Matta rolled his eyes at Bruce.
"I came back to pay my respects to Grandpa Guo."
Bruce nodded, and his expression dimmed a little. He had inherited all of Bruce's memories, and with them came the feelings attached to them.
"Little Bruce, don't be sad. Uncle Guo may be gone, but we're still here." Mary said it gently and rubbed his hair with open affection.
Bruce was touched by the comfort, but being treated like a little kid in front of everyone was still painfully awkward. Between his two lives, he was already over fifty years old in mind and memory.
Blair caught the look on his face right away and laughed.
"All right, Mary. Bruce is nineteen now. He's an adult."
Mary snorted. "I don't care how old he is. To me, little Bruce will always be the same as Gordon, running after me for milk when he was a baby."
Bruce's face went red on the spot.
Matta burst out laughing.
Seeing her husband and son laughing, and Bruce standing there looking utterly embarrassed, even Mary ended up smiling.
"It's a shame Katherine's tied up with her master's thesis, and Gordon is still stationed in Hawaii for military service. Otherwise we could all celebrate Bruce getting out of the hospital together."
"Come on, Mary," Blair said, trying to cheer her up. "We'll have plenty of chances to all get together from now on."
Mary nodded and led Bruce, Blair, and Matta over to a two-story house not far from the right side of the main farmhouse.
This was the Lincoln house.
Bruce had spent much of his childhood here, so the place was deeply familiar to him.
Mary was a good cook, and her roast was especially memorable. So Bruce's first real meal since being reborn left him more than satisfied. Since he had to meet the lawyer the next day to handle the estate, he left the Guo farm that same evening with Matta, who was also heading back toward Berkeley for work.
Of course, before returning to San Francisco, he still had one more stop to make.
He needed to visit the grave.
...
Bruce stood before the headstone and looked at the photograph that was starting to feel more and more familiar.
He placed a white carnation beside it and spoke silently in his heart.
I may not be the same person anymore, but I inherited his life, his memories, and everything he left behind. So from now on, you are still my father. I'll come back every year to visit.
"Bruce, don't take it too hard. You've still got all of us."
Bruce looked at Matta, saw the sincerity in his eyes, and nodded. After one last glance at the photo on the stone, he slowly turned away.
"Let's go."
The two of them walked out of the cemetery together.
Since they were headed in different directions afterward, this was where they would part ways.
Before getting into his car, Bruce said, "Don't forget what I asked you about."
Matta nodded. "I know. I'll let you know when it's done. But I've got to ask, weren't you always into the internet? Since when did you start thinking about investing?"
Bruce smiled faintly. "You'll understand later."
Seeing that Bruce did not want to explain, Matta had the sense not to press. In America, respecting someone's privacy was basic common sense.
"All right. See you."
"See you."
After splitting up with Matta, Bruce drove to Baker McKenzie's San Francisco office.
The receptionist greeted him politely.
"Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?"
"I have an appointment with Mr. George Davis."
"Of course. Please wait just a moment."
Bruce nodded. She picked up the phone, made a quick call, and after a short exchange said, "Sir, please have a seat in the waiting area over there. Mr. Davis will see you shortly."
Bruce thanked her and headed to the seating area on the right side of the lobby. Before he could sit down, a young man in a sharp suit came out from the inner offices. The moment he saw Bruce, his face brightened and he walked over.
"Mr. Bruce Guo?"
"That's me."
"I'm Mike, Mr. Davis's assistant."
"Nice to meet you."
They shook hands briefly.
"This way, please. Mr. Davis is waiting for you in the conference room."
Bruce followed him through the work area and into an elegant reception room. A middle-aged man in a dark Armani suit stood up at once with a polished smile. On his wrist was a limited-edition Vacheron Constantin, the sort of watch that quietly announced success before its owner even opened his mouth.
"Mr. Guo, good afternoon. I'm George Davis, the attorney handling your father's estate and will."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Davis."
"Please, have a seat."
"Thank you."
Once they sat down, Davis got straight to business.
"Mr. Guo, did your father discuss his estate plan with you before he passed?"
"He did."
That was perfectly normal. With federal gift tax and estate tax rules being what they were, advance estate planning was standard for anyone with substantial assets. Guo Jiancheng may have kept his old habits in many ways, but after living in the United States for so many years, he understood the practical side of the system.
"Good. That makes things much simpler."
Davis nodded, opened his briefcase, and handed several documents across the table.
"Your father's estate plan has three parts."
He tapped the first set of papers.
"First, he established the Guo Family Trust. The 560-acre farm, the two Guo Fresh Produce stores, and approximately five hundred thousand dollars in cash are all to be held and administered through the trust. Under the terms of the trust instrument, you are the sole successor trustee of the Guo Family Trust, which has an estimated value of seven million dollars."
Bruce nodded. None of that surprised him.
At the time, the federal exemption for estate and gift taxes was still limited. Given the size of the family's assets, a direct transfer without planning would have exposed a major portion of the estate to taxes. In practical terms, a huge amount of wealth would have been eaten away before it ever fully reached the next generation.
No one wanted to spend a lifetime building something only to watch half of it vanish in the transfer process.
That was why Guo Jiancheng had discussed the matter with him long before his death. The Guo Family Trust was the tax-planning vehicle he had chosen, and it was one of the most common tools used by wealthy families in the United States. A charitable foundation would have been a more advanced option, but the estate was not yet large enough to justify that kind of structure.
Davis turned to the second section.
"Second, your father purchased one million dollars in insurance coverage for your benefit through American Life Insurance Company. That includes five hundred thousand dollars in life insurance, three hundred thousand in health coverage, and two hundred thousand in accidental coverage. Under the terms of the policy, beginning twenty years from now, you will receive annual payments of thirty-eight thousand dollars for the remainder of your life."
Bruce nodded again.
Insurance was another common wealth-transfer tool. Many wealthy families used it to move value to the next generation more efficiently and with lower tax exposure.
Davis then moved to the final section.
"Lastly, your father hoped you would help locate any surviving relatives back in his hometown and assist them where reasonably possible."
Bruce nodded quietly.
Guo Jiancheng had come from a family of five siblings. After being conscripted, he had never found his way home again. Later, politics and history had made returning even harder. Before China's reform era, there had been no real chance. In the 1980s, Bruce had been too young for the old man to leave behind. By the 1990s, his health had already begun to fail.
So the years kept slipping away until he died without ever making it back.
More than once, he had spoken about one final wish: that after his death, his ashes be returned to his hometown for burial.
"Mr. Guo," Davis said, "if everything looks correct, please sign here."
Bruce read through all of the documents carefully, then signed in each of the marked places.
"Mr. Guo, if you have no further questions, Mike will assist you with the next steps, including the relevant business and tax filings, as well as the transfer of the bank accounts."
That made perfect sense.
George Davis was a senior attorney at Baker McKenzie, and his time was billed by the hour. At nine hundred dollars an hour, no one wanted to waste it.
Bruce understood that perfectly well.
"Mr. Davis," he said, "your practice focuses on commercial matters, correct?"
Davis looked slightly surprised, then nodded. "Yes, it does."
Bruce smiled and extended his hand.
"I have a feeling we'll have plenty of opportunities to work together in the future."
Davis took his hand at once.
"I'd be very happy to represent you, Mr. Guo."
No sensible lawyer turned away a client who looked capable of becoming far more valuable in the years ahead.
"As for today's legal fees," Bruce said, "I assume my father already covered them."
"In fact, he did," Davis replied. "There is even a balance remaining in the retainer. Once the bank transfers are completed, the unused portion will be returned to your account."
"Then I won't take up any more of your time."
Bruce stood.
"Good day, Mr. Guo," Davis said.
After leaving the Baker McKenzie office, Bruce spent the rest of the process with Mike, completing the necessary business and tax registrations and handling the bank transfers.
By the time everything was finished, the Guo Family Trust, backed by 6.5 million dollars in operating assets and another five hundred thousand in cash, was fully under Bruce's control.