You got your marriage certificate and then abandoned me? I'll feed the richest woman in the wor

[Scene: Downtown Paris, France, luxury suite restaurant]

"Eagle, activate emergency flight path number one."

"Within two hours, I need a supersonic passenger plane, loaded with this year's newly harvested Wuchang rice from Northeast China, to land at Paris airport."

A cold, low command.

Drift through the luxurious suite filled with the scent of French vanilla.

There was absolutely no room for negotiation.

beep.

The call was disconnected.

The screen of the specially made phone went dark instantly.

Chen Yuan casually tossed the device, which could mobilize trillions of overseas funds, onto the marble dining table.

The metal casing struck the table with a dull thud.

He turned around.

A large, well-defined hand reached out and gently ruffled Shen Wanzhou's soft hair.

"Drink some warm water first."

Chen Yuan's voice had lost its previous coldness, leaving only an unyielding indulgence.

"The rice will be here soon."

Shen Wanzhou sat in a leather, carved high-backed chair.

Holding a cup of warm lemonade in my hands.

Her fair toes twitched awkwardly inside the fluffy slippers.

Those shimmering, peach-blossom eyes stared blankly at the man before her.

Because of her grumbling that she wanted to drink plain rice porridge.

Directly severing normal international air traffic control and mobilizing supersonic passenger planes to transport rice across the ocean?

This is not cooking at all.

This is like throwing away real money and aviation privileges for fun!

"Wouldn't this...make too much noise?"

Shen Wanzhou bit her lower lip.

A whitish mark was pressed into her lips.

The skin at the base of her ears had uncontrollably turned a deep, ripe crimson.

Although she is the richest woman in a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, this unreasonable and hardcore favoritism still made her heart skip a beat.

Is it big?

Chen Yuan rested one hand on the back of the chair.

He leaned down, his slightly cool nose almost touching her cheek.

The clean, cool scent of soap instantly enveloped her completely.

"For my wife's sake, it would be perfectly reasonable to buy the entire air route."

The suite was peaceful and cozy, with even the air smelling sweet.

But beyond the suites, the European continent.

But this supersonic route that forcibly cut in line caused complete chaos!

Two hours later.

Over Paris Charles de Gaulle International Airport.

A deafening sonic boom violently tore through the thick clouds over France.

A supersonic military-grade passenger plane that is entirely black and has no civil aviation markings.

It had a pungent smell of aviation fuel.

Like a furious black eagle, it forcefully cut into runway number one.

The French air traffic controller in the control tower slammed his coffee cup onto the control panel.

The brown liquid destroyed three monitors.

"Where did this plane come from?! And why does it have the highest level of airspace immunity in the EU?!"

The manager's roar sounded different in the control tower.

It's not just the air traffic control bureau.

This plane forced six circling international flights to a stop.

Such arrogant behavior instantly attracted the attention of the entire European media.

Reuters and AFP reporters, armed with cameras and microphones, rushed to the airport like sharks smelling blood.

When the cargo door opened.

Bags of Wuchang rice from China, exuding the original aroma of rice.

They were carried into a bulletproof and explosion-proof armored truck under the escort of fully armed bodyguards in black.

All the reporters holding cameras were dumbfounded.

"They used their highest privileges... just to transport rice?!"

A veteran French investigative journalist stared at the markings on the cargo box.

His fingers flew across the keyboard, quickly accessing the underlying data of air traffic control.

The signature on the route application clearly reads four characters.

Star Ventures.

The reporter's breath caught in his throat.

He suddenly pulled up a photo of the Eastern culinary master who had blindly sliced ​​Wensi tofu at the Royal Theatre a few days earlier.

Then, superimpose the silhouettes of the controlling shareholders of Star Ventures, which were publicly released in Europe, onto the images.

The computer screen emitted a cold, bluish light.

The facial recognition system's progress bar rapidly filled up.

"drop--"

The similarity is 99.99%.

Not only that.

As the data crawler continued to delve deeper into Star Ventures' encrypted protocol.

A blood-red skull smiley face icon.

It popped up on the reporter's screen without warning.

The blood-dripping sickle symbol stung his retina.

"Clatter".

The reporter dropped the expensive fountain pen from his hand.

The pen nib broke, and the ink smeared black across the carpet.

His muscles spasmed violently as if he had been electrocuted, and his legs went so weak that he slid off his office chair and knelt on the ground.

"My God..."

He clutched his chest, a hissing sound coming from his throat.

"That culinary genius who shattered the pride of the European culinary world with a single sip of clear soup..."

"It's actually the president of Star Venture Capital!"

"It's the tyrant on the dark web who holds the power of life and death... 'The Abyss'!"

This news is like a nuclear bomb with a yield of ten million tons.

In less than ten minutes.

Following the invisible network, the entire Western high society was blown to smithereens.

Twitter crashed.

Facebook's servers burned through three backup server racks.

Those old-money European families who were once frantically discussing in food forums how to recreate that bowl of fried rice.

The moment I saw this news.

The wine glass in my hand shattered on the floor.

In a medieval castle on the outskirts of Paris.

The French duke who mocked Chen Yuan for cutting tofu a few days ago.

He is kneeling on an expensive Persian carpet.

Soaked in cold sweat, his silk robe clung tightly to his back.

He looked at the photo of Chen Yuan wearing an old apron on the screen, and then at the terrifying financial chain of Star Ventures that dominated the world, listed next to it.

A wave of acid churned in my stomach and rushed straight to my throat.

He got it.

At the banquet that day, what Chen Yuan crushed was not a piece of tofu at all.

It is the throat of these Western nobles!

The man flipping the wok at the counter has his other hand gripping the nuclear button of global finance!

"Quick! Get the car ready!"

The duke scrambled to his feet like a madman and stumbled and crawled toward the door.

"Go to Star Ventures' Paris branch! Bring that Queen Victoria diamond crown from their vault!"

An absurd yet incredibly real equation.

It took shape in the minds of all the world's elites.

Being able to eat a meal personally prepared by Chen Yuan = receiving a get-out-of-jail-free card from Star Venture Capital = the family gaining absolute protection from the Dark Web Dominator!

This isn't about begging for a meal.

This is about securing a ticket to survive the capital reshuffling of the next century!

Crazy.

Utter madness.

In just two hours.

Outside the building of Star Venture Capital's overseas branch in the center of Paris.

Traffic on the Champs-Élysées was paralyzed for the worst time in its history.

There was no honking, no shouting.

Because the cars stuck in traffic were all bulletproof vehicles with license plates belonging to royalty and top conglomerates from various countries.

Heavy rain was approaching, and the air was so stuffy it was suffocating.

Outside the heavy bulletproof glass revolving door on the first floor of the branch office.

It was packed with politicians and oligarchs who were usually high and mighty.

They didn't even use umbrellas.

The suit was soaked with sweat and rain.

Each person clutched the heavy briefcase tightly with both hands, like an old lady grabbing discounted eggs at a market.

With red eyes, he pushed his way forward.

"Let me in first! I brought the transfer agreement for South Africa's largest gold mine!"

"Get out of my way! This is 10% of Swiss Bank's shares! I just want Mr. Chen to give me a bowl of fried rice!"

"Chairman Chen! Just let me have a sip of your broth, and my entire ocean fleet will be under your command!"

The pungent smell of expensive perfume mingled with the acrid odor of sweat secreted by these high-ranking individuals due to their panic.

The air outside the building was so foul it made people nauseous.

The top floor of the building.

Wang Kai, the acting president of the branch, slumped in the large boss's chair.

His white shirt was completely soaked with cold sweat, clinging tightly to his fleshy chest.

The flesh on his chubby face was trembling uncontrollably from extreme shock.

"Bang."

The door to the CEO's office was suddenly pushed open.

The French receptionist at the front desk stumbled in, her high heels clattering as she entered.

My high heels twisted on the smooth floor tiles, and I almost fell.

Her face was ashen.

Even her usually well-trained professional smile completely crumbled.

She was tightly clutching a thick stack of documents in her arms.

My wrists were shaking so badly it felt like I was fluffing cotton.

The edges of the paper rubbed together, making a screeching, grating sound.

"Mr. Wang... Mr. Wang..."

The receptionist swallowed hard, her voice trembling with the urge to faint.

She placed the stack of documents heavily on Wang Kai's desk.

The covers of the top few documents are prominently printed with the personal seals of the presidents of five different countries.

The dark red sealing wax, under the light, exuded a suffocating weight of power.

The receptionist, her hands trembling, looked at Wang Kai with a stack of state banquet invitations bearing the personal seals of the presidents of five countries: "Mr. Wang... these heads of state have said they're willing to exchange national-level mineral rights for a single dinner. What should we say?"