Super Rich: Starting the game by going back ten years to buy Bitcoin

The figure in the gray suit had already passed through the glass doors.

The leather shoes sank heavier with each step on the marble floor of the exhibition hall.

With his back to the door, Liu Qiang's entire attention was fixed on Li Yichen's face, and he didn't hear the footsteps behind him at all.

"I'll say it one last time." He took half a step forward, his finger poking about ten centimeters from Li Yichen's chest. "This isn't a place for you. If you know what's good for you, get out of here—"

"Get lost?" Li Yichen replied.

It wasn't that I finished speaking for him, it was that I stopped him.

His gaze passed over Liu Qiang's shoulder, lingered for less than a second on the gray suit behind him, and then looked away.

That's enough. The person has arrived.

Li Yichen put his hands in his pockets and leaned back half an inch. His posture shifted from "waiting" to "watching the show."

Liu Qiang was oblivious. His anger was burning to the core, and only one thought remained in his mind—to kick Li Yichen out. All the pent-up frustration from four years of university was finally going to be released today.

"You think you can act tough in front of me just because you're wearing nice clothes? Let me tell you, Li Yichen, I know you better than anyone. Back in college, you couldn't even afford the braised pork in the cafeteria, your monthly allowance was just over a thousand yuan, and you were eating steamed buns and pickled vegetables every day—"

He got more and more excited as he spoke, his voice rising to a high pitch that echoed between the glass walls of the exhibition hall.

"With your background, even if you wear a suit woven with gold thread, you're still a poor wretch at heart—"

Li Yichen's lips twitched slightly.

It wasn't anger. It was suppressing a laugh.

He stared at Liu Qiang's flushed face, counting down in his mind.

three.

two.

One.

"Liu Qiang".

His voice was neither too loud nor too soft, neither too fast nor too slow, and contained not a trace of anger.

"You're in big trouble."

Liu Qiang closed his mouth.

It wasn't that he was scared, it was that those three words came too suddenly and didn't make logical sense. He was gaining the upper hand, he was attacking, he was belittling Li Yichen from head to toe—"You're doomed?"

What's so tragic? Who's tragic?

A moment of silence.

Snapped.

A hand slapped Liu Qiang on the back of the head from behind.

It wasn't a light tap. It was a solid slap, the force of which carried the middle-aged man's rage, sending Liu Qiang's head lurching forward.

A tingling sensation ran down my scalp.

Liu Qiang was stunned for half a second. The pain hit him before he could think. His first reaction wasn't to turn around, but to start cursing.

"Damn it—who the hell hit me?"

He turned around while cursing, twisting his neck so fast that his muscles almost twisted.

It's turned around.

Standing before me was a man in his fifties. He wore a gray suit, a dark blue tie, and his hair was neatly combed, with slightly graying temples.

His face was so black it looked like ink could drip from it.

The filth that Liu Qiang hadn't yet swallowed was stuck in his throat, like a fishbone, unable to go up or down.

He recognized the face.

We know each other very well.

The person who sits at the head of the table at the weekly Monday morning meeting. The person who reviews his performance reports every month.

Wang Jianguo.

The head of the Patek Philippe store at Hang Lung Plaza. His boss. His direct supervisor. The person whose job is in his hands.

Liu Qiang's expression shifted precisely in a fraction of a second—from fury to stiffness, and from stiffness to appeasement.

She pulled the corners of her mouth to the sides, creating a curve that looked even uglier than crying.

"Mr. Wang... Mr. Wang? Why did you come down?"

Wang Jianguo stared at him.

No reply.

He spent three seconds mentally going over every word he had heard on his way from the elevator to here.

"Poor and stingy."

"I know his true nature better than anyone else."

"This is not a place for you."

"Get out of here."

Every word he uttered was precisely on the red line that a store manager in the high-end retail business must never cross.

His gaze shifted from Liu Qiang's face, two inches to the right, and landed on Li Yichen behind Liu Qiang.

At a glance.

Just one glance.

The dark gray shirt, hand-stitched in Italy, retails for 80,000 yuan or more per piece—he's been in the industry for over 20 years, and he can tell the difference between quality fabrics and workmanship in a second. The black trousers have an extremely high fit; they're not ready-made, but altered, with the waistline and hem proportions adjusted—this kind of work is only done by high-end bespoke shops.

The belt buckle is from Georg Jensen, with a matte dark silver finish. It's understated but costs over 20,000 yuan.

The shoes are Derby style, made of calfskin, with an English sole. They're new, but not the stiff kind that comes straight from the box. After walking a few steps, the leather has just developed a thin sheen.

The total cost, from head to toe, is at least 300,000. There's no upper limit of 500,000.

Young people who can afford to spend 500,000 yuan on an outfit to go out shopping are likely to have a net worth of tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions.

Even if this young man doesn't actually buy that ten million dollar flagship item today—he could buy a two million or three million dollar one as easily as drinking water.

What's even more crucial is the social circle of clients at this level.

They are either rich or noble.

If word gets out that "the manager of the Patek Philippe store at Henglong Plaza berated a customer for being poor and prevented him from looking at the watch," what will happen to his store if this gets back to the ears of those Patek Philippe owners in Shanghai?

Wang Jianguo's temple throbbed twice.

This is not a personal grudge.

This is ruining your reputation.

They're ruining Wang Jianguo's reputation.

He turned back and stared intently at Liu Qiang.

He raised his finger, the tip pointing at Liu Qiang's nose.

"How did I get down here? If I hadn't come down, you would have ruined my shop's reputation!"

His voice exploded. The glass display cases in the exhibition hall buzzed in response.

"Customers come to buy things, and you stop them from looking? You even call them poor and cheap? And you want to kick them out?"

Each sentence was pushed up a bit, until the last sentence was almost shouted out.

"Tell me—is this something a manager would do?!"

Liu Qiang's face went from red to white, and then from white to bluish.

His lips trembled slightly, and he quickly took half a step forward, waving his hands in front of him twice.

"Mr. Wang, please let me explain—I'm not kicking him out, really. I know this guy too well; he's my college classmate. I know his family's financial situation perfectly well; there's no way he could afford what's in our store—"

"Shut up."

Two words: light.

But Liu Qiang really shut his mouth. He swallowed back the rest of his words.

Wang Jianguo didn't look at him again.

She turned around and took three steps toward Li Yichen.

He stopped in front of Li Yichen.

"Sir, I'm so sorry."

He bowed slightly and extended his right hand.

"I am Wang Jianguo, the person in charge of this store. Today, the behavior of our employees was seriously inappropriate and caused you a very poor experience. I hereby formally apologize to you."

Li Yichen glanced at him for two seconds.

He reached out his hand. He shook it.

The force was not great, and the rhythm was not fast.

He released his grip, tilted his head, and gestured with his chin toward the commendation piece in the center of the display case.

"It's alright. Can you take out that watch and let me see it now?"

Wang Jianguo paused for a moment.

He turned and walked behind the display case, bending down to unlock the bottom latch. The glass cover flipped up, and the LED strip inside automatically lit up, revealing the Greenwich green ceramic outer ring with a cool luster under the light.

He held the watch up with both hands, placed it on a black velvet mat, and steadily handed it to Li Yichen.

Please take a look.

Liu Qiang stood three steps away.

His mouth opened slightly.

What I wanted to say—"He can't afford it," "Don't be fooled by him," "This watch is worth ten million"—every sentence was stuck in my throat.

Before he could utter a sound, Wang Jianguo's eyes darted sideways.

Just once.

What's looming in my sight doesn't need translation.

If you say just one more word, you won't just be getting scolded today.

Liu Qiang closed his mouth. His teeth were biting the flesh on the inside of his cheek, making it hurt.

Two fists were clenched at his sides.

He stared at Li Yichen—at those hands that took the ten million yuan prized possession from the store, turned it over, looked at the Geneva Seal on the back of the watch, and then turned it back to the front—the whole process was smooth and unhurried, almost like flipping through a magazine.

Li Yichen fastened the watch to his left wrist.

The metal watchband felt cool to the touch against my skin, and the Oyster case was heavy, hanging down from my wrist towards my forearm.

He raised his wrist and turned it towards the spotlight in the exhibition hall.

Green circle. Black dial. Leaf-shaped hands. The second hand ticked away, each tick perfectly steady.

Not bad.

That's great.

He lowered his wrist and looked at Wang Jianguo.

"Swipe your card."

As he spoke, he took a card out of his pocket and handed it over.

Wang Jianguo was stunned for a moment when he saw the card Li Yichen handed him. It was just an ordinary card, but Wang Jianguo only paused for a moment before coming to his senses.

He steadied his hand, turned around, and walked towards the POS machine behind the counter.

Insert the card.

Enter the amount: 10,000,000.

confirm.

The exhibition hall was silent for a full two seconds.

The POS machine screen flickered.

drop.

A crisp sound.

Transaction successful.

The receipt was ejected from the bottom of the machine, the white thermal paper curled at one edge. Wang Jianguo tore it off and handed it to Li Yichen with both hands.

Liu Qiang's pupils contracted slightly.

His gaze was fixed on the receipt.

I wanted to see it clearly, but the words were too small, even from two steps away. I couldn't see them. I didn't dare to get closer. Yet, I couldn't resist looking.

Li Yichen took the receipt and glanced at it.

Amount: ¥10,000,000.00

Transaction status: Successful

He held the receipt between two fingers, turned around, and held it up to Liu Qiang.

"Adjust the clasp for me, tighten it by half a click." This was said to Wang Jianguo.

Wang Jianguo responded and quickly went around from behind the counter to Li Yichen's side, bending down to adjust the watch clasp.

Li Yichen extended his left wrist, but his gaze fell on Liu Qiang.

Liu Qiang stood three steps away.

The color drained from his face inch by inch.

Starting from the forehead and moving downwards, passing through the brow bone, eye sockets, cheekbones, and lips—the whole face becomes ashen and dull, like a worn-out watchcloth in the corner of a display case that no one looks at.

Li Yichen looked at that face.

"Liu Qiang".

Liu Qiang's Adam's apple bobbed. He remained silent.

"Didn't you say I couldn't afford it?"

He moved the hand holding the receipt forward two inches. The white thermal paper flashed in front of Liu Qiang's eyes.

Nearly.

It was so close that Liu Qiang could see every single word on it without even having to look closely.

The number in the amount column—ten million—was clearly marked in black and white on the paper.

Liu Qiang's eyelids twitched twice.

His lips moved once, then moved again.

No sound came out.

What was he trying to say? "Where did you get the money?" "How could you?" "That's impossible!"

Every word was stuck in his throat, suppressed by the numbers on that receipt, preventing him from uttering a single syllable.

Four years of university. He categorized Li Yichen into a fixed position—poor. Dead poor. The kind of poverty from which one could never escape poverty.

This judgment sustained his sense of superiority for over two years. Every time he thought of Li Yichen, the image in his mind was that of him wearing a pilling hoodie, eating a steamed bun in the corner of the cafeteria.

That figure shouldn't be seen at Patek Philippe.

She shouldn't be wearing clothes worth hundreds of thousands of yuan.

It's even more unacceptable to spend ten million without batting an eye.

But that's exactly what happened.

The ink on the receipt wasn't completely dry yet; he could smell the faint burnt smell of the thermal paper when it was first expelled.

Really.

It's all true.

Li Yichen took back the receipt and casually stuffed it into his pocket.

He raised his right hand and waved it at Liu Qiang.

The posture and angle were exactly the same as when Liu Qiang chased him away five minutes ago.

He slightly flipped his wrist, flicked his four fingers outwards twice, from top to bottom, casually.

"Get lost."

It paused for a moment.

"I've told you before, I'm ashamed to have a son like you."

Liu Qiang clenched his jaw so tightly it ached. It hurt. But he couldn't utter a single word.

His lips were pulled down, and his chin was trembling.

It wasn't the cold, it wasn't the fear, it was the feeling of being suffocated that made my whole face unresponsive.

Wang Jianguo straightened up at this moment. The clasp was adjusted. He took half a step back, put the watch on Li Yichen's wrist, and confirmed that it fit properly.

Then he turned around.

Looking at Liu Qiang.

"Liu Qiang".

Liu Qiang's gaze shifted from Li Yichen to Wang Jianguo's face, where it landed blankly.

"You're fired."

Four words. Decisive. Clean. There was no "Go back and write a self-criticism," no "I'll think about this some more," and no buffer time whatsoever.

"Now, you can leave."

Liu Qiang swayed slightly.

I stood there for two seconds.

Turn around.

I walked towards the exhibition hall entrance. My steps were mechanical, my knees stiff, and my legs moved slowly and heavily.

As I passed the display case, his face was reflected in the glass. Gray. Wrinkled. Like a crumpled and unfolded piece of waste paper.

Chen Xue, sitting in the corner, had her head down, her hands folded in front of her, her fingertips curled.

She didn't look at Liu Qiang.

I didn't even glance at it.

But the instant Liu Qiang stepped out of the glass door, her shoulders relaxed slightly. Very slightly. Just a tiny movement.

It was like a breath that had been trapped in the lungs for a long time finally finding an outlet.

In the corridor outside the exhibition hall, Liu Qiang's figure receded into the distance. His back never straightened from beginning to end.

Li Yichen looked away.

I glanced down at my wrist.

Green ring, black dial. Leaf-shaped hands. The second hand ticks away, one tick at a time.

Not fast. Not slow. As steady as his heartbeat at that moment.

He was wearing clothes worth hundreds of thousands of yuan and a watch worth ten million yuan. A car worth over a million yuan was parked downstairs.

A year ago, the food delivery rider was staring blankly at other people's taillights at a red light intersection. Now, he stands in the Patek Philippe showroom, wearing the store's most expensive watch on his wrist.

Wang Jianguo walked behind the counter, took out a dark brown leather watch box and a complete set of documents from the drawer, arranged them neatly, and put them into a black tote bag.

He handed it over with both hands.

"Sir, please keep this safe. If you need to make any adjustments while wearing it, please contact us at any time. This is my personal business card; my phone is available 24/7, so please feel free to call."

Li Yichen took the bag and business card and put them in his pocket.

He turned and glanced at the corner.

Chen Xue was still standing there, her low ponytail draped over her shoulders, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

"Thank you for your help."

These words were spoken to Chen Xue.

Chen Xue looked up and paused for a moment, stunned.

He then bent down slightly.

"Of course. Please take care."

Li Yichen carried the bag and walked towards the entrance of the exhibition hall.

As I pushed open the glass door, the ceramic bezel of the watch on my left wrist was sliced ​​by the corridor light. Green. A cold beam of light flashed across my wrist.

Behind him, Wang Jianguo's gaze followed his back for more than ten meters before slowly turning away.

He glanced down at the POS receipt on the counter.

Ten million.

The young man in his early twenties spent less than three minutes from speaking to swiping his card.

Wang Jianguo put the purchase receipt into the drawer, closed it, and locked it. He turned around and looked at Chen Xue in the corner.

"Xiao Chen, about that manager's position—"

Chen Xue clenched her fingers on the side of her skirt.

"You can act as a substitute for now. We'll talk about it after the official appointment."

Chen Xue pursed her lips and nodded.

In the underground parking garage, which is two stories or less, a Dragon Stone Green Yangwang U8 sits quietly in its parking space.

Li Yichen opened the car door and got in, placing his handbag on the passenger seat and turning the steering wheel with his right hand.

The GMT-Master II on my wrist pressed against the leather-wrapped steering wheel, and the metal case made a soft tapping sound.

He glanced at the time on the central control screen.

It's past 2 PM.