The Case of the Missing Manuscript at the National Library

13 years old Wei Jun was not your typical student. While his friends were busy chasing high scores in mobile games or arguing over which K-pop group was “the best,” Wei Jun was busy observing. He noticed the way the auntie at the chicken rice stall always gave an extra slice of cucumber to people who looked sad. He noticed the faint smudge of blue ink on the fingers of the school librarian.

In his neighborhood, people called him “Detective Xiao Wei.” It started when he found Mrs. Tan’s missing tabby cat using nothing but a trail of shed fur and a half-eaten ikan bilis. But today, he wasn’t looking for a cat. He was facing his biggest case yet.

The Desperate Author

Wei Jun was sitting in his “office”—which was actually just a corner table at the local kopitiam (coffee shop)—sipping a Milo Dinosaur. Suddenly, a man rushed in, looking like he hadn’t slept in three days. This was Uncle Robert, a famous local author known for his “Ghost Stories of the HDB.”

“Aiyoh, Wei Jun! Problem, big problem!” Uncle Robert wailed, wiping sweat from his forehead with a crumpled tissue.

“Relax, Uncle. Take a seat. What happened?” Wei Jun asked, sliding a piece of kaya toast toward him.

“My manuscript! The only physical copy of my new book, The Pontianak’s Library Card! It’s gone! I was at the National Library this morning for a secret reading, and when I went to buy a kopi, the bag was gone from my table. If I don’t find it by tomorrow, my publisher will kill me. Habis lah!”

Wei Jun narrowed his eyes. “Don’t worry, Uncle. I’ll take the case. But I need details. Who was there? Any suspicious characters?”

“The library was so crowded! Students studying, uncles reading newspapers… it could be anyone!”

Wei Jun stood up, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. “Okay, Uncle. Go home, drink some chrysanthemum tea, and rest. I’m going to the National Library.”

---

Investigation at the National Library

The National Library was a massive building of glass and steel, smelling of old paper and air-conditioning. Wei Jun headed straight for the 8th floor, the Singapore Collection.

He started by questioning the staff. At the counter sat a young woman with very thick glasses and a t-shirt that said I Like Big Books and I Cannot Lie.

“Excuse me, Jie-Jie,” Wei Jun said politely. “Did you see a messy man with a brown leather bag earlier?”

The librarian, Ms. Lim, looked up and sighed. “You mean the author who was talking to himself? Yeah, he was here. He left his bag for five minutes to go to the toilet. I told him not to leave belongings unattended, but did he listen? No lah.”

“Did anyone go near his table?”

Ms. Lim tapped her chin. “There was a boy about your age, wearing a very bright yellow bucket hat. He was looking at the bag. And then there was an old Uncle—Mr. Tan—who is always here researching old maps. He was sitting at the next table.”

Wei Jun thanked her and began to scout the area. On the floor near Uncle Robert’s seat, he found a clue: a small, colorful sticker of a cartoon bao (steamed bun) with a grumpy face.

“Aha,” Wei Jun whispered. “This isn’t just any sticker. This is from ‘The Literary Bean’—that trendy cafe near the Arts House.”

---

The Clue at the Cafe

Wei Jun hopped on the bus and headed toward the city center. The Literary Bean was a place where “hipsters” went to write poetry and drink expensive lattes.

As he walked in, he spotted a boy in a bright yellow bucket hat sitting in the corner. The boy was frantically scribbling in a notebook. On his laptop was the exact same grumpy bao sticker.

Wei Jun walked up and sat down opposite him. “Nice hat. Matches the sticker.”

The boy jumped, nearly knocking over his matcha latte. “Who are you? You scared me, sia!”

“I’m Wei Jun. I’m looking for a manuscript. Uncle Robert’s manuscript.”

The boy, whose name was Leo, turned pale. “I didn’t steal it! I swear! I’m a huge fan of Uncle Robert. I saw his bag at the library and I just wanted to… you know, take a peek? For inspiration? But when I reached for it, someone else had already grabbed it!”

“Who?” Wei Jun asked, leaning in.

“It was an old man. He looked very confused. He picked up the bag, muttered something about ‘The History of Spice,’ and walked away toward the Bras Basah Complex.”

Wei Jun frowned. “Mr. Tan, the map researcher?”

“Maybe! He had a canvas tote bag full of old scrolls,” Leo added.

---

The Maze of Bras Basah

Bras Basah Complex was a paradise for book lovers. It was filled with second-hand bookstores where towers of books reached the ceiling.

Wei Jun found Mr. Tan in a shop called The Dusty Page. The old man was surrounded by stacks of yellowed paper.

“Uncle Tan?” Wei Jun called out.

The old man looked up, blinking through his bifocals. “Ah? Who? You want to buy a map of Singapore from 1850?”

“No, Uncle. I’m looking for a brown leather bag. I think you might have taken it by mistake at the library.”

Mr. Tan hit his forehead with his palm. “Aiyoh! My old eyes! I thought it was my bag of research notes! I brought it here to show my friend, Mr. Lee, the shop owner. But when I opened it, I saw all these scary stories about ghosts. I thought, ‘This is not spices!'”

“Where is it now, Uncle?” Wei Jun’s heart raced.

“I left it on the counter over there,” Mr. Tan pointed.

But when Wei Jun looked at the counter, it was empty.

“Looking for this?” a sharp voice called out.

Standing at the doorway was a tall, thin man in a suit. He looked very “extra” and was holding Uncle Robert’s leather bag. It was Mr. Sng, a rival author who was known for being very jealous of Uncle Robert’s success.

“Mr. Sng! Give that back,” Wei Jun demanded.

“Why should I?” Mr. Sng smirked. “This manuscript is gold. If I ‘borrow’ some of Robert’s ideas, my next book will be a bestseller. Besides, finders keepers, right?”

“That’s not ‘borrowing,’ that’s stealing lah!” Wei Jun shouted.

Mr. Sng turned to run, but Wei Jun was faster. He remembered the layout of the shop. He quickly shoved a rolling ladder into Mr. Sng’s path. CRASH! Mr. Sng tripped, and the leather bag flew through the air.

Wei Jun dived—like a goalkeeper in a football match—and caught the bag just before it hit a puddle of spilled tea.

---

The Return of the Hero

Wei Jun hurried back to the kopitiam. Uncle Robert was still there, looking like he was about to cry into his kaya toast.

“Uncle! I got it!” Wei Jun shouted, holding the bag high.

Uncle Robert jumped up and hugged Wei Jun so hard the boy couldn’t breathe. “Oh, thank goodness! You saved my life, Wei Jun! You are the best detective in Singapore, no, the whole world!”

“Relax, Uncle. Just doing my job,” Wei Jun said, smiling. “But maybe next time, use a USB drive? Or cloud storage?”

Uncle Robert laughed. “True, true. From now on, I stick to technology. But first, let me buy you a proper dinner. What do you want? Satay? Laksa? You name it!”

Wei Jun grinned. “Let’s go for satay. But first, I need to return this grumpy bao sticker to a friend.”

As they walked off into the sunset, Wei Jun felt a sense of pride. The case was closed, the manuscript was safe, and the streets of his city were quiet—at least until the next mystery arrived.