HLM -Chapter 1263 Puppy Brawl

Wang Bo felt a bit embarrassed to speak. The town had already fallen into such disrepair, and moving some of the buildings from here would be like pushing people into a well, filling it in, and then stomping on it twice.

Hani, straightforward as ever, said bluntly, “To be honest, Babbly would probably feel upset, but we want to move the Captain Baly House, the Summer Banquet, the Easter Market, and the Labor Day Market to Sunset Town.”

At this, Kaft’s eyes immediately widened. “What?!”

The elderly man nearby, however, reacted calmly. He shrugged and said, “Oh, that’s fine. They’re just going to waste if they stay here, so if they can be moved, all the better.”

Kaft looked at him in surprise. “Hey, Babbly, my old friend, these are the places you’ve been caring for all this time, and you’re just giving them away?”

Wang Bo suddenly realized that the old man before him was the protector of these old buildings. No wonder Hani had seemed so confident earlier.

Babbly took a drag of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud that made his face appear somewhat distant. He said, “If they can be moved intact, isn’t that a good thing?”

Kaft said, “You’ve been looking after these old guys for decades. You’re really going to let them be separated? I don’t believe you’d be willing.”

Babbly’s hand on the cigarette tightened. “If I were only twenty, I’d want to keep them. But I’m almost seventy. I can barely take care of myself, let alone these old buildings.”

Wang Bo couldn’t help but say, “Then why don’t you move to Sunset Town as well? Mr. Babbly, you can continue managing these buildings. I’ll gather them together and make them more valuable.”

Babbly laughed heartily. “No, I can’t. My parents, my wife, and my children’s graves are here. How could I leave?”

At this, his expression darkened considerably, revealing the depth of his story.

When they parted, Babbly said, “If the government approves, I’ll help you move them. I don’t need any payment, but… could you wait until we old folks pass away and then help bury us in the town cemetery?”

His words were tinged with sadness. Wang Bo couldn’t help but think of the lonely old antelopes he had seen at sunset on the African plains.

He promised, “Whether or not we can move the buildings, I’ll do that. I’ll have a priest handle it and swear to God that you’ll be reunited with your family.”

Babbly smiled, lit another cigarette, and waved. “Then, farewell.”

The trip to Tahiti Town left Wang Bo feeling somber. The town’s death wasn’t directly his fault, but he was certainly involved.

Back at the villa, however, his mood lifted. A bunch of little furballs were brawling—chasing each other, rolling on the grass—it was quite amusing.

Dale sat on the grass next to Queen, giggling from time to time, while Queen shook her head constantly, looking like a mother faced with mischievous children.

The one-month-old Rottweilers were still puppies, but they drank goat milk, had abundant nutrition, and inherited strong genes from their parents. Each one grew sturdy and robust.

The puppies were like little cannonballs, running incredibly fast, so even when brawling, they were full of energy and force.

Wang Bo got out of the car and asked, “Dale, what’s going on with the little ones?”

Dale giggled, “February and September were fighting over a toy. They started brawling, and the other dogs thought it was a game, so they joined in. But February and September were angry and bit them, and that’s how it turned into a free-for-all.”

There were fourteen puppies. Williams had reserved two, giving them names himself, leaving twelve remaining. Wang Bo, for simplicity, named them January to December.

Now, though, it was all chaotic; he couldn’t keep track of their names. But Dale and Eva, who spent all day with them, could.

As Wang Bo approached, a few puppies glared and barked at him, hopping and leaping to scare him.

“What’s going on?”

“You’re intruding on their territory, hehe,” Dale said with a laugh.

As the puppies barked, Queen got up and ran over, using her large paws to knock them over, baring her teeth: “Woof! Woof! Woof!”

The puppies scrambled to their feet and rubbed their heads against Queen’s paws to appease her. She knocked them down again, staring at them sternly.

When they got up a second time, they became quiet. Wang Bo approached, and they no longer barked.

This is how good dogs are trained. Their experiences in the first two months are crucial for their whole life. That’s why puppy buyers must consider the parents—good-looking parents usually indicate strong bloodlines, and well-trained mothers generally mean the puppies are easier to train.

Queen, in fact, was already training the puppies—teaching them trust and friendliness toward humans.

Wang Bo squatted and teased the puppies with his fingers. The little ones were brave, bouncing with their short legs and nibbling his fingers with their tiny mouths.

The bites were gentle, but the teeth were sharp, so accidents could still cause scratches.

Zhuang Ding ran out, and the puppies joyfully swarmed him, like the little monkeys of Huaguo Mountain greeting Sun Wukong, pressing and clustering around him.

Back in the villa, Wang Bo’s parents weren’t there. Curious, he asked Eva, who pointed to the backyard. “They’re making a hometown dish there.”

Wang Bo went to the backyard and saw his parents working around a small machine.

He laughed, “Ah, making rice sausage?”

The rice sausage was most famous in the Korean style, and Wang Bo’s hometown had a version too, derived from sausages. In short, it mixed pork, pig’s blood, and glutinous rice, then stuffed it into casings.

Compared to the Korean version, their hometown version was slightly stronger in flavor, using plenty of minced green onions, ginger, and garlic to mask the blood’s gaminess.

The ranch had plenty of pork and pig’s blood, and the glutinous rice had just been harvested—clean, plump, and white, even raw, it had a fragrant aroma.

The rice needed soaking in clean water, which had already been done. Wang Bo lent a hand and asked, “You started soaking the rice yesterday to make sausages? I thought you were making zongzi.”

His mother asked, “Ask Eva if she wants zongzi. If she does, I can prepare some over the next couple of days.”

Wang Bo was exasperated. “Ask if she wants them? Can’t a son just decide?”

His father said, “You have a good appetite—you can eat two buns with pickles. We have to consider the little one’s taste.”

Wang Bo replied, “You have time to prepare it anyway. If Eva doesn’t eat it, there’s Dale and me, and Atulu too. Nothing will go to waste.”