"Wait—" Tòumíng started, but Měi Nán was already heading toward the door.
"No time! We need to leave now if we're going to make it by eleven!"
"The moving isn't complete! The second truck—"
"I already texted the crew to meet us at the lake property," Měi Nán called over his shoulder, scrolling through his phone. "They'll unload there. It's literally their job. They don't need us holding their hands."
Tòumíng walked to the back of the building where his electric bike was still parked in the rack. He'd left it there after the Pàng Hǔ incident, and now looking at it in daylight, he could see the dried blood splatter on the handlebars and seat. Evidence of being ridden home after getting shot in the spine.
"We can take the bike—"
"Ew, no!" Měi Nán physically recoiled. "That thing has blood on it! Human blood! From when you got SHOT! I'm not touching that biohazard!"
"It's fine, it's dried—"
"I don't care if it's crystallized into diamonds, I'm not getting on that thing!" Měi Nán was already opening a ride-sharing app on his phone. "We're taking a cab. A nice, clean, blood-free cab."
"That's going to be expensive for that distance—"
"You have almost two hundred thousand yuan and you're worried about cab fare? Really?" Měi Nán didn't look up from his phone. "Besides, we need to arrive looking presentable. Not sweaty and disheveled from biking forty minutes in traffic."
The cab arrived twelve minutes later—a surprisingly nice one, newer model, clean interior, driver who didn't ask questions about why two young men were heading to one of the most expensive residential areas in the district at ten in the morning.
The drive took longer than expected. Traffic was dense, the morning rush still lingering, construction on one of the main roads forcing a detour. Tòumíng watched the minutes tick by on his phone, anxiety building with each red light.
"We're going to be late," he muttered.
"Fashionably late," Měi Nán corrected, completely unbothered. "Makes us look important. Like we have other properties to view."
"We don't have other properties to view."
"He doesn't know that."
One hour and eighteen minutes later, they finally entered the Guanlan Lake area. The change was dramatic, almost jarring. The roads became wider, smoother, lined with carefully maintained trees. The houses grew larger, more spread out, each one sitting on generous plots of land with manicured lawns and security gates.
Then the lake came into view.
Massive. Pristine. The water reflected the morning sun in shimmering patterns, surrounded by hills that created a natural bowl, the whole area feeling isolated from the city despite being only an hour's drive away.
Rows upon rows of luxury villas dotted the hillside, each one positioned to maximize the lake view. Modern architecture mixed with traditional Chinese design elements, creating a aesthetic that screamed "wealth" in multiple languages. (Mostly chinese)
The cab pulled up to a circular driveway that served as a drop-off point for the villa community. Měi Nán handed the driver what looked like a very generous tip, Tòumíng caught a glimpse of at least three hundred yuan, and they climbed out.
"Show off," Tòumíng muttered.
"Investment," Měi Nán corrected. "Good karma. Plus drivers remember generous tippers. Useful for future rides."
Tòumíng checked his phone for the address Háo Héng had provided. Villa 221. He looked at the neat rows of houses, each one marked with elegant numbers on stone pillars by their gates.
They started walking.
The community was eerily quiet for a residential area. No children playing, no cars driving past, just the occasional gardener tending to landscaping and the distant hum of what was probably pool filtration systems.
"Everyone's at work," Měi Nán observed. "Or their second homes. Or abroad. This is old money territory."
"How can you tell?"
"New money neighborhoods are louder. More cars, more activity, more people showing off. Old money just... exists. Quietly. With excellent landscaping."
They passed Villa 210, then 215, then 218. Each house was stunning in its own way, some ultra-modern with glass walls and geometric shapes, others more traditional with Concave curved roofs and wooden accents, all of them expensive beyond Tòumíng's previous comprehension.
Villa 221 appeared at the end of a slight curve in the road.
And it was perfect.
Three stories, modern design with clean lines and floor-to-ceiling windows that would flood the interior with natural light. The exterior was pristine white with dark wood accents, the landscaping immaculate, carefully trimmed bushes, a small ornamental garden, and around the side, visible even from the street, the edge of what had to be the infinity pool.
A man stood by the front gate, checking his phone nervously. Mid-forties, wearing business casual that was slightly too formal for a property showing—dress shirt, slacks, shiny shoes that looked uncomfortable. His hair was thinning but carefully styled to hide it, his smile too wide as he saw them approach.
"Mr. Tòumíng? Mr. Měi?" Háo Héng's voice was cheerful, almost aggressively friendly. "Welcome, welcome! Thank you so much for coming! I'm so excited to show you this property!"
He shook both their hands enthusiastically, his grip slightly too firm, his eye contact slightly too intense.
"Thank you for accommodating such short notice," Tòumíng said.
"Oh, it's no problem at all! No problem! I'm very flexible with my schedule, very eager to find the right tenants for this beautiful property!" Háo Héng gestured toward the gate with sweeping enthusiasm. "Shall we? I think you're going to absolutely love what you see!"
He led them through the front gate and up a stone pathway lined with decorative lighting. The front door was massive—dark wood with brushed metal hardware, probably custom-made.
Háo Héng unlocked it with a smart key, the mechanism beeping in confirmation, and pushed it open with theatrical flair.
"After you!"
The interior was breathtaking.
Open concept living space with vaulted ceilings that had to be at least twenty feet high. The floor-to-ceiling windows Tòumíng had seen from outside dominated the far wall, offering an unobstructed view of the lake and hills beyond. The flooring was a light-colored hardwood that looked like it had never been walked on, the walls pristine white, modern fixtures throughout.
"The main living area," Háo Héng announced, his voice echoing slightly in the large space. "As you can see, it's designed for entertaining! Very open, very spacious! The previous tenant barely used it, kept everything in excellent condition!"
Měi Nán was already wandering, his eyes tracking across every surface, examining details with the practiced eye of someone who'd seen plenty of luxury spaces.
"Kitchen through here!" Háo Héng led them to the left where a chef's kitchen opened up—marble countertops, top-of-the-line appliances, a massive island with seating. "Two ovens! Professional-grade range! Wine fridge! Everything you could possibly need!"
"Why did the previous tenant leave?" Tòumíng asked. "The email said they just moved out?"
"Oh, yes! Just last week, actually!" Háo Héng's smile didn't falter. "Work relocation! Very sudden! Had to move to Shanghai for their job! Unfortunate for them, fortunate for you! The property is ready for immediate occupancy!"
Something about the explanation felt rehearsed. Too smooth. Too perfect.
They moved through the ground floor, a formal dining room, a study with built-in bookshelves, a powder room with fixtures that probably cost more than Tòumíng's old apartment's yearly rent.
Then upstairs.
"Six bedrooms!" Háo Héng's enthusiasm somehow increased. "Six full bathrooms! The master suite is absolutely stunning, you're going to love it!"
The master bedroom took up a significant portion of the second floor. King-sized bed frame already installed, walk-in closet that was larger than most people's bedrooms, ensuite bathroom with a soaking tub and separate shower.
But Měi Nán had stopped walking. He was standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on something Tòumíng couldn't immediately identify.
"Everything okay?" Háo Héng asked, his voice carrying a note of concern that felt genuine.
"The smoke detector," Měi Nán said slowly, pointing at the ceiling. "Is that the original model?"
"I... yes? I believe so? The property is only three years old, everything is still relatively new—"
"And the air vent positioning." Měi Nán walked into the room, his gaze tracking across the ceiling. "These are in unusual spots. Not standard HVAC placement."
"Well, the property has custom climate control, very advanced system—"
"Right." Měi Nán's voice was flat now, his usual playful tone completely gone. He walked to the nightstand by the bed and examined it closely, then moved to the light fixture above the headboard.
Tòumíng watched, confused, as Měi Nán conducted what looked like an inspection, his movements methodical, professional.
"The closet has excellent lighting," Háo Héng interjected, clearly trying to redirect attention. "Custom LED system, very energy efficient—"
"These are cameras," Měi Nán said quietly.
The room went silent.
"I'm sorry?" Háo Héng's smile strained.
"The smoke detector. The air vent. That decorative sconce by the bathroom door." Měi Nán pointed to each one. "They're all cameras. Hidden, but not well enough. I've seen this setup before."
Háo Héng's face went through several expressions in rapid succession—confusion, denial, and then something that might have been panic before settling into forced calm.
"I assure you, those are standard fixtures—"
"I work in an industry where hidden cameras are an occupational hazard," Měi Nán interrupted, his voice steady. "I know what to look for. These are surveillance devices. High-end ones, actually. Expensive. The kind that stream to external storage, probably cloud-based."
Tòumíng's stomach dropped. "Why would there be cameras in the bedroom?"
Měi Nán turned to look at Háo Héng, his expression unreadable. "That's an excellent question. Why would there be cameras in the bedroom, Mr. Háo?"
"I think there's been a misunderstanding—" Háo Héng started backing toward the door.
"Is this why the previous tenant left so suddenly?" Měi Nán's voice was getting sharper. "Did they figure it out? Or did you use the footage somehow?"
"I really don't appreciate these accusations—"
"Blackmail," Tòumíng said, the pieces clicking together with horrible clarity. "You rent to wealthy people. They bring... other people here. People who aren't their spouses. And you record it."
Háo Héng's face went pale.
"How many?" Měi Nán asked. "How many tenants have you done this to?"
"I don't know what you're talking about—"
"The cameras are still active." Měi Nán pulled out his phone and opened what looked like a network scanner app. "They're connected to the local WiFi, streaming right now. Want to bet I can trace where the footage is going?"
Háo Héng's mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
Tòumíng looked around the beautiful master bedroom with new eyes. The strategic camera placements. The large bed. The expensive, luxurious setting designed to appeal to people looking for somewhere private to conduct affairs.
This wasn't just a rental property. It was a trap.