It was Zi Hour, late at night.
Zhang Rong and I rode a motorcycle to the residential complex.
This was also a villa complex, but it had been built many years ago, and its remote location meant some of the villas were already vacant.
A complex like this barely had any security guards on the night shift.
Zhang Rong and I first circled the perimeter and spotted a black Mercedes-Benz on the road outside the main entrance.
That was not a parking spot, which suggested the owner had only gone inside to take care of something and would be out soon.
To be safe, I took out my phone and photographed the license plate.
Then we circled around to the back entrance and climbed over the wall at the side to enter the complex.
The whole complex looked rather desolate, with what seemed to be a high vacancy rate.
Given Wang Meilan's current state of mind, a sparsely populated complex like this would give her more of a sense of secrecy and security.
We soon found our way to Wang Meilan's villa. Climbing over walls was already second nature to us.
It was Zi Hour, sometime after eleven at night, yet the living room lights were still on.
Zhang Rong and I quickly found a spot and climbed up. It was the kitchen, and we clung outside its windowsill, where we could see half the living room sofa through the kitchen doorway.
Fortunately, the angle was just right, and we saw three people: a woman and two men.
The woman was naturally Wang Meilan, an elegant woman in her early forties.
She was sitting side-on to us, and from the look of it, she was talking to a man facing us.
The man facing us looked relatively young, in his