HLM – Chapter 19 The Commander is Here

Parrots have a genetic trait that makes them easy to tame. Once this little parrot realized that as long as it stood on Wang Bo’s shoulder, it wouldn’t be punished anymore, it obediently stayed there. It looked very much like it understood that “he who adapts to the times is a true hero.”

In the past few days, besides studying the Lord’s Heart and handling the procedures for establishing a town, he also went to a supermarket in the nearby town to buy some food and fruit, which he stored in the castle using the sandbox. There was an old refrigerator here, and the basic household appliances were all available, saving him some money for now.

He bought a lot of fruits—grapes, bananas, blackberries, blueberries, black grapes, red grapes, watermelon, and of course, the most common fruit in New Zealand: kiwifruit.

The moment it saw the fruit, the little parrot couldn’t sit still on his shoulder. It flapped its wings and squawked, “Ah, hungry! Ah, hungry!”

Wang Bo handed it a grape. It used its curved beak to tear at it a few times and quickly gobbled it up. Then he fed it a blueberry, which the little creature enjoyed even more—no need to tear it apart, the flesh was soft, sticky, and sweet, even tastier than the grape.

The parrot was still in its juvenile phase. Just a few pieces of fruit filled it up, making it even more unwilling to leave Wang Bo’s shoulder. After eating its fill, it squatted there and began grooming its feathers with its beak.

Old Wang picked it up and started racking his brain for a name.

The little parrot still looked completely clueless, staring at him with its beady black eyes. As soon as it saw Wang Bo open his mouth and flash his teeth, it immediately started squawking again: “Ah, not tasty! Ah, not tasty!”

Damn, it really was quite dumb. Wang Bo felt a little helpless. Then again, it was a bird—how could it possibly be as intelligent as a human?

He looked over the little parrot’s appearance. Honestly, among parrots, the African Grey was probably the ugliest. Its feathers were dull and its demeanor simple. Its gray feathers looked just like the old, rough cloth military uniforms worn by the Eighth Route Army back in the day.

Thinking of that, he said to the parrot, “With your looks and vibe, you really resemble the troops from the early days of our army. So, your master and the organization have high hopes for you. From now on, your name is ‘Commander.’”

“Ah, bird look! Ah, bird look!” the little parrot squawked again. “Ah, Commander! Ah, Commander!”

No wonder Charlie had said the African Grey Parrot ranked first among parrots when it came to mimicking speech—it really wasn’t an exaggeration. Wang Bo was quite satisfied with its mimicry skills. Still… it wasn’t repeating the important part!

“Commander. From now on, your name is Commander, got it?”

“Ah, got it? Ah, got it?”

“Commander, Commander, Commander, Commander—ah ah ah!”

“Ah ah ah! Ah ah ah!”

“Your mom blew up! So dumb!” In the end, Old Wang was completely defeated.

The little parrot was full of energy and sharp-tongued: “Ah, your mom blew up! Ah, your mom blew up!”

Wang Bo: “……”

Now that he’d gotten to the bottom of the castle’s “haunting,” Wang Bo could finally live here with peace of mind.

While it was still light outside, he took a stroll around the castle courtyard. Last time, the courtyard had been overrun with weeds and dust, a complete mess, nothing worth seeing. But this time was different—it looked like someone had tidied it up, like a servant had been through.

On the east and west sides of the courtyard, many trees had been planted. Wang Bo didn’t know what species they were. The trees had just started to show signs of life, sprouting fresh green buds. In a shady, damp corner behind one of the trees, where the weeds were especially thick, a patch of white mushrooms had sprouted.

This discovery gave him a pleasant little surprise. These white mushrooms were edible and scientifically known as Agaricus bisporus. They’re found all over the world and are one of the key cultivated mushroom varieties in Europe. Their flesh is thick and rich, packed with protein and amino acids. They’re delicious and highly nutritious.

When Wang Bo was a child, he used to eat these mushrooms often during the summer and autumn. His hometown had many trees and haystacks, and every time it rained, he would go searching and could always find some.

As the sun set in the west, a sky full of twinkling stars appeared overhead.

For Wang Bo, today marked a true housewarming celebration—he had to cook a good meal to treat himself properly.

Looking over the meat and vegetables he had bought, it was mostly meat and not many vegetables. It wasn’t that he particularly preferred meat, but in New Zealand, beef, lamb, chicken, and duck were all cheap, while vegetables were relatively expensive. So, why not eat meat?

He took out a piece of lamb and a piece of chicken breast to prepare two dishes. The white mushrooms would be used to make soup. Wild mushrooms were incredibly flavorful. Stewed in water to make broth and topped with a bit of cilantro—it would be a delicacy.

He sliced the lamb thinly and pan-fried it with oil.

New Zealand really lived up to its reputation as the world’s best source of lamb. When the lamb slices hit the pan, there was no sizzling sound—instead, they quickly turned golden and released a rich, meaty aroma. Clearly, this was high-quality, unwatered lamb.

And this wasn’t even discounted lamb. Eva had helped him pick out premium organic lamb, and it only cost 7.5 NZD—a price so low it made Old Wang worry for the supermarket. How do they even make a profit? And it wasn’t just lamb—the prices of other goods were surprisingly low too.

Once the lamb slices were done, he took them out. Then he stir-fried chopped scallions, ginger, and garlic in the leftover oil, followed by diced green and red chili peppers. Once the peppers were slightly fried, he tossed the lamb slices back in for a quick stir-fry.

The spiciness of the peppers mixed with the aroma of the lamb. He added soy sauce, vinegar, chicken essence, a ladle of hot water, and a bit of sugar to enhance the flavor. Finally, he sprinkled in some salt before plating it up. This was his Spicy Stir-Fried Lamb with Chilies.

He took a bite—the spice hit hard, the meat was fragrant, and the juices mingled beautifully with the oil. Wang Bo felt that this was his most successful attempt at making this dish.

As for the chicken breast, he used it for a cold dish. After boiling and chilling the meat, he placed it in a plastic bag and pounded it a few times with his fists—“bang bang bang”—then opened the bag. The chicken had shredded itself, making it easy to pull into fine strips.

He then mixed white sugar, soy sauce, Sichuan pepper powder, sesame oil, chili oil, and white sesame seeds into a sauce and poured it over the shredded chicken.

After tasting it, he wasn’t too satisfied. When he had more time, he’d make a proper chili sauce. His mother had taught him how to make one, and the taste was amazing—on par with Lao Gan Ma’s chili sauce. It was much better for cold dishes than plain chili oil.

Making soup with the white mushrooms was even simpler. He tore them into strips and boiled them in hot water. Once it came to a boil, he added some cilantro leaves and a bit of salt. The key was to bring out the mushrooms’ natural freshness, so no need for too many seasonings.

“Two dishes and a soup—standard for a moderately well-off life,” Wang Bo nodded in satisfaction and brought the meal out to the courtyard. He also prepared grapes, blueberries, and clean water for Commander—also two dishes and a soup. Equal treatment for all.

Commander was very pleased with Comrade Wang Bo’s service. Gripping the edge of the plate, it pecked at the blueberries, calling out after each one: “Ah, tasty!”

Wang Bo looked at the satisfied little bird, then at himself—still all alone.

He had bought beer—Budweiser Wheat King, a 12-pack for only ten dollars. Great value for the price. So, he picked one up, wanting to toast the moon, and muttered, “I raise my glass to invite the bright moon; with my shadow, we become three… Wait—what the hell, where’s the moon?”

New Zealand might have the best environment in the world. Some say there’s no haze in the air here, and sunlight and starlight shine directly into your eyes with perfect clarity. That might be an exaggeration, but as Wang Bo looked up at the night sky, it truly did feel unusually clear. Countless stars sparkled above in multicolored brilliance—so beautiful, so pure.

Yet, in this star-filled sky, there was no moon in sight. He could only shake his head in resignation. How lonely—he had hoped the moon might keep him company. Looks like tonight, it would just be him and his left and right hands again.