HLM – Chapter 726 The Deputy Mayor Returns

Then Alexander began to explain, and it turned out that Wang Bo had guessed wrong earlier.

But it wasn’t entirely wrong either. This rescue operation was also related to Syria. Due to the civil war there, the people were suffering immensely, countless lives were lost, and there were massive numbers of refugees.

New Zealand was not involved in solving the Syrian refugee crisis—they were too far away. These matters were left to the Europeans to handle. What New Zealand might participate in was the rescue of white refugees from South Africa.

South Africa is a peculiar country. Twenty years ago, it was Africa’s most developed nation, with a per capita GDP that even China envied.

Then, in 1994, Mandela came to power through democratic elections, transitioning from a white-apartheid government to a democratic one. Black South Africans replaced whites as the country’s ruling class. Over the years, the once fertile land of Africa approached economic collapse.

During apartheid, regardless of human rights or democracy, South Africa at least had a stable economy. People had enough to eat and wear.

But after becoming a democratic country, black citizens gained access to the ruling class, and many problems began to emerge.

Racial conflict has always been South Africa’s primary issue. Once in power, blacks began to retaliate against whites, excluding them from many opportunities. However, they lacked the knowledge, vision, and skills to govern the country, leading to the decline of what was once a wealthy nation.

Still, the black population knew that life must go on, and professional sectors relied on skilled professionals. So for a while, skilled white South Africans could still live reasonably well.

But now, with the international economy in poor shape, South Africa’s situation worsened. Unemployment remained high, and many black citizens lost their jobs and income.

This meant that white skilled workers’ jobs were being targeted. Many were dismissed or laid off, with these positions given priority to black citizens to support them.

Thus, white skilled workers became refugees. They had no insurance, no unemployment benefits, and no means to support their families—they could only turn to the United Nations for help.

Alexander explained all this to him. Wang Bo understood, but he still hesitated. Sunset Town needed skilled professionals, but he didn’t want to bring just anyone in.

This matter could not be rushed. There were still many discussions to be had between the UN and New Zealand regarding refugee assistance. Alexander was only giving Wang Bo a heads-up.

For now, the talent introduction issue was on hold. Wang Bo was not anxious about South Africa. With headhunting and skilled immigration, he had enough people for his town.

By the end of August, the weekend arrived, and Bowen was coming back.

Wang Bo called to arrange a pickup, but the Texan cowboy refused, saying there was no need. He wasn’t bringing much and could just take any vehicle back.

Bowen was his first subordinate and one of the most hardworking people during the construction of Sunset Town, so Wang Bo still cared. That weekend, he went to the town center to wait for his return.

By the afternoon, approaching evening, Wang Bo was drinking coffee in the Da Qin Café when a powerful roar of an engine reached his ears.

He recognized it as the exhaust of a heavy motorcycle and frowned, lifting his head to Eva: “Some idiots always think Highway 8 is a racetrack. I need to check this guy out. If he’s speeding, I swear I’ll fine him so hard he’ll never want to ride again!”

Through the window, a blaze of red entered his sight.

The fire came from a vehicle—but it wasn’t the expected motorcycle. It looked like a Formula-style racing car.

The car was bright red overall. Apart from the wide, thick tires on both sides, the front view looked like a bullet, smooth curves, polished paint, glowing crimson under the sunlight.

It roared into town, quickly attracting attention. Many people stepped out of shops to take pictures, while others whistled and cheered.

It was the first time Wang Bo had seen such a flashy vehicle. Seeing that it wasn’t moving too fast, he watched with interest.

The owner clearly had a flamboyant personality. The car drove along Highway 8 from one end of town to the other, then turned and drove back.

At that moment, his phone rang. Reluctantly, Wang Bo tore his eyes away from the car. It was Bowen calling.

The call connected. Bowen’s rough voice sounded: “Hey, boss, where are you? Didn’t you say you’d come pick me up? I didn’t see you! I drove around town!”

Wang Bo was a bit stunned: “You’re back? Where? How did I not see you?”

“Of course, I came back in a car. If you were in town, you would have seen me!” Bowen said confidently.

Wang Bo was about to swear he didn’t see him, but when he looked at the bullet-shaped car outside, he jumped up: “Driving a racing car around looking flashy—that’s you?”

Bowen also shouted: “Flashy? I’m driving this car to find you!”

Wang Bo quickly walked out. Eva shrugged, took out her wallet, and handed money to the waiter: “This is for your boss, keep it.”

Bowen saw him too. As Wang Bo stepped out of the café, the red bullet-shaped car roared toward him!

The car stopped in front of Wang Bo. The door opened, and Bowen, wearing a helmet, jumped out, laughing and giving him a hug: “Long time no see, boss. During the days I was away, did you miss me?”

“Whatever makes you happy. Think whatever you want,” Wang Bo replied coldly, pushing Bowen away, then leaned over to inspect the vehicle.

From a distance, it looked like a race car, but it wasn’t—it was a three-wheeler, with two wheels in front and one at the rear.

However, because the rear was covered with exaggerated body panels, it was hard to tell there was only one wheel, and few people paid attention to the rear wheel.

The vehicle had two fuel tanks on either side at the rear. Their large size partially blocked people’s view. Each tank had a thick exhaust pipe from which the roaring sound came.

“Where did you get a race car?” Wang Bo asked, stunned, running his hand over the smooth body.

Bowen shrugged: “I have to say, boss, you really are a naive country bumpkin. This isn’t a race car—it’s a three-wheeled beach car!”

“Beach car?” Wang Bo asked in surprise. “This much power, this speed… and it’s just a beach car?”

“Yes, Kawasaki-Campagna-T-Rex, the Plains T-Rex. It’s definitely a beach car. Of course, it’s fine to drive on the road too.”