My absurd experiences in North America over the years

Gadot changed into a beige suit, her hair was put up, revealing her slender neck and two pearl earrings on her earlobes, and she was carrying a large canvas tote bag.

When she came out of the room, the sunlight shone on her, making her look like she had just stepped off a magazine cover.

Li Fu was slightly stunned.

"What are you looking at?" Gadot stepped forward and took his arm. "Let's go! There might be some traffic on the way."

Her initial motives were indeed not so pure.

However, at this moment, or rather, she was already deeply immersed in their relationship.

The car drove out of the apartment's garage and merged into Sunset Boulevard.

Li Fu observed in the rearview mirror for a few minutes, but no one was following him.

But he wasn't in a hurry; he knew it would come eventually.

There was indeed some traffic on the road, and by the time I dropped Gadot off at the event, it was already past 1 a.m.

An old building in the bustling city center has been converted into a temporary photography studio. Several vans are parked at the entrance, and a few staff members are moving lighting equipment.

Gadot unbuckled her seatbelt, turned to look at Li Fu, and asked, "Can you pick me up this afternoon?"

"Not necessarily, it depends on the situation. Call me when you're done," Li Fu said, unsure of his own schedule.

"Where are you going?" Gadot asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Li Fu reached out and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry, I'm just going to take care of a small matter."

Gadot didn't ask any more questions. She kissed his forehead, opened the car door, picked up her bag, and got out. "Be careful."

Li Fu watched as her assistant led her into the scene, started the car, drove out of the city center, and onto Highway 10.

Not long after, he saw a silver Toyota Camry in his rearview mirror, which seemed to be following him.

Its location was too convenient; no matter which vehicle was behind Li Fu, it was always one or two parking spaces away.

Not too close, not too far, like a shadow.

Li Fu drove off the highway and slowed down on a commercial street. When he passed an intersection, he glanced at the traffic light countdown; there were still seven seconds left on the green light.

He slowed down, reducing the speed from fifty to forty, and then to thirty.

When the light turned yellow, the front of his car was right on the white line, but he didn't rush through; instead, he stopped.

The driver behind me couldn't help but curse when the light was red.

He could have driven normally and crossed the intersection at a red light, allowing the vehicles behind him to cross together.

His slowing down actually made it impossible for everyone to pass.

It's normal to get criticized for this.

However, the driver of the Camry, which was separated from the car by one, remained very calm.

Li Fu's lips curled up slightly.

He waited for the green light to come on and continued driving forward.

At the next intersection, he turned on his right turn signal and slowly turned into a side road. The Camry did not follow and continued straight.

Could it be that I guessed wrong?

Li Fu shook his head; it was unlikely he was wrong.

If the other party is skilled, they might turn at the next intersection and go around to wait for them.

Sure enough, after crossing two streets, he saw the silver Camry again, only a few dozen meters away.

This time, Li Fu did not try to shake off the other party.

He simply drove around the city at a leisurely pace for a few minutes, then got on another highway and headed east towards Los Angeles.

The car was going at a moderate pace, like someone who had nothing to do in the afternoon, taking a leisurely drive.

It's like it's winding and turning, trying to shake someone off.

At 5:40, it began to get dark.

Li Fu exited from one of the exits in East Los Angeles and turned into a narrow street lined with low bungalows on both sides, with clutter piled up in front of the doors, and the utility poles covered with colorful "GG" stickers.

The air was filled with the smell of fried tortillas.

This is Chinatown in the west of the city. It's not the bustling area with red archways and lanterns that tourists often visit or that appears in movies and TV shows. Instead, it's old and dilapidated, inhabited by elderly Chinese people who have lived here for decades but still can't speak much English.

There were also some new "immigrants" who had just disembarked and didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

Li Fu parked his car in front of a drab six-story apartment building. Large patches of paint had peeled off the exterior walls, revealing the black waterproof layer underneath.

There are several shops on the first floor, including a Chinese medicine shop, a roast meat shop, and a general store.

Most of them are not doing very well.

He carried a backpack and walked into the building.

The stairwell was dark, with half of the light bulbs broken. Only a dim, yellowish energy-saving light shone from the corner on the third floor, humming softly.

He climbed to the fourth floor, took out his key, and opened the door to the second room on the left.

The room wasn't big, about the same size as the rented room he lived in when he first transmigrated. It contained a single bed, a folding table, a chair, and a metal wardrobe.

The window faces the alley behind, at the other end of which is an abandoned parking lot. The curtains are made of old-fashioned floral fabric, faded from washing, and have several holes.

This was also one of his temporary stops.

Not many people know this, but it came in handy today.

Li Fu did not turn on the light after entering. He sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door, and waited quietly in the darkness.

I called the landlord from the window when it got dark, saying that I was not going to stay any longer and was going to check out, and asked him to come over if he had time.

His voice wasn't quiet; if you were downstairs, you could probably hear him clearly.

The landlady was a woman in her fifties from Guangdong, speaking Cantonese with a Taishan accent. She said the area wasn't safe, so she'd let it go tonight and try again tomorrow.

This was exactly the result Li Fu wanted.

It was 10:20 p.m.

Winslop sat in the leather chair in the study, holding the encrypted phone in his hand.

The blue light from the phone screen illuminated his face. His once slicked-back, spirited appearance was gone; he was now much thinner, with sunken eyes and high cheekbones.

Only one floor lamp was on in the study, casting a dim, yellowish light that stretched the shadows on the walls.

"The target was spotted in Chinatown in the west of the city, at 247 North Spring Street, on the fourth floor of Building 3. He was packing his things, possibly checking out, but I'm sure he'll be staying there tonight."

Winslop stared at the screen, his brow furrowed slightly.

Chinatown in the west of the city?

That dilapidated and chaotic place that even the police don't want to go to?

Li Fu is no longer short of money, his status is no longer an issue, and he has a woman like Gadot by his side. What is he doing living there?

Could it be a trap?

That doesn't seem right either. Pack your things? Check out?

Winslop's brow relaxed slightly.

This information, taken together, largely dispelled his doubts.

Perhaps it was a temporary place he had stayed before.

The lease is up and I need to move out.

Whoever has money and status lives where?

This does fit Li Fu's identity and experience.

Winslop wrote down the address the detective sent and then sent it to another encrypted number.

Those are anonymous accounts commonly used by assassins on the dark web.

We'll take action tonight. This is a rare opportunity; the area has extremely poor security, and the police are too lazy to even bother.

The timing and location were perfect for the murder.

"You're playing me for a fool? I'll send you to hell tonight!"