, at the cross-border bus terminal the following evening.
According to the information, Song Junli is 44 years old, but his graying hair at the temples makes him look older than his actual age.
"Dr. Song, I'm sorry to bother you."
"I contacted her by phone this morning; it was still about supplementary medical records for Ms. Feng Ningyun."
The police showed their identification to the station staff and borrowed an unused station office.
Zhu Qing's gaze was fixed on Song Junli's right hand, noticing the winding scar.
Communication over the phone wasn't as clear, and when Song Junli heard the police's purpose, his face instantly darkened.
"This is absurd! Violence?" Song Junli's face darkened. "You can go to the Hospital Authority and check my medical records! In over twenty years, I have never received a single complaint. To question my professional ethics based solely on the incoherent ramblings of a mentally ill patient? This is completely fabricated!"
“Dr. Song, please don’t misunderstand. We absolutely trust your expertise,” Zeng Yongshan quickly smoothed things over. “It’s just a routine procedure.”
Song Junli's shoulders, which had been tense with anger, visibly relaxed a little: "I understand, but this way of questioning is uncomfortable."
“It was indeed a oversight on our part,” Zeng Yongshan continued. “I hope you can understand.”
Because of these words, Song Junli's expression softened considerably during the subsequent questioning.
After asking a few questions to supplement her medical records, Zhu Qing changed the subject at the right time: "Dr. Song, how did you get the scars on your hands?"
"I got burned accidentally while doing experiments when I was young." He looked down at himself. "That happened many years ago."
Zeng Yongshan joked, "You look very young now, how old were you back then?"
"I'm around twenty-eight or twenty-nine years old," he said in a gentler tone. "Thirty is a hurdle, and forty is another one. Your energy isn't what it used to be."
Zhu Qing and Zeng Yongshan exchanged glances.
Eighteen years ago, Song Junli didn't have this scar on his hand, so what Feng Ningyun saw might not be him. Of course, this still needs further verification.
“Oh, right.” Zeng Yongshan flipped through the documents. “Ms. Feng also mentioned a male doctor with a bad temper. We suspect it’s Dr. Ke. Do you know anything about him?”
“We only discovered during our investigation that Dr. Ke had passed away. While organizing the materials, we found a pile of correspondence, and we heard that he had started a pharmaceutical factory outside of his business.” Zhu Qing brought up the next topic, “Could it be that Dr. Ke’s lack of patience with patients was due to his focus on the pharmaceutical factory?”
“Indeed, back then Dr. Ke managed the pharmacy department and also ran a pharmaceutical factory outside,” Song Junli said. “However, I heard that the factory went bankrupt not long afterward.”
"You know about this too?"
Song Junli nodded: "That's all old news. Actually, I also wanted to earn some extra money back then. But Dr. Ke said the pharmaceutical factory didn't need any manpower and that he could contact me if needed... Of course, that was just an excuse; Dr. Ke was politely refusing me."
This is a long-buried story, and in the past month, Cheng Xinglang has uncovered some of the clues. Back then, a senior executive surnamed Ke from the Mingde Mental Health Center failed in his pharmaceutical business and soon after fell to his death from the top floor of the hospital.
At this point, Song Junli's additions made the timeline of this past event more complete.
"Actually, he was already overwhelmed at the time," Song Junli said with emotion. "So, people's energy is limited, and you can't be too greedy. Back then, I envied Dr. Ke for being able to handle both things, but now I think it's good to focus on being a doctor."
Zhu Qing looked up: "Completely overwhelmed?"
"At that time, he was working as a contract medical examiner at several welfare institutions. There was an orphan who had been chosen by a family for adoption, but died during a medical examination."
"A few days later, Dr. Ke..."
"That happened eighteen years ago, right?"
Song Junli was taken aback: "Has it been that long already? Time really flies..."
Zhu Qing quickly jotted down this unexpected gain.
The death of that Mingde executive was rumored to be an accident caused by excessive work pressure. Unexpectedly, it turned out that a dispute over orphan adoption procedures was also involved. After his death, this dispute was never followed up.
In retrospect, the timelines of the two incidents and the Cheng family case highly overlap.
Zeng Yongshan said, "Thank you for your cooperation. I think Ms. Feng Ningyun's understanding is flawed. In any case, we will definitely find out the truth."
Song Junli stood up: "Thank you for your help."
...
Shengfang, her eldest sister, and Aunt Ping all stayed at home and didn't go out.
"Not even allowed to stroll around, it seems the situation is serious this time." Sheng Peirong stood in front of the French windows, her fingertips gently tapping the glass.
Just last night, before Zhu Qing left, she specifically reminded her to be careful.
While apprehending criminals is important, personal safety should always be the top priority.
Sheng Peirong was always decisive and efficient, and she wanted to solve problems immediately. She immediately picked up her mobile phone and contacted the old director who had watched her grow up, asking him to help find a trustworthy professional bodyguard.
Aunt Ping clicked her tongue in amazement: "Miss, isn't this a bit too much of a show?"
"Just in case," Sheng Peirong said. "It would be best if nothing happens. Anyway, having a few more people with us won't affect our daily lives. That way, we can focus on the case without worry, and my younger brother can go to school without any concerns."
Three question marks seemed to suddenly appear on the little head of the flower.
He could have easily skipped school!
It's so boring.
Fangfang looked like a little old man, hunched over, hands behind his back, slowly pacing, occasionally letting out a sigh as he looked up at the sky.
There wasn't much to do at home, but the small playground in the basement was already finished. However, as soon as he wandered over there, his wicked older sister dragged him back.
Sheng Peirong said the newly renovated basement had a strong smell and forbade him from going down to play.
Feeling utterly bored, Sheng Fang wandered into Zhu Qing's room.
It feels like it's been eight or ten years since I last saw my niece, and I miss her terribly!
I don't know when the case will be solved.
The young boy, Shengfang, sat at his desk, his hands supporting his chin, staring blankly at the "Eat Everything" certificate on the wall. Those dangerous and exciting investigative tasks were out of the question for him this time.
Shengfang stood up and noticed the coat casually draped over the back of the chair.
This is what Zhu Qing changed out of last night.
The astute officer immediately noticed the notebook in the coat pocket.
"Big sister!" Sheng Fang grabbed her notebook and rushed out. "Qingzi forgot to bring it—"
With a "thud," the notebook fell onto the stairs, its pages turned open.
"Why are you lying here?" Sheng Fang bent down to chat with the laptop, reaching out to pick it up.
When I turned it over, I saw several large characters written on it.
Shengfang pointed to one of the unfamiliar characters and asked, "Aunt Ping, what does this mean?"
Aunt Ping put on her reading glasses, leaned closer to take a look, and said, "Beat her up."
"Remember to go home..." Fangfang was instantly horrified, "Beat the little kid!"
What kind of nonsense are you writing down?
What a frivolous notebook!
They huddled together in a ball the moment they bloomed, their little voices babbling, "Qingzai, Qingzai, this won't last long!"
After he finished speaking, he found it hard to remain so nonchalant.
The young master, feeling flustered, ran back to his desk with his short legs.
A few minutes later, he drew a round, crying face next to his "beat the kid" declaration, complete with distinct little teardrops.
"Big sister, how do you write 'spare my life'?"
Sheng Peirong suppressed a laugh: "I won't tell you."
Let the little one be self-reliant, holding a chubby colored crayon and writing—
No!
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