"What's the matter?" Huang Yunfei asked in a low voice as he walked over with Jiang Hai.
Although they had been speaking English earlier and couldn't hear everything clearly, the atmosphere just now had felt a bit tense.
"Nothing serious. Just some people from a chemical company wanting to build a factory here," Jiang Hai replied casually, still processing the conversation.
"A factory? Isn't that a good thing?" Xu Wei and Fu Yuan, who had followed them over, asked curiously.
"A good thing? How do you figure that?" Jiang Hai looked at them, somewhat surprised. Was that really their takeaway?
"Of course. If a factory is built here, it'll create jobs and stimulate the local economy. The factory would pay taxes, and with the U.S. political system, those taxes would benefit the town—improving public facilities and welfare. Isn't that a win-win?" Huang Yunfei explained.
What they were saying was basically what you'd hear in domestic news reports. In China, whenever a small town or village attracted investment and opened a factory, it was seen as a major success. It solved employment issues, increased local revenue—it was a big deal. People went out of their way to attract such projects.
But Jiang Hai didn't see it that way. Why else would he have come to the U.S.?
"Are you sure about that? This is a chemical factory." Jiang Hai nearly laughed.
"Yeah, I heard. They're from Celanese, right? I know that company. They mainly produce acetic acid—for plastics. The stuff isn't highly toxic. The environmental impact from a factory like that isn't too bad, certainly not as bad as paper mills, fertilizer plants, or pesticide factories," Huang Yunfei said with a dismissive wave.
That only made Jiang Hai more frustrated.
Sure, in China, a plastic factory like that wouldn't raise too many eyebrows. But that's exactly why he'd left. He came to the U.S. for the pristine environment. Winthrop was like a blank sheet of paper—add one drop of ink, and it would stain the whole thing. What might seem tolerable pollution in China was unacceptable to him here.
"You don't get it. Winthrop's entire value lies in its unspoiled ecosystem. There must be zero environmental pollution. As long as I'm here, no chemical company will ever set up shop," Jiang Hai said firmly.
The group chuckled lightly at his tone.
"You're overthinking it. Where on earth doesn't have chemical plants? Without them, where would we get plastic, paper, fertilizer, pesticides—all the things we rely on? As long as emissions are within the legal limits, it's fine," Huang Yunfei reasoned.
That mindset was typical. In China, making money usually trumped environmental concerns. While awareness had improved in recent years, environmental protection still ranked below economic benefit in most people's minds.
Even in the U.S., the path to modern prosperity had been paved with pollution—contaminated land, smog-filled air, filthy rivers. It took decades for the U.S. to clean it up. Now, only places like Winthrop were truly livable. Wealthy Americans often drank imported spring water from Northern Europe instead of local tap water—clear evidence of how pollution had impacted even the most developed country.
Some might argue that allowing the factory in temporarily—making money for a few years before shutting it down—was a worthwhile trade-off. But Jiang Hai couldn't think that way.
He had come here precisely because the area was rich in spiritual energy. He couldn't allow any pollution to taint it.
Yes, as Huang Yunfei had said, the world needs plastics. But it didn't have to be here. Factories could be built elsewhere. Winthrop's value lay in remaining untouched.
"Winthrop must stay pure. I'm okay with developing it into a tourist destination, but I will never allow a chemical plant here. End of story," Jiang Hai said, cutting off any further discussion with a wave of his hand.
"Man, you've only been abroad for a year and you're already impossible to reason with," Huang Yunfei said with a chuckle. "This kind of thing is no big deal in China, but I guess it's different here."
He wasn't deeply invested in the matter—just making conversation. Now that Jiang Hai had made up his mind, Huang Yunfei knew to drop it. The five of them continued to the shooting range.
Jiang Hai was a major investor in the range, and his presence immediately drew respectful attention from the staff. They helped Huang Yunfei and the others select guns and taught them how to shoot. Naturally, this sparked a flurry of photo-taking. These were real firearms, after all.
Except for Fu Yuan, none of them had ever handled live weapons before. They were clearly excited.
Even Huang Yunfei's wife, Lü Jiao, was thrilled after firing five magazines. Meanwhile, Jiang Hai didn't join in the shooting. Partly because he no longer cared for it, and partly because his mind was still on the factory issue.
Although he was firmly against any pollution, Jiang Hai couldn't ignore what Huang Yunfei had said. The townspeople of Winthrop might not feel the same way.
Even though they were earning more now, no one ever thought they had too much money. Huang Yunfei's attitude likely reflected that of most ordinary people. If the government said the plastic was non-toxic, people would naturally believe it was harmless. Making money without pollution? That sounded like the ideal scenario.
Public opinion carried weight in China—and even more so in the U.S., where "individual rights" were a mantra.
Mayor Wallis, a shrewd man, didn't always have final say over town matters—especially when a lot of people stood to benefit. Otherwise, he wouldn't have reacted so eagerly to Jiang Hai's return.
If this company was going to be driven out, Jiang Hai would have to do it himself.
The thought annoyed him. The opposition might be well-prepared, but regardless, Jiang Hai had no intention of backing down. That wasn't who he was.
He'd wait for Mayor Wallis to come by later that evening. Hopefully, he'd have a satisfactory answer.
After the gun range visit, night quietly fell over Winthrop. Instead of heading home, Jiang Hai took his friends to a Mexican burrito place to try some authentic South American-style food.
They actually enjoyed the sour, spicy flavors. After a hearty meal, they returned to the manor.
Bernice and Xiaoya had already eaten dinner. The day's activities had left Huang Yunfei and the others tired, especially after spending the afternoon on their feet at the range. After soaking in the hot spring, they retreated to their rooms to rest. Of course, with internet and TV available, they weren't likely to fall asleep right away.
Jiang Hai, meanwhile, lay on his white jade recliner, still thinking about Mayor Wallis, who had promised to come that night.
He didn't have to wait long. Around 8:30, a familiar car pulled up to the manor. Jiang Hai opened the gate, letting the mayor drive in.
Wallis spotted Jiang Hai reclining under the stars and slowed his steps. But he still walked over, picked up a bottle of beer beside Jiang Hai, opened it himself, and sat down on the adjacent lounger.
They sat quietly, sipping beer and staring at the night sky.
"Weren't you here to talk about something?" Jiang Hai finally broke the silence.
"I was," Wallis replied with a grin. "But now that I see you, I realize there's nothing more to say. Because even if the whole town goes crazy, you won't. And more importantly, the cards you're holding are far more valuable than anything that company can offer."
Jiang Hai let out a sigh. He knew exactly what Wallis meant.
Jiang Hai and Winthrop were now deeply connected. Many locals relied on him for their livelihood—not just his employees, but also businesses supported by the tourists he brought in. He owned a shooting range, beachfront villas, and half the shops on the commercial street.
If he wanted, he could halt tourism and shut it all down. The town would revert to what it was before—overnight.
Jiang Hai could afford that loss. The townspeople couldn't. So, for better or worse, they would follow his lead.
In that sense, Jiang Hai's influence now exceeded even that of Mayor Wallis.
And that was why the old mayor remained calm. With Jiang Hai here, Winthrop's future was secure.
(To be continued.)