Chapter 96 Where is anyone?
To date, the police have been unable to make any breakthroughs in the investigation and are groping in the fog.
If the murderer remains hidden and never appears in the scope of the investigation, how can the case proceed? Even more challenging is the possibility that if this was not a crime committed by an acquaintance, and the murderer and the victim had no social connection, then the case will struggle to find even a basic starting point and will be impossible to investigate.
It was only then that Zhu Qing gleaned a clue from the Hong Kong Weekly.
The time of death and the time the body was actually discovered were not long apart. If reporter Deng Yuyan did indeed possess a camera at the time, she may have taken crucial evidence.
Zhu Qing immediately reported to Mo Zhenbang, and under his instructions, she hurriedly went out to meet up with her colleagues and then head to find the reporter.
It was the dead of winter, and the wind was howling outside the window.
Sheng Peirong closed the window and turned to get a cashmere scarf.
Her daughter had just arrived home and was about to go out again. Sheng Peirong didn't try to stop her, but quietly wrapped a scarf around Zhu Qing's neck as she tied her shoelaces.
Suddenly, her previously empty neck was enveloped in warmth, and Zhu Qing's eyes lit up with a smile. She looked up and saw little Sheng Fang leaning against the study door, waving her little hand.
"I'll be waiting for you."
Fangfang is waiting for Qingzai to come home soon.
He hasn't been crumpled up and thrown out yet!
Thirty minutes later, Zhu Qing and Xiao Sun met Deng Yuyan at the Hong Kong Weekly office building.
The reporter was indeed hiding something.
"I'm sorry, I did bring a small camera with me. Photography is prohibited in temples, so I could only take pictures secretly inside my thick coat." She handed over a device, looking somewhat embarrassed. "You can understand why I'm still working overtime at this hour. The news industry is highly competitive. Text is always dry, and without eye-catching pictures, even the best feature will go unnoticed. I had no choice."
"But I've looked at the photos repeatedly and found nothing suspicious, otherwise I would have handed them over long ago."
"Are all the photos here? Have they been deleted?"
"Absolutely not. Your technical department can find out with a simple check. If there are any signs of deletion or alteration, I will take full responsibility."
The police took the camera and floppy disk and immediately began to investigate her whereabouts. This reporter had been following the story of the changes in Hong Kong's ancient temples for a month and a half, during which time she devoted almost all her energy to it. Her complete and detailed notes and records of interviews could all prove her claims.
When Zhu Qing and Xiao Sun returned to the police station with the evidence, they found that all members of Team B were present.
Haozai was slurping a bowl of instant noodles: "I had made plans to have a late-night snack with someone, but now I have to work overtime."
Liang Qikai patted him on the shoulder and laughed, "We share the good times and the bad."
Everyone burst into laughter and joked.
"Is this what Inspector Weng was talking about this afternoon, that you can get out of a dead end just by turning a corner?"
Mo Zhenbang walked towards the computer: "Let's get down to business first."
The computer screen lit up, and the police inserted a floppy disk to read the photos.
The materials included not only images of Tin Hau Temple, but also photos of temples throughout Hong Kong, totaling over five hundred images. The reporter's thick winter coat helped him obtain news photos effortlessly, prompting police officers to jokingly wonder what tactics these reporters would devise by summer.
"There really are intricacies to every profession."
"Everyone says that reporters are the best at surveillance and counter-surveillance; they could easily become police officers."
Mo Zhenbang filtered the photos according to time, focusing on the Tin Hau Temple.
A total of seventy-two photos.
"They said you couldn't take pictures, so you still took so many?"
"If reporters were all so disciplined, where would exclusive news come from? Hot topics are all about grabbing them. The exclusive story about the hidden prince in the Mid-Levels was only obtained by paparazzi sneaking into the villa."
Everyone turned to look at the protagonist of the news story's niece.
Zhu Qing looked up: "It was taken by climbing a tree, with the camera pointed at the children's room on the third floor."
As soon as she finished speaking, she spread out Deng Yuyan's supplementary notes on the table.
On the day of the incident, Deng Yuyan arrived at the Tin Hau Temple at 4 PM, mainly to take written notes, and only secretly took photos in a secluded side hall. The photos contained a variety of information, including the structure of the side hall, profiles of worshippers, details of the offering table, cracks in the temple threshold, etc.
The mouse slowly moved down, and the police carefully examined each photo.
Zhu Qing leaned over and stared at the close-up of the ancient well on the screen: "The murderer must have used the water from this well to freeze the joints of the corpse."
After reviewing all the photos, no direct evidence was found.
Deng Yuyan took extremely detailed photos, even photographing the handwritten "No Photography" signs.
Xu Jiale couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at the close-up of the faded handwritten card: "Wouldn't you call this a provocation?"
Haozai approached with a cup of instant noodles, his gaze falling on a photo of a young novice monk's back: "This little temple has novice monks?"
"Most of these are adopted orphans."
"They even have handcarts?"
"Otherwise, are we supposed to carry the offerings by hand? You're asking a thoughtless question."
"Hey! You asked me last time if we could eat the offerings after they were taken down? Did you think it through?"
Mo Zhenbang shook his head and chuckled.
Of all the police stations in Yau Ma Tei, Group B was the most boisterous. I thought I would hear them complaining about working overtime, but instead they were chatting away like they were having a party at a street food stall.
“He also said, ‘A flash of inspiration can happen unexpectedly.’” Haozai pointed to his temple, mimicking Weng Zhaolin’s actions from the afternoon. “Weng sir’s words are indeed unreliable.”
"That's right..."
"If you can't even find it by 'intentional' means, how can you expect it to be 'unintentional'? Do you really think solving cases is that easy!"
Xu Jiale suddenly stood at attention and saluted: "Uncle Weng!"
Everyone froze instantly, their smiles vanished completely, they swallowed hard, and slowly turned around.
Where is anyone?
"You're finished!" Haozai put down his cup of noodles and grabbed Xu Jiale by the back of the neck.
"Try that trick again next time?"
"It's because you're all so easy to fool; this trick always works..."
Amidst laughter and curses, the investigation continued, with everyone burying themselves in the case files again, seemingly tireless.
The night was still long, and the officers had indeed just experienced the frustration of the investigation reaching a stalemate.
But at this moment, no one said anything discouraging. As long as everyone is still sitting here, there is always a possibility of a breakthrough in this case, and the dawn will eventually come.
...
On a clear morning at Kadoorie Hill, the gentle sunlight dispels the winter chill.
Zhu Qing tiptoed open the door, intending to sneak back to the police station, but was caught red-handed at the stairwell.
Sheng Fang remained crouched in place, while Sheng Peirong sat on the living room sofa, their eyes fixed on her.
"Someone's trying to sneak away." Shengfang crossed her short arms tightly in front of her chest. "She came back very late last night and wants to skip breakfast today."
Zhu Qing looked at Sheng Peirong: "I want to go back as soon as possible—"
This time, even her mother didn't help her.
"Dinner's ready." Sheng Peirong stepped forward and pulled her to the dining table. "How can you have the energy to work if you don't eat your fill?"
The child climbed onto the high chair using both hands and feet, and quickly nodded, "That's right!"
"Coming, coming." Aunt Ping carried a porcelain soup bowl in both hands and walked briskly from the kitchen. The slow-cooked soup in the bowl was steaming and swayed slightly with her hurried steps. "I started cooking it at three in the morning. Qingqing, drink it while it's hot. You've been so busy lately, you must make sure to nourish yourself properly."
Zhu Qing looked at the bowl of rich, nourishing soup in front of her and couldn't help but smile.
Who drinks this first thing in the morning?
But this big bowl of soup, besides being filled with plenty of ingredients, was also brimming with the love and care of Mom, Uncle, and Aunt Ping.
Zhu Qing obediently sat down, holding the soup bowl, and took a sip before even taking the spoon.
"Aunt Ping, is this a new recipe?" Her eyes lit up. "It tastes so good."
Aunt Ping was overjoyed.
Whenever her cooking skills are praised, she always reacts with an undisguised joy, as if she has just gotten a perfect score on a school test.
“Aunt Ping must have some secret culinary recipes,” Sheng Peirong joked. “If she submitted them to a food magazine, she might even get a column.”
Aunt Ping laughed even harder, and even the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes smoothed out: "How could I possibly have that ability..."
She gulped down her milk, put down the cup, and said in a childish voice, "You're also called Aunt Ping, and I'm also called Aunt Ping. Everyone calls me Aunt Ping."
The adults looked at Shengfang Baby with a puzzled expression.
"Qingzai calls her Aunt Ping." Fangfang, as if discovering a new continent, said to Sheng Peirong in a serious tone, "We should call her Sister Ping!"
"Young master," Aunt Ping said awkwardly, rubbing her hands together, "Actually, your father also calls me Aunt Ping..."
Fangfang looked completely bewildered.
His children's room bookshelf is filled with picture books about family relationships, but he is still confused by these complicated relationships.
The whole family burst into laughter.
The crisp laughter echoed, ushering in a new chapter for this busy day.
...
In the CID office, officers are always hunched over their desks, scratching their heads and lamenting how to investigate when they have no clues. But in the blink of an eye, they plunge into piles of case files or go out to continue their interviews.
At yesterday's case analysis meeting, Zhu Qing proposed a line of thought: The killer's methods of interfering with the time of death were extremely professional; could the killer be engaged in a related special profession?
This perspective led to a shift in the direction of the investigation.
Now, some police officers have begun to investigate the suspect's professional characteristics.
In the morning, Zhu Qing had just stepped into the police station when she bumped into Inspector Mo, who was drinking extra-strong black coffee to stay awake in the corridor.
He frowned, made a bitter face, and took a swig, his shoulders trembling involuntarily, as if he were drinking Chinese medicine.
Zhu Qingguang's face involuntarily scrunched up as she watched.
Mo Zhenbang was amused; her expression was exactly like that of her uncle.
"You've come at the right time. Let's go to the deceased's home. We'll accompany the family to retrieve their belongings." Mo Zhenbang said.
"Retrieve the belongings?"
“The case hasn’t been solved yet, so the body can’t be retrieved for the time being, but the person has been gone for several days, and the funeral still needs to be held,” Mo Zhenbang explained. “The deceased’s younger brother, Wei Xusheng, took the lead in arranging this, and he also brought Huang Qiulian along. We need to accompany them to pick up some clothes and photos for the funeral.”
And so, Zhu Qing and her two colleagues went to the deceased's home.
On the way, Zeng Yongshan couldn't help but say, "How could Wei Xusheng be so kind? He's probably doing this because he's afraid of being gossiped about for not even caring about his older brother's funeral. This Wei Xusheng..."
"I wonder if Wei Ansheng will come."
“Probably not,” Zhu Qing said. “Wei Ansheng’s situation is special; such an occasion would be too difficult for him to handle.”
When the police arrived at the victim's apartment building, Wei Xusheng and Huang Qiulian were already waiting downstairs.
Wei Xusheng had obviously heard the news that his nephew was still alive, and he looked Huang Qiulian up and down with a sarcastic expression.
"To be able to inherit millions in assets despite abusing a child, you must have had a wonderful son and are now enjoying the blessings of having a son."
“My elder brother has lost his mind. The business he built up over his entire life has ended up in your hands.”
Huang Qiulian ignored him and walked straight towards the policeman: "Can I go up now?"
Under the watchful eyes of the police, Wei Xusheng toned down his arrogance, but his face was still full of resentment, as if he had suffered a silent loss.
Remembering the topic of conversation in the car, Zeng Yongshan lowered her voice and asked Huang Qiulian, "Will the child attend the funeral?"
“No.” Huang Qiulian shook her head gently. “His father’s greatest wish before he died was for An Sheng to spend the rest of his life peacefully at Sacred Heart Manor.”
The mother and son didn't have to wait until next Tuesday to be reunited. During the questioning, the police mentioned that the child sat by the window every day waiting for his father. Huang Qiulian was heartbroken; this was the first time she had taken leave since starting work in the community, and she went to see An Sheng yesterday. Although the child wasn't good at expressing himself, the sudden brightness in his eyes and the slight upturn of his lips said it all. She hadn't told her son about Wei Huasheng yet. But based on her understanding of her ex-husband, Wei Huasheng would never want An Sheng to appear in public before the murderer was caught.
After all, for the past ten years, Wei Huasheng has done everything he could to protect their child.
The two maids arrived a step late, having been specifically notified by the police. Their employer was no longer there, so they had no reason to remain. But when it came to knowing every item in the house better than they did.
With a click, the key turned and unlocked the door.
Huang Qiulian entered the house, stood in the living room, and looked around her ex-husband's home.
She had never been here before, but now, feeling the traces of life in this house, it was as if he were still here.
Since his big argument with his older brother, during which he overturned the table, Wei Xusheng hadn't come up here again. At this moment, he went straight to the master bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Since the body couldn't be retrieved immediately, the funeral rites would be conducted using the deceased's clothing. Wei Xusheng casually pulled out several high-end suits, holding them up to himself, and even checking the sleeve length in the mirror.
Zeng Yongshan said calmly, "We will register every piece of clothing that is taken away in the evidence book."
Wei Xusheng's expression changed, and he threw the suit back impatiently: "Who cares about these tattered clothes?"
In the study, Huang Qiulian carefully opened Wei Huasheng's treasured photo album.
She hadn't expected that the first page would be a family photo of the three of them. The photo was laminated and well-preserved, but the creases on the album pages showed that it had been looked at countless times. It turned out that he, too, could never let go of that simple happiness from the past.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she gently stroked the photograph.
The two maids were talking in a corner, saying that they had been hitting a wall in their job search these past two days, and that they felt their previous jobs were really impeccable.
"I've been here for eight years, I've really grown attached to it." Sister Shuang sighed. "The new employer said they would hold back a month's wages, Mr. Wei would never do that."
Zhu Qing recalled the testimony of the old servant of the Wei family and asked, "Does Mr. Wei care about daily expenses? Such as fruit and milk?"
They immediately shook their heads, almost in unison: "How could that be?"
“Mr. Wei doesn’t stay at home for a few days each month, but he still provides us with three meals a day. We can eat whatever we want from the refrigerator, and he never questions us.”
“Last month, my grandson was sick, and he took the initiative to ask me to make sea cucumber soup and send it to the child. Later, Mr. Wei asked several times whether my grandson was feeling better.”
Huang Qiulian wiped away the tears from the corners of her eyes and turned her head: "Was it Sister E who said that? At that time, Huasheng did mention that the family was in great financial strain."
The two servants looked at each other in bewilderment.
In this family, they had never seen Wei Huasheng care about these things.
Zhu Qing opened the notebook and turned to Huang Qiulian: "Did you feel any abnormal energy expenditure at the time?"
“I didn’t notice.” Her gaze returned to the photo. “Huasheng prepared everything in the house.”
Huang Qiulian lowered her eyes and recalled.
He was very considerate back then. Every morning before going to work, he would prepare fresh ingredients for her three meals and would even take a detour to her favorite bakery to buy freshly baked cakes.
There aren't many photos in the album.
She flipped through many pages, and Wei Huasheng in the photos rarely showed a smile.
Huang Qiulian's fingertips traced the photograph.
He should smile more.
“Madam,” Huang Qiulian said softly, “I’ve made my choice. Let’s use this one for the memorial portrait.”
...
The house is empty because my beloved niece isn't home.
The young master wandered around the house aimlessly, then skillfully climbed onto the sofa, grabbed the remote control, and pointed it at the television.
The TV in his new home was bigger than the one in his Yau Ma Tei home. He was enjoying the luxurious experience of a private cinema. He held a plate of grapes in his hands and stuffed them into his little mouth one after another, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding pine cones.
The morning news was broadcasting uninteresting content, and Shengfang wrinkled her little nose and decisively changed the channel.
He pressed the remote control a dozen times before finally finding the children's channel. After watching cartoons for a while, he started aimlessly switching channels again.
Before entering the study, Sheng Peirong caught a glimpse of a child leisurely eating grapes and watching TV.
When he finished processing the documents and came out, his younger brother was still watching TV, but the scene had become incredibly lively. A row of Transformers models were neatly "sitting" next to him, and he was also holding a talking Ultraman in his arms, patting its head and turning its eyes toward the screen.
In her youth, Sheng Peirong was known as a woman of action, with her schedule packed full from morning till night. Now, after such a significant change in her health, she has had to slow down her work pace, but seeing her younger brother wasting his time like this, she couldn't help but frown.
The eldest sister couldn't bear to watch any longer, so she walked over to the sofa and sat down next to the little girl.
"Just watching TV all day?" she asked.
"Shall we go out and play?" Fangfang nestled her little face in her arms.
“Okay,” Sheng Peirong said.
Sheng Fang was surprised that her older sister was so agreeable, and her eyes lit up instantly.
"Yay!" he cheered. "Then should we—"
Sheng Peirong smiled and said, "Would you like to try out a violin lesson? I'll go with you."
Sheng Fang immediately sat up straight, staring intently at the TV screen, her eyes fixed straight ahead: "I suddenly don't want to play anymore."
The Ultraman in his arms repeated cooperatively, "I suddenly don't want to play anymore."
...
In the afternoon, another group of police officers returned to the Tin Hau Temple with the developed photos.
The side hall where the murder occurred is sealed off and still cordoned off, but the rest of the temple has been reopened. However, there are far fewer worshippers than usual, and only a few elderly people are burning incense in the courtyard.
A young novice monk in a yellow robe was sweeping fallen leaves with a broom. He was thin and his robe fluttered in the wind, the hem of which occasionally brushed against the withered yellow leaves on the ground.
The supervising monk told the police that the child's Buddhist name was Huizhu, that he was five years old, that he had been physically weak since childhood, that he had been abandoned at the temple gate, and that he had grown up in the temple.
During the last investigation, the police completely missed him. It was only in a photo taken by Deng Yuyan that they discovered the existence of this young novice monk.
The child was born with a robust and chubby face, yet he swept the floor with practiced ease. Although his master had never mentioned the murder to him, the clever young novice had already gleaned some information from the whispers of the worshippers who had been visiting recently.
Therefore, communication between the police and him was very smooth.
Uncle Li took out a photo of the deceased, Wei Huasheng: "Little Master, have you seen this person before?"
The young novice monk stood on tiptoe to examine it carefully, then shook his head.
There are so many pilgrims coming and going every day that it's hard for a five-year-old child to remember every face.
"It's four o'clock." The supervising master patted him on the back. "Time to go chant the scriptures."
The young novice monk put down his broom and was about to leave with his master when he heard the sound of police officers behind him.
"Wait a moment!"
Xu Jiale suddenly frowned: "Master Mingkong, does he chant sutras at this time every day?"
“Unwavering.” The other person nodded, took Huizhu’s hand, and said, “Children are playful and need someone to watch them. Not a minute can be wasted.”
"Was it the day the incident occurred?"
“It’s like this every day, without fail.” The supervising officer had already taken a few steps with the child toward the chanting room. “Officers, we really have to go now.”
Uncle Li immediately pressed on, "How many novice monks are there in the temple?"
"It's just him."
Uncle Li and Xu Jiale exchanged a glance.
Deng Yuyan's statement clearly states that she arrived at 4 PM on the day of the incident. If the young monk was chanting scriptures at the time, then who is the child in the monk's robes in her photograph?
After the supervisor and the child had walked away, Xu Jiale took out the photos and carefully compared them.
"This little novice monk seems thinner than the child in the photo..." Xu Jiale said uncertainly, "...is he thinner?"
Their figures gradually disappeared into the distance, but their voices drifted on the wind.
"Why are you wearing your monk's robe inside out again?"
"I didn't mean to..."
"Don't be careless again. You put it on inside out this time. You even lost one last time."
"It was blown away by the wind... I clearly left it drying in the backyard..."
...
The new findings have made the case even more complicated.
In the afternoon at the Tin Hau Temple, the police waited until the chanting ended before continuing their questioning. The young novice monk, Hui Zhu, was unsure exactly when his robes were lost; after all, he was only five years old. For a child his age, providing clues was already difficult enough; it was unrealistic to expect him to accurately recall events that had occurred days or even weeks prior.
But what does this unexpected discovery really mean?
“It has been verified.” Xu Jiale handed the notebook to Mo Sir. “The supervisor’s chanting record is very complete. They entered the chanting room at 3:50 p.m. that day. Several worshippers saw them go in together, and the chanting never stopped. They could also be seen inside through the window.”
"Reporter Deng Yuyan had been working on a series about temples and had no prior acquaintance with Wei Huasheng. Background checks showed that she had no motive for the crime. Moreover, the technical department confirmed that the photos were indeed taken at 4:10 p.m. on the day of the incident."
"It was because the young novice was in the chanting room when we were collecting evidence on the day of the incident that we didn't notice him."
"In other words, Huizhu was clearly chanting scriptures, but a young novice monk inexplicably appeared in the photo." Liang Qikai frowned. "Could it be that the murderer found a child to impersonate a novice monk and lure the victim to the side hall?"
Zhu Qing compared the testimonies of the old maid Xu Yue'e with those of the two current maids, and then looked up again.
The word "ghost" on the whiteboard was in quotation marks. She stared at it for a long time before saying, "Huang Qiulian mentioned that the 'ghost' the deceased was referring to was originally the six-year-old sick child."
Someone blurted out, "Could it be a reincarnated being coming to claim my life?"
"Smack!" Uncle Li smacked the man on the head with the case file. "If you keep talking nonsense, I'll use a baton next time."
Mo Zhenbang gestured for Zhu Qing to continue.
"Why did the deceased firmly believe that the 'ghost' of that child was monitoring him? After all, it was an old story from twenty-six years ago. If the person following him was an adult, how would the deceased have made that connection?" Zhu Qing walked to the whiteboard and pointed to the timeline. "Moreover, the timing is also very subtle. Sending the child to Sacred Heart Manor, suddenly believing that Huang Qiulian was innocent, and buying the current house and completely moving away from the old building where the incident occurred all occurred eight years ago."
"If you just didn't want to be reminded of painful memories, why did you wait two years after the incident to move?"
"Could something else have happened in the old Tang building?" Zeng Yongshan chimed in.
Zhu Qing continued her analysis: "Also, the old maid Xu Yue'e said that the deceased always felt that the fruit and milk in the house were being consumed too quickly..."
The meeting room suddenly fell silent, with only the sound of colleagues breathing clearly audible.
"Thud—"
Liang Qikai accidentally dropped the pen in his hand to the ground.
Everyone snapped out of their daze and gasped in unison.
"You mean... that 'ghost' from back then has been living in his house all this time?"
Zhu Qing turned to Mo Zhenbang: "Inspector Mo, can we reapply for an on-site investigation of the child abuse case?"
...
Around 5 p.m., Aunt Ping received a call from Zhu Qing.
"Looking for the young master?" She quickly wiped her hands and jogged a few steps. "Wait a minute, I'll call him right away."
Upon hearing that it was Zhu Qing calling, Sheng Fang, the little girl, arrogantly raised her chin and waddled over like a proud little penguin.
His little face was full of pride; Qingzai must have missed him!
Shengfang answered the phone, expecting to hear her niece's longing, but instead received a heartless notification.
"You didn't come to the police station after school today, did you? We all went out."
The police station operates at a very fast pace, and every operation by the Major Crimes Unit B is extremely urgent. During a break in the intense investigation, Zhu Qing took the time to call home, worried that Fang Fang might have made a wasted trip.
Shengfang's little face fell, and she retorted angrily, "Sorry, Uncle is very busy too."
"Go ahead and do your work," Zhu Qing said curtly, ending the call.
Sheng Fang, holding Aunt Ping's cell phone, snorted and plunged back into the ball pit to roll around.
This mobile phone, though bought some time ago, looked brand new, as if it had just been taken out of the box. Aunt Ping, worried that it might be scratched by the ball pit, took it, wiped off any non-existent dust with her sleeve, and carefully put it away.
"What school?!" Fangfang muttered to herself. "Poor Qingzai, she doesn't even have weekends. She didn't know she didn't have school today."
As soon as he finished speaking, he gritted his teeth and muttered to himself, "That delusional Qingzi!"
Aunt Ping and Sheng Peirong exchanged a knowing glance, but remained silent.
Who is really deluding themselves?
...
After submitting the application, the police quickly obtained the keys to the old tenement building.
This is a typical old-style tenement building, with mottled walls bearing the marks of time.
It was dusk, and the aroma of food from each household wafted through the stairwell, where several long-time neighbors peeked out.
Wei Huasheng did not sell the house. The entire house was covered with white cloth, and as the police officers walked around, dust flew everywhere in the setting sun.
Why are the police here?
"Didn't you read the newspaper? Mr. Wei, who used to live in this house, was murdered..."
Whispers echoed through the hallway.
Mo Zhenbang signaled to the police officers to close the door, shutting out the curious onlookers.
Zeng Yongshan gently stepped onto the creaking stairs.
The narrow wooden stairs creaked under the weight of each step, as if they might break at any moment, yet they stubbornly held on.
Zhu Qing ran her hand over the stair railing, her hands covered in a thick layer of dust.
Ten years ago, that baby was thrown from here, its blood soaking the steps and corners.
Inside the room, the officers' whispers could be heard from time to time.
"A ghost lives here?" Hao Zai pushed open each door in turn. "Storage room? Guest room?"
"At the time, the deceased, Huang Qiulian, the children, and the old maid were living in the house. If there were really extra people, how could they not have noticed?"
Unless, of course, this "ghost" doesn't live here.
Instead, they hid in their homes, in a very discreet manner.
“The old maid, Xu Yue’e, is getting on in years.”
"As for Huang Qiulian, the maid mentioned that she was already rather confused, and often forgot to deduct holidays from her salary. In addition, she suffered from postpartum depression at the time, and was mentally disoriented..."
“Wei Huasheng leaves early and returns late every day, focusing all his attention on the company. But after the child abuse case, he began living alone, and any slight movement would attract his attention.”
The officers spread out and conducted a thorough search, from the kitchen to the bathroom, leaving no stone unturned, even the smallest locker.
Liang Qikai crouched down to examine the gaps under the refrigerator, while Xu Jiale carefully tapped on every wall surface, searching for possible hidden compartments.
"If someone is really hiding here..."
Where could it be?
After several hours of thorough searching, nothing was found.
Finally, they stopped in front of the dusty nursery next to the master bedroom.
This is a meticulously decorated but never-used nursery. The child who should have grown up here was forced to move to Sacred Heart Manor.
Three stacked cardboard boxes blocked the front of the wardrobe, with several unopened bags of baby supplies piled on top.
"Unfortunately, the original blueprints for the tenement building were lost during renovations in the 1970s."
The officers moved aside the accumulated clutter to reveal a wardrobe covered in cartoon stickers.
Zhu Qing slowly opened the wardrobe door.
A whiff of musty and sour smell wafted through the air. The closet was crammed with baby clothes, the tags still on, but the collars of the clothes were already yellowed.
As she parted the small pieces of clothing, she suddenly discovered several parallel scratch marks on the lower part of the cabinet wall.
“Inspector Wan from Mong Kok Police Station mentioned that the tenement building's structure is a mess.” Zhu Qing tapped on the wardrobe panel, a dull thud echoing from within. “At the time, the police conducted a thorough search of the building; unless the other party possessed the ability to shrink from head to toe—”
Before she finished speaking, her brow furrowed slightly, and she paused on a wooden board.
It's hollow here.
The officers quickly moved forward and worked together to remove all the clothing and partitions.
As the last wooden board was removed, a back panel covered with faux wood-panel wallpaper was revealed. In the dim light, it blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding wooden boards, making it difficult to distinguish the real from the fake.
Mo Zhenbang tapped his knuckles lightly on the board, and the crisp echo confirmed their guess.
“Old-style tenement buildings had ventilation mezzanines reserved during wartime…” He pondered for a moment, “but the mezzanines were usually extremely narrow and not even recorded in the property deeds.”
Mo Zhenbang slowly unveiled the last panel.
A crack was slid open in the back panel of the wardrobe, and an even stronger stench of decay wafted out from the darkness.
The beam of the flashlight shone into this cramped space, which was less than forty centimeters wide.
“The ‘ghost’ never left when the incident occurred.”
"Even for the next two years, they still lived there."
This is an extremely cramped space, only forty centimeters wide, and there is absolutely no way it could accommodate the body of a normal adult.
Several empty cans were scattered inside, with production dates showing 1986. In the corner lay a few moldy diapers, stained with dirt.
The beam of the flashlight swept across the space, and everyone held their breath.
Through the long passage of time, they seemed to see the scene from ten years ago.
A person once lived here, a strange figure hiding in the dark, sunless cracks, greedily watching every moment of that "home" outside.
Day after day, year after year.
Finally, the beam of light fixed on the inner wall, leaving behind crooked, fingernail-carved characters—
"An amazing dad."
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