The Secret Behind the Disappearance — Chapter 1

Everyone praised him as a devoted, sensible son—some even called him Hong Kong’s most filial son.

But behind all that admiration, he had once bragged to an online gaming friend:

“I killed my parents.”

No one imagined that his boastful indiscretion would expose the first cracks in a crime planned to near perfection.

11:40 a.m., March 1, 2013.

Third floor, Hoi Hing Building, Fuk Chak Street, Tai Kok Tsui, Mong Kok, Hong Kong.

Twenty-nine-year-old Chu Kai-leung brought his parents to see a flat he had just rented.

The moment his mother stepped through the door, Chu Kai-leung pulled out a knife.

There had been no warning.

The blade flashed across her throat.

She collapsed where she stood. After a few feeble movements, she lay completely still.

Chu Kai-leung had become a demon, stripped of every trace of humanity.

After killing his mother, he shoved his father inside and slammed the door. Then he called out his accomplice, who had been hiding there.

His name was Tse Chun-kei.

Chu Wing-kei stared at the scene, his face drained of color.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I’m your father!”

But the bond between them could not make Chu Kai-leung stop. He raised the bloodied knife and charged at his father.

At sixty-five, Chu Wing-kei fought back with everything he had. The three men grappled violently.

In the struggle, the blade sliced Chu Kai-leung’s thigh and fingers. The pain drew a scream from him—and sent his brutality spiraling out of control.

He tightened his grip on the knife and drove it straight into his father’s neck.

A dry, slicing sound rang out.

Blood spurted at once.

Instinctively, Chu Wing-kei clutched his throat. His eyes widened, panic and disbelief in his gaze. Before he could say another word, he fell.

Dead on the spot.

If you think the case ended there, you’re wrong. For Chu Kai-leung, that was only the beginning.

What he did next was enough to make anyone’s blood run cold.

Faced with his own parents’ bodies, Chu Kai-leung showed no remorse. He did not rush to dispose of them. First, he found bandages and tended to his own wounds. Then he took a taxi to the hospital, where he carefully had every cut treated.

He seemed to understand that if the wounds kept bleeding, the situation could become dangerous.

Afterward, he changed into a clean pair of jeans and took another taxi back to his parents’ home.

By then, it was afternoon.

Chu Kai-leung sat on the sofa, pretending to read the newspaper in a relaxed manner.

Some time later, his older brother, Chu Kai-ying, came home from work. He was a programmer, just off his shift.

Seeing only his younger brother inside, Chu Kai-ying immediately asked, “Where are Mom and Dad?”

Chu Kai-leung kept his expression calm.

“They said they were meeting some old friends for tea this afternoon. They probably haven’t come back yet.”

The retired couple did often go out to have tea and catch up with friends, so Chu Kai-ying suspected nothing. He went straight to the kitchen, ate a few bites of instant noodles after a tiring day, and went to bed.

But their parents still had not appeared the next day.

Chu Kai-ying began to feel uneasy.

Chu Kai-leung remained perfectly composed and offered a new explanation.

“Mom and Dad came back last night, but you were asleep, so they didn’t wake you.”

“I had tea with them this afternoon.”

“They said there’s nothing to do in retirement, so they wanted to visit the mainland for a few days.”

Those simple words reassured Chu Kai-ying—for the moment.

Then another question occurred to him. His parents were both over sixty. Would they really travel without telling either son? What if something happened?

The more he thought about it, the more worried he became. He called his father.

No answer.

He called again.

The phone was switched off.

Chu Kai-leung quickly tried to calm him down.

“Don’t worry.”

“Maybe they’re boarding a plane. That could be why you can’t get through.”

March 5.

The couple still had not returned. Both phones remained switched off.

Chu Kai-ying could no longer sit still. He began calling relatives and friends for news. He also posted a missing-person notice on Facebook, hoping the online community could help.

His parents’ disappearance was serious, and the post quickly drew attention.

Chu Kai-leung saw it. For the first time, unease stirred in him.

But only for a moment. He still believed he had everything under control.

He had no idea that Hong Kong police were already closing in on the truth.

Chu Kai-ying could do the same—but one post was not enough.

On March 7, Chu Kai-leung contacted a reporter from Apple Daily himself. He even filmed a missing-person video.

In it, he claimed that on March 2, after leaving a teahouse at Langham Place, his parents had gone to the mainland and disappeared. He made a point of emphasizing their ages and said they enjoyed hiking.

Every detail in his account pointed toward the same possibility: the couple might have had an accident while hiking.

Chu Kai-leung solemnly urged other hikers to stay alert and report anything suspicious.

Then he held up photographs of his parents to the camera.

Tears. A choked voice. A look of anguish.

He spoke of missing them and worrying about their safety.

Every expression was measured just right—not too theatrical, not too cold.