Grandmother Yu didn’t want to discuss these matters, so she gave only a vague number.

The reporters buzzed with discussion, clearly getting off track.

Finally, someone remembered today’s interview topic. As Xia Xiaolan had predicted, the reporters began pressing Grandmother Yu about how she felt coming all this way to America only to discover her son might be a long-fugitive murderer, and whether she was disappointed.

Liu Fen clutched Xia Xiaolan’s hand tightly:

“These reporters are too much! Don’t they have any compassion?”

Xia Xiaolan shook her head, “They want viewer attention after broadcast. More controversy means better ratings and newspaper sales!”

Freedom of speech was good, but it also meant speech without boundaries.

Grandmother Yu was a Chinese old lady, making them even less hesitant to bully her.

Xia Xiaolan had anticipated this.

But Grandmother Yu agreed to the interview because, compared to being pressured and bullied, finding her son’s family was more important. Even the proudest person would compromise for their child.

While Liu Fen couldn’t bear to watch, Grandmother Yu maintained her composure, looking firmly into the camera:

“I’ll say it again: I reject the San Francisco police’s speculation and don’t believe my son is a murder suspect. I just want to find him now. Whatever happened back then, we can face it together! Zhongyi, where are you? I’ve waited twenty years for you. Look at my age – I don’t have many years left. If I die without seeing you once, I won’t have the face to meet your father in the afterlife. I won’t rest in peace!”

The first half was spoken in English.

The latter half was in native Chinese.

They say one’s native dialect touches the heart – Grandmother Yu hoped Xu Zhongyi would see the news and be moved.

She hadn’t cried pitifully before the cameras, but every word was filled with blood and tears.

After Grandmother Yu finished, the reporters still wanted more. Xia Xiaolan had Liu Fen take Grandmother Yu away while she stayed to deal with the reporters. It didn’t matter what they asked or whether exploiting an old lady for news was ethical – both sides were using each other.

Xia Xiaolan had just one request: don’t cut Grandmother Yu’s final words.

She produced photos of the Xu family:

“I hope everyone reporting can mention that anyone who knows this family’s whereabouts should contact us. We’re offering $10,000 for direct information leading to finding them and $5,000 for indirect leads. This reward offer has no time limit!”

Indeed, this Chinese old lady searching for her son in San Francisco wasn’t from an impoverished developing nation.

$10,000 was a substantial reward.

The San Francisco police wouldn’t offer such a reward, but with a financial incentive, they might find the Xu family.

Even the reporters were trying to pronounce the difficult Chinese names, knowing they too could claim the reward… Truthfully, $10,000 cash was significant even by reporter salary standards!

Grandmother Yu’s interview aired on San Francisco television that evening.

With San Francisco’s large Chinese population and previous coverage, the news sparked intense discussion.

The San Francisco police suddenly faced public pressure.

Why was the 1967 arson case closed so quickly?

Now that they confirmed the deceased wasn’t Xu Zhongyi, how could they so easily suspect him as the killer?

Chinese people had put down roots in San Francisco, becoming an inseparable part of it. If one Chinese person didn’t matter, did all Chinese voters’ ballots not matter?

More exciting for Xia Xiaolan was that the very next evening after the broadcast, someone came forward with information.

“He says he knows who the person is from the police’s skull reconstruction. Should we meet him?”

Min Xiaoju was very cautious about America.

She had to protect not just Liu Fen, but also Grandmother Yu and Xia Xiaolan. If the Xu family’s disappearance involved local gangs, they might not want them investigating further!

“Let’s meet him.”

Though Xia Xiaolan wanted to meet, Min Xiaoju still searched for him.

He had no gun – just a homeless Chinese-American old man. Seeing Xia Xiaolan, his eyes wandered.

Min Xiaoju put her hand on his shoulder, making him cry out:

“Stop, stop! Just give me $100, and I’ll tell you who he is!”

Only $100?

Xia Xiaolan suspected he was just a scammer.

Don’t assume old people can’t be troublemakers – as they say, it’s not that good people got old, but that bad people aged!

“Give it to him.”

The homeless man whistled at the $100 bill, tucking it away:

“The dead man was nicknamed Mouse Qiang. Look at his protruding mouth and thin face – doesn’t he look like a mouse? He did rat’s work in San Francisco. As for who he worked for, I don’t know. It’s been 20 years, and Mouse Qiang’s old associates are now prominent figures in San Francisco… For $100, that’s all I can tell you!”

Mouse Qiang?

Who would choose such a nickname normally?

Only people in criminal circles had such aliases.

Jim’s investigation was right – it did involve gangs. Xia Xiaolan looked at the homeless man:

“Uncle, you seem quite brave. For $100 you told us his name was Mouse Qiang – for $1,000, could you tell us more?”

The homeless man licked his lips, shaking his head vigorously:

“I want money, but I dare not speak. What good is money if I’m dead? Let me go quickly – if anyone discovers I was here, I won’t live to spend even this $100!”

The homeless man refused to say more. Even when Xia Xiaolan raised the offer to $2,000, he remained firmly resolved. They had to let him go.

Min Xiaoju followed him out, returning shortly to say:

“He knows San Francisco too well – I lost him.”

His dirty hair covered half his face; Xia Xiaolan hadn’t even seen what he looked like.

“I don’t know why he helped us, but he provided crucial information. From what he said, someone’s watching us?”

Min Xiaoju jumped up:

“Impossible! If someone was tailing us, I’d know!”

Xia Xiaolan’s words agitated her so much her hometown accent emerged.

Xia Xiaolan felt the disadvantage of being short-staffed.

They couldn’t catch the homeless man, and couldn’t completely rule out being watched. She lacked the manpower to investigate “Mouse Qiang” herself. The next morning, she provided this lead to the San Francisco police – however unreliable they might be, they could at least identify “Mouse Qiang.”

That homeless man was very strange.

His words contained a wealth of information.

Mouse Qiang’s former associates had become prominent figures in San Francisco.

This must be why no one investigated the case for so many years.

Mouse Qiang died, but his associates didn’t look into it.

Unless the death was shady and better left uninvestigated, including the Xu family’s disappearance. Some people didn’t want it brought up, so they let the deceased “Mouse Qiang” be mistaken for Xu Zhongyi – these people must wield considerable power in San Francisco!