12th January, 10 o'clock in the morning.
Shanghai mornings were usually crisp and gray in winter, sunlight breaking only in fractured beams through the smog. Today was no exception, except for what greeted Wang Xiao as he stepped into his gated villa.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
"…The hell?"
Beside him, Wang Jiarong froze too, clutching her light-beige colored scarf tighter. Her voice was small. "…Is this really our house?"
The driveway looked like some billionaire's private auction lot. A white Pagani shinning like polished ivory, next to it an emerald green Lamborghini that looked like it had been dipped in liquid green jade. A blood-red Ferrari, two McLarens, even a Koenigsegg casually nosed against the hedge. Seven, maybe eight hypercars in total, parked without a shred of care.
Wang Xiao's Porsche, the one his mother gifted him, now looked like a hatchback parked at the wrong party.
