HLM – Chapter 102 Catfish Feast Every Year

Having nearly swept through the entire South Street, Wang Bo had bought an astonishing number of seeds and poultry chicks. He didn’t bother calculating the total, but the 100,000 yuan he had prepared in his backpack was nearly all spent.

Zhong Dabao, with a sausage in one hand and milk tea in the other, followed him around munching and sipping. After a while, he asked curiously, “Old Wang, what are you buying all this stuff for?”

Wang Bo replied simply, “I’ve got a plot of land abroad. Planning to raise livestock and grow vegetables.”

Zhong Dabao burst out laughing. “Are you stupid? Don’t they have leeks, celery, scallions, and chili peppers abroad? You think you can make money growing that kind of stuff over there?”

Wang Bo, scanning the market, responded indifferently, “Then what do you think I should grow?”

“Wild vegetables, of course! Bitter greens, amaranth, fiddlehead ferns, fish mint, alfalfa, yam, mountain celery, goji berries—this kind of stuff! That’s how you make a profit!” Zhong Dabao said as if it were obvious.

Wang Bo rubbed his chin. Hey, the guy had a point. He should be planting the kinds of wild vegetables that are well-known in China. Even if the market wasn’t big in New Zealand, it’d be good enough for personal use.

He was a little surprised that it was this goofball Zhong Dabao who ended up giving him the inspiration. Sincerely impressed, he cupped his hands in thanks. “Brother Bao, you’re sharp. I gotta hand it to you.”

Zhong Dabao took a sip of his milk tea and scoffed, “What’s so impressive? Just watch the CCTV Agriculture Channel more often, and you’ll see—everyone’s growing wild veggies these days.”

Wang Bo: “……”

You couldn’t buy wild vegetable seeds at the local market. In fact, not even in Haiqing City—after all, it was a port city.

But in China, there’s no need to shop in person anymore. Online stores have everything. Just place an order and wait for the delivery.

Wang Bo found the largest and most reputable seed company online and bought a huge batch of wild vegetable seeds—over 80 varieties, ranging from edible to medicinal. It cost him over 100,000 yuan in total, enough to plant more than 400 hectares.

But with the Spring Festival just around the corner, courier services had already stopped operating. The seed company estimated delivery would be around the 10th day of the lunar new year.

Wang Bo wasn’t in a hurry—he just needed them delivered before he returned to New Zealand.

Back at the market, he bought some candies, firecrackers, meats, and other New Year supplies. The two of them strolled home at a relaxed pace. He bought two sets of goods—one of which he had Zhong Dabao take back, since the guy had helped him out quite a bit.

The vegetable and fruit seeds were delivered to the drying yard behind the village. Making sure no one was around, Wang Bo moved them all into the underground storage beneath the castle courtyard.

The chicks, ducklings, goslings, and piglets were even easier to handle—he just tossed them straight into the ranch.

Before returning to China, he had already bought a large number of poultry seedlings. The goal was to create a diversion, so that no one would realize he had brought livestock from back home.

If no one got suspicious, Wang Bo could make a killing just from the ranch alone. The price gap between China and New Zealand was insane. A chick in his hometown cost less than one yuan, but once raised and sold in New Zealand, it could fetch ten NZ dollars—about 50 yuan.

The feeling of running a business while bypassing tariffs was, quite simply, euphoric.

Back in the village, people kept greeting him warmly along the way. Wang Bo returned the greetings politely.

As he reached his house and opened the door, a cloud of dense smoke nearly choked him, forcing him to back off. He peeked inside and was startled—his living room was packed with people, like a village committee meeting.

Seeing him enter, someone called out, “Xiao Bo’s back? So, you went overseas—was it to Nutrilite?”

Someone laughed and corrected, “Don’t be silly. Nutrilite sells supplements. Xiao Bo went to Newfoundland, right?”

“No, New Zealand, also called Aotearoa,” Wang Bo explained with a wry smile.

A slightly younger man nodded, “Yeah, New Zealand. You guys don’t even know that? It’s in the U.S.—New Zealand State. The NBA has the New Zealand Nets, right? Carter used to play there. I love Carter. Xiao Bo, can you get me his autograph?”

Wang Bo’s smile stiffened. “New Zealand is a country next to Australia. You’re probably thinking of New Jersey in the U.S.”

All the visitors were villagers, and their purpose was simple—they wanted to talk to Wang Bo’s dad about joining him on his next fishing trip.

The Donghai Whirlwind was only a 300-horsepower fishing boat and could hold up to ten workers. But bringing ten people out to sea wasn’t cost-effective—six was the ideal number.

These villagers had come to Wang Bo’s dad hoping to be one of the six, because their small skiffs couldn’t go beyond ten kilometers offshore anymore—there was nothing left to catch. They needed bigger boats to reach deeper waters.

The skiffs had poor endurance and couldn’t handle rough waters. But the Donghai Whirlwind had no such issues.

Moreover, today’s rural youth either went off to university and stayed in the cities or partnered up to find work in urban areas. Most young people had already left the village.

Wangjia Fishing Village was now mostly populated by middle-aged and elderly folks over fifty. At their age, their physical strength was starting to decline, and without a proper fishing boat to protect them, they didn’t dare venture into deep waters.

There were only three high-powered fishing boats in the village, all operated by well-off families. For the villagers, the Donghai Whirlwind wasn’t just the fourth large boat—it was the fourth gold mine.

As for who would go to sea with him, Wang Bo’s parents were torn. They also planned for six crew members—Wang Bo’s dad, Zhong Dabao, and four others. Choosing the rest was tricky.

Wang Bo didn’t get involved, knowing that to his parents, this was a good kind of headache.

Still, he decided to ease the tension and stepped up to say, “Uncles, brothers—about going to sea, we’ll discuss it slowly. What matters now is food. How about this: come by tonight and hang out. I brought some seafood and meat from New Zealand. If you don’t mind, come and have a taste.”

Wang Bo’s dad smiled as he puffed on his cigarette. “Yes, yes, come over for dinner. Tonight, we’re having catfish rice!”

In many inland villages, there’s a tradition of eating pork at the end of the year. But in Wangjia Fishing Village, they had catfish rice. More accurately, it was “Year Fish Rice,” symbolizing the wish for abundance every year (nian nian you yu).

Because of the homophone, it became known as “catfish rice” over time. The host would always prepare one large catfish at the end of the meal. And regardless of how tasty it was, the catfish would always be left unfinished—perfectly aligning with the tradition of “having surplus every year.”

Today, the weather was bad. It had been overcast since morning, and by around 2 PM, snowflakes had started to fall. By evening, the sky was fully clouded again.

Snow fell in swift flurries, quickly covering the land in white. It looked freezing cold—but Wang Bo’s house was buzzing with warmth and activity. Dozens of villagers had slowly gathered at his place.

Wang Bo called Zhong Dabao and told him to come for the catfish feast too. Honestly, while Wang Bo was away, his parents had been relying on Dabao for help. No matter what, he owed the guy a favor.