Wang Congcong shot Qi Yuan a glare. "Cut it out. I'm not doing this. If your dad finds out, mine will beat the crap out of me."
Qi Yuan scratched his head in frustration. "Damn it, how am I supposed to show off and pick up Girls when school starts?"
Jiang Cheng teased, "I think Brother Wang's right. With your luck driving a super-car, you'd better stick to something sturdy or hire a chauffeur—safer and simpler."
One crash and you're looking at hundreds of thousands in repairs. Who can stomach that? Besides, super-cars crumple like paper."
One bad move and you're toast."
Seeing Jiang Cheng agree, Wang Congconn piled on. "Exactly. What's wrong with a driver? What's so great about college Girls? Lights off, they're all the same."
Everyone knows Principal Wang's weakness is Internet Celebrities—no one's ever seen him date a college student."
Then again, that might be because his first love back in school left him scarred."
Back when Wang Congcong was still a student, rumor had it he'd been a shy, sincere kid who believed in true love."
Supposedly, while studying abroad, he had no idea his family was loaded. When his girlfriend wanted a designer bag, he thought he couldn't afford it and refused; she dumped him on the spot."
He even posted about it on Social Media Platform: "Years ago I argued with a vain Girl. I asked why she loved LV. She said it symbolized status. I called her ridiculous; she sneered that I only hated it because I was too poor to buy it. Do Girls really need flashy junk to cover their emptiness and insecurity?"
Qi Yuan curled his lip. "You don't get it. College Girls have their perks. Whatever, we're from different generations. A super-car is the ultimate romance for us young dudes."
He and Wang Congcong were tight; he knew that history and didn't want to dwell on it.
"When you can drive a super-car without wrecking it, we'll talk," Wang Congcong said, clearly done with the topic.
He glanced at the grilled skewers on the table, reached for one, then broke into a wicked grin. "Holy crap—so many lamb kidneys? Who needs the boost?"
"I've been burning the candle at both ends. The kidneys looked fresh online, and judging by how often you're seen with Girls, you could use a couple too." Jiang Cheng handed Wang Congcong two sticks.
Wang Congcong chuckled, accepting them. "My situation's different. We're innocent—just dinner, chat, drinks. Nothing else."
"Think I believe that?"
Qi Yuan chimed in, "Right, never trust his BS. He changes women faster than he changes squares in his family's plaza."
Everyone online knows Principal Wang is a big-spender, showering gifts on streamers. Some of it's ads for his new live-stream platform, Chest-Cat TV, but still…"
…claiming innocence? Impossible.
Who Wang Congcong's actual girlfriend is remains a mystery, and the turnover rate is lightning-fast.
"Lay off me, will you? Especially you—rocking that watch and that car in Shanghai, you could have any socialite you want."
Jiang Cheng waved it off. "Pass. Not my thing."
"Amen to that," Wang Congcong snorted. "They package themselves like saints but party dirtier than we do."
"Last time, one got me drunk and scammed me out of a few grand—still stings," Qi Yuan groaned.
Watching Qi Yuan's exaggerated misery, Jiang Cheng burst out laughing.
He genuinely liked Qi Yuan's straight-shooting style.
Wang Congcong studied Jiang Cheng. "Jiang Cheng, what does your family do? An eighteen-year-old with your net worth is rare."
Jiang Cheng wasn't sure how to answer. His cash pile had probably surpassed Wang Congcong's, but every cent came from a system cheat, not family.
He fudged, "Construction company. We're just regular folks compared to you."
"Don't be modest—I hate that. When I was eighteen I knew my family was rich, but I sure hadn't bought an eighteen-million-yuan watch," Wang Congcong said bluntly.
Qi Yuan nodded. "Exactly. If I asked for a watch that pricey, my dad would kill me."
Jiang Cheng went quiet. "Really? Then what if I told you I recently snagged a Patek Philippe Grand-Complication Minute-Repeater?"
Both Wang Congcong and Qi Yuan froze.
"Holy—Big Bro Cheng, please let me see it! I've never even glimpsed that model," Qi Yuan gushed, eyes sparkling.
Wang Congcong, though surprised, stayed calmer. "I've seen it but passed. What'd you pay?"
Twenty-three million."
Wang Congcong nodded. "Reasonable. And the one on your wrist?"
Eighteen million."
Hearing that, Wang Congcong looked stunned.
"What? Eighteen million for that? Worth it? The brand's still niche—nowhere near Patek Philippe."
He looked downright scornful; if they'd been closer, Jiang Cheng figured he'd have straight-up called him a moron.
Jiang Cheng knew they lacked his foresight.
But explaining would be pointless—they wouldn't buy it.
"Seems overpriced now, but in two years you won't touch it for that money. And I like how it looks—worth it to me," he shrugged.
Seeing Jiang Cheng so confident, Qi Yuan's curiosity flared. "How do you know it'll blow up? Got insider info, Bro Cheng?"
"Not exactly insider—but in two years its price should match my Patek Philippe," Jiang Cheng said cryptically.
Wang Congcong's eyes glinted at the claim.
He'd seen the brand before but skipped it as too new.
Am I losing touch? he wondered.
Qi Yuan rubbed his chin. "Maybe I should grab one of those watches early and flex later."
Wang Congcong rained on his parade again. "Sure—if you could afford it. Remember, you're banned from high-ticket spending."
"Looks like I need to earn my own cash. Bro Cheng, if you spot any money-making moves, call me. You two are Tycoons—I'm broke," Qi Yuan whined.