HLM – Chapter 10 That Trace of a Smile

In the blink of an eye, Wang Bo had already been in New Zealand for a week. That day, he was watching TV to learn English when Charlie suddenly came rushing in and dragged him off to the city hall.

Wang Bo asked, “Did you find any clues about the female ghost?”

Charlie shook his head. “No, it’s about your nationality change. It’s complete now. You just need to go through the formalities.”

“So fast?” Wang Bo was surprised.

Charlie gave a slight smile. “Special case, special treatment!”

At city hall, a middle-aged white woman was waiting for them. After verifying Wang Bo’s identity, she handed him his passport and a bill—the former was his residence visa (“Green Card”), and the latter was his tax bill, which included his tax card.

Strictly speaking, New Zealand citizens don’t have an ID card—nor do they have a physical “green card.” If you had to compare something to a national ID and green card, for adults, it would be the driver’s license and passport. Foreign nationals receive a resident visa sticker in their passports, and after two years of continuous residency, it can be upgraded to a “Permanent Resident Visa.”

So, in New Zealand, the two most important cards are the driver’s license and the IRD card. The driver’s license functions as an ID, while the IRD card—issued by the Inland Revenue Department—contains an 8- or 9-digit tax number. This number would be Wang Bo’s taxpayer ID from now on.

“Make sure to keep your IRD card safe, and never evade taxes,” Charlie warned. “Trust me, the scariest force in New Zealand isn’t any military—it’s the tax office. You do not want to mess with them!”

Wang Bo nodded. “I get it. There are only two things in life that are unavoidable: death and taxes, right?”

Charlie gave a wry smile. “Exactly.”

The middle-aged woman then took Wang Bo to an office and gave him a piece of paper with a list of words in both Chinese and English. She asked him to read it aloud in front of the New Zealand flag and the British Royal flag.

Wang Bo knew this was a standard requirement for immigrants to Commonwealth countries. According to British Commonwealth law, every immigrant acquiring citizenship must take an oath of allegiance to the British monarch. Even though the oath itself is a religious ritual and New Zealand proclaims itself as a “free nation” with freedom of belief, there’s no such thing as the freedom not to take the oath.

That said, these days, the ceremony was mostly symbolic. The supervising judge was a white-haired old man who looked half-asleep and was clearly dozing off.

In front of Wang Bo was a white man taking the oath. He stood solemnly at attention, placed his right hand firmly over his left chest, raised his left palm forward, and in a devout tone said:

“I solemnly swear, I do hereby swear, that I absolutely and entirely renounce all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty of whom or which I have heretofore been a subject or citizen. I will bear true faith and allegiance to New Zealand and to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II and her heirs… I take this oath freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion. So help me God, as a citizen of New Zealand!”

When it was Wang Bo’s turn, he mimicked the man’s posture—standing at attention, left hand over his heart, right hand raised. After a brief pause, he said:

“Great motherland of the Chinese nation, your son is in the enemy camp but his heart remains with Han! Please believe me—I’ve infiltrated the bourgeoisie for the better service of the proletariat! And please bless me—bless that my small town may thrive and prosper. I vow to turn it into a paradise for the descendants of Huaxia. Lastly, long live the Chinese nation, may culture and military reign supreme, may our glory endure through the ages, united and unmatched across the world…”

The sleepy judge suddenly opened his eyes and gave him a strange look. Wang Bo quickly stammered in awkward English:

“S-sorry… my English… not good. I can only swear… in Chinese.”

The judge nodded, drew a cross over his chest, and said, “May your motherland, the Chinese nation, bless you to learn English quickly.”

“……” Old Wang slinked away awkwardly. Looks like there were more people in New Zealand who understood Chinese than he had expected.

Not long after receiving his green card and IRD card, Charlie came to find him again. He said the application to establish a town had been approved by the national parliament. All Wang Bo had to do was sign a ballot and a letter of appointment, and he would officially become the first mayor of Sunset Town.

Wang Bo was dumbfounded. “The town establishment got approved so fast? Is the New Zealand bureaucracy really that efficient?”

“Special case, special treatment,” Charlie said with a grin, clearly delighted, as if he’d earned some great merit.

Wang Bo looked at the ballot and appointment letter. His English was mediocre at best, so he could only understand the gist. Charlie, however, was very patient and translated anything he didn’t understand.

The ballot was important—it would go into the town’s official record. In New Zealand, mayors are elected. Since Wang Bo was the only resident of Sunset Town, whoever’s name he wrote down would become mayor.

Once again, he signed his own name. Wang Bo gave a bitter smile and said, “I must be the world’s only one-man army mayor.”

Charlie cheerfully collected the ballot and appointment letter, and like performing a magic trick, twirled his fingers and pulled out a green ballot. He wrote down Wang Bo’s name on it and winked. “Now you’ve got one resident.”

Wang Bo lit up. “You’re joining my town?”

“You have to make me an honorary resident,” Charlie said proudly.

Wang Bo gave him a thumbs-up and praised, “Charlie, my brother, you’re a true bro! I won’t just make you an honorary resident—I’ll even give you a job. So, tell me, what department would you like to work in?”

Charlie shrugged. “Nah, man, I think I’ll stick to my regular job. Come on, don’t just stand around in the room. Let’s go out and have a feast to celebrate. You’re a mayor now, bro—a mayor!”

Wang Bo was excited too and followed Charlie out. To be honest, since arriving in New Zealand, he hadn’t really explored much. He’d spent the past few days buried in ghost-hunting files and online research.

Charlie was very familiar with Omarama. He somehow got his hands on a Toyota Land Cruiser and drove Wang Bo straight to a place called “Strawfield.”

The small town seemed to be hosting some kind of event. Many streets were decorated, and people from surrounding towns and cities had gathered here, turning the usually spacious roads into a packed crowd. The Land Cruiser could only crawl along.

Wang Bo curiously observed the street decorations. After a while, he got bored and remembered the promise of food. “Weren’t we going for a feast? What’s this Strawfield place? New Zealand has farmhouse restaurants too?”

Charlie replied, “Of course New Zealand has those, but this Strawfield…”

He didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he suddenly slammed the brakes, shifted gears, and released the handbrake all in one fluid motion. The car came to an abrupt stop.

Wang Bo was startled. “What’s going on?”

Charlie didn’t respond. He pushed open the car door, jumped out, and leaned casually against it, smiling. “Hey, Irina, where are you headed?”

Wang Bo followed him out of the car. When he looked ahead, his heart immediately started pounding like a drum.

In front of a cold drinks shop, a young woman in a white blouse and pencil skirt was crouching by the roadside, wiping sweat from the forehead of a six- or seven-year-old boy. Hearing Charlie’s voice, she turned to look at them.

She appeared to be in her twenties, with a gentle and graceful temperament that was rare among white women. She wore rimless glasses, her eyebrows were like jade feathers, her lips like cherry petals, her teeth neat and white. Her delicate nose had a graceful arch, and her pale golden hair was tied into a side ponytail that draped over her shoulder—smooth as silk and glowing in the sunlight as if it were flowing light itself.

When Wang Bo saw her face, he instinctively looked down—her waist was slender, and her legs long and beautiful. She was even wearing sheer crystal pantyhose. Seeing this, he gasped and muttered, “Damn… she’s a glasses girl in sheer stockings. I’m done for!”

Charlie ignored him and waved to the girl. The young woman responded with a reserved but polite smile, took the boy by the hand, and walked over to greet them.

“Hi, Mr. Stallone. How are you?” she said.