“What are you doing?”

At the same time, Sharon also appeared at the entrance of the detention room.

“What’s wrong with them?”

He looked at Chris and asked.

“I don’t know, they suddenly started fighting, like a bunch of mad dogs.”

Chris looked completely innocent.

Sharon didn’t suspect him, since Chris had been locked up alone in another cell.

“Feels like they’re high.”

Another police officer, after checking the situation, said to Sharon, “Is this some new stuff? Damn, it even has a delayed effect?”

Sharon was starting to get a headache too.

“Officer, I suggest a blood test.”

Standing behind Sharon, an elderly man in a suit with graying hair spoke up: “However, I hope you can prioritize my client’s case.”

“Of course!”

Officer Sharon waved his hand, signaling the police to check on the Black man’s condition.

He walked to the door of Chris’s cell and opened it.

“Chris, you can go.”

Chris asked in confusion, “The charges were dropped?”

“No, but your lawyer is here and has arranged your bail. Those guys started it, so it was self-defense on your part. But since they’re still pressing charges, you can’t leave New York before the trial, and you must be available at all times.”

Chris’s gaze fell on the old man.

“Chris, long time no see.”

“Hello, Attorney Andrew.”

He recognized the old man as Thomas’s lawyer, and also his own.

“Let’s get out of here first.”

Andrew beckoned to him.

Chris walked out of the cell and heard Sharon whisper in his ear, “Franklin Lewis is here too. If he insists on pursuing this, there’ll be a lawsuit. By the way, John Lewis has also been bailed out, and he’s now insisting you started it.”

“Thank you!”

Chris nodded and walked over to Andrew.

Andrew didn’t waste words, turned, and headed out.

The two of them, one after the other, left the police station.

An old man stood outside the station, with John Lewis behind him.

Seeing Chris, the old man walked over.

“Chris, I’m very sorry this happened. You know, Thomas and I have been friends for many years—I really didn’t want things to turn out like this. John was wrong, but you went too far! How about this: five million, the funeral home goes to me, and we’ll call it even. What do you say?”

The old man spoke gently: “I can guarantee there won’t be any trouble.”

Andrew chuckled and said, “Mr. Lewis, should I take that as a threat to Chris?”

“Hahaha, Andrew, you don’t understand how we Chinese communicate. I’m just worried the families of the injured won’t let it go. Chris just went through something terrible, and as an elder, I just don’t want him to get into trouble.”

“Mr. Lewis, you know very well we’ll win the lawsuit.”

“I know, but there are seventeen people involved. You know lawsuits are a hassle and cost money.”

“Is that so?” Andrew said with a smile, “Mr. Lewis, you must be mistaken—Chris is a wealthy man now.”

The smile slowly faded from the old man’s face.

He glanced at Andrew, then at Chris.

“In that case, I guess I’m just worrying for nothing.” He quickly smiled again and said softly, “Chris, we’re all Chinese. There’s a saying back home: when folks from the same hometown meet, their eyes fill with tears. When you’re away from home, unity is most important.”

“Take your time to think it over. If you change your mind, you can come to me anytime.”

With that, the old man turned and left.

John Lewis glared venomously at Chris, pointing at him.

“John, let’s go.”

Only then did John Lewis lower his head and follow the old man away.

Andrew smiled and said, “Chris, want to reconsider? Selling Ghost for five million is actually a pretty fair deal.”

Chris watched the old man leave with indifference, curled his lip, and said quietly, “A snake’s words are slippery, coming from its mouth. Smooth talk is like a reed pipe, and the face is thick indeed.”

Chapter 8 Thomas’s Inheritance

The black Rolls-Royce cruised smoothly along U Avenue.

Andrew handed Chris a glass of whiskey and asked with a smile, “Chris, that thing you said at the police station entrance just now—was that Chinese?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t understand it, but it sounded like you were cursing someone.”

Chris laughed, “You’re right, I was cursing him.”

According to his memory, Andrew could speak Chinese—not only Mandarin, but also fluent Shanghainese.

But just now, Chris had used the Chu dialect from the Spring and Autumn period.

Not to mention Andrew, even people born and raised in Jingchu today wouldn’t understand it.

“Where are we going now?”

“Ghost first.” Andrew took a sip of whiskey, then suddenly raised his voice and scolded, “You damn brat, I call you and your phone’s off, I email you and you don’t reply. If Bruno hadn’t called me, I wouldn’t even know you got into trouble again.”

“My mind’s a bit of a mess.”

Chris said a little embarrassedly, lowering his head.

Yesterday, when Bruno took him home, he reminded him to contact Andrew.

But he turned around and forgot...