Eddie completed the transfer with ease, leaving the dealership manager and Tiger in awe of his true tycoon style.
This Cadillac Presidential One he bought was the top-of-the-line model, equipped with a 6.2L engine. It had a base price of 280,000 CAD—roughly 1.4 million RMB. However, after a quick call to Gao Xueqiang back in China, Eddie was stunned to learn that the same car sold for 2.6 million RMB there. That was nearly double the price!
Still, Eddie merely smiled. As always, he was calm and composed. Money? For others, it was a burden; for him, it was like points in a video game—meant to be spent.
Since he paid in full, the dealership threw in an entire set of premium leather seat covers and comprehensive insurance covering all of Canada. On top of that, the manager personally assured him: "This vehicle comes with VIP service. No matter where you are in Canada, if there's an issue, call us—our nearest service team will come to you immediately."
Now that's presidential treatment. The car might be called "Presidential One," but even that name didn't feel prestigious enough.
Eddie couldn't help but marvel, "Being rich really is something else."
In truth, the purchase barely stirred a ripple in his heart. It was like having a thousand bucks in your pocket and spending twenty on a deluxe pancake—barely worth a second thought.
Tiger, on the other hand, was ecstatic.
As the top salesman, closing a deal on such a luxury vehicle meant triple his monthly income. He pampered Eddie like royalty—refilling his coffee three times, offering endless biscuits, grinning like it was springtime in his heart. If Eddie asked him to give a back massage, Tiger probably would've done it without hesitation.
The dealership took care of all the paperwork and license registration. Eddie just had to go home and wait for his new ride to be delivered to his fishery.
Afterward, Creeper took him for a spin around downtown St. John's.
Though it's the largest city in Newfoundland, in Eddie's eyes, it barely qualified as a "city"—the streets were quiet, sparsely populated, and with only around 200,000 residents, it didn't even compare to a township in China.
Still, St. John's wasn't ordinary. It was one of the few cities in Canada with a natural harbor, and since the 19th century, it had been a vital hub for Atlantic trade. While it lacked the flashiness of big cities, it had a solid, well-developed industrial structure. That explained why luxury cars like the Presidential One could find a niche market here.
Creeper guided him through the old town center, where buildings from the early 1800s—constructed in Irish style—still stood strong. The city was aged, but steeped in history.
"St. John's was built by 4,000 loyalists and famine-fleeing Irish settlers," Creeper explained. "Their descendants still live here, and they made this city what it is today."
Eddie felt a bit of admiration as he looked at the worn but sturdy stone walls.
After their tour, they caught the ferry back to Farewell Town.
Upon returning, Shark—who was cleaning the fishery—approached curiously and asked, "BOSS, what kind of car did you buy?"
Eddie grinned mysteriously, shrugged, and replied with a smug tone, "Cadillac Presidential One. If you ever need to use it, just grab the keys from my place. Take it for a spin anytime."
He struck a pose that screamed "cool," reminding himself of his college roommate, Gao Xueqiang—the first in their dorm to buy a laptop. Gao would change the password twelve times a day, not because he was worried about security, but because he loved making people ask for access.
But Shark looked half amused and half annoyed. "You bought an SUV? God, I thought you looked at my shopping list and went to get a pickup truck!"
Eddie scratched his head and chuckled. "Shopping list? Haven't looked at it yet... didn't plan to buy any gear right now."
"We need a pickup truck badly," Shark said seriously. "Hauling fishing boats, transporting ice, delivering supplies—everything depends on it."
Eddie waved dismissively. "Next trip. We'll buy two big ones together."
He glanced at the tools Shark was holding and asked, "What're you working on?"
"Cleaning up the fishery," Shark replied while wiping sweat from his brow. "Got to do a full sweep before we officially start operations."
"You're doing it alone? You'll be here all week."
"Who said I'm alone?" Shark smirked. "I'm just sorting the reusable stuff. Reinforcements arrive tomorrow."
Eddie didn't think much of it—until the next morning, when the roaring engines of several cars woke him up.
Rubbing his eyes, he looked outside and saw dozens of vehicles parked at the gate of the fishery. Groups of people were walking in, tools in hand, while Shark waved and directed them with a big grin.
"You hired a cleaning crew?" Eddie was stunned.
"Nope." Shark laughed. "Just neighbors and friends. They've got spare time and don't mind helping out. Just feed everyone tonight—we'll throw a barbecue."
Eddie was touched. He never expected such a strong sense of community here. Over fifty people showed up, simply because Shark asked. That's the kind of face value money can't buy.
Even little Shaw came with a group of kids to help. Eddie took them into town to buy loads of snacks, drinks, and beer, planning an epic feast for the evening.
The fishery bustled with life all day. Gone was the quiet, deserted look. Now, it was alive and welcoming.
Even Squirrel Xiaoming and Xiaohong clung nervously to the maple trees, watching all the humans clean up their "territory," too afraid to climb down.
As the cleanup progressed, the true face of the fishery began to reveal itself.
Eddie was surprised to find not just standard equipment, but a full-on bar and a few dusty pool tables. This place used to host parties, entertain guests—there had been a vibrant life here once.
Even Eddie, usually lazy, felt a bit embarrassed loafing around. He rolled up his sleeves and joined the crew, putting off his planned underwater exploration for now.
Still, during a break, he couldn't resist putting on his diving gear and checking out the coral reef.
The marine world was slowly recovering. Schools of fish swam through the waters again. Unfortunately, the big-headed trout he'd once led here was gone—probably off to its own business after having its fill.
Back on land, he resumed his inspection of the fishery.
It was the first time he had thoroughly walked the entire area—and only now did he realize how massive it was. This wasn't just a simple operation. It was the estate of a feudal lord.
The BE Fishery sat on the southeastern tip of Farewell Island, about twenty kilometers from the town center. To the northeast stretched the Cambal Mountains.
The fishery's northern edge bordered the base of the mountain range, separated by a vast mixed forest filled with maples, spruces, red cedars, and more.
As they walked, Creeper pointed out, "This forest used to be stunning year-round—golden leaves, red maples, blooming blossoms... a real wonderland."
"Sadly, after Old Eddie passed away, the forest began to fade too," Shark added somberly.
They pushed deeper into the woods. Eddie had previously avoided the area due to overgrowth and fear of snakes, but now he realized—it was mostly birds here, not much threat of predators.
They eventually reached a clear stream—meltwater from the snowcaps flowing down from the mountains into the sea.
Following the stream, they soon heard the roar of rushing water. Sure enough, a small waterfall appeared at the mountain's foot.
The water cascaded down from a cliff five or six meters high. Sunlight danced in the spray, scattering like diamonds in the air.
Eddie was awestruck. "This place... it's a hidden gem."
Just as he finished speaking—
"Grroooowwlll... Hoo hoo hoo—GRROOWWWL!!"
A deep, rumbling growl echoed from the forest. It was getting closer. Louder. More guttural.
Creeper's expression changed instantly. In a hushed voice, he warned:
"Trouble. That's a bear!"