HLM -Chapter 772 Sunset Honey

Who cares about the type of air conditioning — as long as it keeps moisture out of the castle’s rooms, that’s all that matters.

This time, installing air conditioning in the castle was a huge project. There were more than fifty rooms in total, with over ten currently in use, so they needed high-powered units.

After a preliminary estimate, the contractor quoted a total of 220,000 New Zealand dollars — the cost of installing a central air conditioning system similar to those used in office buildings, enough to cover the entire castle.

“So expensive?” Wang Bo asked in surprise.

The contractor explained, “That’s the total cost. The air conditioners themselves aren’t pricey — about 140,000 — but the construction costs are enormous. The whole building is stone, and we need heritage conservation experts to advise before any work can start.”

Whether it was because of the size of the job or because Porter had introduced the client, the contractor went into detail enthusiastically.

“Mayor Wang, right now there are mainly three types of central air conditioning systems on the market — water-cooled, air-cooled, and fan coil systems.”

“The water-cooled ones are the cheapest, though strictly speaking, we no longer have traditional water-cooled systems — they now use refrigerants. But they’re bulky, consisting of four major components: a compressor, condenser, throttle device, and evaporator. Together, they can fill an entire room.”

“The principle is this: the refrigerant cycles through the four parts. After compression, the refrigerant becomes a high-temperature, high-pressure gas, then flows through the condenser where it cools down and loses pressure. The condenser’s water-cooling system expels the heat through a cooling tower.”

“Then, after passing through the throttling device, it becomes a low-temperature, low-pressure liquid, which then flows through the evaporator to absorb heat and return to the compressor. A chilled-water circulation system connected to the evaporator absorbs this heat, lowering the water temperature. The chilled water is sent to the rooms, where fan coil units exchange heat and blow out cool air.”

Wang Bo didn’t quite follow. “So… this type isn’t suitable for a castle?”

“No, not really. Even slightly modern office buildings have mostly phased out this system.”

The contractor was about to introduce the air-cooled system, but Wang Bo interrupted him with a grin.

“I know about water-cooled and air-cooled machine guns — are these two air conditioners about as different as those two?”

The contractor paused, then raised his thumb. “Mayor Wang, you’re sharp — that’s exactly it.”

No need for further explanation.

Then came the fan coil system.

“The ice-storage central air conditioning system is the newest generation and is gradually taking over the market,” the contractor continued. “It’s ideal for a castle because, unlike traditional central systems, it doesn’t require large air ducts — just water pipes and smaller fresh-air vents.”

“This makes layout and installation much easier, saves a lot of space, and allows temperature control in individual rooms — perfect for a building with many small rooms that need independent regulation.”

“In short, this one’s the most expensive, but it’ll cause the least damage to the castle.”

Wang Bo thought about it and agreed. Hiring a reliable installation team mattered most; the air conditioning itself was for comfort, but if the castle were damaged in the process, he’d never forgive himself.

So, 220,000 it is. After all, he had a gold mine — there was no reason to worry.

That very day, the air conditioning equipment for both heating and cooling systems arrived, along with the installation crew.

Wang Bo skipped work to supervise personally — if anything went wrong, he wanted to catch it early.

By sunset, the castle’s courtyard echoed with the sounds of construction. Zhuang Ding who’d been chasing the political commissar around the courtyard suddenly pricked up his ears and barked toward the gate.

Wang Bo stepped out to find a thin, dark-skinned middle-aged man standing there, smiling timidly.

“Tatak? What brings you here? Curious about the castle?”

It was the beekeeper of the town, known as the Fijian Bee King.

After being hired, Tatak rarely came into town except to eat. He lived in the wild, in a tent near his hives.

As for meals, Wang Bo had already spoken with the local restaurants — Tatak could eat anywhere he wanted, no charge; the restaurant would bill Wang Bo later.

But Tatak didn’t take advantage. After trying a few places, he decided firmly that nothing beat Staples’ kitchen — and now he ate there every meal.

He wasn’t great at conversation. Hearing Wang Bo’s question, he just smiled — a shy, bashful smile, like a young girl seeing her crush.

That thought made Wang Bo’s scalp tingle. If this guy actually saw him as his sweetheart, that’d be a problem.

The Bee King smiled for a bit longer, then pulled a large jar from his side pocket. “Boss, this is honey — fresh from the hive. Try it.”

“So soon? Already producing honey?” Wang Bo asked, surprised.

“Mm. It was ready two days ago, but I had to let it settle and strain it first. Now it’s perfect. Very delicious,” Tatak said earnestly.

The jar was opaque, roughly made — more like pottery than glass. Curious, Wang Bo asked, “Where’d you buy this jar?”

Tatak grinned. “Didn’t buy it. I made it myself — fired it.”

Wang Bo couldn’t help admiring him. The man was amazing — except for cooking, he seemed able to do everything himself.

He opened the jar. The setting sun spilled over the mountainside, its glow falling on the honey, turning it soft and warm. Because the jar wasn’t transparent, the honey looked dark and heavy, but the sweet fragrance instantly filled the air. Wang Bo inhaled deeply, twice, savoring it.

This scent wasn’t ordinary — not just sweetness, but the pure, floral aroma of blossoms.

Tatak gestured, “You can eat it — just scoop with your hand.”

Wang Bo swallowed. “Uh… you didn’t already… use your hand in this jar, did you?”

The Bee King chuckled. “No. It’s clean.”

Wang Bo wasn’t a picky man, but Tatak’s hands were another matter — always muddy, since he rarely washed them. Judging by the dirt now, he’d probably just been firing clay before coming here.

If those hands had stirred the honey, no way could Wang Bo eat it, no matter how tolerant he was.

So he invited Tatak inside and poured some honey into a glass.

It was thick — but not in the heavy, syrupy way of supermarket honey.

If he had to describe it, it reminded him of the aged rice wine he’d seen as a boy in his village. After decades of evaporation, the wine’s liquid turned into a concentrated, translucent paste — this honey had the same texture.

Its color was a light golden yellow, perfectly uniform throughout.

Wang Bo lifted the glass toward the sun — and to his amazement, the honey glowed with a rainbow-like shimmer.

“Incredible,” he whispered.