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

Li Yichen had just walked out of the Lamborghini booth, and the black card in his pocket hadn't even warmed up yet.

Liu Bing followed to the left rear, still holding up his phone with the camera still on. Han Fei was to the right rear, his hands in his denim jacket pockets, taking shorter strides than usual—not because he was tired, but because he hadn't quite snapped out of his daze yet.

Two cars. 190 million. 18 minutes.

Han Fei took out his phone, glanced at the time, and then put it back. He turned his head and whispered something to Liu Bing.

"How long did it take your dad to get that Bentley?"

Liu Bing didn't turn around.

"Three months. My mom signed the papers."

"My dad's Maybach took half a year to get."

The two of them were silent for two seconds.

Li Yichen didn't stop. He walked through the circular light tubes of the Porsche booth towards Hall 3.

Liu Bing quickened her pace and followed.

"Brother Li, are you... buying more?"

Li Yichen turned his head and smiled.

"Yes, let's buy a few more. We can keep them as decorations when we get back."

Liu Bing paused for a moment. Han Fei, on the other side, had the zipper pull of his denim jacket between his fingertips, twisting it twice, but didn't say anything.

Ornament.

A car worth millions, used as a decoration.

Liu Bing locked his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. His family runs a pharmaceutical company, and after thirty years of hard work, his father only had two or three hundred million yuan in cash on hand. Last month, he wanted to buy a Porsche 911, but his father dismissed him with, "You've only had that BMW for two years."

Han Fei's family runs GG Company, which is a bit smaller than Liu Bing's family. The old man's Maybach S680 is the most expensive car in the company. He bought it five years ago, and every time he needs maintenance, he can't bear to go to the 4S store and insists on going to a repair shop run by an acquaintance.

The two exchanged a glance.

Han Fei sighed first. Liu Bing followed suit with a sigh.

No one spoke.

At the entrance of Hall 3, the flow of people was a bit denser than before. Several staff members wearing car company vests stood on both sides of the aisle holding signs with their respective logos and booth numbers printed on them.

Li Yichen turned into the exhibition hall, with Liu Bing and Han Fei following on either side. After walking about twenty meters, he stopped in front of the Bentley booth.

A Bentayga, dark blue, with a boxy front end and a chrome grille that gleamed under the spotlights, was parked on the stand. Next to it was a black Flying Spur, longer than the Bentayga, with rear privacy glass that was so black it let in no light.

The booth staff had already come to greet us. He was a man in his late twenties, wearing a gray suit, a tie tightly tied, and a Bentley exhibitor badge pinned to his breast pocket.

"Sir, are you looking at a car?"

"Benjaya Bentayga, Flying Spur. Two of them, how much?"

The staff member swiped twice on the tablet.

"This Bentayga is a Mulliner custom edition, with a final price of 8.2 million. This Flying Spur is the W12 version, with a final price of 12 million. The two cars together cost 20.2 million."

Li Yichen took out the black card.

"Swipe your card."

The staff member took the card and rubbed his finger on the side of the tablet. He had worked at Bentley for five years and had seen straightforward customers, but never one this straightforward—he hadn't even opened the car door or glanced at the interior.

The POS machine dispensed a sales slip. Twenty-two million. Full payment. One transaction.

Liu Bing stood behind, took out his phone, opened the calculator, and entered a number. One hundred and ninety million plus twenty million two hundred and twenty thousand. Two hundred and ten million two hundred and twenty thousand.

He showed the calculator screen to Han Fei.

Han Fei glanced at it and turned his face away.

Li Yichen wrote the address on a sticky note, pushed it to the staff member, and turned away.

The Lamborghini booth. The yellow Urus was slowly turning on the turntable, its paint reflecting a flowing light under the lights.

"How much is this one?"

"The final price is 4.8 million."

"Swipe your card."

The Ferrari booth. Roma, silver-grey, with a flat front end and a tightly recessed grille.

"How much?"

"The final price is 3.2 million."

"Swipe your card."

The Rolls-Royce booth. A Phantom, black, with a long body and a chrome Parthenon grille that gleamed brightly under the spotlights.

"How much?"

"The final price was 18 million."

"Swipe your card."

Two hours later, Li Yichen walked out from the last booth.

Liu Bing and Han Fei followed behind. Liu Bing held a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, covered with numbers—a Bentley Bentayga for 8.2 million, a Bentley Flying Spur for 12 million, a Lamborghini Urus for 4.8 million, a Ferrari Roma for 3.2 million, a Rolls-Royce Phantom for 18 million, a McLaren Artura for 2.6 million, and an Aston Martin DBX for 3.5 million.

Seven cars. Adding the previous two. Nine cars. The total price—he pulled the calculator down a bit—was two hundred and seventy-eight million nine hundred thousand.

Liu Bing folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket. He glanced up at Li Yichen's back.

A white shirt, black casual trousers, and the Patek Philippe GMT-Master II on his left wrist gleaming coldly under the exhibition hall lights. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, as if strolling in his own living room.

Han Fei caught up from behind and nudged Liu Bing with his elbow.

"Are you numb?"

"It's numb."

"I'm numb too."

The two walked side by side, neither of them speaking.

As I stepped out of the car city gate, the sun was already setting in the west, its rays filtering through the gaps in the overpass and shattering on the ground.

Li Yichen walked to the dragon stone green U8 and opened the car door.

Liu Bing glanced at the car. Looking up at the U8, in Dragon Stone Green, its price tag was over a million. Compared to the nine cars they had just seen, this U8 was nothing.

The big shot is really low-key.

Li Yichen tilted his head slightly towards them.

"Get in the car."

Liu Bing took a step forward.

"Brother Li, how about I drive and you sit in the back?"

Han Fei had already walked around to the other side and opened the back door.

Li Yichen smiled.

"Don't call me 'boss,' just call me Brother Li."

"Brother Li."

"Brother Li."

The two shouted in unison. Liu Bing's voice was louder than Han Fei's, carrying a strong and energetic tone. Han Fei's voice was lower, but he spoke quickly, finishing his sentence before Liu Bing could.

Li Yichen didn't refuse and bent down to sit in the back seat. Han Fei walked around from the other side, opened the passenger door, and got in.

Liu Bing got into the driver's seat, adjusted the seat, and placed his hands on the steering wheel. The U8's instrument panel lit up, and the hum of the electric motor was very faint, almost inaudible.

He started the car, turned out of the parking lot, and got onto the main road.

"Brother Li, wanna go to Heaven on Earth?"

"Um."

Liu Bing turned on the navigation and entered the destination. A route appeared on the navigation page, following the Inner Ring Elevated Road towards Jing'an, which would take about forty minutes.

Han Fei sat in the passenger seat, took out his phone, opened WeChat, and sent a message to his father.

"Dad, I'm not coming home for dinner tonight."

Three seconds later, his dad replied.

"Where have you been fooling around now?"

Han Fei's finger hovered above the screen for two seconds. He mentally went over the wording—going to a high-class nightclub with a newly acquainted tycoon, who spent nearly 300 million yuan on a car in two hours without even blinking.

He deleted each word one by one and typed a new line.

"Having dinner with friends."

After sending the message, he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.

In the back seat, Li Yichen leaned back and turned his head to look out the window. The buildings on both sides of the overpass receded into the distance, their glass curtain walls reflecting the last rays of the setting sun, shattering into pieces of gold.

I mentally went over the events of the day.

Nine cars. Two underlings.

The car was a minor issue; the money was spent, and the consumption figure on the system panel jumped up again. But these two underlings—Liu Bing, whose family is in the pharmaceutical business; and Han Fei, whose family is in the pharmaceutical industry—were neither top-tier rich kids, but they still had connections and influence in Shanghai.

There will be plenty of places to play in the future.

The U8 made a turn on the inner ring elevated road and headed towards Jing'an.

Liu Bing gripped the steering wheel and glanced at Li Yichen in the back seat through the rearview mirror.

His white shirt collar was slightly open, his left hand rested on his knee, and the dial of his Patek Philippe watch gleamed warmly in the dimly lit carriage. He leaned back in his seat, looking out the window, completely relaxed as if he were in his own living room.

Liu Bing turned her gaze back to the road ahead.

One thought kept running through my mind.

Who exactly is this person?