"Ugh, the taxes here are terrifying..."
As she walked out of the tax bureau, Qi Li instinctively linked her arm with Jiang Hai's and spoke in a tone of clear displeasure.
Hearing her complaint, Jiang Hai couldn't help but smile. She wasn't wrong—the taxes in the United States were notoriously high.
"Wool comes from sheep. The more taxes I pay, the higher my standing around here," Jiang Hai replied with a grin, watching her pout.
He wasn't wrong. One of the most fundamental differences between the United States and China was in their social structures. In the U.S., wealth determined status. It was a society built on the gold standard.
Money ruled everything. If you paid more in taxes, your name naturally carried weight in the local community. After all, taxpayer dollars funded police salaries and local infrastructure.
A major taxpayer was a figure of influence. Once your wealth reached a certain threshold, politicians from both ruling and opposition parties would come knocking for donations.
So long as you weren't evading taxes, wealth in America could buy you respect, security, and political clout. That's why, even though Jiang Hai hadn't yet mingled with the American elite, he was already seen as a local heavyweight in Winthrop.
But that influence came with a caveat—strict adherence to the law, especially tax law. The most feared government agency in the U.S. isn't the FBI or CIA—it's the IRS.
Many tycoons ended up behind bars not for fraud or violence, but for tax evasion. Jiang Hai, as a foreigner, was extra cautious. Every year, his tax filings were meticulously prepared by three accountants hired through Moses Adams.
Everything was accounted for—income from jewelry sales, seafood profits, even the modest couple hundred thousand from fish sales. All properly reported.
Here in America, Jiang Hai was successful. But back in China, it would be a different story entirely.
In China, social status is driven by official rank. No matter how wealthy you are, your land ultimately belongs to the state. If a government official wants it, it's theirs for the taking, with "compensation" of questionable fairness.
And in such a system, a minor bureaucrat can undo a billionaire.
"The director ruins families, the deputy section chief wipes them out"—it's no joke. And for the record, Jiang Hai doesn't allow anyone ranked higher than a director to appear in this story.
He didn't want to tempt fate. If he ever did return to China, he was terrified he might wake up one day to find his entire estate confiscated.
That's the essential difference between the official standard and the gold standard. The gold standard is brutal and direct, like a pack of wolves where only the strongest survives and becomes the alpha.
The official standard, meanwhile, is like a shepherd and his flock. The shepherd may favor one or two sheep, but they're all still sheep.
For the wealthy, the gold standard is preferable. It offers autonomy and safety—as long as you play by the rules. But for the average person, the official standard offers more stability, less inequality, and easier governance.
In the end, it's not the lack of wealth that breeds discontent—it's inequality.
Jiang Hai had gone off on a bit of a tangent, but he was content now. The biggest task of the year—taxes—was finally behind him.
Unbeknownst to him, Qi Li had already spent nearly half a month at the manor. During that time, Jiang Hai and his team had been busy: forming a company, preparing beef cattle for the Texas National Beef Show, managing the estate...
Zheng Jin, whom Qi Li had recommended, proved to be extremely capable. After years of working with Qi Li, she'd learned a lot. Her fluent English made daily life easy, and Jiang Hai's growing influence in Boston ensured that Zhang Dehai and Moses Adams were there to support her.
With that foundation, Zheng Jin handled everything efficiently—office setup, furniture procurement, employee recruitment—without a hitch.
After observing her for a week, Jiang Hai signed her on as the CEO of Tenglong Company. Her primary responsibilities were twofold: marketing and logistics.
She'd oversee the promotion of Jiang Hai's beef and seafood products, and manage their transportation—whether to China for Qi Li or to major cities in the U.S., where Haishang Supermarket would handle distribution.
She managed airline routes, cargo logistics, and equipment maintenance seamlessly.
Her salary? One million USD per year. While not excessive by international standards, it was more than respectable, and certainly competitive by domestic benchmarks.
But the real value was in the 10% profit share she negotiated. Though Jiang Hai retained 100% ownership, she would receive 10% of the profits.
With the manor's operations expected to net $30 to $40 million annually, her share alone would amount to $3 to $4 million—a substantial income by any measure.
Zheng Jin took her job seriously—whether out of loyalty to Qi Li or personal ambition. Jiang Hai left her with an accountant and entrusted her with full authority. In his eyes, she was a true professional.
With company affairs in Zheng Jin's hands, Jiang Hai refocused on the manor.
The past few weeks had been some of Qi Li's happiest since her father's death. Jiang Hai held her as she fell asleep and was still there when she woke. Free from work pressure, she spent her days enjoying the estate—riding horses, inspecting cattle, gardening with Darlene, sipping wine with Aphra in the vineyard...
They went fishing, diving, catching lobsters... And sometimes she would go into town with the quiet pair, Ai Xiaoxi and Feng Yunchen, to shop or stroll around.
She truly didn't want to leave.
But one phone call shattered that illusion. She could stay—but she couldn't let her father's company collapse or fall into others' hands. That was her line.
So, after accompanying Jiang Hai to settle his taxes, Qi Li prepared to return to China. This time, however, Ai Xiaoxi and Feng Yunchen would stay behind. They'd made up their minds—they wanted to be with Jiang Hai.
Soon, with Qi Jie and Qi Ya returning, the manor would host seven people. It was getting livelier by the day.
Recently, the girls had even been studying English with Darlene and Marian. Seeing their transformation made Jiang Hai happy.
Time flew. Three weeks passed in the blink of an eye, and the day of Qi Li's departure had come. She arrived with four people; now she would leave alone.
Zheng Jin had signed a one-year contract and secured a visa with Jiang Hai's help. She was staying.
At the New York Guaranteed Airport, Jiang Hai and Qi Li stood across from each other.
"Take care of yourself," Qi Li said softly, a trace of worry in her voice. She hadn't noticed exactly when her heart had fully tied itself to him.
"You too. If anything happens, call me immediately. I can come to China, or I can bring you back. Don't forget—I'm still your husband." Jiang Hai paused, then added the last sentence with hesitation.
"Heehee, so you remember you're my husband? Too bad my husband's a playboy. I think you've gotten around to every woman in your manor. Back then, you told me you had no interest in Aphra and the others. 'Rabbits don't eat grass near their burrows,' remember? Now you've grazed through the whole meadow!" she teased.
Despite her words, Qi Li was happy. It wasn't easy for Jiang Hai to call himself her husband, and she cherished it. She didn't understand how she'd come to accept his entanglements with other women—maybe it was compromise, maybe something else. But what she knew for sure was that she cared less about those women and more about being by Jiang Hai's side.
"I'm going. Don't miss me too much."
As the boarding announcement sounded, Qi Li glanced back at him, took a deep breath, hugged him tightly, and kissed him on the lips.
Then she picked up her suitcase and walked away without looking back. She feared that if she did, she might not be able to leave at all.
This life, this place, and this man were eroding her strong-willed persona.
Could she still return to the iron-willed CEO role in the capital after a single glance back? She didn't know. But a seed had been planted. It was time to consider retiring.
Once she found someone trustworthy to take over the company, she would return to Jiang Hai.
Watching her disappear into the terminal, Jiang Hai felt a pang of emptiness.
Though he had friends and influence in Winthrop, everything was built on interests. That kind of friendship was rarely pure.
He had women—Aphra and the others, just as Qi Li said. But those relationships were more like master and subordinate than equals.
Ai Xiaoxi couldn't give him what Qi Li did. Neither could Feng Yunchen, Pra, Qi Jie, or Qi Ya.
Each woman around him was unique and irreplaceable. Whenever one left, a piece of him felt missing.
"I'm still not strong enough," he murmured. "One day, I'll have all my women by my side. If I can't even keep a harem, what's the point of quitting the old job?"
It was half a joke, half a dream. The man who once called himself a dreamless salted fish finally had an ambition—because of Qi Li.
After collecting himself, Jiang Hai returned to the manor. Tomorrow, he would head to Boston to welcome Qi Jie and Qi Ya back.
They had finished their affairs in Miami. Qi Jie had sold the massive white research institute, and Qi Ya's condition was completely cured.
They'd return tomorrow.
But Jiang Hai wouldn't stay long. His next destination was calling—Texas.
(To be continued.)