"Did you see that? I just hit seven ten-rings. Seven! If it weren't for the imperial court's terrible recruitment system, I would've been a sharpshooter in our army."
After returning to the parking lot, the group walked toward the villa in high spirits, naturally boasting as they went.
"Okay, stop bragging. I don't know how many bullets you fired, but you went through at least fifteen magazines. Fifteen! And you only hit seven ten-rings? You're not much better than me—I only used ten magazines and hit five ten-rings. Honestly, neither of us is great."
Hearing this, someone nearby scoffed and added, "Oh, please! You didn't hit ten because you just had to show off with that .42-caliber gun at the beginning. Your hands went numb, and it took you an hour to recover! I told you it was a bad choice. Even the gun store clerk was shocked when you picked it."
Before he could finish, another person cut in, changing the subject. "Alright, enough of that. If you ask me, none of you are any good. The real shooter here is Director Liu. He used to be a soldier, you know. Wherever he points his pistol, he hits. I've never seen him miss a target."
There's always a lackey in every group, and this one took the opportunity to flatter the leader.
Director Liu, hearing his name mentioned, gave the speaker an approving glance. With a satisfied smile, he said, "Ah, young people these days are too impatient. Shooting is like savoring fine wine—you can't rush it." He then launched into a story about his days as a soldier and the art of marksmanship.
None of the younger ones were interested, but they didn't dare interrupt him. Instead, they stood there, nodding along while silently cursing the lackey for getting them stuck in this lecture.
Just as they neared the villa, a familiar car approached from the distance.
Everyone recognized it immediately. The Zhandun. They had only learned its name yesterday, but that didn't stop them from recognizing the logo—or from imagining how they'd brag about seeing it when they got back home. After all, this was a car worth 20 million.
"Hey, look, Xiao Jiang is here! Haven't seen him all day," Director Liu remarked in a half-official, half-familiar tone.
As soon as he spoke, someone else chimed in, "Yeah, where's he been all day?"
Before the words had even left his mouth, Jiang Hai's car had already stopped at the side of the road. He waved at them, jumped out, and pulled a large bag from the back seat.
"Xiao Jiang, long time no see! What brings you here?" Director Liu called out with a smile. He was quite fond of Jiang Hai—mainly because he loved this place.
Jiang Hai grinned. "Oh, Liu, I'm just here to deliver something. Here, this is for you."
Yesterday, Wu Shan had introduced Jiang Hai to the important guests in the tour group, including Director Liu. Since Jiang Hai was running a business, there was no need to be rude, so he responded politely. But as for getting too close? Well, he wasn't a woman—he didn't care.
Spotting the six people from yesterday in the crowd, Jiang Hai handed them the bag.
At first, they looked confused, but as soon as they peeked inside, their eyes widened in shock. A massive, green-brown creature lay inside, its claws twitching menacingly.
"Oh my god, it's a lobster! A massive lobster!" someone exclaimed.
"No, not just any lobster—a king lobster!" another person corrected. "I saw one like this at that seafood restaurant in XX. It was their prized dish, sold for 100,000 yuan each. My god, you guys must be loaded to afford something like this!"
The crowd buzzed with excitement. Even Director Liu couldn't help swallowing his saliva.
As a high-ranking official in a state-owned enterprise, he had never been fortunate enough to eat such a massive lobster. Now that he had the means, the rules wouldn't allow him to indulge. A 100,000-yuan lobster—just thinking about it made his mouth water.
"Haha, it's not that expensive—only 18,000 US dollars per lobster," one of the six people bragged. "This one came from Jiang Hai's manor. Our tour guide, George, told us yesterday that Jiang Hai raises lobsters weighing over 20 kilograms. But those were out of our price range, so the six of us chipped in 500 dollars each to buy this one. Oh, by the way, Jiang Hai, how much does this one weigh?"
Seeing the envious and jealous stares around them, the six men puffed up with pride. But when Director Qi gave them a particular look, they had a feeling they wouldn't be the only ones eating this lobster tonight.
"This one's 16 kilograms," Jiang Hai replied with a smile. "I threw in an extra kilo as a gift. There are also some sea cucumbers and abalones in there. Your villa has a kitchen, right? You can cook them yourselves. Or, if you want something fancier, take them to the restaurant over there—whether it's Italian, Boston-style, or French, they all know how to prepare seafood. The processing fee should be under 20 dollars."
Hearing that there were sea cucumbers and abalones as well, the six men eagerly lifted the lobster out. Beneath it, they found a pile of Arctic sea cucumbers and large, fist-sized abalones.
"Oh my god, Jiang Hai, this abalone is huge!" one of them gasped. "At least a three-head abalone!"
"Actually, they're two-headed," Jiang Hai corrected. "The three-headed ones are still young here, so I don't usually harvest them. The sea cucumbers are all fully grown."
If he didn't show off now, when would he?
"Jiang Hai, are you selling these sea cucumbers and abalones?" someone asked eagerly.
Buying a lobster was a luxury. Even though it was four or five times cheaper here than in China, most people wouldn't splurge 3,000 dollars on a single meal.
But abalone and sea cucumbers? If Jiang Hai was giving them away, they couldn't be that expensive, right?
"The Arctic sea cucumbers are fresh—100 dollars per kilogram. And the abalone? 150 dollars per kilogram," Jiang Hai calculated aloud.
He knew these were premium goods. If dried and sold in China, his sea cucumbers could easily fetch 6,500 yuan for a 300-gram gift box. Even at 100 dollars per kilogram, he was making a hefty profit.
As for the abalone, top-quality two-headed African abalone sold for 2,500 yuan per catty in China (a 'catty' for abalone being 600 grams). Even at 150 dollars per kilogram, Jiang Hai's prices were at least four times cheaper than the market rate.
The crowd hesitated only briefly before someone finally spoke up.
"A few of us want to buy a lobster together. Can you deliver it tomorrow?"
Jiang Hai grinned. "Of course. Three thousand dollars per lobster, same price."
"I'll take a kilogram of abalone."
"I'll buy two kilograms of sea cucumbers."
"If we buy two lobsters, can we get some abalone and sea cucumbers thrown in?"
With the first purchase made, the floodgates opened. Soon, people were rushing forward to buy.
Jiang Hai just smiled. This was all real money, tax-free.
If you relied on renting out villas, how much could you really earn?
Selling specialty products, now that was the real business. Some places scammed tourists with fake goods and inflated prices, but not here. Jiang Hai's products spoke for themselves.
For food lovers, Jiang Hai's estate wasn't just a destination—it was paradise.