Chapter 10 — When the Spider Plant Turned Black

A woman who fails to conceive must first chill the womb, and then stimulate the blood. The police officer's expression darkened instantly. Tran Nghien lunged forward, desperately trying to snatch the paper away.

This does not belong to our household!

A young officer blocked his path, firmly stating, Do not move.

The mother-in-law, who had been sitting quietly on the sofa, suddenly fell completely silent. She stared fixedly at the crumpled sheets of paper, her lips trembling as she muttered, That is not how it should be used, that is not how it is supposed to be used. I turned my gaze toward her.

Then how is it supposed to be used?

She snapped her head up, her eyes wide with the frantic terror of a cornered rodent.

On the way to the police station, my mother and I occupied the back seat of the vehicle. Tran Nghien trailed closely behind in his own car, with his mother riding alongside him. Initially, she had complained of severe dizziness and adamantly refused to budge. A single sentence from the police officers had finally silenced her.

If you refuse to come of your own accord, we will be forced to take you.

Only then had she clamped her mouth shut. My mother gripped my hand so tightly that her fingers dug into my flesh. Her palms were freezing cold, yet her grip remained ironclad. I asked in a low whisper, Mother, what do those words on that paper actually mean? She stared out through the windshield at the endless stream of traffic, remaining silent for a long moment before answering, That is no respectable medicinal formula.

Have you ever seen something like this at a traditional pharmacy before?

I have seen similar things.

Her voice dropped even lower, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Years ago, some people used these crooked, malicious methods to harm their daughters-in-law. It caused a massive scandal, terribly ugly to witness.

A bitter lump rose in my throat, choking me.

To what extent did they harm them?

My mother did not answer immediately. She merely tightened her hold on my hand until it genuinely hurt.

Ha Vu, do not ask about these matters right now. We are going straight to the hospital for an examination as soon as we arrive.

Inside the police station, the interrogation stretched on for hours. I recounted every single detail with absolute clarity, beginning from the very first evening I was forced to soak my feet. The chipped spout of the basin. The peculiar hue of the tea leaves. The strange, creeping numbness in my legs. The sudden withering of the spider plant on the windowsill. The bitter aftertaste hidden within the fish soup. And finally, the hushed whispers they had exchanged in the kitchen the previous night.

The police officer inquired, Are you entirely certain that the bowl of fish soup carried a similar taste?

I replied, I cannot be completely certain, but the resemblance was striking.

Did you preserve any portion of it as a sample?

I shook my head. The remaining soup had been thoughtlessly discarded down the drain by my mother-in-law. Even now, the mere memory of the rushing water flushing it away sent a suffocating wave of panic surging into my chest.

From the adjacent room, muffled sounds of the mother-in-law filtered through the walls. At first, she wept softly. Then she raised her voice in shrill lamentation. Finally, she began repeating the same desperate refrain over and over again—that she had done everything purely out of a longing to hold her grandchild in her arms.

Tran Nghien voice was impossible to make out clearly. Yet, I could vividly picture his posture and expression. His brow furrowed in a deep scowl, sitting in heavy silence, letting out long, weary sighs, and ultimately shifting all the blame onto the ignorance and misguided actions of the elderly.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, my mother and I stepped out of the interrogation room. Tran Nghien was standing rigidly at the far end of the corridor. The moment he spotted me, he hurried forward.

Ha Vu, we need to talk for a moment.

My mother instantly stepped forward, blocking his path.

What is left to be discussed between you two?

Tran Nghien looked as though he had spent the entire night wide awake, his eyes webbed with a network of angry red bloodshot lines.

Mother, I simply wish to speak with her privately for a brief moment.

My mother was on the verge of issuing a cold refusal when I gently touched her arm, stopping her.

Let us speak right here.

Tran Nghien fixed his gaze on me, lowering his voice into a pleading tone.

I truly had no idea that matters would escalate to this terrible extent.

I asked flatly, Exactly how much did you know?

He faltered, stumbling over his words. I continued to stare directly into his eyes, unblinking.

You knew that the brew she was making for me was not ordinary tea, did you not?

He averted his eyes, dodging my gaze.

She told me it was a herbal tonic meant to nourish your body.

You knew she was desperately pushing me to conceive a child quickly, did you not?

We are husband and wife now. Wanting to start a family and have children is only natural.

So there was no need whatsoever to consult my wishes?

He closed his eyes in a gesture of profound frustration and exasperation.

Ha Vu, please stop treating me as if I were some kind of criminal.

A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips.

Even at this very moment, you still feel aggrieved?

A heavy flush crept up Tran Nghien neck, staining his face a deep red.

My mother made a grave mistake, yes, but she never intended to cause you any actual harm. She was simply deceived by someone else!

Who could possibly have deceived her? I demanded, taking a step forward. Once again, he fell into a guilty, heavy silence. I closed the distance between us, unwilling to let him retreat any further.