HLM – Chapter 188 Sunset Town’s Tree Planting Festival

It was, undeniably, an astonishing undertaking.

The concept of “birth flowers” — also known as birthday flowers — dates back to ancient Roman times and is one of the traditions carried over from early Christian culture in Europe. Christianity has long had a practice of associating saints with particular flowers, a custom born from the tradition of decorating altars with blooming flowers during saintly commemorations.

As this merged with religious and traditional cultural beliefs, the modern idea of birth flowers was born — each day of the year has its own symbolic flower, and every person is said to have a birth flower that matches the date of their birth.

So in upper-class European circles, when a baby is born, visitors don’t just bring random flowers. They find out the child’s birth flower and bring that instead.

What Wang Bo wanted to create was a complete Birth Flower Road — one that stretches from January 1st to December 31st, with 365 types of flowers planted in order along both sides of the road.

Planting them wasn’t the hard part — just sowing the seeds would do. What surprised Hani, Charlie, and the others was the management that came after. Taking care of 365 kinds of flowers is a massive job. Any number of issues — pests, disease, unsuitable weather — could wipe out entire species. Maintenance would be a nightmare.

But Wang Bo didn’t care. The town’s development funds were meant for salaries anyway. Since he couldn’t use it all himself, why not hire more non-managerial workers — janitors, gardeners, whatever’s needed?

South Island’s climate was ideal — mild, with winter lows of 4–5°C and summer highs of around 30°C. It was practically made for growing flowers and plants. Not making use of such natural blessings would be a waste.

As for concerns over large-scale flower death? He wasn’t worried. With the Spring of Life providing irrigation, the flowers and trees were guaranteed to thrive.

By late July, all the saplings had arrived and been sorted. Wang Bo got to work.

The hands-on work began July 21st, right in the heart of New Zealand’s deep winter.

But unlike most countries in the Northern Hemisphere, winter here was great for planting flowers. The soil didn’t get too cold, and autumn and winter were rainy — perfect for letting plants gestate before bursting into bloom in spring.

Atulu found over 40 temporary workers, who lined up with their tax IDs to register with Hani. Once the work was done, Wang Bo would pay their wages — and their taxes.

That’s when the job of tax registrar suddenly became a headache. The Māori men wore dark expressions as they registered their tax numbers, some even shouting, accusing Hani of discrimination.

Thankfully, Atulu helped smooth things over, and no real conflict broke out.

Wang Bo bought a mini excavator, rototiller, cultivator, and seeder from Auckland. Charlie suggested renting them instead, but Wang Bo insisted on buying — spending 110,000 yuan in total.

Why? Because he was thinking long-term. Just last month, he’d won a Vegetable Garden Core — and when he started farming, all this equipment would come in handy.

The mini excavator was for digging tree holes. Many of the Māori men could operate it, including Atulu, who shamelessly applied for the job — a cushy $250/day role.

Though Sunset Town’s population had passed 100, Wang Bo’s census report hadn’t been officially approved yet, so the police department’s green light hadn’t come through, and Atulu hadn’t started receiving his official salary.

The rototiller and cultivator raced down the road, churning up weeds and soil into neat rows. A pickup truck dragging a toothed rake followed behind, clearing the mess. It was quick and efficient.

Wang Bo supervised on-site, holding a simple blueprint — a rough sketch drafted by him and his crew of “tactical amateurs.”

According to their plan:

• West side of the highway would be planted with trees — about five species, stretching roughly 20 kilometers.
• The remaining 30+ kilometers would be the Birth Flower Road.

The China Road and commercial district were both on the west side, making it the busier area. The trees would provide future shade and relief for foot traffic.

The Birth Flower Road, on the other hand, would connect to the Auckland section of Highway 8, serving as a welcoming entrance. Tourists driving from Auckland would be greeted by a breathtaking view — endless roadside flowers stretching into the distance.

After digging a bunch of tree holes, Atulu hopped down from the excavator and sidled up to Wang Bo with a grin. “Mayor, I have a suggestion — why not make today our town’s Founding Day?”

Wang Bo shot him a sideways glance. “Founding Day? Today? What kind of weird idea is that?”

Atulu, being the softie he was, immediately chuckled awkwardly and backed off.

But Wang Bo thought it over. “Actually, your suggestion gave me an idea. Why don’t we make today Tree Planting Day for the town? How about that?”

New Zealand had a ton of local festivals. In places like Drifters’ Town, where Māori communities were concentrated, there were nearly 200 festivals a year. Even Auckland nearby had things like Doll Day, Rain Day, and even Sunbathing Day. The town could easily invent a few fun traditions of its own.

Seeing his suggestion bear fruit, Atulu eagerly nodded. “Yes, yes! Tree Planting Day, great idea!”

Juan gave a thumbs-up. “Boss, this is a great idea. We need unique holidays. Tree Planting Day is perfect.”

Charlie grumbled, “What’s so great about it? His homeland already has this holiday.”

Wang Bo glared at him. At that moment, the parrot on his shoulder suddenly blurted out:

“Ahhh, your mom’s blown up! Ahh, you talk too fast!”

That made Wang Bo burst out laughing. To be roasted by a foul-mouthed parrot — poor Charlie probably wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

They split up to oversee the work. The Māori workers were not only lazy but also careless. Wang Bo wasn’t about to let the expensive saplings he bought die in their hands.

But he worried too much. With Atulu supervising on the excavator, things stayed under control. Like Juan, Atulu had a real knack for being a toady — whenever anyone slacked off or messed around, he’d rush in to scold them.

The Māori men had fierce tempers. Though Atulu was technically the chief, no one really feared or obeyed him. In fact, some downright ignored him, knowing he was soft-hearted.

So when he yelled again later, a burly man nearly his size snapped:

“Atulu, you soft little egg, try yelling at me in front of my old man and I’ll rip your head off!”

Startled by the outburst, the softie chief shrank back and looked at Wang Bo with a pitiful expression.

Wang Bo was speechless. This guy is really a chief? With no dignity or authority, how the hell did the Māori end up with a leader like him?