"This… yes…" Jiang Hai muttered, rubbing his chin as his eyes lit up.
Back when he was in Texas, Jiang Hai had briefly considered buying some ranches—not to raise cattle at first, but to sell grass. People often forgot that selling grass alone could generate hundreds of millions, even billions annually. And that was in U.S. dollars.
But after returning, the idea had slipped his mind amid his busy schedule. Now that Robbins-Garcia brought it up, Jiang Hai felt tempted again.
He currently held over $10 billion in cash. Keeping that much money in the bank only earned him a bit of interest. So whether it was more ranchland or additional fisheries, Jiang Hai wasn't concerned about spending. But unlike Texas or Montana, where land was vast and sparsely populated, Boston had a higher population density and very limited available land. Any expansion would mean acquiring land from other nearby estates.
On top of that, with the continued growth of Winthrop's tourism industry and Jiang Hai's well-known reputation for high-quality beef, land prices had continued to rise—so had the market value of beef from the area.
Whether or not other ranch owners would sell, and at what price, still needed to be explored. Jiang Hai decided to speak with Mayor Wallis the next day to inquire about buying out nearby small- and medium-sized ranches.
If the land could support cattle, he'd raise cattle. If not, growing high-grade grass would still bring in a substantial income.
After discussing this and other matters with Robbins-Garcia and Edward Anderson, the three agreed on the next steps for the following day. Then Jiang Hai saw them off as they returned to work.
Later that day, Bell Lester and Tommy Charles each drove off from the manor—Bell heading to Old Tony's Cowboy Song Bar, and Tommy to the Sea Warrior Tavern. When the two spread the news about Jiang Hai's recruitment plan, it created a stir.
Per Jiang Hai's instructions, recruitment at the Sea Warrior would begin around 5:00 p.m. the next day—perfect timing to observe the candidates before they went out to sea. Recruitment at the Cowboy Song would start after 8:00 p.m.
Once the job postings and benefit details were released, Winthrop was shaken to its core.
A starting weekly salary of $1,000—totaling $52,000 per year—was already an impressive figure for cowboys. And that wasn't including year-end bonuses. According to Bell Lester, the bonus alone could easily reach the hundreds of thousands.
In the U.S., a six-figure income was a big deal. After taxes, that kind of money could buy a large ranch of one's own.
So not only Winthrop, but even greater Boston, quickly caught wind of the news. Cowboys began flooding in.
The fishermen, on the other hand, were a little more reserved. After all, many of them already made more than $50,000 annually, and Jiang Hai's $1,000-per-week offer wasn't much higher than what they could get elsewhere. But everyone in Winthrop knew how generous Jiang Hai was with dividends. More importantly, he had clearly stated that the $1,000 salary was for the probationary period.
Once the salary increased to $1,500 per week, it would far exceed the average sailor's income. And Jiang Hai's fishing boats weren't ocean-going vessels—they didn't stay at sea for weeks or months. Workers could go home and sleep in their own beds every night, making the offer even more attractive.
So while Jiang Hai was resting with Qi Jie and Qi Ya on either side of him, snuggled up between Afra and Dina, the whole of Winthrop was on the verge of being swept away in a recruitment frenzy.
The night passed quietly. The next morning, Jiang Hai woke up at his usual time.
After breakfast, he took Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai to feed Xiao Xia, walked a lap around the estate, then headed back to his villa to relax.
But just as he returned, he was stopped on the road by Dulles Gerard, who was rushing over alongside O'Connor Murphy.
"What's wrong? Something happened at the winery?" Jiang Hai asked in surprise, glancing over at Afra and the others still working at the winery. They looked just as confused.
"No, no—the winery is fine. It's the wine," Dulles-Gerrard replied, catching his breath before speaking gravely.
"Oh? What happened? Take your time and explain." Jiang Hai smiled and motioned for him to continue.
Since arriving at the manor, Dulles-Gerrard had been enjoying life immensely. He made good money, breathed clean air, ate well, and stayed healthy. Initially, he came because he had nothing to do at home, and partly because of Clive's sisters. But now, he genuinely loved it here.
When he first arrived, he carried a bit of arrogance. In his mind, how could beef or fish be more profitable than wine?
But then Jiang Hai started selling cattle last year—and the figures left him speechless.
Over 10,000 cattle sold for more than $1 billion. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen. He had originally thought he'd be the savior, making money from wine while beef and fish struggled. But once he realized just how profitable the beef business was, he began to feel anxious.
Last year, wine sales were somewhat saved by the performance of the fishermen. But this year, the tables had turned. The fishermen were doing even better. With domestic sales alone generating $2.5 billion annually, the fishery had already outpaced last year's beef income.
And the wine? Still aging in cellars.
Fine wine required time. The best vintages matured over three to five years. Anything over ten years became extremely rare—people often talked about 1982 Lafite or 1990 Romanée-Conti, but production of those wines had always been minuscule.
Before managing his own winery, Jiang Hai had no idea. Now he understood: over 95% of wine reaches peak quality within 3 to 5 years. Wines that age over a decade require specific brewing methods and can't be drunk early. Those rare vintages are typically produced by major vineyards that know they'll sell them ten years down the line.
Premium wines like Bordeaux, Burgundy Grand Cru, Hermitage, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Barolo, Amarone, Rioja, Ribera del Duero, Napa Valley, and top-tier Barossa, Ice Wines—these are the ones with aging potential. But even among them, ten-year vintages are rare.
Dulles-Gerrard didn't know if Jiang Hai planned to run this winery for ten-plus years. So, he brewed according to standard practices. Technically, wine can be sold after six months, though the best pricing happens after three years.
Originally, he hadn't planned to sell this year's batch. But recently, unable to resist curiosity—and pressure from the success of beef and fish—he opened a bottle after seven months.
And what he tasted shocked him.
The flavor burst across the palate—youthful yet spicy, complex with hints of licorice, vibrant acidity, a touch of astringency, and an elegant finish. It reminded him of a noble sixteen-year-old girl in a medieval ball gown who approached him, the unassuming gentleman, and asked him to dance. Her fragrance, her grace, her shyness—it left him mesmerized.
He stood in the cellar for over an hour, lost in a reverie, until O'Connor Murphy found him.
Of course, part of it was nostalgia. But the other part was his finely tuned sense of taste—honed from decades of winemaking. To the average person, the wine would simply taste delicious, fresh, and pleasant. But for Dulles-Gerrard, this was something extraordinary.
He called it The Taste of First Love.
And now, he wanted Jiang Hai's permission to enter it into competition. It had taken him a few days to track Jiang Hai down.
"So… the wine's ready?" Jiang Hai asked, clearly surprised.
"Yes. This is the best wine I've ever tasted—even Romanée-Conti can't compare. Maybe only the top 1996 vintage comes close. Within the next three to five years, this wine will be untouchable. And if we age it further, I dare say we'll have a contender for the world's best," Dulles-Gerrard declared, puffing his chest proudly.
Jiang Hai was honestly moved.
He never liked wine much—beer was his go-to. He started winemaking simply because he had the vineyard and wanted to turn a profit.
But now, with Dulles-Gerrard saying this wine was already saleable—and exceptional—he was definitely interested.
"So, what's the plan? Do I need to talk to Pra Walton?" Jiang Hai asked.
"I don't think that's necessary. We don't have much wine yet, and selling it through Sam's Club would be a waste. Let's enter some competitions to build our reputation, and release it in limited quantities. I'll keep half of last year's production in reserve, then release it after three years. By then, we'll have one of the most sought-after wines in the world," Dulles-Gerrard said with conviction, his eyes gleaming.
Jiang Hai nodded. He appreciated that Dulles-Gerrard was willing to handle things independently. It wasn't that he minded leaning on Pra Walton, but Pra had Walmart behind him—and Jiang Hai didn't want to depend too much on any one channel.
If Dulles-Gerrard could manage the sales, Jiang Hai had no reason to interfere.
"So, what's next?" he asked.
"The Mâcon Wine Competition is at the end of this month. It runs for three days. We should participate," said Dulles-Gerrard.
Jiang Hai thought for a moment. His schedule looked clear.
"Alright, you and O'Connor head over first. Use the best of everything—we're not short on funds. I'll join you before the competition begins," he said decisively.
He hadn't been to Europe yet. This was as good a reason as any.