“Mouse Qiang, full name Zhang Jiaqiang, came to America in 1960… with no family or relatives in the United States.”

So when he died, no one reported it to the police.

Someone deliberately covered it up, and a human life could vanish so completely. He died in 1967, and it wasn’t until Xia Xiaolan arrived in America in 1986 searching for Xu Zhongyi that this death was uncovered.

She felt no sympathy for Mouse Qiang. After arriving in America, he turned to illegal activities, becoming a member of local San Francisco gangs, and frequently engaging in extortion. Even after 19 years, some elderly Chinese residents in San Francisco still remembered how detestable “Mouse Qiang” was.

The San Francisco police found evidence of the deceased and made a new inference: Mouse Qiang, seeing valuable items, attempted burglary, or robbery. Xu Zhongyi discovered him, and in their struggle, Xu accidentally inflicted fatal injuries. Believing Mouse Qiang dead and being an illegal resident himself, Xu didn’t dare involve the police. Instead, he set fire to cover up the crime, then fled overnight with his wife and child, vanishing from San Francisco.

The logic seemed to make more sense now.

But Xia Xiaolan still felt something was strange.

“Shouldn’t we investigate Zhang Jiaqiang’s associates from back then?” she suggested to the San Francisco police, but they said they already had.

The Chinese population in San Francisco was large, and fearing discrimination, they formed regional gangs for protection. If one person committed a crime, others would help cover it up. Anyone who betrayed the gang would face consequences, while those who took the blame would have their families looked after. After 19 years, there was no way to investigate why Zhang Jiaqiang went to Xu Zhongyi’s rented house – theft and robbery were the most logical guesses.

As for Zhang’s associates?

“Associates” wasn’t quite the right term. Twenty years ago, Zhang Jiaqiang had indeed been close with certain people, but they had either self-destructed and become imprisoned felons or had reformed and become law-abiding American taxpayers.

Without evidence, what could be done to such respectable American citizens? The San Francisco police could only conduct routine questioning, not even detention was possible.

Grandmother Yu couldn’t accept this, and Xia Xiaolan felt it was perfunctory.

But Wen Manni also said this was all they could do for now.

“Unless we can find Mr. Xu himself, only he as the person involved would know what happened back then. If Mr. Xu truly did it by accident, I’m willing to be his defense attorney and argue for a lesser charge or even innocence!”

Since Zhang Jiaqiang was a gang member, and the San Francisco police had concluded it was a failed burglary resulting in accidental death, Wen Manni felt the circumstances were favorable for Xu Zhongyi.

But now, they needed to find Xu Zhongyi!

Had he been hiding for 20 years with his wife and child under a false identity somewhere in America out of fear of arrest, or had something else happened after the incident?

Not contacting anyone back home for 19 years seemed inexplicable.

Wen Manni couldn’t make sense of it. Grandmother Yu didn’t believe the San Francisco police’s inference:

“Zhongyi would never do such a thing! Would he hide for 20 years after an accidental killing? As long as his valuables brought to America weren’t lost, he could still obtain legal status under a different name.”

Twenty years ago, the process of obtaining American citizenship wasn’t as strict as today. Grandmother Yu believed in her son’s kindness and his intelligence.

Xu Zhongyi was 28 when he left the country, already a husband and father, not some reckless teenager!

Xia Xiaolan thought Grandmother Yu made sense.

As long as the valuables weren’t lost, there would be money to rely on… but what if they were lost?

“Let’s follow Connie’s advice – have the San Francisco police continue searching while the newspaper and TV reports do their work. How else would someone have come forward with information about Mouse Qiang’s identity? We need to stay patient now. No news is good news – after all, it wasn’t Uncle Xu who died, which makes things easier to handle!”

Even if the San Francisco police’s speculation was correct, Xu Zhongyi’s charges could be argued down, and if the police could find him, it would save Xia Xiaolan the effort.

Besides the police, Xia Xiaolan also placed hope in the television stations, and newspapers.

And Jim, who had gone to Los Angeles to find Ben Field.

Two days after the victim’s identity was confirmed, news finally came from Du Zhaohui in Hong Kong:

“I haven’t met the Hong Kong buyer. This buyer doesn’t want to reveal their identity, but through an intermediary, they’re willing to let me examine the vase for half an hour. Would that work?”

Du Zhaohui felt he had lost face.

The first time Xia Xiaolan asked for his help, he couldn’t deliver properly!

Not finding the buyer?

That didn’t seem so important now, as Xia Xiaolan hadn’t expected Jim would first track down the seller as Ben Field.

Still, being able to see the vase in person wasn’t bad.

“Wait a moment!”

Xia Xiaolan asked Grandmother Yu, who told her about the marking:

“Feel inside the vase’s mouth, two inches down, there are three uneven points. You can’t see them with your eyes; you have to reach in and feel them.”

Xia Xiaolan relayed this exactly to Du Zhaohui:

“I have to trouble you again – would the buyer agree to this request?”

“No problem, that’s a small matter. If we feel those marks, it’s the vase you’re looking for? Wait for my good news, I’ll call you back in a few minutes!”

Du Zhaohui had boasted confidently.

But after hanging up, his face turned green.

It was already difficult enough for him to pretend to be deeply interested in the vase, but he had finally persuaded Master Qiu to help, asking the mysterious buyer to loan the vase for his appreciation.

Master Qiu never appeared in person; it was someone called Chai Hai who dealt with Du Zhaohui.

Now he had to tell Chai Hai that merely looking wasn’t enough – he needed to handle and feel the vase.

His hands, Du’s hands, could touch women’s smooth skin, cigars, checks, even gun barrels, but to touch an antique vase… this was simply too perverted!

Du Zhaohui left the room and reluctantly made his request to handle the vase to Chai Hai.

Chai Hai looked at him as if he were a pervert.

How could Chai Hai not know Du Zhaohui’s background, whether he was truly cultured enough to appreciate vases? Not just Du Zhaohui, even that second young master Du who studied business in England and returned to Hong Kong, who had participated in two private auctions organized by Master Qiu, knew nothing about appreciating antiques – the Du family couldn’t even pretend to be cultured convincingly!

“Young Master Du, handling is fine, but porcelain is quite delicate after centuries of age. Please handle it with extreme care. If it breaks, Master Qiu won’t be able to explain to the buyer. They only agreed to loan it out of respect for Master Qiu.”

After Chai Hai’s careful instructions, he had someone remove the wooden box protection and carefully place the vase on the table.

The photograph had been black and white, and Du Zhaohui had thought it would be something more precious. It turned out to be a blue and white vase, quite small, with an opening that could only fit two of his fingers.

Wearing extremely thin gloves, Du Zhaohui unceremoniously ran his fingers over the vase while Chai Hai watched nervously, afraid he might drop it. Du Zhaohui’s behavior was truly unseemly, showing such excitement while handling the vase – it was painful to watch. What Chai Hai didn’t know was that Du Zhaohui had found those subtle bumps, which were indeed so slight they could easily be missed!

So this was the vase Xia Xiaolan was looking for. At that moment, Du Zhaohui felt happier than if he had signed a multi-million dollar contract!