When An Feng returned home, the housekeeping service had done an excellent job.
The mansion was sparkling clean, the lawn neatly mowed, and the swimming pool was being prepared for filling.
He walked through the front and back yards, impressed by how professional the team had been.
The only downside was the price tag.
Just having a couple of trees trimmed in the backyard cost nearly a thousand dollars.
“They’re robbing me in broad daylight,” An Feng muttered as he signed a check for four thousand dollars total.
Joanna, who had been observing the work, wasn’t surprised at all.
“You’ll get used to it.
Most American homeowners learn to do a lot of this stuff themselves — mowing, basic repairs, weeding.
Labor is expensive here.” An Feng made a mental note.
‘I should learn some of these skills.
No point paying premium prices forever.’ They sat on the new sofa in the living room.
An Feng leaned back and said, “Besides cleaning, I want to make this place feel more alive.
I’m thinking about getting a couple of dogs and a few horses.
There’s a decent stable and a small racetrack on the lower twenty acres that’s sitting empty.
Any suggestions?” Joanna thought for a moment.
“I can take you to look at dogs tomorrow.
As for horses, the soil quality here is decent for riding — not too rocky.
But there isn’t a big horse market nearby.
We’d probably have to look farther out.” An Feng nodded.
He had never ridden horses seriously back in China — it was mostly a whim because the property already had the facilities.
“No need to go too professional.
I just want a few for fun and riding around the vineyard.” “I’ll keep an eye out for good deals,” Joanna promised.
The next day, they drove into the city to visit a pet store.
An Feng walked through the aisles, looking at various breeds.
He wanted medium-to-large dogs — smart, energetic, and preferably with some working ability.
Most of the dogs here were small lap dogs or overly energetic breeds.
The only large option was a second-hand Husky that looked like it had too much mischief in its eyes.
An Feng turned to Joanna, who was playing with a small terrier.
“None of these feel right.
I want something more capable — like a German Shepherd or a hunting breed.” Without hesitation, Joanna took him to a larger breeder in the next town over.
This place specialized in working dogs.
An Feng’s eyes lit up when he saw the selection: German Shepherds, Belgian Malinois, and several litters of Flat-Coated Retrievers.
After careful consideration, he chose two pedigreed Flat-Coated Retriever puppies — dark-coated, intelligent-looking, and only a few months old.
They were calm but energetic, excellent for hunting and tracking, though not ideal as strict guard dogs.
The breeder quoted two thousand dollars each and emphasized they were working dogs, not lap pets.
An Feng explained he wanted them for the vineyard to help control pests.
The deal was made quickly.
He named the two puppies “Pipi” and “Eggy” — names that worked in both Chinese and English.
Joanna gave him a long look but eventually accepted them after he explained the pronunciation.
The two little black dogs (which many Chinese people might mistake for black Goldens) quickly became part of the household.
An Feng loved taking them for rides on the ATV, placing them in the side carriers as he sped along the dirt roads of the vineyard, kicking up clouds of dust.
The puppies barked excitedly, tongues out, thoroughly enjoying the adventure.
After playing with the dogs, An Feng decided to inspect his property more thoroughly.
The vineyard spanned over 300 acres — large enough that walking was tiring but driving felt too fast.
The ATV was perfect for this.
He drove along the edges, occasionally stopping to hammer in fallen stakes or check irrigation lines.
Most of the grapes here, like in neighboring vineyards, were Cabernet Sauvignon.
An Feng plucked a few unripe ones to taste.
They were tart and not very pleasant.
Old John had told him they were primarily for winemaking, not eating fresh.
He followed the workers as they moved through the rows, pruning and training the vines.
Mechanical harvesting was planned for the future to reduce losses.
An Feng asked detailed questions about fertilizer types and irrigation schedules.
His agricultural background made the questions sharp and practical.
Later, he stopped by the staff housing.
Jessie, one of the cowgirl-dressed workers, saw him standing in the sun staring at a bag of fertilizer while Pipi and Eggy playfully bit at his pant legs.
“Hey boss, what are you up to?” she asked with a smile.
An Feng looked up.
“Just curious about these fertilizer formulas.
Do you know what these abbreviations mean?” Jessie took the bag and glanced at it.
“This one’s for tomatoes — mostly nitrogen and phosphorus compound.
Why?” “I studied agriculture in college,” An Feng said casually.
“Old habits die hard.” Jessie nodded.
“Boss, actually I need to ask you something.
Our neighbor, the Burry family, wants to use the road through your vineyard for a bit.
Is that okay?” An Feng glanced at her truck.
“Let’s walk and talk.” According to Jessie, the Burry family’s access road was temporarily blocked by another neighbor unloading heavy equipment.
They needed to pass through An Feng’s property with three vehicles for two round trips.
They met Mark Burry — a rugged white man in his early fifties wearing classic denim, a plaid shirt, and a cowboy hat — at the edge of the vineyard.
“Hello, I’m Mark Burry,” the man said, shaking An Feng’s hand firmly.
“Nice to meet you.” “Alex An.
Nice to meet you too.” Mark explained politely, “We need to bring three trucks through your road — two round trips.
Would that be alright?” “No problem at all,” An Feng replied.
“Three trucks enough?
I can help if you need more space.” Mark smiled broadly.
“Thank you!
You’re much more reasonable than the previous owner.
Old John was right — you seem like a real cowboy.” An Feng gained the title of “cowboy” on the spot.
While the three trucks passed through carrying farm machinery, Mark’s son Henry came over and bumped fists with An Feng in greeting.
“Alex, you’re from China, right?” Henry asked excitedly.
“Yes.” “Do you know Kung Fu?” the young man asked with sparkling eyes.
“Like Bruce Lee?
Sifu!” An Feng smiled.
“I know a little bit.” “COOL!” Henry struck a dramatic fighting pose.
“Can you teach me some Kung Fu?” Before An Feng could respond, Joanna walked over with a Labrador, sunglasses perched on her nose.
“I want to see Chinese Kung Fu too!” “Me too!” Henry’s younger sister Mary, a high school girl, chimed in.
Under the expectant eyes of the group, An Feng had no choice but to bring them back to the mansion.
He recalled martial arts movies from his childhood.
Thanks to the machine brain, the movements played clearly in his mind.
He demonstrated a short sequence of basic forms and simple applications.
The small audience was stunned for a few seconds before bursting into enthusiastic applause.
An Feng accepted the praise with a slightly guilty conscience.
‘Good thing I had some actual martial arts training as a kid.’ Henry immediately wanted to learn.
The first day he was full of enthusiasm.
By the second day, he started mixing in English slang.
By the third day, he was mostly gesturing.
By the fourth and fifth days, his attention had already started to wander.
Until one day, An Feng downloaded a “Kung Fu Cheats” video for him.
Many days later, Henry copied the video, cleaned his room, put on a cheap Chinese exercise outfit bought from eBay, and pressed play with great excitement.
A familiar, energetic melody filled the room as the narrator announced: “The Eighth Set of National Radio Gymnastics for Middle School Students — The Times Are Calling Us…”