At eleven o’clock at night, all was silent.
Li Qiao lay in Shang Yu’s arms, drifting into sleep.
The bedroom was dark, and with eyes open, only vague contours could be seen.
In a state between dreams and reality, the vibration of her phone woke Li Qiao completely.
She frowned and stirred slightly, while Shang Yu, holding her shoulder, patted her gently and reached for the phone. It was an unfamiliar number from Myanmar.
The man lowered his head, kissed Li Qiao’s forehead, and slid to answer, "Who’s this?"
On the other end of the line, there was no immediate response, only rapid and suppressed breathing, sounding especially eerie in the deep of night.
Shang Yu slowly lifted his eyelids, a ripple stirred in his eyes but vanished instantly.
His throat moved as he cut off the call.
Li Qiao didn’t ask, and Shang Yu didn’t explain. This strange late-night call wasn’t enough to stir their desire to discuss.
Then, early the next morning, Li Qiao received a call from Shang Lu.
"Sister-in-law, you’re amazing." Shang Lu immediately greeted with flattery, "My mom... our mom actually called me."
Li Qiao had just finished washing up, and responded blandly to Shang Lu’s address, "What did your mom say?"
Shang Lu followed her words, "She asked me about things from eleven years ago and whether I’ve been in contact with big brother lately."
Li Qiao calmly changed the subject, "How is Yun Lih?"
Shang Lu, full of complaints, held them back with force, "He’s okay, still alive."
You really don’t know how to talk like a human.
Li Qiao pressed her temple and, before hanging up the phone, reminded him again, "Remember what I said."
"Rest assured, sister-in-law, I won’t speak carelessly."
After ending the call, Li Qiao looked down at her phone and leisurely sent Cheng Mo a message: By 8 am tomorrow, hand over the late Duchess’s materials to the British Imperial Times Newspaper.
Cheng Mo: Okay, madam.
Li Qiao turned off the screen, got up, and went to the balcony to look at the bright sky, her gaze deep and smile slightly cold.
That day, Ming Dailan decided to set off back to British Imperial.
She hadn’t managed to buy the painting, leaving empty-handed, and even the jewelry she promised to Mrs. William and Mrs. Brown remained unfulfilled.
Before boarding, Ming Dailan casually tossed the Myanmar phone card into a trash can.
After three days of despair, at that moment, she regained her usual grace and elegance, except in those eyes, which concealed a deadness and decisiveness that no one could fathom.
In the cabin, Ming Dailan thumbed through a magazine, speaking with a gentle voice, "I heard your computer skills are exceptional?"
Yin Mo bent slightly, "Not bad."
Ming Dailan raised her head from the magazine, glanced at her, and sighed softly, "When we return to the manor, you’ll be following me for now."
Yin Mo tilted her head, probing with a flat tone, "What does madam need me to do?"
Ming Dailan turned a page of the magazine, "Find the list of all the Knight Squad members who went to Parma with me back then."
"You don’t trust Landis’s words?"
Ming Dailan lowered her gaze, giving nothing away, "You’re asking too many questions."
After Ming Dailan’s flight took off, Li Qiao, still at the hotel, received the news as well.
She lifted her eyes to look across, raising an eyebrow, "Let Xiao Hu set off."
Bai Yan leaned back in the sofa, looking down to glance at her, "When are you going back?"
"In the next few days." Li Qiao looked down, tapping on her phone as if sending a message. After a while, she looked back at Bai Yan, frowning as she asked, "What deal did you and Shaoyan make?"
Bai Yan spread his hands, answering righteously, "You sleep with him every day, why don’t you ask him?"