As the fishing boat advanced, the island's shape became increasingly distinct, while Eddie's once-burning enthusiasm rapidly cooled.
Initially, he'd envisioned the fishery as a paradise—a secluded utopia—but what unfolded before him was nothing more than a deserted island of moderate size.
From the boat, he could see some houses and buildings scattered across the land, but they were sparse. Creeper pointed toward them, calling the area "Farewell Town," though Eddie thought it looked more like two small villages put together—probably no more than two thousand people lived there.
Due to early spring conditions, the island—situated not far from the Arctic Circle—was still locked in winter's grasp. Patches of unmelted snow covered the ground, and a small, snow-capped mountain occupied nearly half of White Wave Island.
Encircling the island were six or seven small docks, all of them messy and unkempt. Damaged fishing nets tangled along the rocky shores, while roughly built fishing boats sat haphazardly along the coast.
Still, Creeper hadn't been wrong about one thing—the air here was fresh. Once Eddie grew accustomed to the faint briny scent of seawater, he detected a subtle sweetness lingering in the breeze.
"D*mn, it's raw and untouched," Eddie muttered with a wry smile.
His fishery was located on the southernmost tip of the island. A patchwork fence of maple planks enclosed a sizable estate—over ten square kilometers, which translated to more than one hundred thousand acres. In China, such land would be worth a fortune, but in Canada, possibly one of the cheapest places for real estate in the world, it meant little.
Upon arrival, Eddie found that he wouldn't be able to settle in right away. The houses had been left unattended for too long.
Creeper arranged for him to rest at a quaint, old-fashioned inn in town, promising to take him for tax registration and paperwork later that afternoon.
Exhausted, Eddie collapsed into bed and slept deeply.
In his dream, he was aboard a luxurious cruise ship, surrounded by beauties from all corners of the globe, commanding the waves like a triumphant emperor. Then someone shook him awake.
Blinking, he found himself face-to-face with Creeper's rugged and authoritative visage.
"Just let me sleep a little longer… I'm exhausted," Eddie grumbled, clutching his pillow like a lifeline.
Creeper chuckled, then pulled out his old Nokia smartphone, showing Eddie a photograph. It featured a stunning woman—gentle eyes, an elegant smile—the very same purser who had comforted him on the flight.
"You were sneaking photos?" Eddie exclaimed.
Creeper shook his head. "Son, when you reach my age, you'll learn—women are mere bones! But… I do believe this picture might cure your laziness."
And indeed, the moment Eddie laid eyes on the soft, radiant beauty, he was wide awake.
Creeper explained, "You need to adjust to the time difference. No sleeping during the day—no matter how tired you are. Endure it, and when night falls, sleep soundly. I swear to the heavens, you'll acclimate to Canadian time in no time."
Eddie scratched his head sheepishly. "Creeper, sir… I don't think that's necessary anymore. Heh. I… uh… I'm planning to sell this fishery and head back to China with the cash."
"Well, that's unfortunate, kid." Creeper neither sneered nor condemned him. Instead, he chuckled. "Seems you didn't read your grandfather's will thoroughly. His testament makes one thing abundantly clear—the fishery cannot be sold. If you insist on selling it, the government of St. John's will seize it as state property!"
Eddie was floored. Great-grandfather, are you kidding me? You really expected your talentless grandson to inherit your legacy? Did you ever consider whether I even have the skills or drive for this?!
Creeper offered encouragement. "Come on, kid. Your grandfather was my closest friend. He told me he believed you would one day transform this fishery into a world-renowned powerhouse. He saw you as the one who could restore the glory of the Newfoundland fishery."
Eddie grimaced, feeling an army of frustration stampeding through his mind. What good is his faith in me?!
"Alright, let's head to the town's tax office and find out how much you need to pay," Creeper finally said, delivering a brutal reality check. "Because let me tell you—there are no free meals in this world, only iron plates dropping from the sky."
"I have to pay taxes?" Eddie shouted. "Back in China, I asked you outright—you said Canada has no inheritance tax!"
Creeper laughed. "True, Canada doesn't impose inheritance tax. But there's probate tax."
Probate tax applies when a person with a will passes away, and the will takes legal effect in distributing their estate. While the executor has the legal right to handle the inheritance, certain assets—such as investments and real estate—require verification through court, and this verification incurs fees.
Creeper explained Newfoundland's rates: Inheritances under 25,000 CAD are exempt, but for every 1 million CAD, the probate tax is 14,000 CAD. Two million? 28,000 CAD. Continuing on like that, Eddie owed 520,000 CAD in probate tax—that was 3 million Chinese yuan!
Eddie exploded. "You lied to me!"
Creeper spoke calmly. "You have the option to forfeit the fishery—and the government will compensate you with a 12.8% subsidy. Meaning, you'd walk away with a considerable sum."
"But," he continued, now locking eyes with Eddie, "do you know how BE Fishery came to be? Your grandfather—a yellow-skinned foreigner—fought tooth and nail through scorn and oppression. With his brilliance, resilience, diligence, and foresight, he built his fortune through sheer grit. Kid, your grandfather was one of the most indomitable men I've ever met. Do you understand what I'm saying? Don't disgrace a man like that!"
Eddie groaned. "Do you think I want to shame him? But I barely have 20,000 yuan to my name—my family's assets don't go beyond 200,000. How am I supposed to pay a 3 million yuan tax?"
Creeper sat beside him. "The truth is… this tax has been delayed for nine years. Another nine won't matter. Understand? You have time—time to make money from the fishery."
Eddie wasn't a coward. If there was still a chance, why not take the risk?
The town's tax office was only open Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Creeper inquired, only to receive an amusing answer—the town was struggling financially, barely able to pay its government employees. To cut costs, officials' work hours had been drastically reduced.
Eddie was dumbfounded. "Canada's leaders sure seem to have it rough." That realization piled yet another worry onto his growing concerns about the fishery's future.
Creeper took him on a drive through town to familiarize him with the area and lift his spirits.
They eventually arrived at a pristine lake. The ice had only recently melted, leaving the waters crystal clear, scattered with floating chunks that reflected like mirrors.
Majestic and serene, the lake brimmed with greenery, birds fluttering overhead, and fish leaping gleefully from the surface.
"This is Sunken Treasure Lake," Creeper explained. "They say people once sank treasures here…"
"I'd love to dive in and see for myself," Eddie muttered.
Just then, a fishing boat drifted toward them, and a stocky, middle-aged fisherman waved. "Hey, Mr. DeRozan! Are you and your friend here to bowfish? Come on, let's do it together."
With nothing better to do, they hopped aboard. Creeper started explaining bowfishing when—"D*mn it!"
Before he could finish his sentence, a massive carp, nearly a meter long, shot up from the depths, catching all three men off guard. The fisherman and Creeper instinctively dodged, but Eddie—standing foolishly at the stern—got a face-full of the carp's broad tail, sending him crashing into the water.
"Help him!" Creeper shouted.
The carp's rough, razor-sharp tail left a stinging gash on Eddie's chin.
As he tumbled into the water, something extraordinary happened. His blood dripped onto the Heart of the Ocean pendant hanging from his neck.
At the same time, Eddie's surroundings transformed. He wasn't sinking into the lake—he was plunging into an ocean. Salty waves surged around him, and a bright blue light burst from the pendant, piercing his vision.
Before he could react, the Heart of the Ocean dissolved into pure energy and surged into his body.
Eddie was pulled back onto the boat, stunned. His eyes flickered with uncertainty—because before him was an astonishing vision:
Rippling waves, swaying seaweed… and small catfish emerging joyfully from the lakebed, mouths open to forage for food among the stirred-up sediment.
As he lifted his gaze, a streamlined object floated above—wasn't that their fishing boat?!
But… how was this possible?