Moses Adams knew Jiang Hai was never a stingy person. So naturally, when Jiang Hai casually promised a reward, Moses took it seriously—because he knew it would eventually come true.
"Boss, regarding the equity transfer, someone from Google should contact you soon to register at their headquarters. You can go whenever it's convenient," Moses said.
Unlike stock transfers, equity transfers—especially in large companies like Google—require scrutiny. Even though Jiang Hai's stake was only 0.12% or 0.10%, it still carried voting rights. That meant Google would vet him.
If they found Jiang Hai's character questionable, they could block his board appointment or force him to convert the equity into regular stock at a discount. So a trip to headquarters was inevitable.
"Let's talk about it later. It's summer," Jiang Hai replied flatly.
Even if he didn't fully understand the process, he knew that high-tech companies like Google and Apple were headquartered in California—and right now, the summer sun there was brutal. He wasn't crazy enough to subject himself to that kind of heat.
"Alright. They've already contacted me. I'll schedule something once the weather's bearable," Moses said, not surprised. He knew Jiang Hai hated the heat—so did he. If Jiang Hai had to go, Moses would go too. So, winter sounded like a much better option.
"Hah, finally got a channel for real promotion," Jiang Hai muttered happily after hanging up the call, reclining back into his lounge chair.
People say those who smile more often tend to be lucky. It makes sense—if your life is miserable, you probably won't be smiling either.
"Look at you, smug as ever. So, are you leaving again?" Qi Jie asked, casting a side glance at him. Though their banter was frequent, it reflected a sort of playful affection.
Truthfully, she didn't want Jiang Hai to leave, even if she wasn't his only woman.
"Relax, I probably won't be going anywhere for the next few months. We'll talk about it again in winter." Jiang Hai grinned.
Qi Jie didn't say anything but seemed reassured. She leaned back on her chair and continued enjoying the sun. Jiang Hai, meanwhile, noticed the charcoal fire not far away. It was fully lit. He walked over, tossed in some fresh charcoal, and turned back toward Qi Jie and Qi Ya.
"Just barbecuing feels dull. I'm going to grab some seafood. What do you all want to eat?" he asked casually.
Everyone nearby looked over.
The sea could be dangerous, but they all knew Jiang Hai was an exceptional swimmer. As he spoke, people began to think about their cravings.
Before Qi Jie or Qi Ya could reply, Galina, lying some distance away, spoke softly, "If it's not too much trouble... could you bring back some squid?"
Jiang Hai strolled over and gave her a playful slap on the rear.
"What trouble? Don't talk nonsense."
Galina didn't react, but her heart fluttered. That small gesture, as crude as it was, made her feel like she was truly part of his family. It was a warmth she hadn't felt before.
"I want cod. Nothing big—just some haddock. Not cod or pollock, specifically haddock," Qi Ya chimed in after some thought.
"I want shrimp. You got this!" Qi Jie added with a smirk.
After getting their requests, Jiang Hai headed to a nearby four-wheeled ATV, pulled out a speargun for catching cod and a mesh net, then checked with others—but no one else had any specific requests. They were all enjoying themselves too much to care.
Once ready, Jiang Hai made his way to the sea and dove in.
He swam for about ten minutes, staying on the surface before diving deeper once he was out of sight.
Compared to walking on land, Jiang Hai felt much freer in the ocean. He wasn't affected by water pressure and quickly descended to about ten meters. Compared to the sweltering 30+°C above, the underwater world was cool and refreshing.
Near the surface, the temperature was around 20°C, but below 10 meters... it was quite chilly.
Thankfully, Jiang Hai was well-prepared, so the cold didn't bother him. Around 20 meters deep, he began hunting for the requested ingredients: shrimp, squid, and haddock.
Shrimp were abundant on the seabed, so there was no need to rush. Squid, on the other hand—
Whoosh!
He flicked his hand and caught a squid about the size of two palms.
No surprise there. Jiang Hai raised squid in his fishery, and thanks to his unique "feng shui," they grew larger than average. Normally, after five years, squid would be palm-sized. His reached double that.
Remove the beak and innards, grill over charcoal, slice and fry, or pan-grill with garlic chili sauce from China—the flavor was unbeatable.
Jiang Hai loved squid more than most street food.
As he searched for haddock, he casually snatched squid swimming by. They weren't slow—he was just that fast. Within minutes, his net held over a dozen.
Next, he searched for haddock.
Haddock is a type of Atlantic cod, easily distinguished by the black line along its sides. Unlike cod that swim closer to the surface, haddock live on the seafloor—smaller in size but superior in taste.
Most weighed around two pounds and measured about half a meter. Perfect for grilling or sashimi.
Spotting a school, Jiang Hai moved in swiftly.
He raised his speargun and, with one quick motion, fired—skewering a large black haddock before it could react. The fish wriggled violently, but it was useless. Jiang Hai pulled it off the spear, judged it to be under two pounds, and continued hunting.
The nearby fish were startled but hadn't scattered. He quickly snagged three or four more. Since it was his own fishery, he only needed enough for the barbecue.
With squid and haddock taken care of, it was time for shrimp.
And if Jiang Hai's fishery had anything in abundance, it was shrimp.
From black spot shrimp to bamboo shrimp, Arctic sweet shrimp, seafloor species, and even mantis shrimp—the place was overflowing with crustaceans. Nearly a dozen species coexisted here.
Even Jiang Hai, a self-proclaimed shrimp connoisseur, categorized them by taste.
Some were best raw, others grilled or cooked. For grilling, the shrimp couldn't be too small—tiny ones would burn. He needed large, meaty ones with a crisp shell but tender flesh.
While searching, a school of brilliant red shrimp suddenly swam by.
At first, Jiang Hai thought they were Arctic sweet shrimp, but on closer inspection—they weren't.
Curious, he swam closer and picked one up.
It was big—bright red and wide-bodied. Around five centimeters long, maybe as long as his hand when stretched.
He'd never seen this species before.
Definitely not Arctic shrimp. Intrigued, Jiang Hai decided to catch a few and show them to Edward Anderson later. They looked delicious, too.
With both hands, he grabbed handfuls and stuffed them into his net bag. In no time, he had 30 or 40.
Just as he was about to catch more, a sudden shadow passed behind him.
Sensing a disturbance in the current, Jiang Hai dodged instinctively—and a massive, dark green, patterned sea fish darted past.
It didn't attack him. It was after the shrimp.
With a swift bite, it swallowed one whole.
Jiang Hai blinked, startled. He recognized the fish, but it didn't make sense.
"A humphead wrasse?" he muttered, staring at the huge, parrotfish-like creature with a swollen forehead.
He swam closer. The fish didn't mind. It lazily moved through the shrimp school, occasionally dipping to snatch one.
After a minute of close inspection, Jiang Hai was certain: it was a humphead wrasse.
Also called the wavy-lip fish, it's listed internationally as Near Threatened. Among marine species, only a few are more endangered—like the coelacanth, a living fossil.
If this had happened two years ago, Jiang Hai would have been ecstatic. But now, after two years of learning and running a fishery, he knew something was off.
These fish don't belong here.
They're native to the western Pacific and Indian Oceans—Asia, in other words. They don't appear in Europe, let alone North America.
So why was one swimming here?
As if that wasn't strange enough, things got weirder. This fish didn't seem lost—it was part of a group.
After ten minutes of swimming alongside it, Jiang Hai approached a nearby coral reef.
Unlike vibrant diving reefs, Jiang Hai's corals were mostly gray and muted in color. But for marine life, structure matters more than color.
The unknown red shrimp disappeared into the coral.
And out swam several more humphead wrasse.
Jiang Hai froze.
One, two, three… nine in total.
Not just a lost fish—an entire small community.
He stared in disbelief.
What's going on?
Why are there humphead wrasse here?
To be continued...