Lillian Moore introduced both parties: “This is Mr. Taylor and the town secretary Little Brooks.” She pointed at the man: “Mr. Taylor, this is my neighbor Brother Brooks.” Then she said to the man, “Chris, there’s nothing more for you here, you can go back now.”

Ethan Taylor nodded slightly to himself. So he was Chris Brooks, and he seemed like a very honest person. It looked like Lillian Moore’s later years would be quite good. It seemed that after William Thompson passed away, Chris Brooks often came by to help Lillian Moore, and over time, feelings developed, and the two ended up together.

As he was thinking this, he happened to turn his head and saw Lillian Moore winking at Chris Brooks. Ethan Taylor was a little surprised; that kind of eye contact shouldn’t appear between mere neighbors. Chris Brooks nodded earnestly, then started to walk out. Ethan Taylor noticed the deep green rubber shoes on his bare feet and couldn’t help but frown.

Just as Chris Brooks reached the iron gate and was about to open it to leave, Ethan Taylor suddenly called out, “Chris Brooks, wait a moment!”

“You, come here, come here!” Ethan Taylor waved repeatedly at the halted and flustered Chris Brooks.

Chris Brooks stammered a bit as he spoke: “Mr. Taylor… you… if you have something to say… just say it… I… I still have to go… go to the fields in a bit…”

Ethan Taylor gave a slight smile: “It’s nothing, just want to chat with you. Come on, let’s go inside and talk.” Without waiting for a reply, he copied Emma Brooks’s cheeky style, lifted the bamboo curtain, and entered the main room. The east room in William Thompson’s house was a bedroom, with bedding neatly stacked at the end of the kang. The floor was cement; at that time, it was rare for rural homes to have tiled floors, and a cement-smoothed floor like William Thompson’s was already quite good.

Lillian Moore, Chris Brooks, and Emma Brooks followed him inside. Ethan Taylor gestured for them to sit, and everyone took a seat on the chairs. Emma Brooks dragged her chair next to Ethan Taylor, and whispered in his ear, “Mr. Taylor, isn’t it inconvenient to talk with outsiders present? This Chris Brooks is a bit slow-witted—don’t let him spread what we say.” Ethan Taylor replied, “Do we have any secrets that can’t be told? Or are you, Little Brooks, planning to drop some earth-shattering news in a bit?” Ethan Taylor had found some clues and was in a great mood, finding this “green apple” phase godmother even more amusing, and suddenly wanted to tease her. Emma Brooks pouted, rolled her eyes at Ethan Taylor, and wanted to retort but held back—after all, Ethan Taylor was still her boss.

Ethan Taylor spoke gently to Lillian Moore and Chris Brooks: “Don’t be nervous, let’s just chat about daily life.” As he spoke, he began asking Lillian Moore about her recent life, whether she had any difficulties, and occasionally turned to ask Chris Brooks about the village’s production situation. Gradually, Chris Brooks and Lillian Moore became less restrained, and their conversation became more fluent.

Emma Brooks pouted angrily. She had thought Ethan Taylor came to William Thompson’s house for something important, but it turned out to be just small talk. Hadn’t they done enough of this kind of formal visit in farmhouses before? And at a time like this? He still had the leisure for this—did he think that making the Ma family’s eldest sister happy would make her withdraw her petition materials?

The more she thought about it, the more Ethan Taylor seemed out of line. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have come today. Emma Brooks had a good impression of Ethan Taylor—a young deputy secretary, full of energy, and an academic type. At that time, most grassroots leaders in Yanshan County came from military backgrounds; such refined, scholarly types were rare. Emma Brooks didn’t believe the gentle Ethan Taylor would use harsh interrogation tactics. She was sure the problem lay with the police chief Daniel Brooks. She thought Ethan Taylor had come to clarify the matter, but instead, he was just making empty small talk. Emma Brooks was so angry that, if not for Ethan Taylor’s position, she would have scolded him already.

Chris Brooks and Lillian Moore also became more talkative. Anyway, rumor had it that the current secretary wouldn’t last long, so the two dared to air some grievances they usually kept to themselves, venting to the town’s number two. This number two was especially good at listening to complaints, and would occasionally chime in at just the right moment, hitting the nail on the head and striking a chord with them. For rural folks like Lillian Moore and Chris Brooks, it was rare to have such an engaging conversation partner. The more they talked, the more excited they became, as if they were catching up with an old friend, and once they started, they couldn’t stop.

In the midst of the conversation, Ethan Taylor suddenly said, “Chris Brooks, where were you the night William Thompson died? Were you in this room?”

Caught completely off guard, Chris Brooks froze and stammered, “W-what?” He looked up and saw Ethan Taylor’s gaze as sharp as a knife, staring straight into his eyes, as if trying to see into his heart. In his ears, he heard Ethan Taylor slowly enunciate each word: “On the night of December 27th last year, at nine o’clock, where were you? Were you in this room?” Each word seemed to pound on his heart. In that instant, Chris Brooks’s heart seemed to stop beating, his mind buzzing, unable to utter a single word.

“He—he wasn’t here, he was at home sleeping.” Lillian Moore quickly interjected, her face pale.

Ethan Taylor smiled and turned to Lillian Moore: “How do you know where he was? Would he need to tell you even about sleeping at home?” Lillian Moore was left speechless, unable to say a word.