HLM -Chapter 738 The Fijian Queen Bee

But Wang Bo also knew that the reason New Zealand honey is so popular worldwide is thanks to the Manuka flower—the blossoms of the Manuka tree, a shrub in the Myrtaceae family.

As mentioned earlier, Manuka flowers contain a high concentration of the active antibacterial compound methylglyoxal (MGO). Technically speaking, it’s a compound called methylglyoxal.

Actually, MGO is not unique to Manuka flowers; it can be found in other flowers too. But the MGO content in Manuka honey is nearly a thousand times higher than in ordinary honey and is much more stable.

MGO is a good thing. It has strong antibacterial properties, can prevent and treat wound infections, aid digestion and balance the gut, relieve chronic gastritis, boost immunity, and can even be used for skincare and other broader health purposes.

Wang Bo thought that the flowers grown in his own garden, nourished by the Lingquan spring, should also contain plenty of these substances. Even if they didn’t have MGO, they might be rich in other nutrients. In any case, he felt that the nutrient content of the flowers irrigated by his spring couldn’t be lower than Manuka.

It was with this confidence that he decided to start a beekeeping business.

There were no relevant professionals in Sunset Town, so Wang Bo asked Kidd to help post a recruitment ad and even consider using headhunters.

Because of his past disappointment with hiring chefs, Wang Bo didn’t have high hopes for this.

But the world is always full of surprises. He thought beekeeping was a rare profession, yet in the evening, Kidd sent him a reply: “Boss, do you want to see? A Fijian has sent in a resume.”

Fiji is a small island nation in the central southwest Pacific, made up of 332 islands, 106 of which are inhabited. Its total land area is 18,300 square kilometers, with a population of less than one million.

Wang Bo was overjoyed. He didn’t expect there to actually be a relevant professional applying. No question, he would call him in for an interview.

The applicant was proactive. The next day after lunch, a lean Black man arrived in town. He looked to be in his thirties, with a long, thin face and curly black hair. Wang Bo felt he looked familiar.

Of course, they had never met, but after racking his brain, Wang Bo remembered: this guy resembled an African actor he liked as a child named Leslie, who had starred in comedies like The Gods Must Be Crazy.

“Hello, Mayor. My name is Tatak-Bainimaramara. You can call me Tatak, or Mama,” the Black man said, hesitantly stumbling over his words during the introduction.

Wang Bo was momentarily stunned. Wait, did he just say “Mama”?

“Okay, I’ll call you Tatak. Mr. Tatak, welcome to our town for the interview. Please, have a seat and some coffee.” But he quickly realized the man’s English was mediocre and his pronunciation unclear.

Tatak nodded awkwardly, took a sip of coffee, licked his lips, and didn’t linger over the fragrant drink, simply staring at Wang Bo.

Wang Bo looked at his resume. It was simple, just listing his name, age, location, and past work experience. After reading it, he was quite surprised. Tatak looked to be in his thirties, but he was actually only twenty-four.

When Wang Bo asked if the age was a mistake, Tatak, thinking he doubted his experience, waved his hands: “I’m skilled in beekeeping, Mayor. Our tribe has been raising bees for generations—Australian Italian bees, American Italian bees, Eastern bees, local bees, big bees, we raise them all. I’ve been raising them with my grandfather and father since I was a child.”

Wang Bo asked, “Do you have anything to prove that?”

Tatak anxiously said, “I don’t know anyone in New Zealand, but I can prove it with facts. Let me see the bees and I’ll show you.”

Wang Bo signaled him to calm down, but seeing that Tatak’s composure was weak and he was getting more nervous, he decided to accompany him to the hives right away.

Tatak carried a leather satchel, clutching it with both hands as if it contained something precious.

When they drove to the hive, the tent was crawling with even more bees. The entire tent was covered with worker bees, and it was hard to see its original structure.

Seeing the bees, Tatak grinned: “Australian Italian bees are the gentlest. Docile, not afraid of humans, not afraid of light, hardworking. But they only produce honey in spring, summer, and autumn. Come winter, they can’t.”

At least this showed Tatak had some skill.

Wang Bo asked, “How are you going to prove it?”

Tatak said, “I’ll show you in our tribal way. Watch.”

He walked forward until he stopped about five or six meters from the tent. By then, some bees had noticed him, but none attacked. Italian bees are generally gentle and not aggressive, though some humans may provoke them.

Tatak opened his bag and took out a small black jar. With a solemn expression, he smeared some substance from the jar onto his face, turning it black.

Nearby, Atulu explained, “These Fijians like to do symbolic things. Whatever they do, they smear their faces black. Don’t they know their skin is already dark enough?”

Tatak wasn’t being deceptive. As he applied the substance, he muttered quietly to himself. Soon, the bee swarm suddenly became agitated.

Wang Bo’s sharp eyes noticed a bee slightly larger than the ones on the tent fly out. It circled in a figure-eight pattern and landed on Tatak’s forehead.

Other worker bees, as if receiving a sacred order, rushed toward Tatak. Wang Bo finally saw what “a swarm of bees” really meant—countless bees flew toward Tatak, converging into a gray-yellow dragon-like formation in the air. It was spectacular.

Starting from his forehead, the bees covered Tatak’s body layer by layer. In less than two minutes, he was enveloped in bees three layers deep inside and out.

Maintaining this for five to six minutes, Tatak gently shook his arms, causing the bees to fall off in clumps like mud.

Finally, all the bees had fallen off, except the queen bee, still resting on his forehead. Tatak continued muttering as he stepped toward the hive, took something from inside, and placed the queen back into the hive.

The bees paid him no attention, flying back to the hive and covering the tent once again.

When they returned, Tatak handed Wang Bo a piece of gray-brown honeycomb, coated with sticky honey.

“Just like this. Eat it directly. Take a small piece, chew it slowly like chewing gum. Eventually, you’ll notice some residue in your mouth—beeswax. You can swallow it or spit it out,” Tatak instructed Wang Bo.

Everyone took a small piece. Sweet, not unpleasant, though swallowing it made the throat feel slightly sticky.

“If your nose or throat is inflamed, eating it like this can help treat it,” Tatak said earnestly.