Wang Qiqi and Lu Qiaowei tumbled into the apartment, laden with bags, and immediately collapsed onto the floor. The journey, in a word, had been unspeakable.

Han Tao emerged from his room, a mug in hand, intending to fetch some coffee from the kitchen. He found the two women sitting right there on the cold floor, their shopping scattered around them. “What’s wrong with you two?” At first, Han Tao assumed they were simply exhausted from carrying too much, but their expressions weren't weary—they were terrified.

“Did something happen?” A sudden realization flashed through Han Tao, his face draining of color. Even though Qiqi stood before him unharmed, his heart hammered against his ribs. They had dodged the bullet this time, but what if there was a next? They couldn't just stop leaving the house altogether.

Fatty was drawn out by the tension in Han Tao’s voice. “Weiwei, what’s going on with you two?” He had been about to ask Han Tao what the commotion was, but upon seeing the two women sprawled on the floor, they looked as utterly miserable as one could imagine.

Seeing Han Tao, Wang Qiqi felt as though she had finally come back to life. “We… we ran into Sam.”

Sam? Han Tao and Fatty exclaimed in unison. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

“Did he see you?” Han Tao silently prayed it was just a near miss, but Qiqi’s sheer panic suggested they had encountered him fully. “Did he say anything?”

Han Tao quickly scooped up Xiao Rourou and set her near the sofa before gently placing Wang Qiqi down, ceaselessly stroking her back, urging her to calm her racing nerves. In that moment, Han Tao was filled with profound regret that he hadn't gone grocery shopping with the two women himself.

Fatty pulled Lu Qiaowei close and sat beside her on the sofa, struggling to contain his own emotions and keep his burgeoning rage in check.

After a long interval, Wang Qiqi and Lu Qiaowei finally managed to settle their frayed nerves. “I’m feeling much better now. Today was truly the worst day,” Wang Qiqi slowly recounted the events of the day. “What still puzzles me is why Sam showed no intention of avenging Richard. Wasn't he willing to betray the company for Richard?” This was the question that had plagued Wang Qiqi throughout their trip. “Or is he planning to deal with all of us first?” Perhaps a feigned retreat, letting their guard down before striking at something else.

When Han Tao and Fatty heard Wang Qiqi say this, they had momentarily hoped the matter might be settled, but now they felt only deeper unease. “Damn it, even hiring a private investigator isn’t helping!” Fatty had considered having someone tail Sam, to see what he was up to. If he had truly gone abroad, that would be one thing, but he could always return, making things even more dangerous. “Keeping him in the country isn't safe, nor is letting him leave.” Blast it all, did someone have to be dead or ruined before they could relax?

“I think the same way,” Wang Qiqi agreed, her concern palpable. “Our main concern is figuring out why Sam isn’t pushing to avenge Richard.” She shuddered, recalling the drive. “You have no idea. I kept the speed strictly under thirty miles per hour the whole way, terrified someone might have tampered with the brakes.” The memory of her slow driving made her break out in a fresh sweat. “It was a relief to finally find a repair shop; after they checked, we confirmed no tampering had been done to the braking system.”

“No tampering with the car?” Han Tao murmured, digesting the information. Suddenly, he snatched up his phone and dialed John, relaying Qiqi’s encounter with Sam, emphasizing the specific doubt Qiqi harbored.

After hanging up, Han Tao said, “John knows a surprising number of people; perhaps he might know something about the relationship between Richard and Sam.”

“Maybe Richard did something to cross Sam,” Fatty offered suddenly. “I never heard Richard was gay; his romantic entanglements were always with women. What if Richard deliberately sold himself out to seduce Sam?”

“Oh, no, surely not,” Wang Qiqi shivered. “He was a man of a certain standing, wasn’t he?”

“Exactly,” Lu Qiaowei chimed in, having watched too much television. “Couldn't he have hired someone to seduce Sam, then use that leverage against him? That’s what happens in the movies.” Why wasn't that the case here?

“The question is, did Richard have the money?” Han Tao found Fatty’s suggestion intriguing. “If he was short on cash, even hiring someone would lead to betrayal. Going himself was the safest route. But if that’s true, the blow to Sam would be immense—losing his career and his love life. However, that would explain why he isn't obsessively seeking revenge for Richard.”

“Not necessarily. If I were Sam, I’d focus on survival first. No point in revenge if you’re dead. You have to live to get even,” Wang Qiqi countered, believing that if Sam truly abandoned revenge, he might be a good person—though this conflicted with her earlier statements.

Regardless of the four of them agonizing over the possibilities, they resolved to be extra cautious when moving around until they had concrete news about Sam.

Despite the presence of Sam, the ticking time bomb, Wang Qiqi still prepared a magnificent New Year's Eve feast. “Dinner is served!”

Under Lu Qiaowei’s direction, Han Tao and Fatty had hung up many festive decorations around the living room. Hearing Wang Qiqi call them, the two men sprinted into the kitchen to help carry out the dishes. Lu Qiaowei glared at their sudden burst of energy, annoyed. “When I asked you two to help, you both claimed you were tired, but the second dinner is called, you move faster than anyone!” It felt as though she were decorating the living room by herself.

Fatty heard his wife’s complaint and felt a familiar grievance rising. “I think the main focus on New Year’s Eve is the dinner, not all this extra decoration. What’s the big deal about sprucing up the room?” What Fatty didn't say was that back in his hometown, besides pasting couplets on the door, they never made such elaborate efforts for the holiday.

“Don't tell me how you celebrate back home; we are abroad, and we must have a vibrant, festive display,” Lu Qiaowei snapped, increasingly irritated. “Alright, go grab the laptop. Didn't we promise to video call home?”

“Right, right.” Fatty saw Lu Qiaowei’s face tighten and didn't argue further, immediately rushing into the room for the laptop. They had promised their families they would show them that they could still have a joyful New Year overseas, complete with a lavish feast.

“I’ll go get the computer too,” Han Tao said, having also arranged to video call his family to show them their American New Year's Eve celebration. “Rourou, do you want to video chat with your brother?”

“No need. My brother is vacationing in Thailand; it’s probably still evening there, and I didn’t mention this call,” Wang Qiqi thought; he hadn't talked much about his trip a few days ago, so she figured he was probably having too much fun abroad. “Besides, they’ll be visiting the States in a while anyway.”

“Good,” Han Tao agreed, not wanting to have their family dinner under the gaze of numerous relatives—that would be too terrifying.

“Cheers.” The four clinked their glasses together, then quickly raised them toward the screen, signaling they were ready to begin eating.

“This feels strange,” Fatty mumbled after taking a sip of red wine. It felt odd, especially when he turned and saw his parents staring intently at him eat. He felt profoundly awkward. After a few bites, he blurted out, “Mom, Dad, I’m eating now. I’ll video chat with you properly in a bit.”

Fatty had hoped to avoid having his parents watch his eating habits, thinking it embarrassing, but his parents had finally managed a long video call with their son, and more importantly, they could gauge the quality of his New Year’s Eve meal. Reluctantly, Fatty endured the meal in awkward silence.

Han Tao and Wang Qiqi weren’t as self-conscious because Taotao was constantly causing disruptions nearby. Seeing the lavish spread, the child was practically drooling. “Auntie, when I come to the US, you have to make this much delicious food for me too.”

“Auntie, I went to Tokyo Disneyland this time; it was amazing. You have to take me to the US Disneyland next time.”

Wang Qiqi and Han Tao occasionally toasted Fatty, but beyond eating, they mostly listened to Taotao ramble on about all the fun places they visited and the food they ate during their trip to the States. “Auntie, the food in Japan was quite tasty, but the portions were so small. I could eat so many servings stacked up.”

Fatty laughed upon hearing this and addressed Taotao, “You need to tell the Japanese people that Uncle has a huge appetite! Don't give me those tiny plates; bring out the large ones!” He then turned to Lu Qiaowei, “Hear that? Even a child says Japanese cuisine is stingy. See? It’s not just me; they are genuinely cheap.”

Taotao finally found an ally. The two began comparing notes on how meager Japanese portions were. Of course, they also conceded that Japanese food was quite good. However, when Taotao casually mentioned that they went to an onsen where men and women bathed together, Wang Qiqi noticed Fatty’s eyes suddenly light up. She suspected Fatty was latching onto some inappropriate idea, but thankfully, he didn't ask the things he dared not ask in front of Taotao, or Wang Qiqi would have kicked the man across the room.

It was a blessing that Taotao was present; the New Year’s Eve dinner, conducted under the watchful eyes of numerous parents on video, concluded harmoniously.

Later, Fatty grumbled bitterly, “I’m never doing such a foolish thing again.” His parents seemed satisfied watching him eat and drink heartily, but Fatty felt the entire dinner had been agonizing. “I barely ate anything,” even though Qiqi had cooked so much delicious food. Fatty was truly full of regret.

Wang Qiqi was speechless. The man had clearly consumed a substantial amount, yet he claimed to have eaten little. Truly shameless.