HLM -Chapter 1318 Let the Guns Do the Talking

Ye Qipeng raised his hand, ready to applaud. In business, after all, people liked to return favors—when he had been shooting just now, Wang Bo had cheered loudly enough.

But seeing that not a single clay pigeon had been hit and all of them had fallen to the ground, he froze on the spot. The raised hands simply couldn’t come together.

He recovered quickly, though. Having seen plenty of big scenes before, once Wang Bo lowered his gun, Ye Qipeng began clapping and shouted, “Great! Beautiful posture! Could this be the legendary gun-fu?”

Wang Bo wiped his nose and said, “Ah, Mr. Ye, you flatter me. I haven’t played with guns for a while—my hands are a bit rusty.”

Ye Qipeng: “……”

Wang Bo really didn’t have much talent when it came to firearms. It was like studying math, physics, and chemistry—talent mattered a lot. People often said that sharpshooters were fed by bullets, but anyone who truly played with guns knew that bullets could only produce good shooters. A true sharpshooter required both natural talent and countless rounds.

This time at the range, Wang Bo had positioned himself very clearly: he was just here to accompany the crown prince and study.

After testing his hand, he passed the gun back to Ye Qipeng and let him play, hoping he would enjoy himself.

Ye Qipeng didn’t stand on ceremony. The soreness in his shoulder had eased a bit by now, so he waved to Hou Haibo. The clay launcher hummed to life, and another clay pigeon shot out.

Ye Qipeng fired again and again. Wang Bo stood to the side, clapping continuously, cheering and shouting praise, to the point that some passing tourists stopped and stared at him with strange looks.

“What a great lackey,” someone sighed.

Many people recognized Wang Bo. “That’s Mayor Wang Bo from here. Who’s the one shooting? To make him work so hard sucking up like that.”

Hearing this, Wang Bo smiled at Ye Qipeng and said, “Mr. Ye, even the tourists can see I’m currying favor with you. Shouldn’t you, the person involved, say something?”

“Say what?” Ye Qipeng asked, shouldering the gun.

Wang Bo said, “A 40% channel fee—that’s too high. You see, little brother here has a big family and big business. You take away so much in channel fees, and I still have to pay taxes—how am I supposed to survive?”

Ye Qipeng burst out laughing. “Mayor Wang, you’re really teasing me, Old Ye.”

Wang Bo looked puzzled. “How would I dare tease your old man?”

Ye Qipeng was completely choked by that. “I—I—you’re really joking around. Anyway, you’ve got the whole Sunset Town. I even had a professional firm evaluate your net worth. A trillion might be exaggerated, but half of that—five hundred billion—is absolutely reasonable.”

Wang Bo shook his head. “Sunset Town just has some houses and a few attractions. That’s worth five hundred billion?”

Ye Qipeng sighed. “Alright, don’t be modest, Mayor Wang. Sunset Town has already become a symbol of the global tourism industry, and also a calling card for New Zealand abroad. That alone is worth five hundred billion—no problem.”

Wang Bo said, “You’re impressive. With one sentence, I’ve become the world’s richest man. But these days the global economy isn’t doing well—only China is bucking the trend—so I really need some support from your side. Just lower the channel fee a bit.”

Ye Qipeng said helplessly, “Mayor Wang, Northern Agrifood isn’t something I alone can decide. When we signed the contract, you were very straightforward. Now you’re saying this—doesn’t that seem a bit ungentlemanly?”

Wang Bo replied, “Fine, I understand your position. How about this—we do a conditional exchange. I can provide you with premium beef and lamb, premium milk and dairy products throughout the Asia-Pacific region. Other products like venison and camel milk are also possible. In return, you cut the channel fee in half.”

Hearing this, Ye Qipeng’s expression changed. He frowned and pondered for a while, then shook his head.

“No?” Wang Bo frowned as well.

Ye Qipeng sighed. “A 20% channel fee is really too low.”

Wang Bo said, “But I can give you full agency rights for all my other agricultural products. The profit potential there—you know it very well, Mr. Ye.”

Ye Qipeng still shook his head. Wang Bo raised his hand and said, “I’m not a businessman. I’m an immature politician, so I’m not good at bargaining. If you think my proposal won’t pass, then we’ll proceed according to the contract. However, I won’t be able to hand over the other products to you.”

He spoke decisively. Yet Ye Qipeng wasn’t angry—he actually laughed. “Little Wang, little Wang, you really are a little king—far too willful.”

Wang Bo smiled. “That’s just my temperament. I hope you’ll forgive me, Mr. Ye.”

He wasn’t trying to tear up the agreement, nor was he going to burn bridges or discard the donkey after crossing the river. Promoting Sunset pork into the high-end Asia-Pacific market had been entirely thanks to Northern Agrifood.

If it were only pork sales, Wang Bo was willing to follow the contract. He could accept the 40% channel fee.

But if Northern Agrifood wanted to use that same channel fee to take agency over all the other products from his ranch—that was impossible. That was outright bloodsucking.

Therefore, once he learned that Northern Agrifood wanted full access to all ranch products, he preemptively proposed changing the channel fee ratio. Otherwise, it would be no different from him raising cattle and sheep for Northern Agrifood’s executives.

Northern Agrifood was semi–state-owned in nature. Ye Qipeng was right—within the group, he couldn’t single-handedly make every decision.

But if those officials were so greedy that they wanted to suck his marrow and drink his blood, Old Wang would never agree. Besides, he was now a New Zealander. Those Chinese officials couldn’t control him, and he didn’t need to compromise.

Seeing Wang Bo’s resolute expression, Ye Qipeng thought for a bit more, then called Assistant Lang—who was practicing shooting—over. The two of them shouldered their guns and began discussing in low voices.

Wang Bo waited patiently, picked up the shotgun, and continued shooting clay pigeons. Unfortunately, his marksmanship was truly awful—dozens of clays, and he didn’t hit a single one.

Feeling embarrassed, he fired one last casual shot, planning to stop.

By coincidence, that random shot actually hit the clay pigeon…

“Fucking hell—try hard and you don’t get pregnant, mess around and you knock someone up,” Wang Bo cursed angrily.

After the discussion, Ye Qipeng walked back and said, “Little Wang, I called back and briefly discussed it with the board members. They find it very hard to accept your conditions.”

Wang Bo said, “Then let’s proceed according to the contract.”

Ye Qipeng stopped him. “Indeed, we’re each sticking to our own conditions. But I have an idea. Since we’re at the shooting range, why don’t we let the guns do the talking?”

Hearing that, Bowen’s eyes lit up. “Are you going to use the cowboy method to settle this? A pistol duel?”

Wang Bo and Ye Qipeng both rolled their eyes. Their lives were worth more than diamonds—how could they possibly duel?

Ye Qipeng said, “Clay pigeons. Ten of them. Whoever hits more wins.”

At that, Bowen rolled his eyes. “Hey, Mr. Ye, that’s blatantly cheating. That’s not chivalrous. But if you want to gamble like that, then I’ll gamble with you.”