"Ugh, there's just too much to clean... It's such a hassle."
At lunchtime, after a physically exhausting morning of work, Jiang Hai treated everyone to a hearty, high-calorie meal. The portions were large, and everyone ate happily.
But as he watched them eat, Jiang Hai was lost in thought. If we keep shoveling snow off the roads in this manor by hand, when will it ever end?
Winthrop often got heavy snow, which Jiang Hai quite liked. But there was no guarantee it would always be manageable. According to what Robbins-Garcia had just said, it would take them three days to clear the manor this time.
Three days... and that's just this snowfall.
If this happened every time it snowed heavily, they might spend the entire winter just shoveling snow.
"There's no way around it," Edward Anderson said with a chuckle, hearing Jiang Hai's complaint. "We've all been through this before. Don't worry, boss—it's unlikely we'll get this much snow again next winter."
"No, we can't just keep doing this all winter," Jiang Hai muttered, rubbing his chin. "We need to find a better way."
He didn't like leaving his fate to the weather. He wasn't the type to let nature dictate his livelihood.
"Is there a faster way to clear snow?" he asked, looking around at the group.
Edward and Robbins-Garcia exchanged glances before Robbins-Garcia finally spoke up. "Well, we could use a snowplow. That would be a lot faster. But it costs money, and it's pretty much useless in the summer. I wouldn't recommend it."
Robbins-Garcia had been with Jiang Hai for a while now, but he still approached things like someone running a small ranch—deal with things as they come, keep expenses low, and avoid unnecessary purchases.
But Jiang Hai's eyes lit up. "A snowplow? That's a great idea!"
"You can't just drive one over the snow we've got right now," Edward said, shaking his head. "Snowplows can only handle light snowfall. This stuff's too thick. We'll still have to finish this one by hand. But if we get one, next time it snows, we can run it every hour or two and stop it from piling up like this."
"Hmm, that could work." Jiang Hai nodded after a moment. He didn't mind spending money—especially if it meant not having to shovel snow ever again.
"Boss, if you really don't want to shovel anymore," Connorson Peters said, swallowing a piece of steak, "why not just build a cover over the places that keep getting buried?"
The room went silent.
"Uh... did I say something wrong?" Connorson asked, confused by the sudden quiet.
"No," Jiang Hai replied, stunned. "You're absolutely right. Why didn't I think of that?"
Looking out at the parking lot and the roads, it suddenly seemed so obvious. Just build a simple shelter over the most used paths. It didn't even have to be fancy—reinforced concrete pillars, a sloped roof to let snow slide off. It'd keep people dry in the rain too.
It would cost a bit, sure—but Jiang Hai had money. And once it was built, the problem would be solved permanently.
Of course, that couldn't happen right away. Even if he wanted to start now, no construction crews would be working in this weather.
Still, it was true what they said: Three cobblers are better than one Zhuge Liang. Over the course of one meal, they'd come up with two solid ideas—snowplows and snow shelters. Jiang Hai added both to his to-do list.
Unfortunately, he couldn't buy a snowplow just yet. Not only were the roads inside the manor blocked, but so was the highway outside. He'd have to wait until the current snowfall was cleared and the roads reopened before heading to Boston to make the purchase.
That afternoon, the team went back to work with renewed energy. Knowing they wouldn't have to do this forever gave them a second wind. By the end of the day, they'd cleared the roads to the cowshed, the dock, and even the airport.
Still, even with Jiang Hai's enhanced stamina—four times that of an average person—he was exhausted. After dinner, he went straight to bed. The next morning, they cleaned the airport again. It was critical, especially since they used the planes for daily patrols—after all, the fish in Jiang Hai's fisheries were valuable private property.
In the afternoon, they resumed clearing the riverside roads. It took them another day and a half to finish, but by the third day, the highway outside had finally reopened. Jiang Hai wasted no time. That very afternoon, he took Robbins-Garcia—who knew the most about snowplows—into Boston.
Buying the snowplow was surprisingly easy. It wasn't particularly expensive, and they quickly picked one that suited their needs.
Technically speaking, a snowplow is just a modified pickup truck. A plow is attached to the front to push snow aside, and sometimes a rotating drum is used to scoop and toss snow out of the way. Some even have fold-out wings to increase coverage.
But even the best snowplow could only handle snow up to about 20 centimeters deep. Any more than that, and the engine might get clogged. The snow at Jiang Hai's manor was nearly half a meter thick—way beyond its capacity.
Still, it would work fine in future snowfalls, especially if they cleared it regularly. Jiang Hai was also planning to build roofed walkways next year, so the snowplow would only need to last one winter.
As Jiang Hai drove the snowplow back, he noticed a familiar car approaching—the mayor's. Despite the roads being cleared, there was still snow blowing around, and it made sense for someone Mayor Wallis's age to drive cautiously.
"Hey Jiang, did you buy a big one?" Wallis called out with a grin as he pulled up beside the snowplow.
"Yeah," Jiang Hai laughed. "The snow's too thick to deal with by hand."
"Can we borrow it for the town?" Wallis asked with a smile.
"Nope," Jiang Hai replied bluntly, not missing a beat. "The town's made plenty of money this year. This thing only cost a little over twenty thousand. Don't tell me the town can't afford it."
Wallis chuckled. "Tsk, rich folks sure are stingy."
"My money didn't fall from the sky," Jiang Hai replied, rolling his eyes. "What if I lend it out and then need it? Who's going to take responsibility?"
He knew the town too well. If he lent it once, people would come back again and again. And the town would keep saying yes. Jiang Hai wasn't being stingy—well, maybe a little—but why should his snowplow become public property?
"If the town's really in trouble, I might consider donating one. But this year? No way."
"Alright, alright. My dear Grandet from the mysterious East," Wallis said with a laugh, realizing Jiang Hai wouldn't budge.
"If we're done here, I'll head in." Jiang Hai made a move to leave.
"Hold on, let's talk inside," Wallis replied, stepping on the gas and rolling through the manor gates.
Jiang Hai sent a quick message to Bernice and the others—We have guests. Fortunately, the girls were alert. By the time Jiang Hai parked and escorted Wallis inside, they had already changed into appropriate clothes.
"Mayor, welcome!" Bernice and the others greeted him warmly.
"Thanks, I came to talk to Jiang," Wallis said with a smile as he settled onto a waiting sofa. Jiang Hai handed him a Coke from the fridge and sat across from him, curious about the visit.
"I'll get to the point," Wallis began. "It's December, Jiang—you know what that means."
"Christmas?" Jiang Hai guessed.
"Exactly. In the past, each family celebrated on their own. But this year, the town has some extra funds, so we're organizing a town-wide Christmas dinner on the last day of the holiday."
Jiang Hai nodded. He didn't mind community events—they helped build town unity, and that was good for him, too.
"What do you need from me? Food? Money?"
"No money. The town's budget can cover it. And we definitely can't afford food from your place," Wallis joked. "Actually, I came to ask for your participation."
"Participation?" Jiang Hai raised an eyebrow.
"We're asking everyone to contribute a performance—singing, dancing, storytelling, stand-up comedy, whatever. It's not about money. It's about being seen. If you really want to integrate into the community, people need to see you—not just as some rich guy hiding in his manor, but as someone just like them."
Jiang Hai was stunned. A performance? Did these Westerners actually want him to go on stage and do a skit or sing a song?
His first instinct was to refuse—too embarrassing.
But as Wallis's words sank in, Jiang Hai furrowed his brows. Maybe it was worth considering...
(To be continued.)