At 6:30 AM, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the 700-square-meter duplex.
Su Wan stepped barefoot onto the handmade Italian wool carpet, her silk nightgown brushing against her ankles. She pushed open the master bedroom door and watched her husband, Jiang Chen, while he slept.
He looked peaceful. His eyelashes cast thin shadows on his eyelids, and his thin lips were slightly pursed—just as heart-stirring as the first time she saw him seven years ago. Su Wan reached out, but stopped just before touching his cheek, afraid of disturbing his dreams.
She turned and went to the walk-in closet. From a row of haute couture suits, she chose a dark gray one, paired it with a tie, cufflinks, and a watch, and laid them neatly on the dressing bench. This had been her daily routine for five years of marriage, without exception.
In the kitchen, the coffee grinder hummed lowly. Two slices of whole wheat toast popped out of the toaster. She spread homemade marmalade with a silver knife, her movements as elegant as a choreographed dance.
"Morning."
A husky voice came from behind. Jiang Chen stood at the kitchen door, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.
"Did you sleep well?" Su Wan turned her head and kissed his cheek.
"With you by my side, I always sleep well," Jiang Chen's voice carried the magnetic warmth of early morning.
Su Wan gently broke free from his embrace and handed him the coffee. "Stop teasing. Don't you have a 9:00 AM flight to Hong Kong?"
He took the coffee, his eyes lingering on her face with a familiar smile. "Yes. I'll be back in three days. What gift do you want?"
"Just come back safely," she smiled. "But if you must, those handmade chocolates from last time were nice."
He sipped the coffee and pulled her close for a deep, lingering morning kiss. Su Wan closed her eyes, responding to the kiss that tasted of coffee and affection.
By 7:30 AM, the driver was waiting downstairs. Su Wan straightened his tie one last time.
"Wait for me at home, be a good girl," Jiang Chen whispered, kissing her forehead before stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, Su Wan thought she saw his smile fade, but she dismissed it as her own imagination.
...
Seven days later, the nightmare began.
The "shut down" prompt on the phone was like a cold blade. Jiang Chen was gone. His assistant was gone. Even his business partners in Hong Kong said he had left days ago.
A knock at the door brought not her husband, but two men in uniforms and a lawyer.
"Mrs. Su Wan?" The lawyer said coldly. "We are here on behalf of the bank. Your personal accounts and the joint accounts with Mr. Jiang Chen were emptied over the past week. Furthermore, this villa and your vehicles have been mortgaged."
Su Wan leaned against the doorframe, dizzy. "What... what do you mean?"
"Simply put, you have zero liquid assets and are heavily in debt. The bank will seize this property in seven days. Mr. Jiang Chen fled the country three days ago to a nation with no extradition treaty. He is missing."
The world collapsed. When she called her mother-in-law, the only response was a freezing voice: "Su Wan, we are victims too. Don't contact us again." Click. The line went dead.
Su Wan collapsed onto the expensive silk carpet. Everything—the wedding photos, the pillows she hand-embroidered while pregnant before the miscarriage—it was all a lie.
She crawled to the study and found a spare key in a hidden compartment. Inside the safe, there was no money. Only a note and a small velvet box.
The note read: "Wanwan, I'm sorry. The contents of this box might help you."
Inside was an ancient silver pendant carved with vine patterns. On the back, a single word: "LIN."
Inside the pendant was an old, yellowed photo of a woman who looked 70% like Su Wan, holding a baby. The back said: "Wanwan's 100th day. Mommy will love you forever."
This wasn't her mother. Her mother, a teacher who died three years ago, looked nothing like this cold, elegant woman in the photo.
Suddenly, her phone lit up. An anonymous message: "Want to know who your real mother is? 8:00 PM tomorrow, Cafe No. 27, Wutong Street. Come alone."
Su Wan stared at the screen. The gilded cage was gone. The protector was a predator. But Su Wan wasn't as fragile as they thought.
She changed out of her silk gown and into jeans. She packed a hidden bag her mother had told her to keep for emergencies.
"Jiang Chen," she whispered to the empty, dark apartment. "No matter where you are, I will find the truth."
The canary had finally flown out of the cage, even if the world outside was full of thorns.