HLM – Chapter 13 Negotiating with the Natives

While Wang Bo and the big guy were still yelling at each other from across the room, the long-overdue Charlie finally appeared.

The moment he stepped inside and saw four men lying around in a complete mess and a two-meter-tall brute still roaring like a beast, Charlie immediately pulled out his gun and shouted a few lines in Māori. The big guy instantly crouched down, wrapped his arms around his head, and faced the wall like a schoolboy doing self-reflection.

Charlie called the police, and soon officers arrived. The four injured men were taken to the hospital, while Wang Bo and the last remaining thug were brought to the local police station to give statements.

Omarama was a small town, and its police station was tiny too—just a red-brick single-story building. If it weren’t for the New Zealand police insignia on the building and a police car parked outside, Wang Bo would’ve thought it was just someone’s house.

In front of the station was a green lawn. Maybe it was right after lunch, because a few officers were sitting there chatting and sipping soda.

There was a statue in the center of the lawn. Wang Bo glanced at it curiously, and Charlie explained that it was a memorial to a fallen officer. There were two lights on either side of the monument that lit up at night.

Inside the police station, apart from a few more people in uniform and the presence of police insignia and flags, it didn’t really feel like a police station—it felt more like a regular office.

Even though Charlie had drawn a gun, he still had to be questioned. But when an officer came to question him, Charlie flashed a badge, and that officer left. Then, a middle-aged officer came out from a private office and took Charlie away.

That left Wang Bo feeling curious about Charlie’s identity. He didn’t believe an ordinary Foreign Affairs worker would be allowed to carry a gun so openly in a small town.

Before leaving, the middle-aged officer told the others to “let Wang Bo’s case cool off for now.” So, no one questioned him, and he wasn’t even cuffed. He and the Māori man just sat on opposite ends of a couch.

A female officer brought him a glass of iced water. As she turned to leave, the two-meter-tall Māori man stood up and whispered something to her.

Wang Bo couldn’t understand Māori, but he could tell from the man’s tone that he sounded frightened and aggrieved—totally inconsistent with his bulky, intimidating appearance.

Clearly, the woman knew him. She listened, chuckled, patted him on the shoulder, and led him away. Wang Bo quickly stood up and asked, “Excuse me, miss, what about me?”

The officer turned and smiled, “Sir, our chief will come see you shortly.”

When the Māori thug heard that, his eyes widened in shock. Wang Bo looked at him in confusion, and the man actually trembled slightly, then shrank his big bald head down to his shoulders and followed the female officer out quietly.

About ten minutes later, Charlie came out and smiled comfortingly at Wang Bo, “Don’t worry. This has nothing to do with you. It’s those loan shark thugs who are in trouble now.”

Wang Bo asked in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“They attacked an officer,” Charlie explained. “Did you forget? You’re the mayor of Sunset Town. Since you’re the only government staff there, you wear multiple hats—you’re also the sheriff. Basically, you’re a cop.”

Soon after, the local police chief arrived, carrying a bag. Charlie introduced him, “This is Chief Smith-Wich, head of the Omarama Police Department.”

Chief Smith didn’t have the stern demeanor one might expect. He shook Wang Bo’s hand with a friendly smile and handed him the bag in his left hand. “Officer Wang, your uniform, badge, rank, and firearm haven’t arrived yet, so for now I’m issuing you pepper spray and a baton. Once your full gear arrives, I’ll let you know to complete the onboarding.”

Wang Bo opened the bag and saw a collapsible baton and a black canister—presumably the pepper spray.

Charlie shook hands with Chief Smith, then took Wang Bo with him.

Wang Bo asked in surprise, “Don’t I need to give a statement?”

Charlie said, “Of course. Those guys attacked a law enforcement officer, so that charge is a given. You don’t need to give a statement—this incident has nothing to do with you.”

“So nice?” Old Wang chuckled, but then quickly realized something was off. “Why did those people attack me in the first place?”

Charlie sniffed and spoke slowly, “Old Wang, you know me. I felt an instant connection with you from the start, like we were long-lost brothers—”

“Shit. Just tell me what’s going on!” Wang Bo’s expression darkened. Every time Charlie started talking about how they were kindred spirits, it meant trouble.

Sure enough, Charlie said, “Actually, those five Māori guys are from a loan shark company in Omarama. Sir Roberts borrowed money from them when he was alive. They came looking for you to collect the debt.”

Wang Bo’s face changed. “Mate, you’re kidding, right? I have to pay off the debts the last lord owed?”

“That’s inheritance law for you,” Charlie said awkwardly. “Yeah, his bad debts get passed on to you too—as long as they’re legally recognized.”

Wang Bo shouted, “But those are loan shark debts! They’re legally protected?!”

Charlie quickly pulled him aside and whispered, “Keep it down. Here’s the good news—they waived the interest when they learned Sir Roberts was dead. You only have to repay the principal. So now it doesn’t count as usury. You really do have to pay it back.”

“Goddammit. How much is the principal?” Wang Bo asked.

“Not much. Around four hundred thousand.”

“In RMB?” Wang Bo asked, clinging to a shred of hope.

“Uh, no… New Zealand dollars,” Charlie said, looking off into the distance.

Wang Bo exploded: “You’re screwing me over!”

“I told you in advance, didn’t I? Sir Robert left you a debt of several hundred thousand. I told you the day you arrived at your territory!” Charlie protested.

Wang Bo was speechless.

He had thought the “bad debt” meant someone owed Sir Robert hundreds of thousands. Who would’ve guessed it was the other way around—Sir Robert owed it to someone else!

That evening, the two prepared to have dinner. Charlie, in a sudden show of generosity, said the meal was on him—Wang Bo could eat whatever he liked.

Wang Bo felt a bit embarrassed and said, “No, man, let me treat you instead. You’ve helped me so much.”

Charlie waved it off. “Don’t be polite, Wang. You should save your money to help pay off Sir Robert’s debt.”

The mood instantly soured. Not a single moment of that afternoon had been relaxing for Wang Bo. The thought of being saddled with 1.6 to 1.7 million RMB in debt made him miserable.

As they came downstairs, a Māori man with braids and a middle-aged white man approached them. Both looked to be in their forties. The Māori man wore flashy hip-hop clothes, while the white man was dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase, looking somewhat like Lawyer Mueller.

When they saw Wang Bo and Charlie, the white man smiled politely and greeted them. “Gentlemen, good evening. You must be Mr. Wang Ba, the one who inherited Sir Roberts’s estate?”

Charlie immediately burst into laughter. Wang Bo’s face turned dark as he gritted his teeth and said, “It’s Wang—Bo, not Wang Ba!”

Noticing Wang Bo was about to lose his temper, the Māori man quickly stepped back twice and said, “Don’t hit me, bro. We’re from $#@&%—@!#%…”

Thanks to the recent crash-course learning and his already decent English base, plus the cognitive enhancement from Heart of the Territory, Wang Bo’s spoken English had improved significantly. He could now hold conversations with Charlie without much trouble.

But the moment he started talking with this Māori man, Wang Bo began doubting his English ability again—he couldn’t understand a word!

Thankfully, Charlie, the human translator, stepped in. “These two are with the guys from this afternoon. They’re from a company called Mo’i Nosebleed International Finance Limited. Their boss, Kakapa, is inviting us over for a meeting to discuss the debt situation.”

This was something that did need to be discussed. With Charlie accompanying him, Wang Bo didn’t feel worried and promptly got into their car.

The Ford sedan sped along the road and eventually entered a slum-like area, stopping in front of a street food stall.

Outside the stall stood a bunch of shirtless Māori tough guys. A table was set up outside—on the north side of it sat a burly man covered in tattoos, even on his face. A single empty chair was placed on the south side.

As Wang Bo and Charlie stepped out of the car, all eyes from the Māori men turned toward them.