The past replayed vividly in his mind, as if it had happened just yesterday.
Qin Guan sat in the car, watching the familiar road unfold. When choosing the Guanlan Court residence, his in-laws had even considered the commute—the route from Guanlan Court to Jiayuan Community allowed detours along the river, straight and wide with few traffic lights.
They often said Xu Ruyi's driving skills were poor and worried endlessly. Thus, Qin Guan usually drove whenever they visited Jiayuan. Xu Ruyi would sit in the passenger seat, chattering about her Shanghai friends, new design ideas, her company colleagues, or amusing workplace stories.
After becoming pregnant, she moved to the backseat. Leaning comfortably against the seat, she'd hold a container of fruit Qin Guan had meticulously sliced for her. Using a toothpick, she'd reach forward to feed him while giggling.
"A pregnant woman needs to be careful in the car!" her mother once scolded during a ride.
Xu Ruyi laughed. "It's fine! His driving is excellent! Look, when he holds the steering wheel, I feel everything's under his control. I'm perfectly safe!"
She wasn't wrong. Over the years, Qin Guan had prided himself on controlling every aspect of his life—his career, relationships, and life's trajectory. Every step and change aligned with his will.
He understood his in-laws and Xu Ruyi completely. Their moods, shifting perspectives, even daily fluctuations—he could read them all. Skillfully, he maintained the family's harmony and stability, steering it like a seasoned captain.
So why had everything spiraled out of control?
When did Xu Ruyi—simple-minded, obedient, utterly devoted—transform into someone capable of feigning affection while secretly scheming to destroy him? How had she grown so venomous?
"Why's the car moving so slowly? Any issues? Need help?"
The police officer tailing him called impatiently. Qin Guan snapped back to reality, stepped on the accelerator, and sped up.
Dwelling on the past was futile. The woman who once fed him fruit with trusting smiles now had him pinned as the prime suspect in Qi Min's disappearance. He wasn't panicked yet—he believed the police would eventually find traces of Qi Min at the Xinhe Hotel. Time would exonerate him.
His real concern was Xu Ruyi. She seemed to hold concrete evidence: Qi Min's phone, the black stockings, her contact with Zeng Demei, and now this sudden will. What else did she have?
More crucially—how did she know?
Qi Min's phone, the stockings, Zeng Demei…
His thoughts tangled. About a week after returning from the lakeside villa, he'd received the black Hanke suitcase from Qi Min and the extortion letter demanding 300,000 yuan. During that week, he'd followed his routine flawlessly—nothing to arouse suspicion.
As for Zeng Demei, he'd only learned she was a cleaner at the lakeside villa hotel after tracking her down. How could Xu Ruyi have known earlier?
Before he could untangle this, the car arrived at Jiayuan Community. Qin Guan parked smoothly, exchanged brief words with the officers, and headed straight to Building 7.
"Oh, Qin Guan! Long time no see! Where's Ruyi? How's Little Pear? Last time I saw her, she was quite the chatterbox!" An elderly neighbor greeted him in the hallway—one of his in-laws' longtime acquaintances.
It had been ages. He hadn't returned since his father-in-law's funeral. Xu Ruyi refused to visit too, claiming the empty apartment would shatter her. Another lie—she'd likely used this place to hide something.
Fortunately, the lock remained unchanged.
Qin Guan entered, closing the door softly. The room darkened—dark rosewood furniture and tightly drawn curtains swallowed the light. An eerie silence, thick and cold, crept over him.
Then, a faint rustling came from behind the entryway.
Like pages turning.
His blood froze. After a stunned moment, he yanked open the curtains, flooding the room with sunlight. Heart pounding, he scanned every corner—nothing could frighten him. He'd faced worse than ghosts.
The sound came from the study.
Memories surfaced—his father-in-law sitting there, reading, practicing calligraphy. On afternoons when Qin Guan rested in Xu Ruyi's room, he'd hear the soft rustle of pages.
He's dead.
Qin Guan swallowed hard and stepped inside.
A gust of wind through an unlatched window fluttered the books on the desk. He exhaled—he'd securely closed that window last time. His meticulous habits never wavered.
Proof Xu Ruyi had been here.
He shut the window and picked up a fallen book near the trash bin. Dust coated the unused garbage bag—no one had lived here to empty it. Yet something caught his eye: a clipped product tag with "HK" printed neatly—the logo of Hanke luggage.
As he reached for the door, his mother-in-law's voice echoed in his memory: "We need to make a will… There's something I must say…"