"What does your family even do? When I was eighteen I was still driving my dad's supercar, and he absolutely refused to buy me a 911." Jiang Xin eyed Jiang Cheng's porsche 918 with envy and asked, fishing for details.
"Just an ordinary family—nothing worth mentioning compared with you guys."
Hearing that, Wang Zheng laughed and cried at the same time: "Jiang Cheng, if you're an ordinary family, then what am I, a trash collector? Look at your car—it's worth more than two of mine."
You think every Second-generation rich kid can casually cough up tens of millions in cash for a supercar?
They've got money, sure, but they're still heirs; the family fortune isn't actually in their pockets.
Their folks only give them a slice they can freely spend—still a huge number to ordinary people.
But as young elites in Modu, their daily expenses and consumption are massive.
Maintaining the supercars they drove today alone costs well over a hundred grand a month.
Add in clubbing, chasing girls, health massages, luxury goods, yacht trips, overseas jaunts…
It easily tops a million a month when you tally it up.
Paying a few million in full for a car isn't that stressful.
But coughing up tens of millions at once? That's genuinely tough.
Jiang Xin nodded in agreement: "Yeah, if you're a trash collector, what does that make me? The rich these days sure love to act low-key."
Wang Zheng stared wide-eyed: "Holy crap, don't tell me you're one of those novel plotlines—some legendary war-god back in the city, and with one command a million soldiers come running?"
"Exactly. A million soldiers show up, each to slap me and yell, 'You're the one causing all the trouble.'" Jiang Cheng answered with a grin.
Everyone burst out laughing.
"Alright, funny guy. One of you wants a sugar-mama, the other's a trash collector—stop the sob stories. Same rule: whoever spends the most tonight foots the bill," Qin Fen said excitedly.
Jiang Cheng shook his head helplessly; he was telling the truth, but no one believed him.
"Wonder if there'll be any special pieces this time," Wang Zheng said, rubbing his hands in anticipation.
Chatting as they went, the group headed inside.
"Jiang Cheng, the owner of this Private Collection Hall is a top-tier personal wristwatch collector in the country."
"She stocks plenty of ultra-rare pieces you can't find outside. We drop by whenever we can."
"But she's not always in Modu; she just happens to be here these two days. Seeing your Richard Mille last time, I figured you're into watches, so I invited you along." Wang Zheng pointed at Jiang Cheng's wrist.
Jiang Cheng asked, puzzled, "If it's a collection, why sell them?"
Wang Zheng shrugged. "Not entirely sure myself. Sometimes they sell, sometimes they don't—pure luck. You'll see a piece you love marked 'not for sale,' and then tomorrow it might be available. Maybe because the owner's a woman and kind of fickle. Oh, those two watches you snapped up at the last auction? They were hers."
Jiang Cheng nodded, understanding.
The security guard who greeted them shut the mansion gate behind them.
Inside, an elderly man in a butler's uniform soon appeared.
He bowed politely and said, "The mistress is still on her way. She asked me to receive you first. This way, please."