Along the way, the minister ensured that Jiang Hai was never bored, always finding topics to discuss.
For instance, when he asked Jiang Hai about his profession, he showed no disdain upon learning that Jiang Hai was a cattle breeder. The fact that a breeder in his twenties could gain recognition from the court indicated the scale of his cattle farm in the United States. Now, with Jiang Hai expanding into fish farming, it was clear that he was far more ambitious than he let on.
Though Jiang Hai was reluctant to share too much, the minister skillfully extended their conversation based on what Jiang Hai revealed. When they discussed cattle farming, the minister spoke knowledgeably about the best types of grass for different seasons, the storage of green fodder, and the ideal soybean feed ratios.
It was impressive—though he had likely never raised cattle himself, his theoretical knowledge was extensive. The discussion smoothly transitioned from cattle to sheep, then to horses, and eventually to tourism.
On the topic of tourism, the minister had much to say, and Jiang Hai found his insights particularly inspiring. The minister learned that Jiang Hai had developed a tourism route for a small town in the U.S. and secretly nodded in approval—Jiang Hai was clearly not as simple as he appeared.
After hearing about the town's situation, the minister offered several suggestions. He proposed that events shouldn't be limited to local residents but should involve tourists as well. For example, rather than having locals handle all the arrangements, visiting groups could be given the freedom to prepare their own ingredients, light their own fires, and host their own parties. This approach would create a more relaxed and immersive experience.
Additionally, tourists could engage in activities like fishing and hunting, further enhancing their visit. Most importantly, the town currently lacked cultural attractions. The minister suggested that Jiang Hai establish an Indian museum or a small American history museum along the commercial street. This would attract visitors who sought more than just entertainment and leisure.
Hearing the minister's advice, Jiang Hai was stunned. This guy was brilliant! He had never considered these ideas before, but they made perfect sense. A self-hosted party would provide tourists with both novelty and a sense of freedom. Meanwhile, a purely commercial street might not be enough to sustain interest, as many modern tourists are resistant to shopping. However, a free museum could draw in visitors, offering historical insights while subtly evoking a sense of cultural pride. It was indeed a clever strategy.
Jiang Hai made a mental note to discuss these ideas with Mayor Wallis upon returning. These officials truly had sharp minds! As Jiang Hai mulled over these thoughts and the minister continued speaking, they arrived at their destination.
The aquatic company was breathtaking. As soon as the car stopped, Jiang Hai and his companions stepped out, greeted by a sea of lush greenery—like a gleaming emerald along the boundless coastline. Nestled within this verdant landscape stood a row of elegant European-style buildings.
This facility had been constructed in 1995 by Huayang Group in partnership with a Singaporean investment firm, at a cost of $30 million. Adjusted for inflation, that would be at least $300 million today, if not more. The complex housed not only an aquatic park but also a botanical garden, though Jiang Hai had little interest in plants. His focus was solely on aquatic products.
Under the minister's guidance, they entered the aquatic park. The moment Jiang Hai saw the schematic map at the entrance, his eyes lit up—this visit was going to be worthwhile.
The park contained not only Yangtze River knife fish but also many other rare and protected aquatic species. The first exhibit featured the baiji dolphin, often referred to as the "panda of the water" and one of China's most famous aquatic creatures. As a nationally protected species, it was not for sale. Even if Jiang Hai wanted to buy one, no amount of money would suffice.
These dolphins were being bred in captivity, with their offspring released back into the Yangtze River. As he watched the large white dolphin swimming in the tank, Jiang Hai felt a connection—his own family had several dolphins back home. Though he personally preferred sharks, there were none here.
After taking a few photos, Jiang Hai and his team moved on. The research institute focused on preserving endangered Yangtze River fish, and the knife fish was not even the rarest species present. Beyond the baiji dolphin, they encountered the Chinese sturgeon, a close relative of the American paddlefish. Growing up to two meters long with a distinctive, gaping mouth, this species was a Chinese national treasure. There were two groups of sturgeons here, totaling sixteen fish.
Further along, they saw the Dabryan sturgeon, another protected species, followed by a stunning pink-backed fish known as the rosy fish. If sold on the market, it would fetch a high price, but as a nationally protected species, no one dared to trade it.
After viewing a multitude of protected animals, they finally arrived at the commercial fish breeding area—where Jiang Hai's real interest lay. The first section showcased pufferfish, the park's largest collection. Pufferfish could be found worldwide, but outside of Japan, they were rarely consumed. China's coastline boasted 54 species, with an annual yield of 3-4 million tons. Despite their abundance, the difficulty of preparing them kept prices relatively high.
Jiang Hai enjoyed pufferfish, but since he lacked the expertise to cook them safely, he had to resist the temptation. Beyond the pufferfish, they saw round-mouthed copper fish, a species similar to carp. Now artificially bred, it was no longer expensive. Jiang Hai had tasted it at dinner the previous night and wasn't particularly impressed.
The tour continued past long thin loaches and rock carp—both common economic fish. Jiang Hai wasn't very interested in these, as he only sought fish that were either extremely delicious or extremely valuable. Ordinary species didn't catch his attention, especially since he could find wild Asian carp in abundance near his home in Winthrop.
However, one fish did pique his interest—the shad, one of the three treasured fish of the Yangtze River. But since this species also thrived in the Yellow Sea, the East China Sea, and the Pearl River, Jiang Hai didn't need to rush to acquire it.
Finally, they arrived at the breeding area for the Yangtze River knife fish.
"This is our Yangtze River knife fish breeding area," the minister explained. "We produce around 400,000 fry each year, but fewer than 100,000 survive past their first year. Once they reach one year old, they must be released into the river, where they migrate to the sea.
We began releasing them two years ago, with 100,000 fish set free. Ultimately, we recovered about 1,000. Even under optimal conditions, raising these fish is incredibly difficult." The minister sighed.
Jiang Hai knew the saying, "The crying child gets the milk." He wasn't sure how accurate the minister's numbers were, but he recognized an attempt to elicit sympathy. While knife fish weren't the most prolific spawners, they were still fish, not mammals. Even if only 1,000 returned, those could yield millions of eggs, hatching hundreds of thousands of fry. If artificial breeding had already been achieved, mass production couldn't be far behind.
"How many fry do you have here now?" Jiang Hai asked, ignoring the minister's attempt to play up the difficulties.
"We currently have 500,000 fry, all over a month old." Seeing that Jiang Hai wasn't so easily misled, the minister smiled.
"I'll take half. Name your price," Jiang Hai said firmly, meeting the minister's gaze.