HLM -Chapter 1382 A Different Kind of Sandwich

In early March, a group of burly bikers rode into Sunset Town—forty or fifty motorcycles roaring into this quiet, picturesque place.

The townspeople watched them nervously, their eyes lingering on the oversized Harley-Davidsons. As for the tattooed giants themselves, the residents weren’t particularly alarmed—after all, many of the Māori and islanders in town were tattooed in much the same way.

Charlie frowned. “No idea what kind of change this will bring. I just hope it doesn’t affect our town.”

Wang Bo patted him on the shoulder. “Trust our ability to stay in control. Gangs are something every town in New Zealand has to face. If the TH gang doesn’t come, sooner or later another gang will.”

Bowen said bluntly, “Then we’ll drive them out with guns.”

Wang Bo shook his head. “No. Simple violence won’t solve this problem.”

He trusted the TH gang not because they were anti-drug, nor because they had a good reputation, but because when Jimmy and Vaughan first entered the town, his Sense of Vigilance hadn’t given him any warning.

Likewise, now that a large group of gang members had arrived, the Sense of Vigilance still hadn’t stirred in the slightest.

When a forest grows large, all kinds of birds appear. And when a town grows big, all kinds of people and all kinds of trouble inevitably come with it.

The Sense of Vigilance flared up dozens of times almost every day. Wang Bo was honestly getting fed up with it and no longer paid close attention.

If a family got into a fight, it would trigger.

If someone came into town carrying a knife, it would trigger.

Even when tourists violated rules and touched livestock, it would still trigger.

Jimmy said there were drug dealers hiding inside Sunset Town. Wang Bo neither confirmed nor denied it—he hadn’t noticed them, largely because he’d ignored many of the warnings raised by the Sense of Vigilance.

He had work to do. More importantly, he had a life to live. Some problems simply had to be ignored.

Under such circumstances, if the TH gang was willing to step in and deal with certain issues—and if the Sense of Vigilance judged their arrival as not posing a threat to the town—then Wang Bo was naturally willing to accept them.

There was another reason, just as he’d said earlier: as Sunset Town continued to grow stronger and more famous, many gangs had begun eyeing this juicy piece of meat.

Rather than guarding against thieves day after day, it was better to choose one thief carefully. The TH gang was the kind that followed a code—honorable thieves, in a sense. Cooperating with them was the best option among bad choices.

Charlie, who understood the TH gang better than Bowen, said, “In a way, them choosing our town is actually an honor.”

Bowen laughed. “You must be out of your mind.”

“The TH gang is very strict when selecting members. They don’t have many people, and they have very few bases. Lots of towns that suffer under brutal gangs hope the TH gang will move in—but they refuse.”

“Coming to Sunset Town, I think, is because we’re more topical, more visible. They want to carry out their anti-drug work where everyone can see it,” Charlie explained.

“What about the police?” Bowen frowned.

“Off catching those goddamn speeding cars,” Charlie said, unable to stop himself from swearing.

Wang Bo burst out laughing. New Zealand police obsessing over traffic violations had already become a national embarrassment.

After the TH gang arrived in Sunset Town, they rented several houses.

Wang Bo brought Atulu, Uncle Bing, and a few others to visit Jimmy, setting down a pile of frozen meat.

“This is a small gift,” Wang Bo said. “If you’re throwing a party tonight, you’ll probably need food.”

Jimmy opened it, took a look, and grinned. “We’re flattered. Sunset beef and Sunset lamb, right? This is exactly why we came to Sunset Town. It’s amazing!”

“Yeah! Get the hell out of the way, let me see the good stuff! I love this damn beef and lamb!” A Māori brute with tattoos all over his face shoved people aside and roared as he walked out.

Wang Bo said calmly, “No need to be surprised. Actually, this isn’t from me—it’s a gift from your neighbors. They welcome you, but they hope you’ll keep the partying under control and not disturb their rest.”

Jimmy patted Wang Bo on the shoulder. “We’re not lunatics. We never clash with the residents where we’re stationed.”

Wang Bo nodded. That was exactly what he’d come to make clear.

As he was about to leave, Jimmy caught up with him and said, “Mayor, we’re planning to launch the Sandwich Delivery Program starting tomorrow. Want to join us?”

The Sandwich Delivery Program was a charitable gang initiative first created by the Black Power group. When the TH gang split off, they inherited the program as well.

Wang Bo looked straight at him, then smiled. “Of course. I’ll be a volunteer for now.”

He needed to spend a couple of days with these people and see what they were really like.

Before dawn, Wang Bo headed out to the TH gang’s base to help make the morning sandwiches.

He brought Uncle Bing and his son, Sweet Guy, and also invited the chief instructor of the town’s gym—a Muay Thai expert named Khunchai—to ensure sufficient muscle.

The lean Khunchai clasped his hands together in a Buddhist greeting when he saw Wang Bo. “What’s the likelihood of a fight today? I should prepare in advance.”

“Very small,” Wang Bo replied. “This is just a precaution.”

Khunchai nodded. “Understood. Please lead the way, Mayor. It’s an honor to help.”

At this hour, the entire town was still asleep. Only the Flame Mountain Bar was brightly lit—there were always people partying through the night there, and tourists were extremely satisfied with it.

When they arrived at the TH gang’s base, a group of burly men reeking of alcohol lay sprawled outside the door.

Uncle Bing went over to take a look. “Aftereffects of partying too hard—they’re all drunk.”

They were fully clothed and covered with blankets, clearly having been taken care of. Seeing this, Wang Bo left them alone and went inside.

In the kitchen, Pastor Vaughan was busy with a young man. Seeing them, he smiled. “My God, you brought so many helpers?”

“Isn’t it better to make more sandwiches?” Wang Bo replied with a warm smile.

Noticing there was no smell of alcohol on Vaughan, he asked, “You didn’t party last night?”

“Oh no, no,” Vaughan said. “You misunderstand. I only share the same anti-drug convictions with them. In other aspects, we’re quite different. I’m a Christian—I don’t drink, I don’t rage, and I live by nine commandments.”

Uncle Bing asked in surprise, “Nine commandments? Isn’t it ten?”

“I kill,” Vaughan said calmly. “If a drug dealer points a gun at me, I’ll send him to hell faster.”

Making sandwiches was fairly simple. Place a fried egg between slices of toast, spread butter; add canned tuna to some, bacon to others, vegetables to others, then cut them into triangles. One sandwich after another was done.

This time, they were making a hundred sandwiches, mainly for children in elementary schools, middle schools, and special psychological schools.

The number came from teachers Wang Bo had contacted the night before. He’d only said that someone in town wanted to organize a breakfast delivery for underprivileged children—he hadn’t mentioned who was behind it.