Take, for example, the beauties of China's Western Regions. Online rumors claim many tourists head there not for the local raisins, but for the exotic women.
The thin air at high altitude gives them tall noses and deep-set eyes.
It's not quite the wild exaggeration of "a Dilraba every three steps," but still.
Their features really are more three-dimensional than those of inland women.
Andrew walked over and asked Chloe, "Is there anything about our hotel's service that displeases you?"
Chloe shook her head. "No. It's just too expensive for me; I can't afford it. I'd like a cheaper place."
Andrew hadn't expected that. After a two-second pause he nodded decisively.
"My apologies; I fully understand. I'll process the check-out right away—though tonight's charge can't be refunded, I'm afraid. Starting tomorrow is fine, and the refund will go back via the original payment method. Will that be acceptable?"
Chloe hadn't thought he'd agree so readily; she'd argued with the Front Desk Girl for half an hour to no avail.
The irritation on her face softened.
"Could I get cash instead? I came from France and don't have enough on me. If it goes back to the card it might take too long."
Andrew looked troubled. "I'm sorry, madam, but we can only refund via the original method."
When Chloe realized cash was impossible, her frown returned. "Why not?"
Her company had booked the room; a card refund would leave her without money for a cheaper hotel.
She'd hoped to pocket the difference by switching to budget lodgings.
She hadn't expected the Rosewood to make it this difficult.
Andrew was growing impatient; he still had to settle Jiang Cheng and the others.
"Miss, this gentleman has reserved The Grand Manor House Wing—our most distinguished suite. May I show them in first, then finish your check-out?"
Hearing the suite's name, Chloe glanced again at Jiang Cheng.
Most guests who'd stayed at the Rosewood knew that suite—it was one of the hotel's crown jewels.
At £200,000 a night, its unique perk is having its own postal code—the only suite in the world that does.
Celebrities and society elites have all posed for photos there.
It's one of London's priciest, designed by renowned international designer Ji Yutang.
Because Ji is Chinese, the décor incorporates many Chinese elements.
Chloe had first noticed Jiang Cheng's looks; now she realized he was also loaded.
She looked him up and down, then stepped forward—clearly the man Andrew had mentioned.
Her eyes showed open interest.
She sauntered over, her full lips curving in a suggestive smile.
Still young, her attempt at sultry came off playful rather than lewd.
"Hi, I'm Chloe, from France. Mind if we get to know each other?"
Her English carried a faint, charming French lilt.
"I'm Jiang Cheng, from China."
"I'm in an executive room. How can I reach you?"
They chatted; since Chloe didn't use wechat, Jiang gave her a phone number.
They arranged lunch for tomorrow noon.
In under fifteen minutes this stunning Girl had asked for Jiang Cheng's contact; the others felt a pang of envy.
After Andrew led Jiang Cheng away, Chloe returned to her room.
She'd thought two nights here wasteful and had wanted to pocket the cash; now she reconsidered.
On day one she'd already met a handsome, wealthy man like Jiang Cheng.
She abandoned the check-out plan.
Inside the Grand Manor House Wing, the group dined and then turned to Tesla news.
Under their push, Luo Jia's Tesla brake-failure incident had gone viral in China.
Jiang had told Chen Xueer to short Tesla stock ahead of time.
Though the buzz hadn't yet reached the us stock market,
in stocks even a butterfly flapping its wings across the Pacific can trigger a storm.
Luo Jia's incident would explode—only a matter of time.
Qin Fen spoke first: "Tesla China's chief issued a statement this morning—total nonsense. Foreigners remain as arrogant as ever."
Wang Zheng added: "Exactly. Even though we orchestrated it, hearing them say they're 'not worried about Tesla's China sales' feels like swallowing a fly."
Wang Cong sneered: "They bank on Chinese servility. After a while people will keep buying; they've nothing to fear."
Chen Hao nodded: "Ordinary folks have short memories."
Qi Yuan asked: "A car worth over a million—are their batteries really safe?"
Jiang Cheng cut in: "First-gen Tesla buyers are leeks. The batteries are mediocre, and cramming in so much smart auto-tech creates huge safety risks. Would you trust an immature computer with your life at 100 km/h?"
Qin Fen laughed: "Even on normal roads I wouldn't. My supercar glitches—what if the computer crashes? What are those people thinking?"
Chen Hao agreed: "I gotta hand it to that scoundrel Musk—bold as brass. Rockets keep failing, yet Tesla gets fast-tracked. He's basically using ordinary people as guinea pigs."
"We'll fleece him good this time; his company's statement is exactly what we need."
Qi Yuan rubbed his hands excitedly: "I begged and borrowed three hundred million. Hope it's as profitable as last time."
Qin Fen exclaimed: "Wow, landing that kind of loan—impressive."
Only people with stellar credit or special backgrounds can borrow that much.
Qi Yuan had both.
Since hanging out with Jiang Cheng his family had relaxed their grip.
If they still restricted him while he was running with the Crown Prince of Beijing, what fun would that be?
Environment shapes mindset.
Before, his family had been strict: special background, many rivals—any mistake could be amplified.
They were on the bureaucratic track, the opposite of Wang Congcong's family.
Most rich families raise heirs by giving them every luxury from childhood,
teaching them both to spend and to enjoy.
Such free spending makes them feel the value of money and fuels the desire to earn more.