HLM – Chapter 903 The Canned Fish Exploded

Wang Bo handed a beer to Kuncha, but he shook his head. Seeing this, Wang Bo suddenly realized: “Oh, right, I forgot you’re a Buddhist. Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” Kuncha replied with a forgiving smile. Then he opened the fridge and pointed at the sweet potato wine inside. “It’s not that I don’t drink alcohol—I want this.”

Wang Bo: “….”

Considering that Kuncha had bought two tickets and donated twice to the school, Wang Bo handed him a bottle. This sweet potato wine was something he had saved for himself; anyone unaware of its value wouldn’t know how delicious it was.

The large coffee grinder from the Daqin Café had also been moved to the beach. With so many people, it was impossible to brew cup by cup. Usually, the coffee beans were ground in batches and brewed with Lingquan water, producing a whole barrel at once.

By evening, the sunset painted the sky, and the lakeside beach became crowded.

Wang Bo had underestimated the attraction of Sunset Town. This New Year’s Carnival must have drawn tens of thousands of people!

A few days ago, Christmas had been a family reunion holiday in New Zealand, with people staying home with loved ones. Now, for New Year’s, people traveled for the holiday. In this context, a massive influx of tourists to Sunset Town wasn’t surprising.

The moon slowly rose into the sky, casting silver-gray light over the land. A gentle breeze rippled the lake, and reflections of the full moon formed and shattered repeatedly across the water’s surface… showcasing the stunning scenery of Sunset Town.

Bartier had also come to town for the New Year’s celebration, accompanied by a group of people. At first glance, they looked casually dressed, but a closer look revealed their status—watches were either Vacheron Constantin or Patek Philippe.

As for their clothing, no brand labels were visible, because they were all custom-made by top tailors.

Seeing Wang Bo, Bartier came over to greet him. “Come here, Wang, let me introduce you to some friends.”

Wang Bo glanced over and recognized some familiar faces—he had met them at the alliance meeting between the Green Party and the Labor Party. They were tycoons from various industries.

Thomas Wesley, the New Zealand head of Leyton Company, was among them. Wang Bo greeted everyone as Bartier introduced them.

Shaking hands with Wesley, he smiled and joked, “Our White Tower needs to speed up construction, my friend—it hasn’t even risen yet.”

Wesley forced a smile. “I have to apologize for that, but Wang, you know the lakebed foundation. It’s tough to build on. Honestly, laying the foundation now is already smooth progress.”

Wang Bo wasn’t satisfied. True, laying a foundation was hard, but he had placed a Foundation Heart here, which should have made the process relatively simple.

At the Stubborn Bull Club, Leonard Swift also appeared, accompanied by his brother, Grant Swift.

During the last cattle theft incident in Dunedin, Wang Bo had been the main investigator, catching members of the club. Out of a sense of guilt, he hadn’t interacted much with the club since.

Leonard attending the New Year celebration was a gesture to strengthen relations.

Wang Bo lived by a principle: with enough strength, what you want will come to you.

This applied perfectly to networking within the club. Owning the largest and most valuable ranch in New Zealand naturally earned him respect, regardless of being Asian or Chinese—no one dared underestimate him.

Wang Bo welcomed the two. Leonard offered a reason: “My brother wants to source another batch of beef and venison. I’m helping him choose, and I also want to see how your white yaks are doing.”

Wang Bo laughed. “Of course. I welcome your old friend Grant to cooperate. As for the white yaks, fortunately, they’re thriving. No deaths, and over ten calves have been born.”

At that moment, the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, and the moon took full command of the sky.

The New Year countdown began. Thunderous cheers erupted on the lakeside beach as barrels of beer and wine were rolled out. Hani directed people to open the barrels with booming “bangs,” and everyone shouted while catching the drinks.

The grills were lit, with beef and lamb sizzling over them, quickly filling the air with the aroma of roasted meat. The ovens held chicken and duck, ready to be torn apart and eaten once opened.

Everything proceeded in a lively yet orderly fashion. Deafening music played as neon lights adorned the trees along the lakeshore, flashing in rhythm and igniting a fiery atmosphere.

Wang Bo swayed to the music along with Reedy’s singing. Feeling hungry, he went to find food.

Grilled meat was the best choice, but each grill was surrounded by a crowd. He opened the fridge instead and found two boxes of canned food inside—herring tins he had bought in Finland.

Eva had stored the cans in the freezer. Wang Bo thought it was unnecessary; frozen cans would need to be cooked over fire.

With the grills taken, he found a campfire and used a hook to roast the herring cans over the flames.

A few others came over, also roasting items with hooks, though they were grilling meat or sausages.

“What are you grilling?” someone asked curiously.

Wang Bo smiled. “A canned fish.”

“That’s cool. Canned fish is great—I like it,” a man said with a smile. “What kind? I love tuna—it’s absolutely delicious.”

Wang Bo was about to explain when the can started to swell. He knew it was ready and intended to take it down to open it.

But the can swelled rapidly. The flames kept heating it, and just as he pulled it back, a loud POP rang out—the canned fish exploded!

Unlike a normal gas explosion, this can sprayed juice everywhere!

Wang Bo reacted quickly and jumped back. The people nearby weren’t so lucky—the liquid splattered all over them.

At the same time, an indescribable stench quickly filled the area.

Wang Bo first noticed the foul smell—it wasn’t just ordinary bad odor. He had grown up by the sea, familiar with abalone markets, salted fish stalls, and piles of rotten fish. Those were tolerable smells. This… was unbearable.

To describe it: it was as if an eighty-year-old man who had never bathed in his life entered a ten-year-neglected market, stood by a salted fish stall, and defecated—right next to you. That was the smell Wang Bo was experiencing.

No exaggeration—upon smelling it, Wang Bo’s appetite vanished completely. He wanted to collapse and vomit, but dared not. The stench was so intense that he had to hold his breath, fearing that opening his mouth might make him vomit his stomach out too.