My cousin bought a BMW last year.

He traded for it by selling electronic cigarettes on social media.
During the New Year dinner, I said, "Your business is doing pretty well."
He said, "It's okay, lots of repeat customers."
I asked where he gets his supplies from.
He said, "Directly from the manufacturer."
"With trademarks and quality inspections, legal."
I didn't ask further.
Last month, at 2 a.m., the phone rang.
He sounded shaken on the other end.
He said the factory had been raided.
It wasn't electronic cigarettes.
They added something to the oil.
The kind from above.
He didn't know.
He always thought he was selling cigarettes.
The trademarks are real.
The dates are real.
The reports are real.
Only the oil is fake.
Now the police are after him.
They consider it drug trafficking.
He sold goods worth a million dollars in a year.
He said one thing that made my back go cold.
"If I had known earlier, I would have reported it."
"Now I say I don't know."
"No one believes me."
The call ended.
It's been two months now, and I can't reach him.
His mother asked where he went.
I said he's on a business trip.
The BMW is still parked downstairs at his place.
Covered in a thick layer of dust.
You're not just selling goods.
You're smuggling drugs.
You don't know.
But the law doesn't care.