So, the dazzling, ultra-luxurious world of prosperity we glimpse online might not be genuine at all.
Perhaps it's nothing more than an elaborate illusion someone has crafted.
Or merely a tactic certain people use to break into particular circles.
In real life, the ultra-wealthy—those with fortunes vast enough to buy whole towns—rarely flaunt their luxuries in public.
Just like Jiang Cheng: after all this time he's only posted that one-of-a-kind bugatti nights sound in his moments.
As for his hundreds-of-millions mansion, car after car of supercars, and the high-end spots he frequents, he's never even considered snapping a photo for a keepsake.
The reason is simple: this is just his everyday life.
Unlike Wang Yuyan's astonishment, Jiang Cheng nodded calmly. "Skip the flat; let's look at the duplex. Which floors are left?"
Wang Wenli thought for a moment. "We still have units on the second, fourth, and fifth floors."
Jiang Cheng asked, "The fifth comes with a garden?"
Wang Wenli replied, "Yes, Mr. Jiang, but it's also the priciest because of the garden."
Jiang Cheng nodded and turned back to Wang Yuyan. "How about the top floor with the garden?"
Though Wang Yuyan tried to stay composed, her heart raced when she realized he'd chosen the complex's most luxurious unit for her.
After all, this was the place countless socialites schemed to rent even a room in.
In the capital of magic, Cui Lake had become a badge of status.
Mention "socialite" and this district is what springs to mind.
Simply say, "I live in Cui Lake," and whether you rent or own, people look at you with envy, certain you're loaded.
Only now did Wang Yuyan understand why tycoons always list Cui Lake first when setting up a mistress.
According to Wang Wenli, older phases one and two offered two-bed compact units for just nineteen thousand a month.
Compared with the pricey Tangchen Top or the student-filled, mixed-bag Bvlgari, Cui Lake's social strata were simpler.
But once inside, she realized that even within Cui Lake, hierarchy still existed.
So… was she about to climb a rung?
If Jiang Cheng really broke up with her, Wang Wenli said this place could fetch two hundred thousand a month in rent.
Rent it out and she'd clear over two million a year.
And since Jiang Cheng had picked the penthouse, the figure would be even higher.
Wang Yuyan gave Jiang Cheng a complicated look and nodded gently. "I'm fine with it."
"Show us the place," Jiang Cheng said softly.
Wang Wenli bobbed her head like a pecking chicken. "Coming right up. Please wait a moment; I'll take you over."
She hurried them toward the duplex, riding a sightseeing buggy while giving a running commentary on the estate.
"Mr. Jiang, Miss Wang, this is Cui Lake Phase Four, the hottest development in the capital these past few years. These mid-rises are the duplex blocks. Buildings One and Two ahead offer 296- and 390-square-metre layouts—the most coveted in the new precinct. Only a handful have sold; last year just two of the 390-square-metre units changed hands."
"What's the management fee?"
"It varies," Wang Wenli said. "Phases one to three run 11.2 to 11.5 yuan. Dawen Property currently manages them. Phase Four is 18 yuan, and the duplex towers are 24 yuan…"
Jiang Cheng was surprised; he hadn't realized the management Company was now Dawen.
In the past two years Dawen had sold off its property arm.
So Dawen Property was probably no longer under the Wang family.
From this year on, real estate would slump.
Yet property management would be one of the sustainable sectors.
The Daheng Group's crisis was also approaching.
Jiang Cheng recalled that after Daheng imploded, Dawen had to scramble to repay debts, shrinking its assets.
Once ranked among China's top-ten richest, Dawen dropped off the list.
Finally, in '24, after selling 60% of its commercial-management arm, Dawen's crisis eased.
The Wang father and son clawed their way back into the top ten.
But compared with their peak as number one, Dawen no longer bore the Wang name and its fortune had halved.
Still bleak, yet its credibility remained—an ending far better than Daheng Group's.
Soon the trio arrived at the fifth-floor duplex.
"Mr. Jiang, Miss Wang, after you—this is it. Two lifts serve one household, so no queues. The door opens onto a grand foyer; this mural was hand-embroidered with gold thread."
The moment she stepped in Wang Yuyan's gaze was drawn to the 6.5-metre soaring ceiling.
Sunlight poured through the huge French windows, flooding the space.
In the centre hung a resplendent crystal chandelier, sparkling like a star.
"This chandelier is by the French luxury house Baccarat," Wang Wenli said. "A veritable work of art."