My Manor

"Huh, it's really cold outside!" Facing the howling north wind, Patrick opened the door of his house, walked in, stood on the carpet by the entrance, and stomped the snow off his boots before brushing the remaining snow from his clothes with his gloves.

Although it hadn't snowed in days, the sub-zero temperatures in Boston and the relentless north wind always caused trouble for the cowboys at Jiang Hai Manor each morning—frozen roads, snow blowing everywhere, and icy patches forming on rooftops.

"Come back inside; dinner's ready!" Mrs. Patrick's voice echoed from the kitchen as she brought out a plate of fried fish and a basket of freshly baked bread, smiling warmly at her husband.

"Fish again?" Patrick frowned as he approached the dining table, staring at the golden, crispy fish in front of him with a hint of despair.

It was his eighth consecutive meal of fish. Though he wasn't at the point of vomiting, he was a cowboy, not a fisherman. He'd chosen this life because he couldn't stand the loneliness of the sea, and eating fish every day was one of his least favorite things.

"What else is there to eat? We've sold all the meat, and the only thing left is fish!" Mrs. Patrick replied with a frustrated look. She, too, was tired of eating fish every day.

"Ah, if I had known, I wouldn't have taught the boss how to fish," Patrick sighed helplessly. He shook his head with a bitter smile and picked up the fork in front of him.

The fish looked good—crispy and golden on the outside, tender and white on the inside. Paired with the special sweet-and-sour sauce made of Mexican chili and ketchup, it actually tasted quite delicious. But no matter how tasty something was, anyone would get tired of eating it day after day.

"Where's the boss?" Patrick asked after taking a bite, sighing as he stuffed the fish into his mouth. Jiang Hai usually ate with them at this hour.

"He went fishing again," Mrs. Patrick said with crossed arms, clearly displeased.

Patrick groaned. "Oh, what a curse!"

Since he and Harriman had taught Jiang Hai how to break the ice and fish, Jiang Hai had become completely addicted to the activity.

In a way, it made sense. During winter, Jiang Hai didn't have much to do. Staying indoors all day wasn't healthy, and fishing gave him a way to stay active. Plus, there were rewards—fresh fish to bring home. After his first outing with Patrick and Harriman, Jiang Hai returned the next day, this time alone. The shipworms and fishing gear that he once hated no longer bothered him.

Carrying a bucket, Jiang Hai would fish all afternoon, not returning home until dinnertime. He did this for days in a row, catching more fish than he could eat. Naturally, he brought them back to Mrs. Patrick.

Though river fish could be kept alive for a while, they would eventually die. Mrs. Patrick had no choice but to cook them before they spoiled. And since Jiang Hai was the manor's owner—the man who paid her salary—she prepared the fish in every way she could think of.

But poor Patrick ended up eating most of it.

Fish tasted good, sure. But compared to beef? There was no contest.

Day after day, Jiang Hai brought back four or five fish, sometimes even more. He never released the fish he caught. The smaller ones were kept as bait since the river had plenty of carnivorous fish. Thanksgiving had been the only day Jiang Hai took a break.

Other than that, he kept fishing.

Many of the fish were sent to other places, but a large portion went to the manor's canteen and Mrs. Patrick's kitchen. Patrick, being her husband, naturally ended up eating most of it.

"What a curse!" Patrick sighed again as he dug into his meal.

Meanwhile, Jiang Hai was heading to the riverside, driving his f650 truck to his usual fishing spot. Overnight, the ice hole he'd previously made had frozen over with a thin layer of ice.

Although Boston's temperatures weren't as extreme as those of Ice City, the strong winds made it feel just as cold.

"Let's go!" Jiang Hai hopped out of the truck, carrying his gear. Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai, his loyal dogs, jumped out from the backseat, their tails wagging excitedly. Since Patrick and Harriman hadn't joined him today, the two dogs became his fishing companions.

On Xiao Bai's back sat a tiny squirrel—Ban Ya.

Jiu Jiu, the younger squirrel, was still too small to accompany them, spending most of his time sleeping and eating.

Ban Ya had once fought fiercely to take over Jiu Jiu's nest but eventually gave up when Jiang Hai built a new nest for him. Crafted from wood and mounted on the wall, the nest was lined with bark. Ban Ya clearly preferred it over his old nest made of clothes and weeds.

With his new territory secured, Ban Ya's adventurous spirit grew. He wanted to tag along with Xiao Huang and Xiao Bai whenever Jiang Hai went out, and Jiang Hai didn't mind—as long as Ban Ya didn't wander off and get lost.

Carrying his gear, Jiang Hai walked with the three animals to the riverbank. After setting up camp, he lit a fire, and the three companions sat around it for warmth.

Jiang Hai, meanwhile, broke through the thin ice, prepared his fishing rod, and baited the hook with shipworms.

Unlike sandworms, shipworms weren't as disgusting to Jiang Hai. Technically, shipworms weren't worms at all—they belonged to the clam family. This made them much more tolerable for Jiang Hai to handle.

Shipworms were notorious in the age of wooden ships, destroying countless warships, merchant vessels, and wooden docks. But with modern ships made of metal and fiberglass, shipworms had lost their habitat.

Edward Anderson, one of the manor's employees, raised these shipworms using wood. Not only were they edible, but they also made excellent fishing bait.

Fish, shrimp, and crabs all loved shipworms, which made them highly effective for fishing. However, they weren't as universal as sandworms, which were considered the ultimate bait.

Even so, Jiang Hai preferred shipworms. His aversion to bugs made sandworms unbearable.

Over the past few days, Jiang Hai had caught numerous fish species, marveling at the diversity of North America's freshwater ecosystem.

There were dozens of fish species in the river, including many types of bass—striped bass, white bass, hybrid wolf bass, yellow wolf bass, largemouth bass, smallmouth bass, and more.

Other species included bowfin, buffalo fish (also known as mullet), channel catfish, blue catfish, flathead catfish, stonefish, and trout—the king of freshwater fish. Trout, in particular, was highly prized for its delicate, flavorful meat, often compared to Atlantic salmon.

However, invasive species like Asian carp, silver carp, and grass carp had taken over the upper layers of the river.

It was easy to catch these fish. Simply scatter some bread crumbs, wait a few minutes, and you'd pull in ten or twenty fish without breaking a sweat. Even in winter, catching fish was effortless.

Though Jiang Hai didn't mind eating carp, he much preferred the native fish species, especially trout.

With everything set up, Jiang Hai cast his line into the river and settled in to wait. He'd become a patient fisherman over the past few weeks, learning that the first twenty minutes were usually quiet. After that, the fish would start biting.

Jiang Hai sat by the fire, content to pass the time with his three companions.