Jiang Cheng and Qi Yuan exchanged glances, then both grinned as if it were nothing.
Qi Yuan looked at the rest with a mocking smile. "Hit the gym more. Don't copy Old Wang—still young yet already sporting a belly. And by your logic, I'd better hurry up; youth and time are my capital."
Watching Qi Yuan acting so smug, Wang Congcong rolled his eyes.
"Look at you bragging and throwing personal jabs. I'm waiting to see if you can still strut in a few years."
After that, Wang Congcong dropped the hurtful topic and waved everyone over. "Come on, let's pop a bottle of champagne to celebrate our UK trip."
With that, he took the champagne from the bar and popped the cork.
After filling six glasses, the group started to party.
"Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Seeing everyone in high spirits, the Flight Attendant tactfully set out some bar snacks and a fruit platter.
Once relaxed, they broke into small clusters of chatter.
Noticing Jiang Cheng still inspecting the private jet's fittings, Wang Congcong slung an arm around his shoulder like an old hand.
"So? You really thinking of buying one?"
Jiang Cheng didn't deny the longing in his heart.
Before his rebirth, he'd fantasized about becoming a top Tycoon with his own plane and yacht.
Now that he could afford it—why not?
Jiang Cheng nodded. "Feels pretty good."
"I actually ordered one last year. You know this jet's my dad's; he uses it most. When I casually mentioned it, he surprised me by saying he'd buy me one. Mine hasn't been delivered yet. If you're interested I can hook you up with the manufacturer."
Jiang Cheng raised an eyebrow. "As expected of the son of the richest man—you were born in Rome."
Wang Congcong caught the jab.
Some people are born in Rome; others are born as workhorses.
He didn't care—reincarnation is a skill.
Although Richest Man Wang hadn't given him much company, money could fill the gaps.
Kids estranged from parents either lacked time or lacked cash.
If money was provided yet feelings stayed cold, it simply meant the amount was still too low.
With Wang Congcong, Dad handed over 500 million at once—planes and super-cars whatever he wanted.
Most people would only feel their folks were awesome; no rift could form.
Wang Congcong nudged Jiang Cheng with his shoulder. "Look who's talking—you're no different."
"My family can't compare to yours."
"Cut the act. Seriously, my order last year was a Dassault Falcon 7X—built by a fighter manufacturer in Fa Country. Performance beats Dad's Gulfstream G550, and mine costs a bit more."
Jiang Cheng smiled nonchalantly. "How much?"
"47 million USD for the airframe, but with interior and exterior custom work the total comes to about 500 million chinese yuan. Three engines—lose one and the other two keep you flying. Cruising speed 900 km/h, range 10,000 km."
Five hundred million chinese yuan was pocket change to Jiang Cheng.
Still, he clicked his tongue at Wang Congcong's Tycoon ways; his own fortune came from the system, whereas the Wangs were simply loaded.
Two private jets alone had cost them over seven hundred million.
No wonder Wang Congcong partied every day.
"You can personalize every detail, even print your name on the fuselage—mine carries mine," Wang Congcong boasted.
Hearing the two discuss bespoke jets, the others found their champagne suddenly tasting tart.
Seeing their faces, Jiang Cheng laughed. "What, you guys want to order one too?"
Qin Fen shook his head wryly. "We could afford to buy, but not to keep. A day's parking costs 20,000—millions a year just to park it. Add cleaning and servicing and you're looking at ten million annually. I'd rather stockpile a few super-cars; my own garage is free."
Jiang Cheng hadn't thought about that.
A private jet could burn through that much every year.
For someone not flying for business it was an expensive toy.
Yet ten million was merely drizzle to him.
Jiang Cheng shrugged. "Never owned one, so I want one for the flex. Hearing Brother Wang say you can emboss your name—pretty classy. All right, I'll order one."
"Old Jiang, I'm dying to know your family background. In Shanxi no coal-boss could match you," Chen Hao asked.
Jiang Cheng didn't plan to elaborate.
"Your family owns mines—save the poor act. Right, any news on the wen family you were digging into?"
At once Chen Hao perked up.
"From what I found, two companies signed with the wen family: An Sheng Group and Yuan Tai Group. An Sheng's the major player; they hold the mining rights. The wens could bid only because An Sheng let them in for a cut, and apparently it was decided long ago."
After he finished, Wang Zheng added, "Old Jiang, here's the kicker: guess who owns An Sheng Group? It's Sister An—An Xin—whom both of us know."
Qin Fen nodded. "I was shocked too. Old Jiang, you and Sister An must be… special, right?"
Under the group's teasing stares, Jiang Cheng grinned. "For now we're purely friends—but if there's a chance for more, I wouldn't mind."
In unison they all drew a quiet gasp.
"Old Jiang, never pegged you for such a guy."
"Exactly—how'd I befriend someone like you? Wrong company!"
"You're no different from that scoundrel Cao; I, Wang, am ashamed to know you."
"Damn—despicable, so why do I feel a twinge of envy?"
"Brother Wang, didn't you just say 'youth is wasted on the young who don't know the charm of a mature woman'? No wonder you and Jiang Cheng click so well?"