Chapter 3

1250 Wine Valley, Temecula City.

"It seems I should hire a cleaning service!"

Zhen Fan lay on the sofa in the living room, not wanting to move. The jet lag had not yet worn off, and he had already done so much, which was indeed a bit tiring. He had signed the documents with the lawyer, officially accepting the inheritance and paying the inheritance tax, leaving him with about $400,000.

The lawyer was a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses, wearing a dark blue suit that made him look very steady. He carried a leather briefcase, the standard attire of a successful person.

"Remember to call me if you need anything in the future. Matters involving the law, just leave them to me, and I'll handle them for you."

"No problem, uh, I forgot your name just now..."

"Charles Carter!"

"Wilson..."

"It's Charles... Charles Carter! Mr. Zhen!"

"Charles, that's a good name!"

"Got it!" Charles was walking out of the house and down the cement path on the lawn. After a few steps, he made a phone call gesture to Zhen Fan.

"Wilson, is that a nice name?"

When Zhen Fan got up, he had mixed up the names again. He put away a large stack of signed documents and locked them in a safe.

While cleaning the room, he sorted out the things left by his uncle and placed them in the basement. The villa-style residence in this area was not cheap, with gardens and lawns in the front and back.

Unfortunately, there was no swimming pool!

Zhen Fan looked out the window at the garden and lawn behind the house, feeling satisfied but a bit disappointed.

It seems I am quite greedy, always wanting more, not a good comrade, and so quickly corrupted by capitalist decadent thoughts!

Zhen Fan criticized himself, then remembered that there was nothing in the kitchen and his stomach was a bit hungry. It was already late in the day.

It's time to go out and buy some groceries. He changed his clothes and went out. His uncle didn't have a car, which was quite strange in America, even though his uncle seemed to have some money.

Zhen Fan stepped out the door and was dumbfounded. He had no idea where the market was, if there even was one in America. He also didn't know where the supermarket was. When the old man, Mr. Mo, dropped him off, he only talked about his success in America and didn't tell him about the supermarket, public toilets, or restaurants.

"Even if I had a car, I couldn't drive it, I don't have a license!"

Zhen Fan wandered around and soon realized he was lost. He tried to cheer himself up.

"Even if I had a car, I would still get lost because I'm not familiar with the area yet!"

However, he eventually found a small supermarket. The English inside was familiar to him. He looked at the beef, which was $4.33 per pound, about 400 grams. How much would that be in RMB? About 26 yuan, much cheaper than in China!

Following the principle of not missing out on a good deal, Zhen Fan bought ten large pieces, probably about 15 to 16 pounds. Then he bought vegetables and various seasonings. Fortunately, some basic Chinese seasonings were available.

"Sir, are you sure you want to pay in cash?"

The cashier, a young girl with freckles, looked at Zhen Fan seriously.

"Yes, in cash!"

"Here's your change, 53 cents."

The freckled girl nodded, looking at Zhen Fan curiously. Few people paid in cash anymore! Of course, most of those who did were Asians, which wasn't unusual!

Zhen Fan decided not to be a directionless wanderer anymore and hailed a taxi.

"Hey, buddy, where are you going?"

The driver was a young black man, very lively, with a red headband.

"1250 Wine Valley," Zhen Fan looked at the headband curiously, "Do you like judo?"

Zhen Fan had never seen what a judo practitioner looked like. At home, he had only learned various methods from his master, which his master said were for avoiding harm and disasters. Later, when he went to a big city for school, he focused on the few old books his master had given him, trying to understand the way of heaven and man.

Zhen Fan always thought this was nonsense, but to fulfill the old man's last wish, he had to do something. So he filtered out all the school clubs and activities, and by the time he graduated, he hadn't even had a girlfriend.

But it seemed that in TV shows, Japanese people practicing judo always wore headbands.

"Yes, yes, judo, taekwondo, kung fu! I like them all, as long as they help me beat up Jim and his gang. Are you Korean? Japanese? Or Chinese?"

"Chinese!"

"Then you must know kung fu. Nice to meet you, Eddie Rick, everyone calls me 'The Ant Who Takes Risks.'"

"Car!"

Zhen Fan shouted loudly.

Eddie Rick swerved the steering wheel, and the car next to them sped past.

"You country bumpkin, go to hell!"

Eddie Rick stuck his head out the window, raised his hand, and gave the truck a middle finger.

"Where were we? Oh, right, do you know Chinese kung fu? Like Bruce Lee's."

Eddie Rick let go of the steering wheel, mimicked Bruce Lee's signature move, and made a strange sound.

"Keep your hands on the wheel!"

"Right, right, you haven't answered my question, buddy!" Eddie Rick finally grabbed the steering wheel, turned his head, and looked at Zhen Fan expectantly.

"No, I don't know kung fu. Not every Chinese person knows Bruce Lee's style."

Zhen Fan was telling the truth. What he had learned was completely different from Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do, though they had some common roots.

"Oh, that's a shame..."

Eddie Rick shrugged, expressing great regret. But this guy was like a rapper, chattering nonstop.

"Here we are, buddy, $9.15! Just give me $9!"

Zhen Fan took out $9 from his wallet and handed it over.

"Thanks!"

Zhen Fan waved to the young black man as he got out of the car.

"Whoosh," the car sped away. Zhen Fan shook his head and smiled, just as he was about to turn around, he heard a "whoosh" and the car came back.

"Hey, buddy, I don't even know your name. I often drive these streets, so call me if you need to go out." He handed Zhen Fan a note, "See you next time!" and the car sped away again, the tires screeching.

The black guy was straightforward!

Zhen Fan carried the bags of groceries inside and started cooking. He was quite hungry. Even though it was late, he didn't want to starve himself. He patiently cooked a beef and potato meal, and within half an hour, the aroma filled the air.

"The beef isn't watered down, that's good!"

"The potatoes are native to America, that's good!"

In China, buying non-watered beef was as rare as winning the lottery. After eating, he didn't bother to clean up, just threw the dishes in the sink, picked his teeth, and sat on the sofa to watch TV.

The Chinese TV station in America had nothing good to watch.

WABC-TV, the station that had reported the wrong lottery numbers and paid a large sum in compensation, featured a middle-aged man discussing recent gun battles in New York, with live footage.

The local Temecula TV station had only one channel, showing a few girls dancing the hula.

Zhen Fan pressed a few more buttons, and his eyes widened. The CATV12 channel was broadcasting news about China's prosperity, with images of high-rise buildings in Shanghai, Beijing, and Guangzhou, showing that China had surpassed the United States.

Zhen Fan couldn't resist singing a few lines about the benefits of socialism, but he held back, went to the bathroom for a while, and finally felt comfortable after relieving himself.

Then there was nothing to do.

The first night in America was really boring, so boring that Zhen Fan stared at the ceiling, counting stars—meditating!

The next morning, Zhen Fan was cooking noodles in the kitchen in his pajamas.

"Knock, knock, knock!" Someone was at the door.

"Who is it?"

Zhen Fan opened the door and saw a man in his thirties, about his height, with chestnut hair and a sturdy build, a young white woman, and a five or six-year-old blonde girl holding a Barbie doll, looking up at him with big, round eyes.

Seeing Zhen Fan open the door, the man smiled widely.

"Excuse me, we are your neighbors, just over there!" The man pointed to the white-painted house with an attic on the right. "I'm Thomas Moore, this is my wife Annie, and of course, this little one is Claire. I wonder if we have the honor..."

"Please come in!"

Zhen Fan quickly invited them in.

Annie held up a plate of cake and handed it to Zhen Fan.

"This is homemade, I hope you like it!"

"Great! I love cake!" Zhen Fan pretended to be surprised, "Why don't we all try it, I can't wait!"

He himself didn't quite believe it, his performance was a bit over the top. Annie looked a bit embarrassed and slowly sat down next to her husband.

Zhen Fan quickly went to the kitchen to get a knife, a bit embarrassed, and shook hands with Thomas.

"Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself—Fan Zhen." He introduced himself in the American style, cut a piece of cake and put it on a plate for Thomas, then cut two more pieces for Annie and little Claire.

"We visit every new neighbor. Actually, we really liked the old man who used to live here; he loved Claire."

Zhen Fan knew Thomas was talking about his deceased uncle.

"That was my uncle. I've come to inherit everything he left behind. Thank you for what you did for him," Zhen Fan nodded, feeling a bit fond of these friendly neighbors.

"Claire..."

There was not much to talk about, so Zhen Fan turned his attention to the well-behaved little girl. Claire looked at Zhen Fan, moved closer to her mother, and clung to Annie's hand.

"She's a bit shy. She only smiles when she's with your uncle."

Annie lovingly stroked Claire's hair, her eyes showing a mix of helplessness and worry.

"Oh?"

Zhen Fan looked closely at Claire, whose emerald eyes were very beautiful.

"Well, we've disturbed you. We hope we can visit often. But be careful with the family on your left. The husband has a bit of a temper, and sometimes you can hear him hitting his wife. Poor woman, why doesn't she call the police?" Thomas warned Zhen Fan kindly as he was about to leave.

"Let them be, one day the bad guys will get what they deserve."

Annie held Claire's hand and smiled at Zhen Fan as they said goodbye.

After a few steps, Claire turned back, her expression unreadable.

"Claire, Claire..."

Zhen Fan shook his head and closed the door. Claire finally turned her head back.