The Son In-law They Mocked Found The Lost Vault

Chapter 6_The Man With The Cane

Adrian heard the gun click, and his whole body went cold.

He could not turn his head. The arm around his neck was still tight, and black spots were swimming in front of his eyes. But he heard Helen stop running. Her heels went quiet on the wooden boards.

"Nobody move," a rough voice said from the road.

It was not the voice of a Han man. Adrian knew it. It was old Chen, the head guard of the Feng house. He had worked for the family for thirty years, and he never smiled, not even at weddings.

"Let go of Mr. West," Chen said. "Or I will shoot the first man who takes another step."

Behind Chen, two more guards stepped out of the car. Both of them were holding guns too.

For a moment, nobody breathed. The river made a soft sound against the pier. A boat rocked somewhere in the dark.

Then slow footsteps came out of the shadows. They were not in a hurry. Each step was followed by a small tap, like a stick hitting wood.

An old man walked into the light of the car. He was maybe seventy, thin and straight, in a long black coat. He held a wooden cane with a silver head. His hair was white, and his face was calm like a man reading a newspaper. But his eyes were the coldest thing Adrian had ever seen.

"Chen," the old man said kindly. "How long has it been? Fifteen years? You are looking old."

"Mr. Han," Chen said. His gun did not move, but his hand was shaking a little.

Mr. Han. The father of Victor Han. The man who stood up in front of the whole country twelve years ago and called Adrian's grandfather a liar.

"Put the gun down," the old man said. "You have three guns. I have twelve. Do the math, my friend. Nobody here wants a funeral tonight."

"Then tell your men to let him go."

"I will." The old man looked at Adrian for the first time, and he smiled. "In a moment. First, I want to speak to the young man. You have your grandfather's eyes, you know. Same stubborn look. It is a pity."

The man behind Adrian let go. Adrian fell on his knees and coughed hard. Helen ran to him at once and put her arm around his shoulders. Her hands were cold, and they were shaking.

"I am fine," Adrian said. "I am fine."

"You are not fine. You are bleeding."

"Miss Feng," Mr. Han said. He bowed a little, like a gentleman at a party. "I am sorry for this ugly night. My son is young and he is too excited. I do not like to hurt women and children. I only like to settle old business."

"Then settle it with your lawyers," Helen said. Her voice was low and sharp. "Not with guns."

The old man laughed softly. "You are brave. I see why they chose you for him. But you do not know what business we are settling. Ask your husband. Ask him what he has been looking for in the dark for two years while you slept in a big warm bed."

Helen did not look at Adrian. But her hand on his shoulder went still.

"Marcus," Adrian said. He tried to stand. "Where is Marcus?"

"Your friend is safe," Mr. Han said. "For now. He is resting on my boat." He tapped his cane on the wood. "Here is what will happen. Tomorrow at noon, you will come to the Han Tower. You will bring both the jade and your grandfather's notes. You will give them to me. In return, I will let Marcus and his little sister live. And I will forget the Feng family's loans."

"And if I do not come?"

"Then Marcus will not see tomorrow's sun. His sister will not get her medicine. And the Fengs will be on the street by Friday." He said it as if he was reading a shopping list. "Choose well, boy."

Adrian looked at the black boat at the end of the pier. He could see a small shape on the deck, a thin man on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. Marcus lifted his head. Even from far away, Adrian saw him shake his head slowly, as if to say, do not do it.

But Adrian could not leave him there.

"Noon," Adrian said.

"Good." Mr. Han turned. "We are done here. Let them go."

The men in black moved back like water pulling away from the shore. Chen did not lower his gun until the last one had gone. Then the black boat started its engine and slid out into the dark river. Adrian watched its small light get smaller and smaller until it was only a dot. Then nothing.

He had never felt so helpless in his whole life.

The ride home was silent.

Chen drove. Helen sat in the back seat with Adrian, a clean white cloth pressed against the cut on his lip. She had not said a word since the pier. Her face was turned toward the window, and the street lights went over it, one by one.

At last she spoke.

"I followed you tonight," she said. "I saw you leave through the back gate, and I knew something was wrong. I did not know where you were going. I only knew that if I did not follow you, you would not come back."

"Helen."

"Please do not say my name like that again. I want an answer." She turned to him. Her eyes were red. "Tomorrow was too long. I am asking you now. What is in your pocket? What is this treasure? Why are those men ready to kill for it?"

Adrian took a deep breath. He had hidden the truth for two years because he thought it would keep her safe. But tonight, the truth had walked into the open anyway, with a cane and twelve men with guns. There was no point in hiding anymore.

So he told her.

He told her about his grandfather, the great professor, and the day the newspapers called him a fraud. He told her about the old man's last words and the notebooks hidden in a school locker. He told her about the lost vault of the Song Dynasty and the map that was split in two. He told her about Marcus. And he told her that he never really wanted to marry into her family. He only needed a place near the antique markets where the old dealers talked.

"That part was a lie," he said quietly. "The way I came to you. But everything after that, the way I looked at you when you were not watching, the way I waited for you to smile at breakfast, that was never a lie. I was too afraid to say it."

Helen did not answer. She was looking at her hands.

"I know you hate me now," Adrian said.

"I do not hate you." She said it so softly that he almost missed it. "I am angry. That is different."

Adrian reached inside his shirt and pulled out the yellow page Marcus had given him. It was still folded, a little damp from the river. He gave it to her.

"This is the last page of my grandfather's journal. It is the only thing I did not lose tonight."

Helen opened it slowly. The car went through a street with bright lights, and for a moment, the blue ink shone. Her eyes moved along the neat lines. Adrian watched her read.

Then something changed in her face.

Her lips opened, but no sound came out. The color drained from her cheeks until she looked like she had seen a ghost. Her hands began to shake so hard that the paper shivered.

"Helen? What is it?"

She did not answer. She just stared at the handwriting, at the little crane at the bottom of the page.

"Chen," she whispered. "Stop the car."

The car stopped at the side of the road. Helen looked up. Her eyes were full of tears, but there was something else in them. Something he had not seen before. Fear, and wonder, mixed together.

"Adrian," she said, "I know this handwriting."

"What do you mean?"

"My father keeps a letter in his locked drawer. He never lets anyone touch it. I found it once when I was fifteen, and he got so angry that he did not speak to me for a week." She pressed the page against her chest. "It is written in the same blue ink. With the same little crane. And Adrian, it is signed by your grandfather."

Adrian could not breathe.

"And the date on that letter," Helen said, her voice breaking, "is the day before he died.”