Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I remained silent for the entire ride back.

Outside the car window, the night scenery of Lincheng flashed by like a series of dreams that ended before they could truly begin.

Li Baiyan handed me a folder of organized documents.

“This is the original background of the Linchuan Project, which your mother, Tao Yuntang, was in charge of back then.”

I took it and flipped through the pages.

Three years ago, Han Biotech had staked half the company’s future on the launch of the Linchuan Project. It was touted as a breakthrough that could rapidly improve rare immune diseases and was hailed as the Han Group’s comeback card for the next decade.

And the core head of research and development for the project was my mother.

However, before the official human trials began, she discovered that the raw data had been tampered with.

Several instances of severe adverse reactions had been altered to look like common rejection symptoms.

She insisted on halting the trials, but my father, in his capacity as chairman, forcibly overruled her.

The project proceeded, and people actually died.

I stared at the last line of the document, my throat tightening. “So my mother didn’t commit suicide because of depression. She was silenced because she was going to blow the whistle on the project.”

“Most likely,” Li Baiyan said. “Old Master Han also suspected this before he passed away, which is why he kept investigating. He entrusted the supplemental will to me specifically to wait for you to get out.”

I let out a cold laugh. “Wait for me to get out? You certainly took your time. I was locked up for three years.”

Li Baiyan didn’t try to defend himself. He simply said, “I tried to visit several times, but the hospital rejected me every time, claiming your ‘condition had worsened.’ It wasn’t until last month, when Kangning Hospital began secretly disposing of old archives, that I became certain they couldn’t keep you anymore.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because before Old Master Han died, he said that if there was one person left in the Han Family who could tear this mess wide open, it would be you.”

I didn’t respond.

After my mother passed away, my grandfather had indeed taken me under his wing for a while, treating me like his successor.

I read financial reports, attended project meetings, and learned how to negotiate.

Back then, my father would always laugh, saying it was useless for a girl to learn such things and that I should just focus on getting married in the future.

Thinking back now, he didn’t look down on me-he was afraid of me.

When the car reached the old estate, I suddenly raised my hand to stop him.

“Go to the piano room.”

During the drive, I had finally figured out what my mother meant by “someone who truly knows how to sing.”

It wasn’t the piano.

It was the tuner.

I rushed into the small piano room in the side wing of the old estate, which had been abandoned for years. I pried up the third floorboard and, as expected, found a metal box.

Inside, there was no recording pen.

Instead, there was a fragmented set of handwritten ledgers and a photocopy of a remittance slip from Kangning Hospital.

The date of the transfer was the night before I was sent away.

In the recipient column, it read:

Advance payment for long-term supervision in the Special Ward.

The amount: 3.6 million.

The paying account belonged to a private foundation under the name of Lin Manqing.

She hadn’t intended to lock me up for a few months.

She had intended to buy my entire life.