HLM – Chapter 1077 Hot Springs, Wine, and Slippery Stones

There weren’t that many big fish—this was just an ordinary sea bass, the most common catch in Blackfish Bay.

After reeling it in, Li Xing scratched his head in confusion. “This fish looks pretty average. How come it has so much strength? It even bent the fishing rod!”

Wang Bo replied lazily, “Because it’s wild. You think it’s like those farm-raised fish in your ponds? Wild fish are strong and fast. Otherwise, how would they survive in such a dangerous world?”

Soon after, Eva’s fishing rod also yielded a catch. Li Xing and Na Qingyang reeled in fish after fish—sea bass, mackerel, turbot, and more. Na Qingyang even hooked a large squid.

The yellow croaker they were most looking forward to never appeared. Song Zijun shook his head. “There are so few fish. Not even a pomfret—unbelievable.”

Glancing at Wang Bo, who still had nothing, Na Qingyang teased, “Old Wang, you better pick up the pace. Your pot is still empty.”

Wang Bo laughed. “You don’t understand strength at all! I’m not even going to bother with these little fish. It’s more comfortable lying here and taking a nap.”

Indeed, he had no catch because he wasn’t trying, just lying down while Da Pang and Er Pang continued to tussle around him.

But when midnight came and it was time for supper, Wang Bo perked up instantly. He had already prepared knives, forks, and chopsticks, and once food appeared, nobody could compete with him.

“Old Wang, seriously—barely worked, but you’re eating the most.” Li Xing and the others were exasperated.

Wang Bo grinned proudly. “Atulu taught me this. If you have any complaints, go find him. Use less strength while working, save your strength for eating—then you’ll always get your fill.”

They had caught plenty in the first half of the night—two golden pomfrets weighing over a pound and more than ten small silver pomfrets.

Silver pomfrets are smaller and sound less impressive, so during dinner, Li Xing and Na Qingyang went for those first.

Wang Bo, on the other hand, grabbed the fried silver pomfret and ate with delight. Da Pang and Er Pang ate aggressively beside him.

Soft-fried silver pomfret was far tastier than steamed golden pomfret—delicate, juicy flesh coated in egg batter and fried to a fragrant crispiness.

In fact, per size, silver pomfret is even more expensive than golden pomfret—the names differ only because of their color.

After eating and sleeping, the ocean seemed to brighten even earlier. As soon as the sun peeked over the horizon, the whole sea lit up. Wang Bo and the others rose to get back to work.

Song Zijun got up full of vigor as well. His success didn’t come from luck—it came from focus and hard work.

Wang Bo’s energy recovered quickly thanks to the months he had rested back in Sunset Town, while Song Zijun was naturally energetic.

Today they continued searching for undersea stones. Wang Bo wasn’t keen on searching anymore, but since he needed something to do, he dove underwater to collect coral stones instead, planning to place them at the bottom of the lake to enrich the terrain.

After two and a half days at sea, they returned. There were too few undersea stones to be found, and even fewer valuable ones. Wang Bo abandoned the idea of building a “stone plaza” underwater. For the next two days, he worked at home.

There were chores to finish in the family farmland and vegetable plot. Since his parents were returning with him, he wanted everything done before leaving.

By late August, all family and work matters were handled, and the group set off on their return journey.

Back at Sunset Town, the moment they stepped off the helicopter, Zhuang Ding came charging over and tackled Wang Bo to the ground as usual.

Little Wang, the Queen, and the rest of the dogs rushed in after him, rolling with Wang Bo in the grass despite the muddy ground.

Watching a whole pack of dogs pounce on a man, Atulu shuddered. “Looks like he’s being assaulted by perverts. Creepy as hell.”

Wang Bo stuck out a hand from the chaos of dogs and cats and flipped him off.

After settling his parents in to rest, Hani asked, “Boss, which job do you want to tackle first?”

Wang Bo waved his hand. “Your boss isn’t doing any work yet. First I’m taking a hot bath. Traveling nonstop has worn me out.”

Hani snorted. “With that rosy complexion, you don’t look worn out at all.”

The hot-spring lakes by Falling Water Beach had become increasingly famous in New Zealand. Especially during this season, many people visited to enjoy the lakeside springs.

But even more famous was the Stargate Wormhole—now the top attraction of Sunset Town, surpassing Birthflower Road.

Wang Bo had seen the financial report back home: the Stargate Wormhole tickets were sold out for an entire month!

If he hadn’t set the rule limiting sales to a one-month window, tickets would likely be booked out for an entire quarter.

Soaking in the warm spring, Wang Bo lay back, leaving only his head above water.

Li Xing laughed. “Now all we’re missing is someone to scrub our backs. If a burly guy showed up to scrub me right now, that’d be heaven.”

Wang Bo replied lazily, “Cut that crap. Who scrubs themselves in a hot spring? Isn’t that embarrassing?”

“What’s embarrassing? Foreigners scrub themselves too. You think the U.S. president doesn’t?”

“But who scrubs in a hot spring? Where are you gonna put all the dead skin? There are little fish here giving you massages already—that’s good enough!”

Schools of tiny fish swarmed around them. Wang Bo felt a tingling mix of soreness and itchiness—it really did feel like micro-massage.

Beside the hot spring were scorching stones. The service staff brought over a plate of top-quality ribeye. The moment it hit the stones, fat droplets burst outward.

“Damn… gold nest, silver nest, nothing beats your own doghouse. The ancients didn’t lie.” Wang Bo sighed as he ate the tender, fragrant beef.

“If this is a doghouse, then what counts as gold or silver? The White House? Buckingham Palace?” Na Qingyang asked lazily.

They warmed honey-sweet potato wine—brewed by Wang Bo—over the grill in small pots. With added red dates and goji berries, the rich, sweet aroma was irresistible.

The wine turned a rosy pink, slightly cloudy. Charlie swirled his cup and chuckled. “Hey, look—tears on the glass?”

Thick wine trickled slowly down the glass, just like high-quality red wine.

Wang Bo tested it himself—rotating the glass clockwise to let the wine swirl and mix with air, releasing its aroma. When he stopped, streaks of wine ran down the glass walls—“wine tears,” a mark of good liquor.

A sip of hot sweet potato wine, a bite of fragrant grilled veal, and the warmth of the hot spring—just like that, all the exhaustion from traveling washed away. The group felt refreshed and full of vitality again.