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

Turn the page, and you'll find yourself in another world.

Night falls inside a high-rise apartment building in downtown Seattle.

This is the seized asset that Raymond Garcia intercepted using his authority. It originally belonged to a Russian money laundering expert who mysteriously "committed suicide" in the bathtub, but now it has become a safe house for Leon and old Bill.

It has to be said that these Eastern Europeans involved in the black market know how to enjoy life.

The entire apartment is located on the top floor of the building, with panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows made of the highest level of bulletproof glass, providing amazing sound insulation.

Regardless of the sirens blaring or gang fights raging outside, once the windows are closed, the only sound inside is the faint white noise from the 24/7 air conditioning.

Underfoot was a thick wool carpet that made no sound when stepped on, and on the wall hung several abstract paintings that were neither real nor fake.

Looking out from the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows, you can see the entire Seattle cityscape at night.

Lyon pushed open the door and casually tossed the key onto the walnut shoe cabinet in the entryway.

These past few days he's been busy dealing with the human trafficking case on 12th Street, dealing with Sterling, and outwitting Carlos. He's been working non-stop for two days, and only now does he finally have time to return to this new outpost and check on Old Bill's progress.

Lyon habitually took off his leather shoes in the entryway and put on a pair of soft-soled slippers.

Then he went straight to the island in the open kitchen, turned on the water dispenser, and filled himself a large glass of steaming warm water.

Carrying a water glass, Lyon walked into the living room.

Old Bill was sitting on a large leather sofa, with a pile of densely written draft paper on the coffee table in front of him, covered with all sorts of complex geometric figures and calculation formulas.

"Busy, Bill?"

Lyon took a sip of warm water and sat down on the single sofa opposite him.

"Ah, Mr. Vance, you're back."

Old Bill quickly put down his pen and rubbed his slightly red eyes.

In this safe and illusory world these past few days, he has been eating and sleeping well, and he no longer shows any trace of the miserable state of a starving ghost he was a few days ago. His eyes have regained the brilliance of a highly educated person.

"Written in the last few days?"

Leon pointed to the pile of papers on the table. "How's it going?"

"It's all here."

Old Bill carefully pushed several neatly arranged sheets of paper in front of Lyon, looking somewhat proud:

"Without internal computer-aided calculations, I can only write down the core logic from memory."

"This is about the modal decoupling algorithm for hemispherical resonant gyroscopes (HRGs) under strong vibration environments, and another part is about the error feedforward compensation mechanism for nonlinear piezoelectric actuators..."

"stop."

Lyon stared at the formulas on the paper that looked like scribbles, and the long string of compound words in the title that he couldn't even read. He felt his brain, which had just started to clear up, begin to malfunction again.

"Bill, we agreed before that we'd use language that even a three-year-old could understand."

Leon tapped the table. "What's the point of writing this on paper?"

"Uh... to put it simply," old Bill coughed, trying to make his language more colloquial, "it's very valuable."

"Got it. It's very valuable." Leon nodded in satisfaction.

Old Bill looked at Lyon's calm expression, then at the steaming glass of water in his hand.

Although he didn't go out during the past few days, he had been quietly observing Lyon.

This guy, who appears to be a white police officer, has really strange lifestyle habits.

She always changes her shoes when she enters the house; a few days ago, when she ordered Chinese takeout, she used chopsticks more skillfully than a knife and fork; and she almost exclusively drinks warm water...

This seemed utterly absurd to him; Americans fill their water with ice even in the dead of winter.

In addition, there was his plan to send himself to the other side of the ocean.

Old Bill had already mentally filled in the blanks; it was a logical closed loop.

This Officer Vance is definitely an Eastern agent who has been deeply disguised and infiltrated the American violent institutions.

Maybe it's a crow or a deep-sea creature that was adopted from a young age.

Anyway, old Bill completely believed it.

"Mr. Vance."

He hesitated for a moment, then placed his hands clasped on his knees, his expression becoming somewhat serious.

"You've gone to so much trouble to settle me here. Besides... well, sending me back to your hometown, is there anything else you need my help with?"

He lowered his voice, giving off an expression that said, "I understand, I will cooperate with the organization."

"Although I'm now a cripple, I still have some old acquaintances in the military industry. If you need to inquire about any intelligence or analyze any technical blueprints, I can definitely help."

Lyon paused for a moment, his hand holding the water glass still.

Looking at the man's eager expression of loyalty, he could roughly guess what the old man was imagining.

However, he didn't intend to explain.

Let it be a misunderstanding. I probably can't bring myself to say that I'm actually a white police officer who wants to settle in the East.