America: The neighbor's wife is so incredibly hospitable!

Compared to her husband, who was only an alcoholic, in debt, and ran away from trouble.

The young man before her, usually so gentle and refined, yet capable of pulling out a gun to protect her in a critical moment...

They were like knights sent by the gods.

A feeling called worship and dependence grew wildly in her heart at that moment.

"install……"

Sarah put down her cup, stood up from the sofa, and walked barefoot behind Chen An.

She stretched out her arms and hugged him tightly from behind, pressing her face against his broad, muscular back.

"Forget about those damn windows."

Her voice was soft, yet carried a desperate intensity, "It's so cold in this house... Could you... hold me tighter?"

Chen An turned around.

No words were spoken.

In that living room with its flickering old-fashioned incandescent bulbs, accompanied by the sounds of gunfire and wind, he lowered his head and kissed those trembling red lips.

This time, there was no resistance, no hesitation, and not even any of that so-called pulling or tugging.

That's a drowning person's thirst for oxygen.

Sarah's passion was even more intense than the night before; it was a release mixed with fear.

Her hands tugged at Chen An's hoodie haphazardly, and Chen An could feel the amazing elasticity and heat hidden beneath her soft body.

It was very windy in Montana that night.

But the temperature inside the old house kept rising.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next morning.

When Chen An opened his eyes, his arms were empty.

Only the faint lavender scent remaining on the sofa proved that last night was not a dream.

There was a note on the table.

I have to get back to make breakfast for the kids before they wake up. Thank you, Anne. Last night…you saved me. P.S.: If Tom asks, I'll just say I fell asleep in the barn. Love, S.

Chen An rubbed his temples, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Although we didn't break through the last line of defense last night.

Sarah couldn't stop worrying about the children, who were still home alone next door.

But their relationship had completely changed.

Except for that last step, we explored almost everything that should and shouldn't have been done.

The neighbor lady's apple pie was indeed as delicious as hers – sweet, juicy, and with a lingering aftertaste.

However, now is not the time to reminisce.

The problem hasn't been solved yet.

Chen An got up, quickly washed up, and changed his clothes.

There are three things to do today:

First, take the coyote's tail to claim the bounty, and while you're at it, see if the so-called "bounty for contraband" is real.

Second, give the remaining mushrooms to Katie to maintain this money pipeline.

third……

Chen An touched the copy of the casino debt collection notice in his pocket.

Now that Tom has already attracted the pack of hungry wolves, the bomb must be detonated beforehand.

"Sheriff Reynolds, I think we're about to have a pleasant conversation."

Chen An picked up the M1911, put it back in the hidden compartment, and then, taking only the hunting knife and the coyote tail, pushed open the door and went out.

The sunlight was blinding.

The dilapidated Ford pickup truck roared like an asthma once again.

Carrying this "hunter" who had just gained a foothold in America, we drove towards that small town full of opportunities and crises.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Whitefish Sheriff's Office.

This is a single-story red brick house with three mud-covered Ford Crown Victoria police cars parked in front.

The interior design is stuck in the 1990s, and the air is filled with the smell of cheap coffee and old paper.

Chen An placed the sealed bag containing the coyote tail on the scratched wooden counter.

"Good morning, ma'am. I'm here to collect the bounty."

The person in charge of reception was an older woman named Martha, who was wearing a pair of reading glasses that almost slipped down to the tip of her nose and was writing furiously on a crossword puzzle.

"Name, address, Social Security number." Martha didn't even look up.

"Chen An, Sunset Stream Farm."

Martha's pen stopped. She adjusted her glasses, looked up at Chen An, and said, "Oh, that Eastern boy who inherited that stubborn old man George's legacy?"

"I heard you caused quite a stir over there last night? I mean, that emergency call about the debt."

In this tiny town, news spreads faster than the speed of light.

"I guess so," Chen An said with a helpless wry smile, "but that's why I came here today."

"Yesterday I went to the mountains to pick mushrooms, and this coyote kept following me, so I... defended myself."

Martha glanced at the broken tail with disdain, confirming its features.

Then he opened the drawer, counted out five crumpled ten-dollar bills, and threw them on the counter.

"Fifty dollars. Sign."

Chen An put away the money and signed the papers. But he didn't leave immediately. Instead, he leaned against the counter and casually asked, "By the way, is the sheriff here?"

"Reynolds? He's drinking that damn instant coffee in the back. What's up?"

"Regarding yesterday's police report... I've remembered some details and think I might need to report them to him in person."

"After all, I'm new here and don't want to cause trouble." Chen An's expression was as sincere as a Boy Scout.

"Go in, through the door on the left."

Pushing open the door, Chen An saw Sheriff Reynolds.

The tough guy had his feet propped up on the table, holding a donut in his hand. When he saw Chen An come in, he raised an eyebrow but didn't put his feet down.

"If it's because of those debt collectors from last night, kid, I've already said it, that's a civil dispute."

Reynolds took a bite of the donut, and crumbs fell onto his uniform.

"As long as they don't physically assault people or commit arson, I can't arrest them. That's the law."

"I understand, sir."

Chen An pulled out a chair and sat down, looking somewhat hesitant, as if he were having a fierce internal struggle.

"What's the point of that?" Reynolds asked impatiently.

"As for why those people approached Tom... I mean, Tom's been behaving really strangely lately."

Chen An lowered his voice and leaned forward, "You know, I live right next door."

"Yesterday morning, when I was picking mushrooms on the mountain, I saw Tom sneakily digging a hole in the place where there had been a wildfire before."

"Digging a hole?" Reynolds slowed his chewing. "It's not illegal. Maybe he's burying his empty wine bottles."

"I thought so at first too." Chen An swallowed, his eyes flickering.

"But... after he left, I was just too curious."

"After all, he seemed really nervous yesterday and kept looking around. So I went over to take a look."

"And then?" Reynolds put his foot down, his eyes sharpening.

"The hole wasn't filled in properly. I dug away a little bit of soil... and saw a corner sticking out."

Chen An gestured with his hand, "It's one of those... those red cylinders with the word 'Danger' printed on them."

"There are also some wires. They look like... I mean, if I'm not mistaken, like the kind of industrial explosives used to blast rocks."

"What?!"

Reynolds jumped to his feet, the chair screeching as it did so. "Are you sure you're not mistaken? Red? And wires?"