The Ghost Festival incident was just a small episode for Jiang Hai.
Still, it left Qi Jie, Qi Ya, Feng Yunchen, and Ai Xiaoxi craving something spooky, and over the following nights they binge-watched horror films—A Nightmare on Elm Street, Paranormal Activity, and the like. The girls screamed and clung to each other, but as the only man in the household, Jiang Hai inevitably became their shield. Even though Azarina and Galina gave off a stronger sense of security, the girls always turned to him.
Unlike China, where ghost stories and superstitions were suppressed after the Republic era, the West was filled with tales of spirits and the supernatural. That alone made the movies far more frightening.
For Jiang Hai, whose nerves were usually made of steel, few things could shake him. But one film unsettled him deeply—The Ship, an Australian–European production that had nothing to do with the United States, yet chilled him to the bone.
It wasn't the gore—there was hardly any. Nor was it ghosts—there were none. What terrified him was the concept at its core: reincarnation.
The film told the story of Jesse, a struggling mother with a violent streak toward her children. One day, she and a group of friends set out on a boating trip. Their vessel capsized, and they boarded a mysterious cruise ship. That's when the nightmare began.
Jesse kept killing—her friends, strangers, even herself. Each cycle, she murdered five people: her earlier self who had boarded in a previous loop, Victor, Donnie, Sulley, and Greg. Then, inevitably, the next version of herself would kill her. The cycle never ended.
The first Jesse drowned while fleeing. The second was hacked apart on deck by the third. The third dumped bodies into the sea… and so it went, endlessly.
The idea of being trapped in an infinite cycle, killed again and again by your own hand, gnawed at Jiang Hai long after the credits rolled. For days he couldn't shake the dread. He even caught himself imagining waking up one morning only to be butchered by another version of himself.
Fortunately, his mind was strong. After a few days, he managed to push the unease aside.
The Ghost Festival faded into memory, and life quickly filled with new concerns. By late August, Taraga was preparing for school.
It was one of the busiest times of year—the grapes were ripening, and tuna fishing was in full swing. Jiang Hai was already occupied with his usual fishing duties at the manor, and someone had to oversee the vineyard. Amidst the bustle, only two people had no role in the harvest: Taraga, who was starting school, and Qi Jie, who still needed to catch up on her studies.
On September 1st, Taraga officially became a student at Winthrop High School. Early that morning, Qi Jie and the others skipped vineyard work to help dress her up. When they were finished, Taraga looked every bit the American high school girl—white chiffon blouse, fitted jeans that flattered her figure, and on her feet, a pair of Nike Air Mags.
Jiang Hai had wanted those shoes for himself. A lifelong basketball fan, he had a massive sneaker collection, and though he rarely wore the Air Mags—priced at a staggering $5,000 a pair—he bought them without hesitation as a tribute to the classic film Back to the Future.
Raised in a tribe, Taraga's tastes were more practical. She preferred durable, breathable clothing and sturdy hiking boots. But when she peeked into Jiang Hai's shoe cabinet, the futuristic sneakers caught her eye. Of course, his pairs were far too large, so she bought her own using the generous allowance Jiang Hai gave her.
Dressed and ready, Taraga slung a bag over her shoulder, promised to return after school, and climbed into Jiang Hai's car.
"Feeling nervous?" Jiang Hai teased as he started the engine. He himself would never step into a classroom again—not if he could help it—but watching Taraga squirm was amusing.
"It's… fine." Taraga wrinkled her nose at him with a small smile, though her fidgeting betrayed her nerves.
"When you get there, try to make some friends," Jiang Hai said. "But absolutely no boyfriends. Don't forget—I won your virginity fair and square." He put on a mock-stern face, though he meant it only as a joke to lighten the mood.
Taraga laughed, the tension easing, and nodded.
"Relax. This is just something your clan leader wanted you to do. Study if you can, but don't force it. More importantly—don't let anyone push you around. If someone bullies you, fight back. Remember, I'm the local bully in Winthrop. I don't pick on anyone, which is already more than enough. If they start something, you finish it."
It was advice straight from a Northeastern Chinese parent—though perhaps a harsher version. Most Chinese parents discouraged fights at school. Jiang Hai's family, however, had raised him with a different philosophy: don't suffer losses. If you failed an exam, you'd be beaten at home. If you got beaten outside, you'd also be beaten at home. But if you beat someone else? That earned you praise.
And so, Jiang Hai passed the same lesson to Taraga: never back down.
Taraga nodded earnestly. Still, she worried. In Boston, racial discrimination wasn't as blatant among adults, but among children, it was another story. White kids often picked on minorities, and society tended to look the other way.
Jiang Hai understood that too, but he viewed the world differently. In America, it wasn't really about black, white, or yellow—it was about rich and poor. He was rich, and that gave him privileges. Even if Taraga got into a serious fight, he could shield her from real consequences.
Not that he wanted trouble. He was simply determined that she would never feel powerless.
By the time Jiang Hai finished his speech, they had arrived at Winthrop High School. Cars crowded the front gate, but instead of using his influence to cut in, Jiang Hai parked a little farther away.
Together, he and Taraga walked toward the entrance. Along the way, townsfolk greeted him warmly. To Winthrop's residents, Jiang Hai was a strange blend of figure: part god of wealth, part devil, part guardian angel. So long as you didn't provoke him, he was generous and approachable.
Smiling and nodding at familiar faces, Jiang Hai accompanied Taraga to the school gates.
(To be continued.)