“Then what happened? Why didn’t you pull out your phone to call the police? You shouldn't have carried a female beggar out of the cold storage unit!” Mrs. NanGong fired off a rapid-fire series of questions, leaving Mr. NanGong extremely flustered.

Like any couple fond of bickering, a few casual words from his wife were enough to send Mr. NanGong into a fit of rage. He slammed his hand on the table and shouted angrily, “How do you know I didn’t call the police? There was absolutely no cell signal there; I couldn't even get through an SOS emergency call.”

“Oh,” Mrs. NanGong, clearly accustomed to her husband’s occasional fits of hysterical temper, paid no mind to his anger and continued, “If she was a madwoman, how did it escalate to the issue of moving? And you even said Li Xiaoshu is Li Taizheng's biological son—was he brainwashed by that beggar woman?”

Hearing his wife say that only made Mr. NanGong angrier. He smashed his teacup onto the floor and stated grimly, “I haven't finished speaking! Are you jumping to conclusions now? Is this world the only place where you are brilliant and prescient, and everyone else is an idiot?”

Seeing her husband genuinely lose his temper, Mrs. NanGong could only force a smile. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was speaking out of turn, being presumptuous. My dear is always the most cautious and careful in everything he does; he wouldn't ask our whole family to relocate without good reason. Please don't be angry; I’ll go pour you another glass of water.” With that, Mrs. NanGong got up and went to the kitchen, leaving Mr. NanGong alone, sitting red-faced, like an erupting hippopotamus.

When Mrs. NanGong returned, she held a full glass of clear water. As she handed it to her husband, she hesitated and said, “Isn't it strange? I distinctly remember putting away the thermos and the cup, but now the thermos is standing perfectly fine in the kitchen, and the cup is lying tilted in the sink.”

“I feel the same way. Maybe we’re just too tired today. After packing up so much, it’s not surprising a thing or two was left behind,” Mr. NanGong took the water glass, his mood settling slightly, and he returned his thoughts to that bizarre incident.

“I kept picking up the doorknob and trying to place it back into the lock, but it would fall to the floor in the exact same way, over and over again. The woman claiming to be Mrs. Li just stood there sneering maliciously. It angered me so much that I turned around and started cursing her out. I expected her to jump up and fight me like most people would, but instead, she watched me with a slight smile. Once I was finished ranting, she slowly said, ‘Mr. NanGong’s temper is still the same. I remember one year, shortly after you were married, you and Mrs. NanGong had a terrible row over what gift to bring when visiting your parents. I heard the commotion from the kitchen, rushed out to mediate, and calmed both of you down. Later, I gave Mrs. NanGong a string of pearls, and only then did she agree to let you give your unit-issued electric heater to your eldest uncle…’”

“That did happen.” Before Mr. NanGong could finish his sentence, Mrs. NanGong suddenly jumped up, rummaged through her backpack, and pulled out a red necklace box. Opening it, there indeed lay a string of pearls, each bead about the size of a little finger. Mrs. NanGong pinched the clasp between two fingers and carefully lifted the necklace, saying, “After all these years, I never once dared to wear it. Back then, I took it to a jeweler to verify its authenticity; they said this strand was quite valuable, and the size and shape of every bead were nearly identical—something very difficult to purchase, even with money.”