Chapter 330 Carefully Planned
The two-story building stood quietly amidst the weeds, its walls mottled, its windows broken, and vines climbing half of the walls. It was eerily quiet, like a coffin lying across the wilderness, as if it might open at any moment and spew out the decaying truth.
"Wang Lei, you guard the outside. Keep an eye on the surroundings, and immediately warn anyone who approaches."
Fu Li'an's tone was crisp and decisive, like a knife cutting tofu, without the slightest hesitation.
She turned to look at Li Qiang, her eyes sharpening: "Li Qiang, come in with me. Remember, no shooting, no alerting anyone, just search for evidence."
After speaking, she turned to look at Qiao Wanyin, her voice suddenly softening, filled with an unprecedented tenderness and nervousness: "Don't let go, stay close to me. Don't fall behind even for a moment."
Qiao Wanyin nodded, her fingertips were icy cold, but she still squeezed her hand back tightly.
She stuffed the flashlight into her coat pocket, zipped it up, took a deep breath, and followed after him.
The four of them, holding their breath, moved so lightly they almost touched the ground, cautiously approaching the door.
The air seemed to freeze, and even the sound of a heartbeat was exceptionally clear.
The door wasn't locked; it was only slightly ajar.
A faint breeze slipped in through the crack in the door, carrying with it the smell of years of dust.
"That's strange."
Fu Li'an's brows furrowed tightly, his fingers unconsciously resting on the doorknob, but he didn't push it open immediately. "Too easy. Logically speaking, a place like this should be heavily guarded... how come they didn't even lock the door?"
She murmured softly, a hint of wariness and doubt in her eyes.
But before she could finish speaking, her eyes suddenly lit up, as if she had caught some fleeting inspiration: "Never mind that, let's find the thing first."
His tone was decisive and unquestionable, carrying a do-or-die determination.
The living room was a mess, with a dense, chaotic array of footprints on the floor, varying in depth and direction, indicating that more than one person had been there.
All the drawers were roughly pulled out and hung crookedly on the cabinet. The documents and miscellaneous items inside were scattered all over the floor, and the clothes were in a mess, some even with torn corners.
The tables and chairs were overturned, the sofa cushions were overturned, and the entire space looked as if it had been turned upside down by brute force, as messy as if a dog had scratched it.
"Search separately."
Fu Li'an made a decisive decision, his voice low but each word firm and clear: "Focus on searching the basement, hidden doors, and places where things can be hidden inside the walls."
Her gaze swept quickly across the corners of the room and the edges of the ceiling, as if she were measuring every inch of the suspicious space with her eyes.
Qiao Wanyin stood still, staring intently at a painting on the wall, her eyes unblinking.
It was a landscape painting, with ordinary brushstrokes, unremarkable composition, and dull colors, looking like a common decorative item found on the market.
Strangely, the frame was unusually heavy, made of solid wood, with intricate carvings along the edges, and its weight was clearly disproportionate to the painting itself.
The more she looked, the more she felt something was wrong, and her brow furrowed slightly.
She slowly moved a few steps closer, squatted down, and tilted her head to carefully examine the corners and gaps of the picture frame.
In an inconspicuous spot in the lower right corner, she discovered a crack as thin as a hair, almost imperceptible.
The seam didn't look like natural wear and tear; it looked more like a mark that had been deliberately concealed and reassembled.
"Li An!"
She immediately lowered her voice and exclaimed in suppressed astonishment, "This painting is haunted."
Fu Lian reacted quickly, taking a step forward and squatting down beside her.
He extended his index and middle fingers together and gently tapped the back of the picture frame—producing a hollow, crisp, and resonant sound.
The two looked at each other and saw the certainty in each other's eyes.
He took a deep breath, held the edge of the frame with both hands, and carefully removed the entire painting.
As the painting was moved aside, the wall revealed what had been concealed—a black safe embedded in the wall, its surface gleaming with a cold, hard metallic sheen.
"Password required."
He stared at the numeric keypad, his brows furrowed deeply, his tone grave.
She closed her eyes, her mind racing back to the brief, understated note in the original story.
That sentence went unnoticed at the time, but now it has become the only clue.
A moment later, she opened her eyes and said firmly, "Try his daughter's birthday."
Without hesitation, Fu Lian reached out and quickly typed a string of numbers on the keyboard.
Time seemed to stretch out infinitely, and the ticking sound echoed in the silence.
With a soft click, the lock on the safe popped open, and the door automatically opened a crack.
The space inside the box is not large, but it is neatly arranged.
Three dark blue ledgers lay side by side, their pages yellowed and edges curled; next to them lay a neatly folded letter, its envelope worn and bearing the marks of time.
Fu Lian reached out and took out an account book, his fingertips trembling slightly as he turned to the first page.
As line after line of records came into view, his hands began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Embezzlement, money laundering, bribery... it's all here."
He gritted his teeth, his voice so low it was almost squeezed out from the depths of his throat, "Everything they've covered up over the years... has actually been recorded."
He quickly opened the yellowed letter, and the moment he unfolded the paper, his face turned deathly pale, and his pupils contracted violently.
"It was this letter that framed my uncle..."
He murmured, his voice hoarse and pained, as if something had pierced his heart.
The few lines of handwriting on the letter looked exactly like Song Heting's, even the inertia of the strokes was extremely similar, as if it were written by his own hand.
But Qiao Wanyin only glanced at it before she keenly noticed the abnormality.
She raised an eyebrow and immediately retorted, "This ink is so shiny it reflects light; it must have been just written. Look at the level of shine; it's not like handwriting from three years ago."
As she spoke, she stretched out her finger and gently poked the corner of the letter: "And... this kind of paper only came into circulation last year; you couldn't find it on the market before. But look at the date at the end—it says three years ago!"
Her voice was soft, yet every word was powerful, each sentence shattering the forger's elaborate scheme.
"The evidence is conclusive."
Fu Li'an took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and quickly put all three account books and the fake letter into the waterproof document bag he carried with him, and sealed it tightly.
He looked up and around, then whispered, "Let's go."
Before she could finish speaking, Qiao Wanyin suddenly groaned, bent over abruptly, and clutched her abdomen tightly with one hand.
"What's wrong?"
Fu Lian tensed up instantly, turned around and rushed to her side, his voice full of anxiety, "What happened?"
"It's nothing, just a little cramping."
She forced a smile, but fine beads of cold sweat appeared on her forehead, and her breathing became rapid. "Li An, let everyone get in the car and wait for me... I need to go to the restroom."
Fu Li'an hesitated for two seconds, his gaze sweeping back and forth across her face, clearly not entirely believing that she was just feeling unwell.
But in such a critical moment, every second counts.
Finally, he nodded: "Okay, I'll wait for you here."
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