Zhao Jiang chuckled and said, "Lu-ge, your plan really is brilliant. If not for your trick, we never would’ve caught that old fox."
That scheme to lure the tiger from its mountain—deliberately letting things slip—had been orchestrated by Lu Chaoran to draw out whoever had killed Qian Peng.
Of course, he’d never expected that someone would actually try to kill Qian Peng.
Lu Chaoran shot him a look. "Take him to the station."
After Zhao Jiang escorted Qian Peng out, Lu Chaoran turned to Yancy Shaw.
"What do you make of this?"
Yancy Shaw stood quietly to the side, his gaze icy and unreadable. The truth was drawing ever closer, but inside, he seemed utterly unmoved, as unfathomable as a still pool.
"Punish the real culprit. Severely."
He spoke just those four words, and nothing more.
Lu Chaoran sighed inwardly—this man really was sparing with words.
—
Interrogation room.
Uncle Lu sat calmly at the table. No matter what the police asked, he kept his mouth shut, not uttering a word.
Lu Chaoran saw through his act and raised his voice, "This was Xue Wenchang’s doing, wasn’t it?"
At the mention of Xue Wenchang, Uncle Lu’s expression flickered for the first time. "It’s got nothing to do with him. I did this myself."
Ha! There it was—he’d cracked after all.
Noticing a faint smile playing on Lu Chaoran’s lips, Uncle Lu realized he’d been baited.
"It was all me. I did it alone and I’ll take the blame alone. I won’t drag anyone else down with me." His loyalty was on full display.
Lu Chaoran had expected nothing less. He wasn’t worried—sooner or later, the fish would take the hook. He had nothing but time.
—
Hospital.
Qian Peng was already better than yesterday, able to speak clearly again. Yet whatever the police asked, he dodged and deflected—complaining of pains one moment, claiming amnesia the next, never giving a straightforward answer.
Zhao Jiang's patience was wearing thin. Watching Qian Peng lying in that hospital bed, all he wanted was to punch him.
Hell, if I really did, I’d probably kill him. Better to hold back for now.
Just then, Yancy Shaw entered the room, and Zhao Jiang looked as if he’d glimpsed his savior.
"Dr. Shen!"
Yancy Shaw nodded, polite but distant. "Officer Zhao, may I speak to him alone?"
Zhao Jiang agreed. "Sure."
His temper couldn't handle uncooperative suspects like this anyway. Yancy Shaw’s arrival was his cue to step outside and cool off.
When Zhao Jiang left, Qian Peng snorted, "You’re trying to get me to talk, too? Save your breath. I don’t know anything."
His tone dripped with sarcasm—as if he’d forgotten who’d saved his life the day before.
"You know Bryce Shaw, don’t you?" Yancy Shaw ignored his bluster and got straight to the point.
Qian Peng paused. Of course he knew Bryce Shaw.
But that incident was so long ago, he couldn’t figure out why he was asking.
"Never heard of him," he denied without hesitation.
Yancy Shaw continued, completely unfazed, "How about Qian Sheng, then?"
Qian Peng stiffened. He hadn't heard that name in ages—he'd nearly forgotten.
Now, suddenly confronted with it, old memories stormed back. Startled and uneasy, he avoided Yancy Shaw’s gaze. "Why do you bring him up? Who are you?"
Yancy Shaw strolled calmly to the window, hands behind his back. Even just his silhouette radiated a subtle, chilling menace.
"Since you know Bryce Shaw, you must know Yancy Shaw as well," he said, his voice cold and edged with threat.
Qian Peng panicked. "Y-You’re Yancy Shaw?"
He’d heard the Shen family had three brothers, but only Bryce Shaw had taken over the family business—he didn’t know much about Nathan Shaw or Yancy Shaw.
He did recognize the name, though. When that old case happened, a boy in his teens had seen his grandfather killed with his own eyes. That boy was Yancy Shaw.
Guilty, Qian Peng had never sought out the child in all these years, and since he hadn’t taken over the Shen family business, he’d never once met him—even now, standing face to face, he hadn’t recognized him.
Yancy Shaw turned to face him, his eyes cold, a chilling smile curling on his lips. "At least you’re not an idiot. You know who I am now."
Qian Peng, lying in the hospital bed, was truly frightened.
"What do you want?" he demanded, wary of what Yancy Shaw would do.
Seeing his fear, Yancy Shaw sneered. "You didn’t seem so timid when you rammed my second brother, did you?"
Qian Peng’s heart skipped a beat. How did he know it was him?
"Someone wants you dead. Do you know who it is?" Yancy Shaw asked, standing over the bed, his gaze icy.
Qian Peng hesitated, saying nothing.
"If you won’t talk, that’s fine. Last time you got lucky and pulled through. Let’s see if your luck holds tonight."
His meaning was clear—Qian Peng might be awake, but he was still unable to get out of bed. If someone wanted him dead, it would be all too easy.
But Yancy Shaw wasn't in any hurry. He just chipped away slowly at Qian Peng’s defenses.
"It was Xue Wenchang who put you up to this, wasn’t it? He orchestrated my grandfather’s murder, my second brother’s accident, even Hong Kun’s death—they all tie back to Xue Wenchang, right?"
Qian Peng stared at him in terror—the truth of what he’d done revealed, awaiting only his confession.
But to admit it would mean admitting his involvement in Bryce Shaw’s crash, too, which would land him in jail. He struggled inwardly.
"Doesn’t matter if you admit it or not. As long as the Snow family is around, do you really think you can escape them?"
Yancy Shaw drew out the words, heavy with meaning.
Thinking back to Uncle Lu’s attempt on his life, Qian Peng felt a shiver of dread. Given the choice, death seemed preferable.
After a long internal battle, his clenched fists finally relaxed, a new resolve settling in his eyes.
"You’re right. It was all Xue Wenchang’s doing. Back then, he ordered my brother to kill Old Master Shen; later, he had my brother murdered in prison…"
He spilled everything—every dark deed, every detail.
Yancy Shaw listened in silence, betraying no emotion. Only when Qian Peng finished did he rise and leave the ward.
At the doorway, Zhao Jiang called after him, but Yancy Shaw didn’t react, hurrying straight for the elevators.
Zhao Jiang watched him go, a little puzzled by his urgency, but didn’t think much of it.
Yancy Shaw clenched his fists, struggling to suppress the hatred boiling inside him. Lying there in the ward, listening to Qian Peng dredge up the past, he’d wanted to kill Xue Wenchang on the spot—wanted to make him suffer.
But he couldn’t act on those urges. He had to swallow the hatred burning in his heart.