The Son In-law They Mocked Found The Lost Vault

Chapter 7_The Letter In The Locked Drawer

Adrian sat very still in the back of the car.

Helen's words kept running in his head. A letter. His grandfather's handwriting. Written the day before he died.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Helen, are you really sure?"

"I saw it with my own eyes." She held the yellow page tight. "I was fifteen, and I was looking for a pen in my father's desk. I found a drawer with a small lock. The lock was broken that day, so I opened it. Inside was one old letter and a heavy box. My father came in and shouted at me. He never shouts. I never forgot it."

Chen looked at them in the mirror. "Miss Feng, should I drive on?"

"Yes. Drive fast."

The Feng house was dark and quiet when they arrived. The guests were gone. The big hall was empty, and the paper lanterns hung in the garden like tired eyes. Madam Feng's light was off. Kevin's car was not in the yard.

"My father will be in his study," Helen whispered. "He never sleeps before two."

They went up the back stairs without a sound. At the end of the hallway, a thin line of yellow light showed under a door. Helen knocked softly.

"Come in," a tired voice said.

Mr. Robert Feng sat behind a small desk with a cup of cold tea in front of him. He was sixty years old, with a gentle face and gray hair that was always a little messy. In the whole house, he was the only one who had never laughed at Adrian. Not once. He had only watched him, with a quiet look that Adrian never understood.

"Helen," he said. "And Adrian. I heard about the pier. Chen called me." He looked at Adrian's face. "You are hurt."

"Father, we need to ask you something." Helen put the yellow page on the desk. "Do you know this writing?"

Mr. Feng looked down. For a long time, he said nothing. His hand came up slowly and touched the edge of the page, the way a person touches something very old.

"Yes," he said at last. "Of course I do."

"Who wrote it?"

"Henry West." He lifted his eyes and looked straight at Adrian. "Your grandfather. My oldest friend."

The room went very quiet.

"Your friend?" Adrian said. His voice came out strange. "You never told me."

"I could not." Mr. Feng stood up slowly. "I wanted to, every day for two years. But if I had said one word, the Hans would have known. They watch this house, Adrian. They have watched us for a long time."

He walked to the wall and moved a painting aside. Behind it was a small metal door. He took a key from around his neck, opened it, and pulled out a flat wooden box. From the box, he took a single sheet of old paper.

He put it on the desk next to the yellow page. The blue ink was the same. The little crane at the bottom was the same.

"Read it," he said.

Adrian picked it up. His hands were shaking, so Helen held the other side of the paper with him. Together they read.

My dear Robert,

If you are reading this, then I am gone. Do not cry for me. I made my choice with open eyes.

The Han family wants what I found. They will not stop. They will take my name, and then they will take my life. I cannot stop them. But I have a grandson, Adrian. He is a good boy. He is honest and stubborn, like me.

One day he will find the jade. When he does, the Hans will come for him. I ask you to give him a safe home. Let him live near good people. And when the time comes, give him the Feng Seal. It is the third key. Without it, the vault will never open, even with both halves of the jade.

Trust no one in the Han family. Not even the ones who smile.

Your friend, Henry

Adrian read the last line three times. He could not see the words clearly anymore. His eyes were full of water, and for once he did not wipe them away.

"He knew," he whispered. "He knew they would kill him."

"He did," Mr. Feng said. "And he asked me to protect you. I tried my best. When your grandfather died, I looked everywhere for you. But you were gone. You were hiding. You were a boy with no home." He smiled sadly. "Then, two years ago, my wife began pushing Helen into a marriage with a man she did not love. Do you remember who found you for us?"

Adrian looked up. "A dealer in the old market said the Fengs needed a husband. He said they would pay me."

"That dealer was my man. I sent him to find you." Mr. Feng looked at Helen, and his voice grew soft. "Helen, I am sorry. I did not tell you. I only wanted to bring him into this house where I could keep him safe. And I wanted my daughter to marry a good man, not a rich fool. I made the choice for both of you. I was selfish."

Helen did not speak. Her hand slowly let go of the paper. She looked at Adrian, and Adrian looked at her, and neither of them knew what to say.

So this was the truth. The marriage was not a mistake. It was a promise made by two old friends before one of them died.

"Father," Helen said quietly, "the Feng Seal. What is it?"

"It is the oldest treasure in our family." Mr. Feng took the heavy wooden box and opened it all the way. "A small stone seal, about the size of a fist. For four hundred years, the Fengs have kept it without knowing what it really does. Your grandfather found the truth. The Song builders made three keys for the vault. Two of them are the halves of the jade. The third is the seal. Without it, the door will not move."

He pushed the box across the desk.

Adrian looked down.

The box was empty.

Inside, there was only a soft red cloth with a round dent in the middle, where something heavy had been sitting for years.

"No," Mr. Feng whispered. His face went white. "No, no, this is not possible. I checked it only last week. It was here. It was right here."

"Father." Helen grabbed his arm. "Who else knows about the box?"

"Only me. And your mother. And you, Helen, because you once found the drawer. Nobody else has the key." He looked at the ring around his neck. The key was still there. "The lock was not broken. Someone opened it with a copy."

A small sound came from the hallway.

It was a slow, soft click. The sound of a heel on a wooden floor.

All three of them turned toward the door.

It opened wide.

Madam Grace Feng stood there in her green silk dress, her face calm and cold, one hand held out in front of her. In her palm sat a small round stone seal, carved with a tiger.

She was not alone. Behind her, with his hands in his pockets and the other half of the jade shining from his jacket, stood Victor Han.

"Thank you for the lovely evening, Aunt Grace," Victor said. "I will take it from here.”