HLM – Chapter 73 New Funds Received

Apparently, the other party didn’t appeal. Wang Bo asked Mueller in surprise, “The Transport Bureau just gave up like that?”

Mueller replied, “This outcome was obvious. The Transport Bureau broke the law first. Even if they appealed, they wouldn’t get a better result. More importantly, if the case got blown up and picked up by the media, they’d be humiliated.”

In China, ordinary people tend to avoid legal confrontations. In New Zealand, it’s government agencies that avoid court battles—public sympathy always leans toward the underdog. Compared to a government department, no matter what an ordinary person does, they’re always the weaker side.

They had arranged to meet in a private room of a café. Bowen suspected the Transport Bureau might try to play dirty, so he deliberately brought his gun and badge.

Before they entered, Charlie grabbed Wang Bo’s shoulder and warned, “Wang, be careful in there. Smash a cup as a signal—if you sense something’s wrong, break any tableware inside! If we hear that sound, we’ll storm in with weapons. Sound good?”

“Exactly, boss! We’ve got your back,” said the Mexican pretty boy, nodding vigorously. He was the newest among them to know Wang Bo but admired him the most.

The day Wang Bo had taken down a gang of thugs bare-handed left a deep impression on him.

Hearing all this, Wang Bo instinctively tensed up. “F**k, isn’t this supposed to be a peaceful negotiation? What are you all implying? It’s not a lion’s den in there, is it?”

“There’s an old Chinese saying—better safe than sorry!” Charlie replied, once again showcasing his deep knowledge of Chinese proverbs.

The cowboy clenched his fists and said, “Boss, go on in. If there’s any trouble, we’ll go all out. Listen up, guys—no holding back!”

“Absolutely! But boss, who’s paying for the drinks?”

“Company expense!” Of course, Wang Bo had to say that.

When they arrived at the café, a server led Wang Bo to a private room where the officials and lawyers from the Transport Bureau were already waiting—four of them. The official who signed the last contract wasn’t there; all were new faces.

Wang Bo took one look and relaxed. There was only one middle-aged man around forty, the rest were in their fifties—no threat to him at all.

He quickly realized he’d been played by his own men—they had come just to freeload drinks.

The Transport Bureau official introduced himself as Napier Lowry, responsible for road and bridge engineering. He oversaw the section of Highway 8 passing through Sunset Town.

Napier took out a new contract and began negotiating the land usage fee for that section of the highway. Clearly, they were now in a bind—the construction had already begun, and if Wang Bo demanded sky-high compensation, they’d be in serious trouble.

All Napier could do now was curse his subordinate who had initially handled the contract—penny wise, pound foolish.

But Wang Bo didn’t make it hard for him. He just wanted a fair market rate: 40,000 NZD per kilometer for ten years. With 45 kilometers total, that was 1.8 million NZD every ten years. According to land lease rules, payment came first.

Napier was quite satisfied with this result. The New Zealand Transport Bureau had already planned for this kind of budget to handle land issues.

Mueller was surprised and whispered, “I thought you’d rip a chunk out of them.”

Wang Bo replied earnestly, “I just want to be treated fairly. More importantly, I hope the road can be finished quickly—that’s more beneficial to my town.”

Mueller looked at him with newfound respect. Clearly, Wang Bo’s sense of the bigger picture had exceeded his expectations.

With 1.8 million NZD transferred, Wang Bo’s wallet suddenly felt much heavier!

Back when he ran the sports event and dealt with the local drug dealers, he had scraped together about 1.4 million. Add the 500,000 from town construction funds and the Red Box money, he now had close to 4 million NZD in hand!

That’s around 16 million RMB!

Of course, he still owed Li Chemical 500,000 NZD.

Wang Bo had never seen so much money in his life. Now he was sure—coming to New Zealand had been the right decision.

As the saying goes: “The timid starve, the bold get rich.” If he had let fear stop him from investigating the Lord’s Heart, there was no way he’d be enjoying this success today.

With food in the jar and money in his pocket, Wang Bo felt emboldened—time to start building up the town!

As always: “To get rich, have more kids and build more roads.” Having kids was out of his hands, but building roads—that he could do. He planned to construct a road from the base of the hill beneath the castle to connect with Highway 8.

After parting amicably with the Transport Bureau, Wang Bo asked, “Is there a decent construction company in Auckland? I need to build a road—a real one!”

Charlie handed him a piece of paper with two phone numbers. “These are the two best companies for road-building in Auckland, but they only do third-tier roads. They can’t handle something like Highway 8—a first-tier road.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I owe you another one!”

“Cut the crap. You’ve owed me so many favors I lost count!”

Wang Bo only needed a third-tier road anyway. First-tier roads cost a fortune—literally paving the road with money. Not necessary. This was just a rural road.

He looked at the paper. One company’s name caught his eye—Pastoral Hermit. Interesting name. The owner’s name was even more amusing: Potter Poet—an English-sounding name, but its true meaning was “rustic poet.”

Potter’s home wasn’t far from them. He had bought a villa in the suburbs. Wang Bo headed there immediately.

In a small town with low population density, construction planning wasn’t a big deal. But the villas in the suburbs were well-designed and neatly spaced. Each stood among lush trees and green lawns—very pleasing to the eye.

“This is the true essence of architecture—harmony between man and nature, pursuing invincibility,” Wang Bo said, putting on a cultured air.

Charlie added, “These villas were all built by Pastoral Hermit. From what I’ve found out, Potter is quite an interesting guy. You’ll see when you meet him.”

As they arrived and parked the car, a group of dogs came running out—Labradors, Collies, Pugs, Golden Retrievers… over a dozen barking all at once.

One particularly fierce, wolf-like dog lunged forward. Its icy blue eyes glinted coldly as it stared them down from a short distance.

The Mexican pretty boy grew serious. “Be careful. Look at that dog’s eyes—it has a killer aura! It’s a predator of the wild. It doesn’t bite often, but when it does—it’s lethal!”

Wang Bo squinted. “Why do I feel like this guy’s a Siberian ‘Let-Go-and-Run’?”

“What?”

“Demolition squad leader.”

“Not following.”

“Husky!”

“Oh right, it is a husky,” Bowen nodded. He liked that breed. Wang Bo understood—like attracts like. The goofy cowboy liked goofy dogs.