The morning light of Singapore shone through the gauze curtains onto the solid wood floor. Feng Yulan stared at the satellite phone in her hand, her fingertips trembling slightly.
Ye Qingliu's words last night were like a knife, cutting through her last bit of hope - "Your husband is indeed guilty."
"Ms. Feng, breakfast is ready." The housekeeper, Uncle Chen, knocked on the door gently.
In the restaurant, Zhang Shumin was already sitting in front of the floor-to-ceiling window. Her shoulder injury made her movements slow, but she looked much better than yesterday.
Feng Yulan sat down opposite her, with an exquisite Cantonese breakfast tea in front of her, but she had no appetite at all.
"Mom, Young Master Ye said... Zhang Shuo is really involved in drug trafficking." Feng Yulan's voice was dry. "He has evidence."
Zhang Shumin's hand paused mid-air, and the shrimp dumplings fell back into the steamer. The old man sighed, his wrinkles revealing an inexpressible weariness. "I know."
"What?" Feng Yulan widened her eyes.
"My son...is not a good person." Zhang Shumin tapped her chopsticks on the rim of her bowl. "He stole money to gamble at sixteen, and beat his girlfriend so hard she ended up in the hospital at twenty."
She looked up at her daughter-in-law. "Why do you think I was so anxious for him to marry you? Because you seemed strong enough to control him."
Feng Yulan was struck by lightning. She recalled the first time Zhang Shuo hit her in the third month of their marriage—because she spilled his beer.
The slap left her with tinnitus for three days, but her mother-in-law just sighed and gave her a bottle of ointment.
"You've always known..." Feng Yulan's voice trembled.
Zhang Shumin pulled out her old pocket watch, opened the secret compartment, and pulled out a folded piece of paper: "His detention record when he was eighteen, for intentional injury. I paid to have it settled."
Feng Yulan unfolded the note. On it was a hideous photograph of a young Zhang Shuo and the words "Sentenced to Six Months of Detention." She suddenly felt nauseous and rushed to the bathroom to retch.
Cold water splashed on her face, Feng Yulan stared at her haggard self in the mirror. Was this marriage a sham from the start? Was the kind mother-in-law she thought she had been was merely an accomplice?
When we returned to the restaurant, Uncle Chen was adjusting the projector. "Young Master Ye has sent us some information. Please review it."
The screen lit up, revealing a surveillance video. Zhang Shuo was in a warehouse, stuffing packets of white powder into the inside of a teddy bear. The footage was taken a week before the women were wanted.
"That's impossible!" Feng Yulan blurted out, "He said he was going on a business trip that day..."
The video switched to show Zhang Shuo in a KTV room, surrounded by women, with drugs spread out on the table. Then a recording began: "Don't worry, Boss Jin, I've already dealt with that drug-sniffing dog... Yes, with cyanide..."
The last video is the most breathtaking - Zhang Shuo grabs a girl's hair and slams her against the wall. The girl, with blood all over her face, begs for mercy: "Brother Shuo, I was wrong. I shouldn't have looked at your phone..."
Feng Yulan's legs gave out, and she had to hold onto the back of a chair to keep from kneeling. That was Zhang Shuo's ex-girlfriend, the kindergarten teacher who had died in an accidental fall three years earlier.
"You beast!" Zhang Shumin suddenly threw the teacup to the ground. "I should have..."
The projector automatically switched to the video call interface, and Ye Qingliu's face appeared on the screen.
He looked like he hadn't slept all night, with a hint of blue under his gray-blue eyes. He had changed his school uniform into a black tactical uniform, and the background looked like a command center.
"Have you finished?" he said calmly. "This is just the tip of the iceberg."
Feng Yulan stared at the screen intently: "Why don't the police have this evidence?"
"Jin Wancheng bribed the deputy director of the Narcotics Enforcement Bureau." Ye Qingliu adjusted his headset. "These were collected by my people who went undercover for two years."
Zhang Shumin suddenly started coughing violently, and Uncle Chen quickly handed her a handkerchief, which was stained with blood.
"Ms. Zhang needs to be examined immediately." Ye Qingliu frowned. "Uncle Chen, call the medical team."
Feng Yulan watched her mother-in-law being helped away and turned to the screen: "Master Ye, what are you going to do with Zhang Shuo?"
Ye Qingliu was silent for a moment: "The law will judge him."
"Law?" Feng Yulan smiled bitterly. "Didn't you say there was a mole in the police force?"
"Not all police." Ye Qingliu raised his lips slightly. "Interpol's special operations team is already in place and will raid Jin Wancheng's lair in an hour." A sharp gleam flashed in his eyes. "I'll be in charge of this operation."
Feng Yulan's eyes widened: "You? But you're just a..."
"High school student?" Ye Qingliu chuckled. "Ye's is Interpol's largest technical support provider. I have temporary command authority."
He checked his watch. "Once the operation begins, you can watch it live. Feel free to contact me if you have any questions."
After the call ended, Feng Yulan collapsed on the sofa.
Outside the window, the Singapore sun was still bright, and the palm trees swayed in the breeze, forming a sharp contrast to the turbulent waves in her heart.
In the medical room, Zhang Shumin was undergoing an examination. Feng Yulan stood outside the door and saw through the glass window that her mother-in-law was lying under the instrument, her face as pale as a sheet.
The doctors had serious expressions and were talking in low voices.
"It's a lung infection and requires intensive treatment." Uncle Chen came over to explain, "Young Master Ye has already dispatched a specialist."
Feng Yulan nodded, suddenly noticing the faint outline of a pistol on Uncle Chen's waist. Was this seemingly kindly old man also armed?
Back in the guest room, she opened the closet to look for her coat, but found a black metal box in the secret compartment. Curious, she entered her birthday—and the box opened.
Inside was a monitoring device, its screen displaying surveillance footage of the entire manor. In one of the images, Zhang Shumin was secretly stuffing something into the pocket of her hospital gown. Feng Yulan zoomed in—it was a syringe!
She rushed out of the room, but ran into Uncle Chen in the corridor.
"Ms. Feng?" The old man supported her. "What's wrong?"
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