The sunset was blood-red, staining Los Angeles, the City of Angels, with an eerie crimson hue.
Wearing the handsome Western face of "Jack Smith," Chen Lin wheeled his suitcase out of the terminal, his expression blank. California's distinctive dry heat greeted him, mingling with exhaust fumes and the sea breeze.
Not far away, beside a stretch Lincoln, Liu Ruyan was shaking hands and talking with several businesspeople in sharp suits. She looked poised and capable, a trace of travel fatigue lingering between her brows, yet she remained strikingly elegant.
Their gazes crossed for an instant, then quickly parted.
To Liu Ruyan, he was merely a handsome, somewhat arrogant foreigner she had met by chance. To Chen Lin, she was President Liu of the Zhengtian Group, a queen arriving to expand her business empire.
Their paths briefly intersected at that moment, only to diverge in utterly different directions. One led to business negotiations in the light; the other, to the prelude to slaughter in the dark.
Chen Lin did not linger in Los Angeles. He transferred straight onto the next available flight to San Francisco.
When he reached the legendary "city of freedom" late that night, what greeted him was the complete opposite of its reputation.
Tents made of rags and cardboard littered the streets, and homeless people huddled in corners like wandering ghosts. The air reeked of marijuana, urine, and rotting garbage, a nauseating blend.
This was the beacon of freedom so many people yearned for?
A cold, mocking smile curled Chen Lin's lips.
He walked along the sidewalk and witnessed two brazen armed robberies in barely ten minutes.
When a third thug, a tall, skinny black man, set his sights on him as a "rich-looking white tourist," Chen Lin did not even bother to stop walking.
The thug snickered,