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

About ten minutes later.

In the living room, Lyon was about to pour himself another glass of water when Arthur's weak voice came from the half-open door of the guest bedroom.

"Mr. Vance...could you please come in for a moment?"

Lyon put down his water glass, pushed open the door and went inside, with old Bill following behind.

Arthur had now sat up a little straighter, leaning against the pillows. He looked at Leon, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke, seemingly having carefully considered his words for a long time.

"Mr. Vance, I'd like to ask you some questions... What exactly is that place, the East, like?"

Arthur's eyes held a hint of confusion and a desire for confirmation:

"I am a religious person. I have never left the United States in my life."

"On our television and in our newspapers, the East has always been portrayed as a very scary place."

"They said there was no faith there, and the internet was censored. They also said the factories there were sweatshops."

"And what about the credit score system? All of everyone's actions, including jaywalking and online comments, are recorded and deducted from their total score in real time."

"If the total score is too low, you will be blacklisted and restricted in all aspects. The government uses this to monitor and control the people."

Arthur listed several stereotypes that he'd heard countless times in the news or from marketing accounts, then shook his head, his tone turning bitter:

"I used to believe in these things. But now I have nothing left, and I don't care about that so-called freedom anymore."

"I only have two questions for you."

Arthur stared into Leon's eyes, his expression expectant:

"Are there gangs like those in Seattle? You know, the kind that walk around with guns, force young kids to sell drugs, and then run loan sharking schemes that drive entire families to their deaths?"

"And are there homeless people like me, or like those in the church, who are forced to sleep on the streets and wait to die because they can't afford medical care or rent?"

Lyon found Arthur's words both absurd and laughable. However, he also knew that this was the true perception of the East held by the vast majority of Americans who had never been abroad.

"Arthur, you should watch less of that kind of idiotic news."

Leon pulled out a chair and sat down, waving his hand dismissively but with a confident tone:

"Gangs? In the East, who the hell would dare to openly call themselves a gangster on the street?"

"If just two or three people dare to get together and form some kind of organized crime group, and even dare to lend money at exorbitant interest rates, driving people to their deaths, the police will come knocking on their door and take them all down before the next day."

"At most, there are some petty thugs who dare not show their faces in the light, but there are no gangs like those in your America that can dominate several blocks."

"As for the homeless people you mentioned..."

Leon paused for a moment, recalling scenes from his past life.

"To be honest, I haven't seen a real homeless person in a long time, and my memory of them is very vague."

"What impressed me most were those able-bodied people who deliberately made themselves look pitiful, kneeling on overpasses or in subway stations pretending to be homeless to scam money."

"There's nothing we can do; people over there are sometimes too kind-hearted and easily deceived."

Leon looked at Arthur and continued:

"Over there, if you really go bankrupt, have nowhere to live, and can't even afford food, you don't need to rummage through trash cans or beg any pastors."

"All you need to do is walk into the nearest police station, which is our police station, and tell the officer on duty that you are starving to death."

"The police will not only not kick you out, but will also immediately give you a bowl of instant noodles or a boxed lunch."

"Once you've eaten, they'll contact the civil affairs department to send you to a shelter, or they'll contact your family to arrange where you'll go next."

"Anyone who dares to watch you starve to death on the street is seriously derelict in their duty and will lose their job."

Arthur listened blankly to Leon's words.

"Walk into the police station...and say you're hungry?"

He repeated it to himself, his eyes initially filled with disbelief.

In the United States, if a homeless person covered in foul odor dares to walk into a police station begging for food, he will most likely be treated as mentally ill or causing trouble, and will be pinned to the ground and handcuffed by several burly police officers, and may even be beaten with batons.

But seeing Leon's matter-of-fact expression, some of Arthur's preconceived notions began to crumble.

There are no gangs. If you're hungry, the police will take care of you.

This sounds like an unrealistic paradise.

He bit his lower lip and slowly lowered his head.

If there really were a place in the world where the police could completely wipe out the gangs.

Wouldn't his son have survived? Wouldn't his family have been spared from falling apart?

Then, he raised his left hand and vigorously rubbed his cheek with his entire palm, covering his face, finally stopping at his eyes and rubbing them hard.

"well……"

Arthur lowered his hand and let out a long sigh.

He looked up at Lyon, his voice a little hoarse.

"Stop talking, Mr. Vance."

Arthur nodded, his voice trembling slightly. "I believe you."