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

Sarah immediately bristled like a mother hen protecting her chicks:

"That's right! I can testify! Reynolds, don't try to scare recent graduates with your nonsense."

"He lives next door to me. If a car goes in or out, the noise is like thunder; there's no way I wouldn't hear it!"

Sheriff Reynolds glanced at Sarah, who had an upright and righteous look on her face, and then at Chen An, who looked completely harmless.

Finally, he snorted and opened the car door.

"That would be best. If you see any suspicious people, or find anything that shouldn't be in the field, call me immediately."

He glanced meaningfully at the tools in the truck bed behind Chen An, then put on his sunglasses.

"Welcome to Montana, kid. It's not as peaceful as you see on TV."

Watching the police car drive away, Chen An's smile didn't disappear; instead, it became even brighter.

He silently thanked Reynolds in his heart.

These words completely validated the value of Tom's secret.

"You must have been terrified," Sarah turned around and looked at Chen An with concern.

"Ignore that bastard, Reynolds is always so paranoid."

"Come on, the beef pie is ready, it's sizzling and dripping oil in the oven."

Chen An looked at Sarah's cheeks, which were flushed with anxiety, and her full breasts, which rose and fell with her breath.

He took the shea butter hand cream out of his pocket and gently placed it in Sarah's hand.

"I wasn't scared. But I think this hand cream is perfect for your hardworking hands."

Sarah was stunned.

She looked at the small silver tube in her hand, then looked up and met Chen An's dark eyes, which seemed to hold starlight.

At that moment, the Montana sunset seemed to become even gentler and more ambiguous.

"...You silly child."

Sarah's voice was as soft as water.

………………

The Miller family's two-story white log cabin exudes a typical American country charm from the outside.

Wind chimes hung on the porch, and several pots of somewhat withered geraniums sat on the windowsill.

But when Chen An followed Sarah into the living room, he was not greeted by a warm family atmosphere.

Instead, it was a mixture of stale beer smell, fried food smell, and some indescribable dullness.

"Please, sit wherever you like, An." Sarah somewhat awkwardly placed Chen An's brown paper bag on the shoe cabinet.

Then she bent down and got him a pair of clean cotton slippers. "The house is a bit messy. The kids were just playing around."

Chen An's gaze did not linger on the Lego bricks scattered on the carpet, but rather naturally swept around the entryway.

Several pairs of shoes were piled up haphazardly there.

Among them, a pair of dark brown high-top work boots, the same style worn by George, caught his attention.

The soles of the boots still had fresh, damp black mud clinging to their edges.

There were even a few pine needles that weren't completely rotten mixed in.

The color and texture of the soil were exactly the same as the soil in the burned area behind Chen'an Farm.

Those are Tom's boots.

It's confirmed.

"Who's at the door? Is it that nosy bastard Reynolds again?"

A gruff, hoarse male voice came from the leather recliner deep inside the living room.

Chen An looked up.

The television was loudly broadcasting ESPN sports news.

On that nearly collapsed single sofa, a "mountain of flesh" was sprawled out.

Tom Miller looks greasy and颓废 in person than he does in photos.

He was wearing a white vest with a yellowed collar.

The fat on his belly was piled up like melted ice cream, and he was clutching a can of Budweiser beer tightly in his hand.

His full beard stood up like a tangled mess of weeds.

Those bloodshot eyes looked over with intense hostility and drunkenness.

"This is Anne, George's nephew next door... or rather, his cousin."

Sarah's voice betrayed obvious fatigue and impatience.

She walked over and picked up the pizza box that had been discarded on the ground.

"Ann is here for dinner."

"Tom, if you can still stand up, you'd better go wash your face. I don't want you to look like a homeless person in front of our guests."

"George's Chinese nephew?"

Tom squinted, showing no intention of getting up.

Instead, he looked Chen An up and down with an extremely impolite gaze.

He muttered something under his breath.

"It looks like a chick that hasn't been weaned."

"Hey kid, do you know kung fu?"

"Or will you, like those math idiots, calculate this week's lottery odds for me?"

This is a very typical, unmasked redneck racial stereotype.

If it were the Chen An of the past, fresh out of school, he might already be angry.

But Chen An just smiled gently.

That smile carried a condescending tolerance, like a normal person looking at a mental patient.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Miller, I'm not good at math, nor am I Jackie Chan."

Chen An's voice was calm and clear.

"However, if you always lose money on the lottery, perhaps it's better to try again when you're on a luckier day."

"For example...when you haven't done anything wrong."

Tom's hand holding the beer can trembled violently.

A flicker of fear and panic flashed in those cloudy eyes.

He subconsciously shrank deeper into the sofa, avoiding Chen An's gaze.

"Screw you... Don't lecture me."

Tom muttered to himself, picked up the remote and turned up the TV volume to hide his guilty conscience.

"Sarah! Where's my dinner? I'm starving!"

Sarah glanced apologetically at Chen An, her eyes filled with helplessness and a hint of shame at having her family's dirty laundry exposed to outsiders.

"Ignore him, An. Let's come to the restaurant."

Sarah gently tugged at Chen An's sleeve.

This gentle pull carries a sense of vulnerability, a desire for support.

………………

Dinner consisted of beef pie, mashed potatoes, and canned corn kernels.

It must be said that Sarah's cooking skills are truly superb.

The beef pie has a golden-brown, crispy crust, and the filling is juicy and flavorful, with the taste of black pepper and onion perfectly blended.

The atmosphere at the dinner table was strange.

Tom didn't sit at the table; he insisted on eating in front of the television.

It was as if he wanted to separate himself from that unsettling Eastern boy.

There were only Sarah, Chen An, and two little boys who looked to be only seven or eight years old at the table.

The two children were wolfing down food.

Aside from glancing curiously at the unfamiliar black-haired man a few times, he didn't have time to say anything.

"Those were Mike and Jerry, at the age when they were most mischievous, like monkeys."

Sarah sat opposite Chen An.

I cut him a big piece of beef pie, speaking gently.

"My eldest daughter, Jessica, went to college in Seattle. It would probably be more lively at home if she were here."

"This is delicious, Sarah," Chen An said sincerely after taking a bite.

"This might be the best meal I've had since I came to the United States."

"Oh, then you can come often in the future."

Sarah's face looked especially rosy under the warm yellow restaurant lights.

She seemed to have touched up her makeup today, with a light layer of lip gloss on her lips, making them look crystal clear.