I discovered that my husband had secretly bought a voice recorder. When I asked about it, he exploded immediately: "It's for work! Why are you interrogating me?" "If you're so bored, go find a job!" I didn't argue. I simply swapped the recorder's internal memory card for a micro-transmitter. The next day, he took his mistress to his car for a thrill. Every word they said was transmitted via Bluetooth... Directly to the massive speakers used for the neighborhood Zumba class. 1 Mrs. Robinson, the Zumba instructor, was about to change the song when Dance Monkey cut off abruptly. Replacing it was a burst of harsh static, followed by sounds that made everyone blush, blasting from the high-wattage outdoor speakers. "Caleb... gentle..." A coquettish female voice, amplified by the heavy bass, rolled like thunder across the entire community square. Hundreds of retirees stretching their arms and legs froze mid-motion, like someone had pressed the pause button. Following that was Caleb's familiar voice, dripping with a greasy arrogance I had never heard before: "Scared of what? This car has great soundproofing. That yellow-faced woman is still at home like an idiot, waiting for me to 'work late'." Dead silence fell over the square. Only the unbearable sounds from the speakers continued, wave after wave, clear as if they were whispering in our ears. Mrs. Robinson stood stunned for a few seconds, her fan dropping to the ground with a clatter. She was closest to the speaker; the sound made her heart palpitate. "This... whose couple is this, leaving their windows open?" someone in the crowd muttered. "Couple? Listen to those words. That's an affair!" I sat on a bench at the edge of the square, pulling the brim of my baseball cap low, clutching the receiver's control unit in my hand. I watched the black BMW X5 with dark tinted windows parked not far away. The car was rocking in rhythm with the sounds from the speaker. The conversation continued, getting even more explosive. "So when are you going to divorce her? I don't want to keep sneaking around like this." "Soon, soon," Caleb's voice carried a ruthless edge. "That idiot is trying to get pregnant recently, forcing me to take vitamins every day. She doesn't know I swapped her bottle of prenatal vitamins for long-term contraceptives ages ago. I even added a little 'extra spice'." "As long as she can't conceive and her health collapses, my mom will naturally force her out." If people were just watching for the drama before, this sentence changed the atmosphere in the square completely. The seniors, who had been whispering, now had faces of iron. Everyone there had children. Who could stomach such a conscience-less, evil scheme? "Is he even human? Poisoning his wife?" "That's wicked! That's trying to kill someone!" Listening to the curses around me, I dug my nails deep into my palms but felt no pain. So that was it. That was why my health had deteriorated over the last two years, why I had unexplained bleeding. It was all thanks to him. Rage boiled in my blood, but I had to stay calm. 2 "Ugh, don't mention that buzzkill woman," the female voice whined. "Caleb, doing this here... will we get caught?" "Don't worry, I scouted this place ages ago," Caleb gloated. "Those old geezers dancing Zumba play their music so loud it covers everything. They make their noise, we have our fun. It's exciting." The words "old geezers" were like a spark dropping into a powder keg. Mrs. Robinson trembled with rage, picking up her fan and waving it fiercely: "Bullying us! Doing dirty deeds right under our noses and calling us names?" "It's under the shade trees! I've been eyeing that black car for a while!" Someone shouted, and hundreds of pairs of eyes swept toward the roadside parking spots. The black BMW X5 stood out glaringly under the streetlamp. "Let's go! Let's see which animal it is!" The crowd surged toward the car like a flood breaking a dam. I merged into the back of the crowd, watching Caleb's car get surrounded tightly. The people inside clearly hadn't realized what was happening until the woman screamed in panic: "Caleb, outside... why are there so many people?!" "What?!" Caleb's terrified roar came through the speakers, followed by the frantic rustling of clothes being put on. People started banging on the windows: "Get out! Explain yourself to everyone!" "Poisoning people and cursing us in the street? Get out here!" The BMW rocked like a small boat in a stormy sea, shoved by the angry mob. Caleb panicked. He tried to start the car, but he was blocked in front and back. He rolled the window down a crack, yelling furiously: "What are you doing? Get away! This is my private business! Move or I'm calling the police!" This shout, transmitted clearly through the "pen" clipped to his collar, once again boomed across the square. "Police? Call them!" Mrs. Robinson had a fiery temper. She pointed the Zumba microphone directly at the car window. "Let the police see who's in the wrong—you poisoning people, or us catching perverts!" Caleb's face appeared intermittently behind the glass, pale as a sheet. He probably never dreamed his every word and action was being "livestreamed" right there. As the standoff continued, I tapped my phone screen lightly. If I'm going to hammer him, I'll hammer him so deep he never gets up. I switched the signal source. No longer livestreaming real-time audio, I played an encrypted file recovered from the recorder—one he had hidden very deep. 3 The noise from the speakers vanished. Replacing it was the sound of a very quiet room, followed by Caleb's lowered voice, dark and greedy. "Mr. Lee, I've handled the inspection report for this batch of steel. So what if they're sub-standard? Buried in cement pillars, even God won't see them. As soon as the three million hits my account, I'll stamp the approval for the new Horizon project." The seniors who were banging on the car stopped in unison. The air froze. Horizon City was the biggest unfinished construction project in the area, recently revived. Many of the people present had poured their children's savings, or even their own retirement funds, into those apartments. "Steel... sub-standard?" "What is he saying? Those are our homes!" Fear spread faster than anger, followed by an explosion a hundred times more violent than before. "Caleb? You're Caleb from Horizon?!" "You bastard! That's tofu-dreg construction! How many people will you kill?!" If before it was just moral judgment, now it was a matter of life and death. Someone picked up a brick and—SMASH—hurled it at the BMW's windshield. Spiderweb cracks spread instantly. "Smash his car! Don't let him run!" "This scum needs to go to jail!" Inside the car, Caleb broke down completely. He leaned on the horn frantically, but amidst the roar of hundreds of people, the honking was insignificant. He couldn't understand why top-secret evidence of commercial crime was being broadcast over Zumba speakers at this exact moment. Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer. I stood in the shadows, watching the police struggle to push through the angry crowd, dragging a disheveled, bleeding Caleb out of the car. The mistress was paralyzed with fear, curled up under the seat, shivering. As Caleb was handcuffed, his eyes searched the crowd blankly, seeming to look for the mastermind who had ruined him. But he was destined not to find them. 4 I turned and left. Back home, the house was pitch black and terrifyingly quiet. But I knew that tomorrow, this place would be incredibly lively. Police would come for evidence, creditors would block the door, and the home buyers would come for answers. And I, as the sole "unaware victim," would extract myself cleanly. I would sue for divorce as a victim, take back everything that belonged to me, and more. I walked into the bathroom, poured the swapped "vitamins" into the toilet, and watched the pills swirl and vanish. My phone vibrated. It was a WeChat message from Caleb, probably sent with his one phone call chance before being put in the squad car. Just three words,透ing with bone-chilling coldness and despair: [Was it you?] I poured myself a glass of red wine and toasted the pale but bright-eyed woman in the mirror. Then, I slowly replied: [Hubby, what are you saying? I've been home waiting for you to come drink soup! Mrs. Robinson said they caught a pervert in the square. Are you okay?]
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