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

Ji Yanran stood to the side of the Rolls-Royce Phantom's hood, dragging a suitcase in her left hand and clutching the car key in her right. The cool touch of the metal key against her palm felt like holding a stabilizing anchor.

A string of titles flashed through her mind: Executive President of Investment Bank Greater China, MBA from Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania... These halos spun around her head, and then she slapped them away.

Go and become a personal driver for a young man in his early twenties?

If this gets back to the financial circles in Beijing, those competitors who were once utterly defeated by her at the negotiating table will probably buy firecrackers to celebrate and laugh themselves silly.

Face. Dignity. The pride of workplace elites.

These things were tilted high on one side of the scale, almost as if they were about to fly into the sky.

On the other side of the scale lies a promise of an annual salary of ten million in cash, plus a complete acquisition deal worth nine billion.

Ji Yanran's inner struggle lasted for about a millisecond.

With a loud crash, the scales smashed through the first-floor floor and headed straight for the underground parking garage.

How much is face worth? Can dignity buy a large apartment in downtown Shanghai? No. But ten million can, and even buy two—one for yourself and one for your cat.

"A driver it is," Ji Yanran muttered in a low voice. "If a dog won't do it, I will. I'll do the job of a driver—no, being a driver is at least a respectable profession. I'm a high-end version of a private car concierge, understand?"

She dragged her suitcase, walked quickly to the back of the car, pressed the trunk release, lifted the suitcase, stuffed it in, and slammed the trunk shut. Even the sound of the trunk lid closing smelled of money.

She walked around to the driver's seat, opened the door, and crouched down to sit inside. The leather seats offered a wonderfully enveloping feel, like being gently hugged from behind—this thought flashed through Ji Yanran's mind, but she immediately dismissed it. Focus on driving, don't let your imagination run wild.

She stepped on the brake and pressed the start button. The V12 engine emitted a deep roar, then fell into extreme silence, so quiet that she almost thought the car had stalled.

I shifted into Drive and lightly tapped the accelerator with my toe.

The massive vehicle had moved forward less than half a meter.

"squeak--!"

He slammed on the brakes. The tires screeched against the pavement with a short, muffled screech, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

In the back row, Li Yichen was leaning back in his chair when his body suddenly lurched forward by more than ten centimeters due to inertia, almost losing his hairstyle.

Ji Yanran turned her head, her expression innocent yet tinged with a hint of self-righteousness: "Boss, if you want me to drive, you have to give me an address, right? Although I am your driver, I can't read minds; I haven't developed that function yet."

Li Yichen stopped moving and straightened the hem of his suit jacket. He had been so focused on tossing the car keys over to look cool that he had forgotten to announce his destination.

"...Tomson Riviera." He leaned back in his chair, his tone as calm as if he were saying, "Just pick any subway station," "Villa No. 1, Area A."

Ji Yanran pressed the accelerator again. The black Rolls-Royce Phantom smoothly glided into the traffic on Nanjing West Road. The paint reflected a dazzling light. As it drove on the road, surrounding vehicles braked and changed lanes, giving way two or three meters of space.

No one dared to approach.

Scratching off a piece of paint can wipe out the down payment for a house—no, it can wipe out the down payment plus renovations.

Ji Yanran gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her gaze occasionally sweeping across the rearview mirror. In the back seat, the young man named Li Yichen was resting with his eyes closed; his eyelashes were quite long.

The little drama in her mind was already running at high speed: a young man in his early twenties casually offered an annual salary of ten million, casually handed over an eighteen million car to someone he had only known for less than ten minutes, without any background check or precautions, and was going to acquire Hongyuan New Energy, a company with a market value of nine billion.

That amount of funding, that kind of boldness.

She'd met a few heirs from top families in Shanghai—those guys certainly spent money lavishly, but even buying a bag would prompt them to post on social media with the caption "Treat yourself well." A multi-billion dollar acquisition? They could hesitate until the next generation was born.

Who exactly is this person?

Half an hour later, the Rolls-Royce turned into the gate of the Tomson Riviera villa complex. Upon seeing the familiar license plate, the security guard immediately stood at attention and saluted, letting the car through without any questions—his movements were so precise they could be on duty at Tiananmen Square.

The car stopped in front of the massive black forged iron gate of Villa No. 1 in Area A. Li Yichen took out his phone, tapped the screen, and the iron gate slowly slid open to both sides, like something out of a science fiction movie.

"Drive straight in and down to the underground parking garage," Li Yichen said.

Ji Yanran turned the steering wheel, and the car drove into the yard, following the gentle slope into the underground parking garage. As soon as the front of the car entered the garage, row after row of motion-sensor lights turned on, instantly filling the entire underground space with cold white light.

Ji Yanran slammed on the brakes with her right foot.

The Rolls-Royce came to a steady stop at the bottom of the ramp.

She sat in the driver's seat, her hands gripping the leather steering wheel tightly, her fingernails pressing deep marks into the leather cover—she'd have to pay for it later, but she couldn't worry about that for the moment.

In front.

In the spacious area of ​​several hundred square meters, a row of cars were parked neatly.

The carbon fiber body reflected a dazzling, cold light under the lamps. The one in the very center, with its black, streamlined body, exaggerated aerodynamic kit, and chassis extremely close to the ground—the Lamborghini Veneno. This car is a limited edition worldwide, with a price tag exceeding one hundred million.

Right next to the poison was a Bugatti La Voiture Noire, worth over 90 million, just a tiny bit short of a small goal.

Looking further to the side: Ferrari Roma, McLaren Artura, Aston Martin DBX, Bentley Bentayga. The cheapest one costs four or five million.

Ji Yanran had worked at a top investment bank for five years, handling billions of dollars, but those were just numbers on paper, strings of dry code, and Excel spreadsheets she'd stared at until her eyes were blurry after revising a PowerPoint presentation at 3 a.m. Now, top-tier industrial art, crafted with real money, was laid out before her without any concealment.

This is not a garage.

This is a small exhibition hall showcasing top-tier luxury cars. No, many high-end auto shows can't even gather this many limited-edition supercars—because the owners are unwilling to lend them out.

The last vestiges of doubt she had about the "9 billion acquisition" were utterly crushed in that instant. Someone who could turn hundreds of millions into toys and let them gather dust in a basement would be perfectly reasonable, even somewhat modest, to spend billions to acquire a company.

Li Yichen pushed open the back door, stepped out, walked to the driver's side, and knocked on the window.

"Knock knock".

Ji Yanran snapped out of her daze, opened the car door, and got out. Her high heels clicked crisply on the epoxy floor. She walked up to the Lamborghini Veneno, only half a meter away from the car; she could almost hear the carbon fiber breathing.

Li Yichen followed her over, raised his hand, and waved it in front of her eyes twice: "Are you stunned?"

Ji Yanran turned her head, pointed to the long row of luxury cars in front of her, and asked in a tone as if she were taking stock of products: "These cars... are they all yours?"

Li Yichen put his hands in his suit pockets and shrugged: "If it's not mine, how could it be yours?"

Ji Yanran was choked by those words, a lump forming in her throat, unable to rise or fall. This guy is quite handsome, so why does he talk so rudely? Are all good-looking people this sarcastic?

She gritted her teeth, turned her head away from Li Yichen, and refocused her gaze on the poison car, muttering to herself, "So what if you're rich... It's just a few beat-up cars, what's so special about them..."

He said that, but his eyes never left the carbon fiber car body, and he even unconsciously swallowed.

Li Yichen, who was close by, heard the muttering clearly and chuckled softly.

"Alright." He took half a step forward, standing next to Ji Yanran, his gaze also falling on the row of cars. His tone was as if he were discussing what to eat for dinner tonight. "If you can acquire Hongyuan New Energy for me within half a month—remember, I want 100% control, a clean shell company, without any debt disputes."

He raised his right hand and casually drew a large circle in the air, encompassing all the cars in the underground garage: "If you can do it, you can drive any of the cars in this garage."

Ji Yanran turned around abruptly, her high heels making a short, sharp sound as they scraped against the ground, almost causing her to twist her ankle.

She stared at Li Yichen, pointed with her right hand at the black Lamborghini Veneno, then at the Bugatti next to it: "Drive it however you want? That includes these two?"

Li Yichen nodded: "Okay."

The two words, spoken with conviction, carried a sense of nonchalance, as if to say, "Anyway, I have plenty of cars."

Ji Yanran took a deep breath.

A ten million annual salary, plus unlimited access to a top-of-the-line luxury car worth a hundred million—this isn't just working; it's a direct leap across social classes, experiencing the daily life of the ultra-rich. This motivational drive is so intense; she feels like she could demolish Hongyuan New Energy's office building with her bare hands.

"Boss." Ji Yanran stood ramrod straight, her hands hanging at her sides, her words crisp and clear, her eyes burning with a light that was somewhere between a professional elite and someone who had snagged a limited edition item. "Please arrange a room with a private desk for me immediately, gigabit broadband access required, and an iced Americano, less sugar, please. Thank you."

She paused for a moment, then added, "I'm going to start working now—by the way, where did you put the keys to your Bugatti? I'll hang them around my neck for now, as a source of motivation."