Building a ranch in Dubai was no easy task—at least, that's what Jiang Hai thought.
In truth, he hadn't paid much attention to the matter before, but now he realized it was even more difficult than he imagined.
Building a camel breeding farm in the desert might still be feasible, but trying to establish a pasture there? That was nonsense.
Because of this, after Du Famen left, Jiang Hai hadn't been too concerned about the forage business. But what he hadn't expected was that Du Famen would call him at this moment, saying the ranch had actually been built.
"Are you sure?" Jiang Hai looked at the phone skeptically. The number and voice were definitely Du Famen's. It didn't seem like a joke. Could this guy really have pulled it off?
"Of course I'm sure. I'm not joking about US dollars. If you have time these days, come by and see for yourself. We have plenty of experts handling the ranch construction, but your grass is crucial. You're the most important part. If something goes wrong, all previous efforts will be wasted." Du Famen sounded serious and agreed wholeheartedly.
Jiang Hai frowned, surprised. He hadn't expected Du Famen to actually follow through and build the ranch.
People tend to get more comfortable staying at home and grow reluctant to go out, more wary of strangers, less inclined to get involved.
Jiang Hai had been feeling quite comfortable and happy at home recently. So his first reaction was to refuse.
But then again, he was the one who had asked Du Famen to build it. Not going would look bad.
"Well, I'll come take a look in the next few days. If I decide to go, I'll call you." After hesitating, Jiang Hai decided he would go. Hearing this, Du Famen was naturally delighted.
Patting his chest, Du Famen promised to entertain Jiang Hai well, telling him to look forward to it.
Jiang Hai chuckled at Du Famen's hospitality but acknowledged he really had to go for what he had set in motion.
After discussing it with his family, no one objected to his trip to Dubai. Bernice understood Jiang Hai was going for work—something unavoidable—and had no complaints. The others were equally supportive.
With tickets to the Imperial Capital in early February and then the Ice City already booked, Jiang Hai left the manor in mid-January.
Though he trusted Du Famen to some extent, everything in the Middle East was uncertain.
So he brought Azarina along—her presence meant he didn't have to worry about safety.
Robbins-Garcia drove Jiang Hai and Azarina to General Logan International Airport in Boston.
Though there were no direct flights from Boston to China, flights to Dubai existed—Emirates Airlines and JetBlue, for example.
But the ticket prices were outrageous. Economy class was nearly $1,000, about 7,000 to 8,000 RMB—much more expensive than flights from China to the U.S. Jiang Hai took first class, where a single ticket cost $23,000 USD, nearly 140,000 RMB. That was 140,000 RMB vanished in a single flight—not to mention he had to buy two tickets.
After Robbins-Garcia dropped them off at the airport, Jiang Hai and Azarina entered the VIP lounge and boarded the plane. Though Dubai wasn't far from China, it was still quite distant from the U.S.
The flight lasted twelve hours before landing at Dubai International Airport, the largest airport in the city. Jiang Hai stretched his sore neck as he and Azarina exited the plane.
Stepping outside, Jiang Hai immediately felt the warmth of Dubai's sun—but it wasn't the harsh desert sun he had imagined. Dubai was refreshingly mild this time of year, the best season to visit. The sky was bright, but the temperature was moderate.
In January, the average daily high in Dubai was 24°C, and the low was 14°C. Being near the sea, the breeze was pleasantly cool.
Though the sunlight was strong, it was peak tourist season. Jiang Hai saw travelers from many countries at the airport. Upon leaving, he snapped photos with his phone and shared them on WeChat Moments, knowing it would rile up some of his friends.
Azarina stood calmly behind him, ever vigilant in the crowded airport.
"Mr. Jiang Hai, hello. I'm Mr. Du Famen's bodyguard. He's waiting for you in the parking lot," a man in a black suit approached.
Azarina quickly stepped in front of Jiang Hai, separating him from the bodyguard. The bodyguard was respectful and stopped a couple of meters away.
Jiang Hai glanced toward the parking lot and couldn't help but smirk.
He was certain Du Famen had come to pick him up—because in the distance, a convoy of cars awaited. All were Rolls-Royces. Who else but local Middle Eastern tycoons would arrive like this?
Of course, not all the cars were identical—Du Famen had to show off his status.
All the Rolls-Royces were black except one white one, adorned with golden ornaments and longer than usual. That had to be Du Famen's car.
Jiang Hai and Azarina followed the bodyguard toward the convoy. A group of men in black suits stood outside, forming a protective barrier around the cars, keeping the crowd at bay. The scene was grand.
As they approached, the back door of the white Rolls-Royce opened, and Du Famen, dressed in traditional Arab robes, emerged with a broad smile.
"Hey, my dear Jiang, you finally made it!" Du Famen called out excitedly.
"Hey, brother. 'Dear' is not how we do it," Jiang Hai said, hugging him with a smile.
"Really? Haha, well, I'm not Gai Yi. Come on, brother, let me show you the party I prepared for you." Du Famen laughed and slid into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce with Jiang Hai.
Azarina took the car behind them. Apart from the driver, Du Famen's car was exclusive to just the two of them—no one else qualified to ride inside.
You see, the United States is a very casual country.
It's a melting pot of races and cultures—Chinese, British, Indian, French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, South American, and more. Every nation with its customs and history. If you followed all their formalities, you'd be exhausted.
With the British, you have to be formal; with the French, kiss their cheek; with the Japanese, bow deeply.
It'd be exhausting to keep up with all that.
So Americans are pretty laid back—no rigid customs—an outcome of this great fusion.
But the Middle East is different.
Though not chaotic, religious doctrines shape the culture quite strictly.
Especially in the UAE, which is not a full-fledged country but a federation.
There are clear divisions of rank and class, with the royal family controlling the lifeblood of the nation.
Forget democracy or a constitutional monarchy—it's an absolute monarchy. Though Du Famen isn't an emperor, he's basically a prince in Chinese terms.
If you can't be a one-character "king," being a two-character "prince" is still prestigious.
He is far more noble than the average person in Dubai.
Even his bodyguards aren't allowed inside his car when it's not a crisis.
Jiang Hai was granted this privilege because he was a foreign friend and billionaire, with connections to China's top leaders.
"Brother, this is the most exciting time here lately. You'll love it," Du Famen said as the convoy started moving.
To him, Dubai was better than anywhere else. Jiang Hai understood territorial pride: wherever you hold sway is the best place.
For ordinary people, that means their own home—hence the saying: a golden nest or silver nest can't beat your own doghouse.
"The weather here is really nice. You have to be a good host," Jiang Hai said, opening the car window to admire the cityscape. The Dubai Tower stood out—towering and legendary.
"That's a given," Du Famen smiled. Besides their friendship, he needed Jiang Hai's help and would never treat him poorly.
The car sped through the streets, ignoring red lights as Dubai's traffic police seemed to look the other way. Jiang Hai envied this lawlessness.
Even as a local "emperor" in Winthrop, he had to abide by the law. Ordinary rich folks were no match for these royal families.
After nearly half an hour, the convoy stopped in front of a large villa with classic Middle Eastern architecture.
Jiang Hai looked it over and nodded. The design was impressive, but the bright white exterior stood out—maybe people here just loved white. Jiang Hai didn't mind. Thinking of Xiaoya, he liked white too—whether in people or buildings.
Du Famen stepped out from the other side.
"This is where you'll stay while you're here. One of my villas in Dubai. Not very big. You don't mind, right?" he said, grinning and patting Jiang Hai's shoulder.
Jiang Hai rolled his eyes. This place was huge—almost as large as his main villa. And this was just one of Du Famen's properties in Dubai.
Better not joke with the rich when you have nothing to show, or you'll get burned.
"Come in! The party I prepared for you is inside!" Du Famen ignored Jiang Hai's eye roll, putting an arm around his shoulder as they entered.
As the door opened, Jiang Hai's eyes widened involuntarily.
"Oh my God, what the hell is this?" he blurted, utterly bewildered.
Inside, dozens—maybe hundreds—of girls stood waiting, dressed only in simple bikinis. Black, white, yellow—various colors, skin tones, heights, and looks. They all bowed deeply and called out in unison, "Welcome, Master Du Famen, Master Jiang Hai!"
Jiang Hai was speechless. What kind of scene was this?
"I specially had these girls prepared for you. I know you like this sort of thing from the girls at your villa. These girls are all yours—do whatever you want!" Du Famen raised his eyebrows at Jiang Hai's stunned expression.
Jiang Hai stared blankly. Did Du Famen really think he was a pervert?
Besides, even if he wanted to, facing so many girls, he felt he might be completely drained!
"Come on, ladies! This is your master for the next few days—Jiang Hai. Show him your broad mind and take good care of him!" Du Famen waved off any protests and shouted.
The girls smiled sweetly and rushed over, and Jiang Hai stepped inside.
Resistance seemed pointless here... (To be continued)