"Let me ask—do you have bamboo sticks and rock sugar?"
Hearing Jiang Hai's question, Luo Lin chuckled. He had to admit, sometimes these Americans were surprisingly friendly. Jiang Hai glanced toward the supermarket and spoke again.
"Bamboo sticks? You mean wooden ones, right? As for rock sugar... what kind? Eaten or smoked?" Luo Lin blinked, clearly puzzled, then leaned in and whispered.
His sudden secrecy left Jiang Hai slightly confused. There is an English term for rock sugar, but it's not nearly as straightforward as in Chinese.
In China, it's just "rock sugar"—simple and unmistakable. But in the U.S., it's often called "rock candy," which can refer not only to the sugary treat but also, depending on context and slang, to drugs like crack cocaine. So when Jiang Hai mentioned it, Luo Lin misunderstood.
"Oh no, I'm not talking about that stuff. I mean actual rock candy—a big, translucent piece of sugar you eat," Jiang Hai clarified with a shake of his head. He had zero interest in anything illicit.
Relieved, Luo Lin exhaled. "Whew, you scared me. The candies are over on the third aisle, far corner. Take a look, I'm not sure if they've got what you're looking for."
Although marijuana is legal in parts of the U.S., harder drugs like crack are illegal everywhere—and Luo Lin didn't want Jiang Hai even brushing up against that world.
After thanking him, Jiang Hai walked to the indicated aisle. Sure enough, there was an overwhelming selection of candy. Americans really did love sugar—almost obsessively. The average adult in the U.S. consumes about 22 teaspoons of sugar a day, which comes out to more than 100 grams—daily, not monthly.
Maybe Americans didn't care about health, or maybe they were just used to sugar. Either way, diabetes didn't seem to be scaring anyone. Teenagers, in fact, consumed even more—about 34 teaspoons per day. Their snacks were all loaded with sugar: pies, doughnuts, chocolates—you name it.
The variety on display made this obvious. Squatting down, Jiang Hai sifted through the options and was pleasantly surprised to find actual rock sugar. That solved half the problem. He grabbed two bags, then went to find "bamboo sticks"—or in this case, wooden ones.
There's almost no bamboo in the U.S. Bamboo primarily grows in Asia, and while some American varieties exist in Latin America, it's rare up north. No one harvests it here, but wooden sticks work just as well.
On his way to the checkout, Jiang Hai passed a refrigerated beverage cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Coke Zero.
He used to drink it all the time when it first launched. It gained popularity quickly, but then controversy struck: the aspartame it contained was alleged to be carcinogenic, and the drink was pulled from shelves worldwide for a while. Eventually, it came back. Jiang Hai never figured out whether it was truly harmful or just caught in industry crossfire. Still, it tasted good and had zero calories, so he didn't mind.
As he lined up at the register, a man in traditional Native American clothing walked in and joined the line behind him. Jiang Hai recognized him instantly.
This was an Iroquois man. When Jiang Hai and Mayor Wallis had discussed opening an Indian-themed shop in town, it was Wallis who hiked into the mountains, spoke with the Iroquois, and helped seal the deal.
This particular man was the most business-savvy among them. He'd convinced his tribe's chief to partner with the town and now served as manager of the shop.
And it mattered—an Indian store not run by actual Native Americans would've felt fake, even exploitative. Thanks to this man's authenticity and business acumen, the shop had flourished.
According to Moses Adams' calculations, the store had pulled in $700,000 in revenue over just three months—August, September, and October. After deducting $200,000 in inventory costs, it netted a $500,000 profit: 40% went to Jiang Hai ($200,000), 20% to the town ($100,000), and the remaining 40% to the Iroquois ($200,000). And since all the goods were sourced from the tribe, their total earnings were closer to $400,000.
No wonder this man was thriving. He used to rent, but rumor had it he was now planning to buy a house in town.
"Hey Jiang! You here shopping too?" the man greeted him enthusiastically, though his accent was a bit unusual.
"Yeah, just picking up a few things," Jiang Hai replied, catching the gist.
"Outta smokes—had to come get some."
Jiang Hai remembered how the man used to roll his own cigarettes from mountain tobacco—natural but harsh, leaving his mouth full of bits. Now that he could afford better, he came to town.
The two chatted a bit until it was Jiang Hai's turn to pay. He checked out and left the supermarket, cracking open the Coke and taking a sip. A deep burp followed—it felt good.
As he walked back toward the parking lot, people greeted him along the way. Jiang Hai smiled and nodded in return, enjoying the familiarity. Before long, he reached his car and headed back to the manor.
Though the roads had been plowed, snowbanks still lined the edges, and some slush remained in the center. With the sun out, the snow melted—but if it froze again at night, it would be treacherous. Jiang Hai decided he'd avoid driving into town unless absolutely necessary.
Once home, he carried the supplies inside. Darlene and the others had nearly finished preparing the fruit.
Traditionally, hawthorns are halved, seeded, and then skewered on bamboo sticks. But there's a trick: the ends of the hawthorn don't taste great. Bernice and the others solved this by poking them through with chopsticks—removing the seeds and the tough ends in one go. It sacrificed a bit of fruit, but improved the flavor.
Other fruits were easier: grapes were peeled and seeded, kiwis peeled and chopped, blueberries prepped, and strawberries sliced in half.
Seeing the wooden sticks, everyone began skewering the fruit. Before long, they had dozens of fruit skewers ready. Jiang Hai began preparing the sugar syrup—easily the trickiest part.
The key was to boil sugar and water at a 2:1 ratio over high heat for about 20 minutes. He used both granulated and rock sugar. The mixture had to be stirred constantly to avoid burning. As it heated, it began to bubble vigorously and turn golden. When the syrup could be pulled into threads with chopsticks, it was ready.
Any longer, and it would caramelize—ruining the recipe.
Once done, they dipped the fruit skewers into the syrup, then laid them on a marble slab. The stone's cool temperature helped the coating harden quickly and cleanly.
Bernice reached for one, only for Jiang Hai to slap her hand lightly.
"Ow!" she whined, pouting.
"They need to freeze overnight first," Jiang Hai said, laughing and patting her on the head. Sometimes, Bernice really was like a kid.
"Tsk…" Bernice grumbled but kept her eyes fixed on the glistening candied fruit.
"Alright, let's play something. Staying inside all day's a drag," Jiang Hai said, clapping his hands. The girls looked around at each other, thinking.
"Let's play poker," Azarina suggested.
"Poker's boring without gambling," Jiang Hai replied. The rules were too simple to be fun without stakes.
"Then let's play flying chess!" Darlene said excitedly.
"But that's for four people only," Bernice pointed out.
They all fell silent again, not sure what to do.
"Why not play Three Kingdoms Kill?" Xiaoya suddenly suggested.
"Three Kingdoms Kill?" Jiang Hai's mind flashed back to college dorms and nights playing with friends.
"I used to play it when I was stuck in bed. Studying recipes all day got boring. I couldn't watch TV or use a phone because of radiation, so I got into board games," Xiaoya explained with a smile.
Darlene and Marian looked puzzled. "What's Three Kingdoms Kill?"
"It's easy. You'll get it once we start playing," Jiang Hai said with a grin, exchanging a glance with Xiaoya. She took off upstairs immediately.
Since her recovery, Xiaoya had changed. Though still quiet, she was much livelier now. Before, she'd suffered from calcium deficiency and severe vitamin shortages. Running was nearly impossible.
But thanks to Jiang Hai, she could now run, walk in the sun, and truly enjoy life. Both Jiang Hai and Bernice noticed the transformation and were genuinely happy for her.
For Jiang Hai, curing her might've been the most meaningful thing he'd done.
Looking at her tall, slender figure and flawless white skin… Ahem. He quickly checked himself—his thoughts were drifting.
(To be continued...)