You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

"Historical videos?" Ryan's lips twitched, his hand still resting on the edge of the notebook.

He forced himself not to look at the screen, but his eyes quickly glanced over there before he quickly looked away.

"Yes, yes, I really want to improve, so I watch some... documentaries about medieval European agriculture. They're pretty boring, but I watch them when I can't sleep."

"Medieval agriculture," Lyon repeated, still leaning against the doorframe, one hand in his jacket pocket.

"And it also talks about how lords suppress peasant uprisings?"

Ryan chuckled twice: "Well... it's about the land system, the feudal manor economy, and taxes back then. Oh, it's mainly about economic history, not about uprisings."

"Yes, not about an uprising." Leon nodded, looking quite serious.

He took a step inside; the storage room was so small that with that step, he was practically standing next to the folding table.

Ryan immediately took a small step back, his lower back hitting the cardboard box with a dull thud.

"You hide in a dark room in the middle of the night, with the door closed and your voice hushed." Leon's gaze fell on the screen.

"Use terms like 'peasant uprising,' 'divide and conquer,' 'moderates,' and 'die-hards' to create a short film about 'medieval economic history.'"

"Are you trying to tell me that you're actually researching fiscal balance under European serfdom?" "The truth is... it really does involve fiscal balance." After Ryan finished speaking, he felt that his excuse was so bad it could choke him.

He closed his eyes, slammed the laptop shut, and turned around.

"Boss, I admit I was working on some historical content, but I absolutely did not mean any disrespect to you."

"Actually, it's just that kind of... you know, online left-wing self-indulgent channels, where people vent their frustrations and satirize society. It's purely for entertainment. I never talk about this with anyone at the base. I'm afraid they'll think I'm weird."

"Entertainment channel." Leon smiled.

"The door was closed, headphones were on, the phone was still connected, and you jumped up halfway through editing to block the screen with your chest—you call that entertainment?"

Ryan opened his mouth, but didn't make a sound for a long time. A thin layer of sweat appeared on his forehead.

Seeing his expression, Leon felt there was no point in going around in circles with him any longer, so he decided to be direct. He gestured with his chin toward the plastic chair: "Sit down and let's talk this out."

Ryan glanced at the chair, but remained standing in the same spot.

"If I were here to arrest you, you wouldn't be in this house anymore," Leon added.

These words seemed to drain the last bit of strength from Ryan's legs, and he slumped down, the plastic chair creaking.

Then, Ryan rubbed his face, looked up, and the fake smile on his face slowly faded: "How much did you hear?" "A lot, basically all of it."

"Since that's the case... Boss, I won't lie to you." Ryan took a deep breath, not thinking that Ray was lying to him. After all, Ray had already pushed the door open and come in, so it was impossible that he really hadn't heard anything.

"I've worked in online promotion for many years, so I'm quite sensitive to things like organization, mobilization, and street movements."

"Don't let my current appearance fool you. I really did go astray before. I worked for a team that talked about democracy and freedom but couldn't even distribute a bottle of mineral water properly."

"I'm just scared by past lessons and can't tell whether your base is genuinely trying to give everyone a way out, or it's a sting operation, or worse, a far-right organization disguised as charity."

"So you came here to observe who I really am?" Leon said.

"Yes." Ryan nodded, no longer denying it.

"Then let me tell you, I have no interest in determining anyone's political affiliation," Lyon said.

"I need people to clean up the streets in Seattle, I need people to do the work, and I need people to keep an eye on the scum from City Hall to the port."

"Those 'economic demands' and 'political demands' you mentioned only translate into tangible things for me: jobs, bread, healthcare, and order."

"Whoever has the ability to get this rotten place running again is a useful person."

"This is too... vague." Ryan frowned. "You don't mention any political stance, you just say you want to get things done. In America, that's called technocratism."

"You think something's wrong with me?" Leon asked.

"Not really." Ryan scratched his stubble, his eyes darting around.

"It's just too similar to their style."

He paused, then added, "Don't misunderstand, I'm not saying you're one of them. I'm just saying that this kind of efficient, disciplined, and unambitious approach is something the normal American left simply can't do."

Lyon didn't respond to that, but just glanced at him indifferently: "We've come full circle. You insist on knowing my identity and position, but you're unwilling to reveal your own position to me."

Ryan opened his mouth, but couldn't answer.

The storage room fell silent for a moment, and then a very soft male voice came through the laptop's headphones.

"Mr. Ray, is that you?"

Because the sound came from the headphones, it was very quiet, but Leon was standing close, and his extraordinary hearing picked up every little sound.

Ryan paused for a moment, instinctively raising his hand to hang up the call, then hesitated and looked at Leon.

"The call hasn't ended?" Leon asked. "...I didn't have time," Ryan said, forcing a smile.

"Turn on the speakers to play."

Ryan swallowed hard, unplugged the headphones, and Old Huo's voice drifted out from the laptop's speaker, with a faint background noise.

"Mr. Ray Fong." Old Huo seemed to have lowered his voice, and the background machine sounds had stopped.

"I heard part of what you just said. Combined with the information Ryan sent back earlier, I don't think you're an FBI agent. The FBI wouldn't talk like that."

"Thank you for the compliment," Lyon said.

"Since you won't reveal your identity or stance, let me ask you another question: what exactly do you want?" Old Huo continued.

"You take over these homeless people, regulate the area, and deal with gangs—what are you after?"

Lyon didn't rush to answer.

He knew perfectly well that he was a time traveler, a fact he could never tell these people, and if he were to ask "what I want to do," he wouldn't actually be able to explain it.

They should ask MacArthur, Thomas, and those native-born Americans, now influenced by their own strongholds, what they want to do.

He was just passing by and happened to lend a hand to these people.

Leon raised his chin, staring at Ryan, but his words were directed at Old Huo:

"Don't ask me what my motives are. You're hiding here in the middle of the night, recording videos, making phone calls, and constantly investigating my hideout. Let me ask you this first: after confirming my stance, what are you planning to do?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.

Old Huo finally said, "We want to confirm whether you are an ally."

"In other words, you need allies," Lyon said, directly pointing out the other party's subtext.

"need."

"What's the point of having allies?"

Old Huo fell silent, this silence lasting even longer than before, so long that Ryan became restless, repeatedly rubbing his knees.

After nearly ten seconds, Old Huo said in a voice that sounded like it was being squeezed out between clenched teeth, "We want to make changes, real changes."

"It's not about getting on TV or electing another terrible mayor. We want to bring about change in America right now, which is why we're constantly looking for allies."

"So you already have some allies, right? That means you have people outside Seattle," Leon quickly added. Old Huo remained silent, neither confirming nor denying.

Leon smiled and said, "If you don't deny it, then I'll take it as if I'm right."

"Ray fong..." Old Huo's voice tightened, clearly not expecting Ray to steer the conversation so firmly.

"Relax," Leon said, glancing at Ryan.

"I can tell you right now that I am your ally."

"And if nothing unexpected happens, I have significantly more resources than you currently have."

"But that's exactly why I'm being watched by a bunch of scum. My people and my forces are now locked up in Seattle and can't get out."

He paused, then shifted his gaze from Ryan to the storage room.

"You have people outside Seattle, which is perfect, I need someone to reach out to me."

"So the question now isn't whether I need you or not, but whether you're willing to share a portion of your external network and connect with me."

There was no answer on the other end of the phone.

"I will consider supporting your actions," Leon continued. "But support isn't just about words."

"I need to know what kind of operation you have outside, how many people you have, where you are located, what you can do, and what you can't do."

"So, you, or someone on your side who has influence, need to meet with me."

"Meet?" Old Huo repeated.

"Yes, you choose the time and place, and it must be clean. When we meet, I will tell you my assessment of you, and you will be able to see clearly what I want to do. We can discuss whether to cooperate then."

Old Huo took a breath and slowly exhaled: "I can't make this decision alone. I'll meet with other people tomorrow, and if things go smoothly, I'll give Ryan a definite answer by tomorrow night and have him bring you the time and place."

"Okay," Lyon said.

"I can pretend that your raid on my base tonight never happened. But if you want to test me again next time, you'd better think carefully about the pros and cons."

"Understood." Old Huo's voice lowered. "Then... let's leave it at that for now."

The call ended.

Ryan sat in the chair, his collar soaked.

Leon turned to walk towards the door, then stopped and looked back at him: "Tell me your video account name later, I want to see your videos. But I don't even need to see them to know that the background noise in your videos is too loud. Remember to record in a different location next time."

After saying that, he opened the door and went out.

……

The next morning, when Lyon drove to the west entrance of the city hall, Xavi was already waiting there.

He was wearing a dark suit and holding half a handkerchief in his hand, repeatedly pressing it against the back of his neck.

It was the dead of winter, so it certainly wasn't hot, but the west side entrance of the city hall was directly sheltered from the wind, and the sun shone down directly on it. The area where Harvey was standing was completely exposed to the sun.

Lyon parked the car, and Eva got out first.

If you think about it, the East District riots actually happened just the night before last. That night, I had just told Eva that she would have to follow me.

Yesterday, after Lyon met with Ryan at the bowling alley, he went to compile a list to be submitted to the city hall. Just as he finished, Eva contacted him.

She said that after two more days, she was almost fully recovered and could officially stay by Leon's side, so Leon took the opportunity to pull her along.

She was wearing a black turtleneck top and matching cargo pants, tactical boots, and a black mask covering her face, revealing only her eyes and half of her nose. Her hair was covered by a black beanie. This fierce outfit made her look no different from a Middle Eastern bandit.

As she stood outside the side door, even the city hall clerks passing by instinctively gave her a half-meter berth. Lyon got out of the car, and Harvey quickly approached: "Thank goodness you're here! I thought you'd be late."

"We agreed to meet at 10:40, and it's 10:30 now." Leon raised his wrist. "You're too early."

"I haven't had a good night's sleep in almost ten days," Harvey said in a low voice. "The mattress in the safe house smelled musty, and I woke up at four o'clock."

As he spoke, his gaze swept over Eva's hood before quickly returning to it, not daring to linger. He simply tilted his head slightly towards Leon and lowered his voice:

"Are your people alright? I mean, she doesn't have to wear that tactical outfit anymore? Before, she always looked like she'd just come back from filming a spy movie."

"She's healed, this is normal working condition." Leon didn't explain further, casually put the car keys in his pocket, and led Eva toward the side door.

Harvey jogged after him, lowering his voice as he walked: "Let me make this clear upfront."

"The three people you're going to meet later are all union presidents who have some influence in Seattle: the waiters' union, the construction union, and the dockworkers' union."

"Damn it, they're all a bunch of shrewd idiots. There's only one way to deal with them: money."

"The more money, donations, contracts, and projects you promise them, the more they'll pat themselves on the back and say you're a friend of the working people."

"If you don't pay up, they'll forget you behind their coffee cup as soon as they leave, not even letting you smell their farts."

"Talk to them for half an hour, feed them, and they'll be willing to take you around to the back to meet the real second group of people."

"Those people aren't the president, but they're not just errand boys either; they're the ones who actually manage things in the union."

"If you want to establish yourself in the union, you can't get around them."

"So, according to you, these three are paying tolls?" Leon chuckled.

"That's exactly what I mean." Harvey nodded immediately. "They're only responsible for collecting tolls, not for helping you pass through."

"Are you going to go with them or not?" Leon asked.

"Go ahead, if I don't go, who's going to smooth things over for you?"

"If those unionists say something too aggressive, I can still stand in the middle and say something like, 'The mayor's office supports cooperation between unions and NGOs,'" Harvey said, tugging at his collar.

"However, they hate it when the mayor gets involved, so you'll be the one mainly talking to them. I'll just be a breathing decoration."

As he spoke, Harvey subconsciously glanced back at Eva.

The other person walked a step behind him, their steps so light they were almost silent. Behind the black mask, their eyes scanned the door signs and security cameras on either side of the corridor. Harvey felt a chill run down his spine.

He had seen this woman before; she had been temporarily placed in the city hall security team by Lyon, and she had intimidated a group of veteran security guards into submission. Later, she followed him around for two days.

He only knew that she was a "professional" and didn't dare to ask anything else.

He wasn't even sure if she was a bodyguard or a killer for the Lyon family responsible for slitting people's throats.

After all, these days, people who can quietly follow Lyon around are definitely not just doing things like reminding the mayor to use the emergency exits.

As he was thinking, Eva suddenly spoke, her voice coming from behind the mask, carrying a dry, cold tone:

"Mr. Mayor, the way you're revealing the details makes you look just like a secretary reporting to his boss."

"Are you the mayor, or is he the mayor?"

Harvey's face flushed instantly: "Of course I'm the mayor! But this is a private meeting, not a live TV broadcast. Who says the mayor has to walk at the front..."

"Forget it, professionals like you wouldn't understand politics."

"...I'm doing this for the future of Seattle..."