HLM – Chapter 185 The Arrival of the Māori Tribe

Once inside the car, Hugo and Benjamin started chatting, mostly reminiscing about their missions in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Africa.

Wang Bo was very interested in their experiences. He had once considered joining the army himself, but he knew that being a soldier in China was entirely different from what he had imagined, so it remained just a passing thought.

Unfortunately, he had to respect their privacy. New Zealanders were particularly sensitive about personal boundaries, and conflicts caused by privacy invasions could be quite severe. So even though he was curious, after listening to a few sentences, he quickly excused himself.

The two men talked in the car for over an hour. During that time, Wang Bo took on the role of server, delivering coffee, grilled sausages, cookies, and butter cake several times.

Bored, he wandered into the home of the soldier and his son.

He had been there before. The small house was warm and cozy, with none of the cold, military aura one might expect. Succulent plants and flowers adorned the balcony, tables, and corners of the walls. Occasionally, there were even a few plush toys.

When he entered, Gerald was focused on playing with two puppies. These pups had large heads and, although they were round and chubby, their fierce expressions made them look quite intimidating.

Wang Bo recognized them as pit bull puppies—a strong medium-sized breed often used in dog fighting.

Apparently unaware of his presence, the soldier’s son kept his eyes fixed on the pups, who likewise ignored the unfamiliar visitor and continued gnawing wildly on his hand.

Wang Bo wandered around inside for a bit before quietly leaving. He hadn’t said a word, only glanced out the window. His handsome face carried a faint shadow of gloom—he had clearly noticed Hugo’s arrival.

After Hugo and Benjamin finished chatting, Hugo left, and Wang Bo drove him part of the way. On the road, Hugo said, “You must be curious about my relationship with that father and son.”

“Actually, I’m more curious about why Gerald is a bit… off, and about your background too. I really am curious,” Wang Bo replied honestly.

Hugo smiled, brushing off the topic lightly. “There’s not much to tell. I served in the Royal Army for five years, then spent another two in the French Foreign Legion. That’s it—a simple life path.”

It sounded simple, but Wang Bo didn’t believe for a second that his military experience was truly that straightforward.

Unfortunately, Hugo didn’t elaborate, nor did he explain Gerald’s situation. Perhaps, in his eyes, Wang Bo was just a new acquaintance—not someone close enough to confide in.

A few days after Hugo left, the Māori tribe led by Aturu finally arrived in the town.

There were exactly one hundred people in the group. Sanders had underestimated how many relatives his girlfriend had. Their arrival meant the town’s population had surpassed 100, qualifying it to be promoted to a Level-2 town.

A Level-1 town with fewer than 100 residents had no official township government—only three main committees for administration, oversight, and auditing. But a Level-2 town with 100 to 500 residents not only retained those three committees, it could also establish its own police department.

Oversight and inspection are perpetual themes in New Zealand’s political system. Level-1 towns had four civil service positions; now, as a Level-2 town, it would get six—including two for police officers.

Wang Bo and a few subordinates went to receive the Māori group. Leading them was not the tribal chief Aturu, but the priestess—Old Lady Otutu.

She was quite elderly and had been buried under rubble during the earthquake. Later, some strong young men found her and dug her out. Wang Bo remembered that she was in very bad shape at the time, barely able to speak.

Now, seeing her again, she looked much more energetic. When they met, she was puffing clouds from a pipe, eyes half-closed in satisfaction.

Upon seeing Wang Bo and Zhuang Ding, the old lady removed her pipe and approached very formally. Wang Bo gulped nervously—she was about to do the nose-pressing greeting.

Honestly, doing a hongi with an old woman whose face was as wrinkled as a walnut gave Wang Bo serious mental stress. If it were a young man or woman, it would be a different story.

Luckily, the old priestess spared him. She lowered her head and performed the hongi with Zhuang Ding.

Startled, Zhuang Ding tried to flee, tail between its legs, but Wang Bo—out of pure mischief—grabbed it and brought it back. The priestess firmly rubbed noses with the dog.

Then Aturu came over and offered Wang Bo a hongi as well. He explained, “Mayor, don’t blame my grandmother. Your status is too low to deserve her hongi, but you can do it with me.”

Looking at the chubby guy’s smug expression, Wang Bo wanted to cry. He wished his status were even lower so he could avoid both options. A wrinkly old woman or a fat guy covered in blubber—either way, it was not a pleasant thought.

And just when he thought it was over, the remaining 98 Māori all pinched their noses, preparing for the greeting.

Wang Bo was terrified. “Shit! Don’t tell me I have to do the hongi with every single one?”

The fat Aturu beamed with pride. “Of course! How else can we show our gratitude and respect to the mayor?”

Wang Bo was inwardly devastated but had to keep smiling as he stood in line, preparing to get his nose smashed over and over again.

He looked so pitiful!

Bowen, Hani, and Juan were all watching with glee from the sidelines. But Aturu called out to them cheerfully, “Future colleagues, you’re included too. Line up—time for your hongi as well!”

The smiles froze on their faces.

Hani stammered, “Wha—what does this have to do with us?!”

Aturu kept that same smug grin. “Because you’ll be my future colleagues. In our Māori tradition, the first meeting with important coworkers requires a hongi.”

Charlie quickly distanced himself. “Not me! I’m just here to watch!”

One nose bump after another, Wang Bo’s eyes were streaming—not an exaggeration. His nose was sore, and real tears were coming down.

For ordinary guests, the Māori would just lightly touch noses. But for important ones? They slammed them.

Wang Bo felt like his nose bridge had been broken—his good looks ruined.

He complained bitterly, but Juan, rubbing his own sore nose, tried to comfort him: “Boss, you’re overthinking. Your looks might’ve actually gone up a notch—okay fine, maybe not. Maybe it did go down a bit… but just by two points.”

Even with his talent for flattery, the guy couldn’t lie with a straight face.

Bowen muttered, “Boss used to be a solid 61 out of 100. Now that he lost two points, he’s down to 59. He was just on the passing line before… now he’s failed.”

“F**k!”

After the greetings, it was time to get down to business—settling the new residents.

Wang Bo suggested they move into the residential district currently under construction, but Aturu refused.

“We don’t live in buildings, Boss. We Māori have our own thatched huts.”

“Well, the west side of China Road is just an empty plot. You could build there,” Wang Bo offered.

Aturu shook his head. “Better to designate a new area. You know we like to have fun. If we’re too close to the other residents, it’ll cause problems—and a lot of conflict.”

He was being very honest.