HLM -Chapter 1251 A Standard Farming Family

Following Christian, Wang Bo toured the entire farm. It was a whirlwind visit, but he found it quite exciting.

Just as they were about to return to the house, the walkie-talkie on Christian’s waist buzzed. His eldest son was calling out: “Dad! Dad! Can you hear me?”

Christian took off the walkie-talkie and said, “I’m here. What’s up?”

Bulls let out a sigh of relief. “Finally reached you. Here’s the thing: my hardworking son had a conflict with a classmate at school. He just went to school, so now I need your help to harvest the wheat.”

Christian said, “I don’t have time right now. Call Matt and see if he’s free to come help.”

Wang Bo interjected, “Mate, if you’re inviting me just to help, there’s no need. I can hop in the car and check it out—honestly, I’m quite curious about it.”

Christian didn’t bother with formalities. “Alright then, I’d be glad to show you my steel babies.”

Harvesting wheat required three vehicles working together: one combine harvester and two trailers. Bulls would drive the harvester, a farmer would drive one pickup trailer, and the second pickup, unmanned, needed Christian to handle.

Bulls clearly liked Wang Bo, personally inviting him onto his harvester. “Wang, come sit here. My cab is more spacious, with air conditioning and an air purifier. It’s extremely comfortable in there.”

Wang Bo laughed. “Well, I have to check that out.”

He also had a harvester like this one—it was very advanced. The machine was enormous, like a small house; its tires were as tall as a person, and the whole vehicle stood four meters high—a true steel giant.

Despite being covered in dust outside, the cab was immaculate inside, like an office. Every instrument was polished clean, and the floor and seats were spotless.

Wang Bo inhaled deeply. “What’s that fragrance? It’s captivating.”

Bulls pointed at the grass mat on the seat. “My sister wove this from lavender, rosemary, thyme, and lemongrass. It has its own scent. We put it in the cab. Pretty nice, right?”

Wang Bo nodded.

Before driving, Bulls pulled a small fridge from under the seat. “Want a drink? Beer, cola, soda, or chilled juice.”

Wang Bo was surprised. “You even have beer?”

Bulls shrugged. “The driver rarely drinks it—usually for the helpers.”

“I’ll take juice,” Wang Bo said. “The fruits from Cromwell are so famous, I bet the juice here tastes amazing.”

Bulls handed him a bottle of kiwi juice, smiling. “You’re right, Wang, absolutely right. Our juice is known nationwide.”

This was homemade juice, with simple caps sealing the bottles. Wang Bo took a sip: sweet, tart, and ice-cold. He praised, “Wow, having a juice like this in such an environment is pure bliss.”

Bulls pointed to the fridge below. “My dad and I DIY-ed this. Originally, the harvester had no freezer. We found this in a garage, bought it for fifty bucks, and it turned out to be really useful.”

Wang Bo gave a thumbs up. This family’s life was impressive—a typical New Zealand household, where everyone could contribute and lend a hand.

The harvester was powerful and expensive. Wang Bo had paid 460,000 yuan for his own, and with attachments, the total reached 500,000 yuan—enough to buy a Lamborghini in New Zealand if it were a car.

Bulls started the harvester; it roared forward with immense power.

“This feels awesome, like sitting in a tank,” Wang Bo said.

Bulls nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I prefer large harvesters over small ones. There’s a smaller one in our garage, but my dad plans to replace it.”

A large harvester could handle 150 hectares of wheat in a single day. Even with Christian’s extensive wheat fields, two days would suffice as long as the trailers kept pace.

Wang Bo asked, “Is it necessary? Two large harvesters might be overkill.”

Bulls replied, “No, with two, we can take extra jobs. You know, Wang, planting alone isn’t very profitable. We need subsidies—my siblings are in university, and I want to go back to school too.”

Agricultural machinery in New Zealand was expensive—a major farm expense. Wang Bo’s multi-purpose no-till seeder had cost 800,000 yuan, unaffordable for most farmers.

But the equipment was highly versatile. Wang Bo’s machine could plant almost every crop in New Zealand without tilling—just drive and sow.

Sometimes, Motak would rent it out for work. The daily rental was 2,000 yuan. Continuous work could almost pay off the machine in a year.

For ordinary farmers, however, the profits weren’t as high, as loans were needed. Even with government subsidies and favorable interest rates, the total repayment was considerable. Many farms were heavily indebted, and agricultural income depended on the weather—unstable revenue could easily lead to bankruptcy.

Finding the topic too heavy, Wang Bo shifted the conversation to Bulls’ siblings and schooling. “You still want to go to university?”

Bulls nodded. “Yes. After high school, I didn’t want to study or stay in a small town, so I went to Auckland. Initially, I worked in a casino as a waiter, then construction and maintenance. But eventually, I realized agriculture is my true path.”

Wang Bo asked, “So now you understand the importance of learning?”

Bulls chuckled, a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I realized it long ago. I just wasn’t smart, and studying didn’t give me dignity. But to be an excellent farmer, you need knowledge. I’m preparing for exams.”

Wang Bo suggested, “Try Lincoln University. In a couple of years, the Lincoln campus near Sunset Town will open. It’ll be convenient—you can drive home on weekends.”

Bulls replied, “Of course, that would be great. But Lincoln’s Agribusiness program is tough. Graduation is difficult, but I don’t care about the diploma. As long as I can get in, I’ll study eagerly.”

In New Zealand, as in Europe and the U.S., it’s easier to get in than to graduate. Earning a degree has never been simple.