After making the appointment, the three of them left the Ferrari booth and wandered around again.
When they reached the Mercedes-Benz hall, Jiang Cheng called Wang Zheng and Chen Hao to stop—he'd spotted a four-door supercar.
Seeing three well-dressed young men pause, a middle-aged man hurried over. "Gentlemen, which model would you like to see? Let me introduce it for you."
Jiang Cheng glanced at the Male Manager's badge: Zhang Mingfeng.
Jiang Cheng pointed to the black Mercedes-AMG GT R 50 four-door supercar in the center.
"This one seems to fit my needs better."
The best thing about the AMG GT R 50 four-door is that it handles both business meetings and street cruising with equal ease.
It's neither flashy nor lacking in supercar performance.
Jiang Cheng figured Li Yan wouldn't object to this purchase.
It looks like a sedan yet packs supercar hardware—perfect for Jiang Jianmin's commute to the office.
The presence is formidable; AMG's design gives the car an aggressively athletic character.
Thanks to its four-door layout, it lacks the razor-edged swagger of a porsche 911, and the 0-100 km/h sprint takes only 3.4 seconds—impressive.
"This Mercedes-AMG GT R 50 is extremely capable. It squares off against the porsche Palameira and outdoes it. A 3.0-liter inline-six plus 48-volt mild hybrid, paired with Mercedes' own 9-speed automatic, delivers mainstream six-cylinder power that out-specs rivals in its class or price bracket…"
Zhang Mingfeng detailed the car meticulously.
Seeing him ramble on, Jiang Cheng waved a hand. "How much?"
"With every top-tier option fitted, the total comes to 2.2 million. We'll also gift…"
"Gifts don't matter. Do you deliver? Send it to Chengdu?"
Hearing this, Zhang Mingfeng happily rubbed his hands together.
He hadn't misread them: aside from their new designer clothes, the luxury watches on their wrists screamed deep pockets.
One wore a Rolex Rainbow Daytona, two wore Patek Philippe pieces.
Sure enough, a deal walked right in.
"Nationwide delivery is included, and we'll help you register it locally—rest assured," Zhang Mingfeng vowed, patting his chest.
Jiang Cheng nodded approvingly. "Fine—swipe the card."
Zhang Mingfeng froze at the casual command.
Wang Zheng and Chen Hao, by now, were almost immune.
"Jiang Cheng, this car's for your dad, right?"
Jiang Cheng nodded. "I figure Mom won't complain—pretty low-key, yeah?"
"You call this low-key?"
"A four-door supercar that looks like a sedan—what's not low-key?"
"Your money, your rules!"
Jiang Cheng grinned, then told Zhang Mingfeng, "It's a gift for my father. Could you arrange a hand-over ceremony? I want to surprise him."
Watching Jiang Cheng produce a bank card, Zhang Mingfeng swallowed, then beamed. "Absolutely—I'll handle everything and make it grand and memorable!"
Jiang Cheng handed over the card. "Swipe it—full payment."
At the words "full payment," Zhang Mingfeng's eyes crinkled into slits.
A tycoon who wears million-yuan watches clearly doesn't need financing for a two-million-plus car.
He snatched the card and hurried to the POS, determined to seal the deal at once.
These past days the show had drawn crowds, but buyers were rarer than the fingers on one hand.
Most sales hovered around the half-million mark.
He'd figured the final day would be dead—until this whale appeared.
A two-million-plus sale—how could he not be over the moon?
Zhang Mingfeng returned the receipt and card to Jiang Cheng.
Wang Zheng and Chen Hao exchanged another glance.
As far as they knew, Jiang Cheng had bought four cars in just over a week.
The priciest was the half-billion-yuan ferrari laferrari.
Even his daily ride cost more than eight million.
"Extravagant" was the only word that fit.
"Jiang Cheng, I'm blown away. When I bought my first supercar I had to beg my dad for ages. At your age you're gifting your dad one—cash. I'm jealous," Chen Hao said.
"We can't compare—nope, I'm jealous too," Wang Zheng chimed in.
"All right, if you're both going there, I might just lay my cards on the table," Jiang Cheng joked.
"Fine, Brother Jiang—spill it. We can take it," Chen Hao declared, leaning forward theatrically.
"Come on, this isn't some 'tomato billionaire' movie. What's for dinner? I'm starving," Jiang Cheng said, changing the subject.
The two didn't press further.
Friendship thrives on sincerity; digging too deep feels mercenary.
"I booked the Farm Banquet's Pig-Kill Feast—black pork raised on their own farm. Guaranteed amazing," Chen Hao said.
Wang Zheng nodded. "Their top spread is the Pig-Kill Feast—everything from their own organic, pesticide-free farm. Great reputation in Shanghai, easily rivals five-star hotels."
"With that endorsement, I'm sold. Can't wait."
Farm feasts often outshine fancy hotels—hearty portions, honest flavors.
And they're not cheap.
Jiang Cheng recalled a business dinner at one such mountain lodge with his father.
Ten abalones cost over a thousand yuan, a single bass several hundred, a plate of shrimp also in the thousands.
A simple meal could top ten grand.
But natural, organic farming equals one word: expensive.
Paperwork finished, the trio split up.
Chen Hao and Wang Zheng went to set up dinner; Jiang Cheng returned to the Ferrari booth.
Seeing Zhou Ying still beside the car, Jiang Cheng asked, "Off shift soon?"
Zhou Ying checked the time. "Half an hour left. You bought something at Mercedes?"
Though the two booths sat fifty meters apart, she'd noticed his earlier movements.
Jiang Cheng nodded. "Planning to gift the old man a supercar, but most are too flashy—settled on Mercedes in the end."
"Mercedes supercar? The AMG GT R coupe?"
Jiang Cheng shook his head. "Went with the four-door. Mom's afraid Dad will show off; the sedan-looking four-door has supercar punch but business manners—perfect."
Hearing this, Zhou Ying giggled behind her hand. "My mom used to say the same about my dad."
Something crossed her mind and her expression turned odd.
"Shift's almost over; let's head out early. No crowd now."
Zhou Ying nodded. "I'll tell the manager—wait here."