Except for the madness of the first night, by the second day after Jiang Hai's return, everything had settled into the rotation system that Qi Jie and the others had planned.
That night happened to be Friday, and with the Boston Fisheries Show beginning on Saturday, Jiang Hai lay in bed holding Qi Ya and Qi Jie in his arms, while Aphra and Dina rested at his sides. As expected, the night was intimate, though far less intense than before. Considering his overexertion the previous evening, the "exercise" was kept to a minimum. He only went once, and even that was initiated by the four women, who took turns riding him until they all fell asleep in each other's arms.
As he lay there, watching them sleep, Jiang Hai felt a slight throb in his heart. Unknowingly, these women had become an official part of his life. What the future held, he didn't know—but this moment was real.
Early the next morning, around three o'clock, Jiang Hai quietly got out of bed. He had important matters to attend to today.
After a quick wash, he changed and headed downstairs, where Edward Anderson and the rest of the team were already busy preparing. The backs of two F750 trucks had been converted into mobile tanks, filled with seawater and stocked with live seafood caught overnight. A third F650 had been converted into an icebox for frozen seafood. As Jiang Hai approached, Robbins-Garcia and the others smiled at him, though there was a hint of anxiety in their expressions.
Though confident in the quality of their seafood, they knew how unpredictable public sales could be.
"How's everything going?" Jiang Hai asked, hopping onto the truck and peering into one of the tanks before turning to Robbins-Garcia.
"We're almost ready," Robbins-Garcia replied, taking a deep breath. "Success or failure—all comes down to this."
Jiang Hai just smiled. He wasn't putting pressure on them. He trusted his fish—and he trusted his team.
Once all preparations were complete, three vehicles set out toward Boston, carrying Jiang Hai, Robbins-Garcia, Tommy Charles, Enol Ceci, Andrew Christian, Maren Rupert, and Jiang Hai's personal bodyguard, Connorson Peters.
By five in the morning, the group arrived at the site of the Boston Fisheries Exhibition.
Jiang Hai was no stranger to this location—he had first met Cindy Clive here, near the Boston pier. But today, the area had transformed into one of the world's three largest fishery expos.
Sticking to his usual style, Jiang Hai had rented a large, prominent booth right up front. By the time they arrived, many others were already there—local fishermen, small fishing companies, and vendors who lived close enough to participate without risking spoilage.
Unlike beef cattle, seafood didn't travel well. Anything not fresh risked being off-putting, especially to restaurant buyers. Because of that, few major national seafood companies had come. Those that did merely sent a rep or two with minimal display—mostly to maintain a presence.
Before Jiang Hai arrived, a local company called Tony & Lark had been the center of attention. But as soon as Jiang Hai's team rolled in, the focus shifted.
This was Jiang Hai's territory, and people here knew his name. Respectfully, Jiang Hai greeted a few familiar faces before he and his team set to work.
First, they filled the provided tanks with fresh seawater. Then, they transferred their live catches—excluding the very rare and precious Yangtze River knifefish and Chinese yellow croakers—into these tanks. The selection included live American redfish, salmon, mackerel, groupers (including two massive ones), and other mid-to-high-end fish, sorted by price across multiple tanks.
They also displayed Boston lobsters—massive ones—as well as abalones, king crabs, and geoducks. Sea cucumbers were omitted, as Americans rarely ate them and they couldn't survive long outside water.
Once the tanks were set, the team shifted focus to their centerpiece: iced premium seafood.
In one F650's back, they had frozen fish ready for display. As they pulled out the first, a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
It was a bluefin tuna—nearly four meters long.
Though dead, it had been impeccably preserved. Robbins-Garcia had spent several days at sea to catch it, immediately bled and chilled it, and now, three days later, it was in pristine condition.
All eyes turned to the massive fish. Four men carefully placed it into a prepared ice trough, covered it with crushed ice, and shielded it with a transparent plastic cover to keep the cold in and insects out.
But they weren't done.
Another bluefin tuna came next—slightly larger than the first.
The audience was stunned.
Jiang Hai didn't farm tuna specifically, but his waters contained roughly 300 bluefin—big and small. These weren't even the largest he had. After the two bluefins, they brought out a few yellowfin tuna. With that, the contents of all three trucks were fully displayed.
Sweating but satisfied, the team took a short rest before parking the vehicles. Shortly after, the Boston Fisheries Show officially opened.
Unlike livestock exhibitions, this show only awarded two types of honors: sales merchant (for vendors who closed the most contracts) and quality merchant (for vendors offering the best products).
Jiang Hai's claim to the "best quality" title was undisputed.
The seafood he brought was stunning. Even the company that had earlier dominated the spotlight came to inspect his offerings—and immediately gave up any hope of competing. Their products, while solid, were completely overshadowed.
Jiang Hai's lobsters, for example, reached 90 centimeters in length and weighed over 15 kilograms each—typically the size of a grand champion. Yet he had more than twenty of them, packed together in a single tank.
Each abalone was the size of a grown man's palm. His king crabs were monsters. He didn't even bother with shellfish—what he had was more than enough to crush the competition.
The real showstoppers, of course, were the bluefin tunas.
At 7 a.m., as the market fully opened, visitors began flooding in—fishermen, restaurant owners, seafood buyers, and everyday tourists looking to score quality seafood at good prices.
Naturally, Jiang Hai's stall drew immediate attention.
Spotting the crowd, Jiang Hai gave a small nod to Edward Anderson, who quickly stepped forward to stir things up.
"Come, come—take a look at the freshest seafood in the city! Caught just this morning! Buy in bulk or place an order!" he shouted, slapping the side of one of the tanks.
A well-dressed man in the front finally stepped forward. "Your seafood looks great. How much are you selling it for?"
Edward Anderson grinned, fished out an American redfish from the tank, and—right in front of everyone—killed it cleanly, sliced it open, and exposed the stomach contents.
Startled, some tourists stepped back, but the true buyers leaned in.
They understood what he was doing—proving quality.
The fish's flesh was blood-rich and clear, with no trace of feed or foul odor. Its stomach contents were all-natural—grass seeds, shrimp shells, and the like.
"I'm not exaggerating," Anderson said with a smirk. "Our fish are never fed a single grain of commercial feed. You won't find better quality in all of America—maybe the world. Here, try some sashimi! This is American redfish—see for yourself!"
He began slicing fresh samples, and from the looks in the crowd's eyes, Jiang Hai knew—they were off to a great start.