HLM – Chapter 170 The Event Hosted by Zhuang Ding

With the poultry and livestock on the ranch starting to produce, there was no longer a need to purchase meat for the castle. Whatever one wanted to eat could simply be caught at the ranch and butchered—there were six cowboys available to handle it all.

Kobe fried up a huge batch of chicken. These chickens were a breed Wang Bo had brought from his hometown—an especially well-known native breed from the Jiangsu-Zhejiang region called Jiu Jin Huang (literally “Nine Jin Yellow”).

He had bought the chicks haphazardly at the time, paying no attention to breed. As long as they were available in the market, he bought them all and dumped them into the ranch to grow and reproduce freely.

To the cowboys, these chickens were completely unfamiliar. They treated all of them as wild chickens. That was the advantage of being near the Southern Alps—if any puzzling new poultry or livestock species appeared, you could always blame the mountains.

Jiu Jin Huang chickens are known for their plump breast muscles, making them ideal for frying. Once the cowboys discovered this, they only caught this breed for fried chicken.

It was thanks to the powerful Heart of the Ranch that these native chickens grew and reproduced so quickly. Otherwise, with the way the people and dogs ate here, the Jiu Jin Huang would’ve gone extinct first.

The Heart of the Ranch also improved the meat quality. Native chickens already tasted better than New Zealand’s broiler chickens, and now with the added enhancement, they tasted even better—more tender, more flavorful, and rich with aroma.

Over the next few days, the Wanderer Town Earthquake became the focus of major media attention. Sunset Town followed suit and gained considerable exposure, getting promoted—intentionally or not—in the process.

Disaster relief had little to do with Wang Bo directly, but just like in China, post-earthquake New Zealand also organized nationwide charity fundraising efforts. So Wang Bo figured he might as well organize something on behalf of Sunset Town.

He got straight to it, drove into town, and found Hani to ask, “Buddy, how many households are in town now?”

Hani rolled his eyes and began to roar, “Fk, Mayor, I’m the Auditor! Why do you give me every job? Fk, fk, fk! Why the hell am I also doing the census like some damn clerk…?”

One sentence from Wang Bo shut him up: “Hey, buddy, a father is his son’s role model. You like to curse—your son’s picking it up too.”

Hani turned red in the face, fuming, but eventually gave in and muttered, “There are 22 households and 65 people total—30 men and 35 women. 51 adults and 14 minors…”

That was the perk of having a competent subordinate. Wang Bo never had to worry about town affairs—Hani had everything in perfect order.

Hearing the numbers, Wang Bo was surprised: “We have 22 households now? That many already?”

Eyes bulging, Hani started shouting again: “God, what do you mean by that? You’re the mayor—you don’t even know how many people live in your town? Fine, it’s mainly because of the earthquake. Some people’s homes got destroyed and needed a place to stay. The modular houses here are practically free, so they came.”

Wang Bo had invested nearly 4 million in building those modular houses. Now there were two neat rows of small buildings on either side of the road—uniform in style and visually appealing.

The first Heart of Residential Land had been fully utilized, filled with modular homes—more than 50 small buildings lining both sides of the road. The town now looked quite decent.

According to New Zealand law, a town is the smallest unit of settlement, and towns are classified based on population. The first threshold is 100 people. Below that, there’s no tax bureau, police station, or full-fledged town government. Only three major committees exist: the Administrative Committee, the Oversight Committee, and the Audit Committee.

The town’s administrative functions fall under the Administrative Committee. Auditors and the police belong to the Oversight Committee. This time, the charity fundraiser was handled by these two committees.

Since there weren’t many people, organizing the fundraiser was simple—but it had to be done ceremoniously. After all, it was also a perfect opportunity for publicity.

Conveniently, Mo Yuning had agreed to help Wang Bo and Sunset Town film an episode of her show. They discussed it over the phone and decided to make the fundraiser the episode’s theme.

A South Island TV interview van rolled into the town. Mo Yuning stepped out, looking neat and fresh, holding a microphone. She smiled and said, “Hey, Wang Bo—is this your town? Looks pretty nice. Much better than you described.”

Indeed, with several projects completed—especially the modular housing—the town had become quite charming. Green grass and trees lined the roads, giving it the feel of a proper countryside town.

Wang Bo introduced his subordinates. Charlie didn’t need an intro—his wolfish intentions toward Mo Yuning were crystal clear, and she had long since seen through them. Not interested, she always kept her distance from him.

After Mo Yuning exchanged greetings with a few people, the cameraman set up the camera, and the event officially began.

Bowen made a donation box out of a milk carton, designing a handle on top. Zhuang Ding carried it in his mouth, trotting along lightly to collect donations. The Queen followed behind, dignified and confident, participating in the event too.

Of course, the six little Princes would never obediently stay back at the ranch. Like their fuzzy ball of a mother, they rolled around everywhere with her.

Zhuang Ding ran to the convenience store, jumped up, and used his paw to press down the handle and open the door. He trotted in, lifted his head, and presented the donation box to Anderson.

New Zealand convenience stores are all-in-one—supermarket, fast food, and café. Anderson was frying chicken legs, with the exhaust hood humming away to keep the place well-ventilated and odor-free.

Seeing Zhuang Ding, Anderson dangled a chicken leg above its head and teased, “Hey, baby, look—here’s a juicy drumstick. Want a taste?”

Zhuang Ding’s eyes sparkled as he stared longingly at the golden chicken leg, gulping repeatedly as drool threatened to flood the floor.

The Queen saved him just in time. The big Rottweiler dashed in, glanced at Zhuang Ding and then the chicken leg, and leapt up to snatch it—not to feed Zhuang Ding, but to give it to her own pups.

Zhuang Ding stood on his hind legs, unhappy, and thumped the counter glass with a big paw, gesturing for Anderson to put the money in the donation box so he could move on.

Wang Bo followed behind. Seeing Anderson bullying his dog, he whistled and said, “Buddy, you’re playing with fire, you know that? Don’t anger my dog—it’s the darling of Western audiences now.”

Anderson stuffed his prepared donation into the box and laughed. “It’s my darling too. It’s so rare to see it—I’ve gotta have some fun.”

Leaving the convenience store, Zhuang Ding ran to Anderson’s house. Barbara was behind her easel, painting with oil stains all over her. When she saw Zhuang Ding, she laughed and said, “Wang, you’re cheating. My husband already called and said he’d handle the donation.”

Wang Bo shrugged. “It’s Zhuang Ding who’s cheating, not me. Where it goes is entirely up to its mood.”