Xia Xiaolan felt warmth in her heart:

“Third Brother, no one’s bullying me.”

Pan Bohua kept cracking walnuts – mountain walnuts had such hard shells that without roasting them, even hammers could barely break them open. In later years, few people would eat these things, their rigid shells mostly machine-processed into crafts.

Yet Pan Bohua could crack the hard mountain walnuts with his bare hands. Most impressively, while the hard shell shattered, the walnut meat inside remained perfectly intact.

Pan Bohua tossed the shell fragments into the trash and shared the walnut meat with Xia Xiaolan and Daisy.

Daisy held the walnuts from her new idol, her mind full of questions.

These were nuts, right?

Opening nuts by hand!

Goodness, she wasn’t even sure if she could eat these – allergic reactions to unknown foods could be fatal.

But what could she do? They smelled so good, and they were from her idol.

When Daisy finished her internal flutter and looked up again – damn, Xia Xiaolan and Pan Bohua had left – Xia Xiaolan had said goodbye, but she hadn’t heard a word!

Daisy stamped her foot in frustration as Xia Xiaolan and Pan Bohua walked out of Cornell University.

“Third Brother, have you visited Jiang Yan? She’s had her third surgery, and she’s recovering quite well.”

Xia Xiaolan couldn’t be close friends with Jiang Yan.

But she could still call occasionally to check on her.

During her GMP internship, Xia Xiaolan would visit Jiang Yan every few days.

Jiang Yan was far more impressive than Zhou Yi. Zhou the fool was like a frog that wouldn’t jump without prodding, needing classmates’ supervision just to study language. Though Jiang Yan came to America for treatment and spent most of her time in the hospital, she didn’t waste time. Her English was now fluent, and when Xia Xiaolan last visited, there were many books on her table… Jiang Yan seemed very interested in communications technology, reading related books – some she bought herself, most borrowed through her caretaker’s help.

New York’s public libraries were huge and open to everyone. If someone wanted to learn and improve, they could always find time to read.

In this aspect, Jiang Yan was leagues ahead of Zhou Yi.

Pan Bohua shook his head, “Haven’t gone yet. After arriving in America, I went to Los Angeles first, then came straight here after leaving LA. Haven’t you gotten into trouble with someone surnamed Zhang? I’ve investigated – his name is Zhang Jiadong, and he has an import-export company in Los Angeles, which is just a front. This man has enormous influence in LA. Do you know how powerful the Du family is in Hong Kong? Zhang Jiadong’s business isn’t any smaller, might even be bigger than theirs.”

When discussing shady business, Pan Bohua used the Du family as a reference point so Xia Xiaolan could understand the scale.

“Third Brother, is this him?”

Xia Xiaolan took out the photo hidden under her car seat, pointing to the man in it.

Pan Bohua also handed her several photos, “That’s him!”

Pan Bohua actually had photos of Zhang Jiadong too. The family portrait Xia Xiaolan received was from years ago, while Pan Bohua’s photos were recent – Zhang Jiadong playing golf and meeting with others.

In one photo, Zhang Jiadong’s gaze met the camera directly. Though this man always wore a smile, it gave Xia Xiaolan chills.

“This man’s called Zhang Jiadong. In 1967, the burned victim ‘Mouse Qiang’ was named Zhang Jiaqiang – they must be related.”

Yet San Francisco police said Zhang Jiaqiang had no relatives in America.

“Names don’t have to be similar just for brothers. In some places, everyone in the same clan with the same surname names their children according to the clan genealogy’s generational order.”

So Zhang Jiadong and Mouse Qiang weren’t brothers, but might as well have been?

Xia Xiaolan felt Zhang Jiadong was likely one of the culprits.

Compared to Mouse Qiang who died in the fire on the front lines, Zhang Jiadong was more secretive.

“Third Brother, such a person must be hard to deal with, right?”

Pan Bohua nodded, “His current businesses all appear legitimate. Whatever his past identity, he’s cleaned up now, even becoming an LA city councilor. If he didn’t have over 20 people protecting him daily, I might have missed it.”

What kind of person needs over 20 bodyguards for daily protection?

Xia Xiaolan felt a city councilor didn’t need such protection.

In America, presidents were assassinated; city councilors were quite safe. Assassinating a councilor made little sense – it wouldn’t cause a sensation or achieve political goals.

Even for an American tycoon, over 20 bodyguards seemed excessive.

Unless they were someone with many guilty secrets, whose money came from questionable sources.

“If Zhang Jiadong was the mastermind back then, Xu Zhongyi must have been hiding from him all these years.”

Pan Bohua had an inherent sense of justice.

When Jiang Wu killed prisoners and civilians, Pan Bohua could have looked the other way – after all, Jiang Wu wasn’t killing Chinese people… If Pan Bohua had been that cold-hearted, there wouldn’t have been all that complicated history between him and Jiang Wu.

Hearing about this robbery, murder, and taking of another’s wife and children, Pan Bohua couldn’t hold back:

“Sister-in-law, just tell me what we should do!”

Xia Xiaolan shook her head, “Third Brother, we can’t do anything.”

If Zhang Jiadong were easy to deal with, Xu Zhongyi wouldn’t have hidden for 19 years.

Previously, Xia Xiaolan had suspected Xu Zhongyi was heartless, leaving his elderly mother to suffer in China. Now she realized, Xu Zhongyi knew his mother was aging but dared not acknowledge her.

Sometimes, recognition wasn’t a good thing.

“Back then Mouse Qiang burned to death in the rental house, but Xu Zhongyi escaped. If Zhang Jiadong was the culprit, he must know Xu Zhongyi isn’t dead… If it were other enemies, letting him escape would be the end of it – Xu Zhongyi was just a scholarly type who couldn’t take revenge. But Zhang Jiadong married Xu Zhongyi’s wife Cui Yiru and raised his son – how could he sleep at night if he didn’t kill Xu Zhongyi? These years, he must have never stopped hunting Xu Zhongyi, maybe even waiting for him to return to China to find Grandmother Yu-“

Xia Xiaolan’s voice grew softer, her expression darkening.

She suddenly realized something – if someone was monitoring Grandmother Yu, then Zhang Jiadong knew everything about her bringing Grandmother Yu from Shangdu to Beijing.

From the moment she set foot in America, Zhang Jiadong knew she was there to find Grandmother Yu’s son.

The other side watched her running around, hiring lawyers and detectives… damn, were they treating her like free entertainment?!

“Third Brother, it’s bad – I had a private detective investigate Zhang Jiadong in Los Angeles. Since Jim went to LA, I haven’t been able to contact him once, only received this family portrait with the bloody handprint… Could something have happened to Jim?”

Xia Xiaolan quite liked Jim.

Loving donuts wasn’t a crime – though Jim worked for money, he had a human touch.