"Hello, it's me… Oh… That's a pity… We'll have to work together again if the chance comes in the future. Okay, okay… Goodbye."
After saying the last words, Deputy Director Li hung up the phone. With a trace of helplessness on his face, he walked over to Director Lu, who was leisurely sipping tea in the distance.
"What? He turned us down?" Director Lu asked without surprise, savoring another sip. The tea in his cup had come from Jiang Hai himself—half a catty gifted when they parted ways yesterday. For someone of Lu's standing, normally he would only have access to three taels of tea of this quality. This half-catty was precious. In fact, across all of China, fewer than twenty people could drink this grade of tea as freely as Jiang Hai.
"Yeah, he refused," Deputy Director Li said, shrugging helplessly.
"Honestly, I can't blame him. If I were him, I wouldn't agree either." Director Lu set down his cup with a chuckle. From the beginning, ever since he learned Jiang Hai made billions annually, he had doubted the mission's chances. He might not speak English, but he wasn't a fool.
"You're right. From the start, the higher-ups miscalculated. They thought dangling a $300 million profit would lure him in. But the moment Jiang Hai understood the risks, the outcome was inevitable." Deputy Director Li sighed. It seemed to him that people at the top often oversimplified reality.
"Forget it. We've done our part. Whether it succeeds or fails is no longer our concern. Jiang Hai rejected us. Let's just enjoy ourselves here for a few days and then head back." Director Lu laughed lightly. They had known from the beginning the chances were slim. First, they had tried to buy Jiang Hai's estate for $1.2 billion—an impossible ask. Was Jiang Hai crazy enough to sell? Then they had tried to bait him with a $300 million development scheme. Was Jiang Hai desperate for money? Obviously not.
If they were in China, things might have been different. But here, in America? Impossible.
"True enough. Tsk tsk… Still, the tea and wine here are worth savoring," Deputy Director Li said, finally letting go of his frustration. After all, this failure wasn't on them. Better to make the most of their stay.
Meanwhile, Jiang Hai was entirely unbothered. After his morning call to Deputy Director Li, he slipped back into his usual easygoing lifestyle.
Day after day, Jiang Hai lived in idleness. To outsiders, his life seemed enviable—surrounded by wealth, women, and luxury. He ate the best beef, fish, pork, and vegetables, drank the finest wines, and had no shortage of money.
But in truth, it was monotonous. With everything at his fingertips, what was left to pursue? Others needed goals to drive them forward; Jiang Hai no longer did.
As a certain billionaire once remarked, "Set a goal: make 100 million yuan, and see how long it takes you." Jiang Hai realized that reaching 100 million was now a trivial matter for him.
He was not the type to chase thrills or hardship anymore. Social changes and his own maturity had smoothed out his edges. He remembered his younger days, when excitement was everything. In elementary school, watching Digimon or Slam Dunk could keep him fired up for hours. Later, One Piece, Naruto, and Bleach filled him with passion. (Why were they all Japanese shows? Best not to dwell on it.)
Back then, he even admired the characters in Young and Dangerous, dreaming of time-traveling, leveling up in another world, slaying monsters, and gaining powers to unify the world. But by twenty-five, he knew those were nothing more than fantasies. Reality made them seem hollow.
People grow. Their pursuits change. Where once Jiang Hai dreamed of being Long Aotian, now he was content just to relax. Perhaps uninspiring to others, but to him—and to his envious friends—it was happiness.
Everyone's goals differ: some crave admiration, some want to change the world, others keep themselves busy to find meaning. To Jiang Hai, life was simpler: working was only ever about money. And since he already had more than enough, what was the point?
And so, he spent his days reclining, half-dreaming in a haze of food, wine, and ease.
This morning was no different. After breakfast, he strolled around the manor, then settled under his favorite tree in the courtyard, lazily preparing for lunch. Just as he was dozing off, the doorbell rang.
A delivery van was parked at the gate.
"Here we go," Jiang Hai muttered, pouting at the reluctant driver. He hopped on his four-wheeled motorcycle and rode over.
Truth be told, Chinese forums often praised America's greatness, but Jiang Hai had never once seen anyone praise its express delivery system. For good reason—Chinese couriers were leagues ahead. No, not just a street ahead, but miles, even highways ahead.
American delivery was atrocious: slow, unfriendly, and rarely door-to-door. A package from Amazon would take nine days on average—three to seven days plus weekends and holidays, which were excluded. Paying extra could get faster service, but often the fee cost more than the product itself.
In China, even with mishaps, packages usually arrived in four days, with couriers polite enough to call ahead. Some would even deliver straight to your door, or at worst, leave it in a community drop box—for free. America? Forget it. Couriers might drive up, knock once, and leave. If you weren't home, your package went back. Fail to collect it? They returned it to sender, with no refund. Want it again? Pay again.
No wonder Americans weren't obsessed with online shopping. Delivery was too costly, too slow, and too unreliable.
Jiang Hai's household, however, was used to it. Two of his women even ran micro-businesses, so deliveries were routine.
"What is it this time?" Jiang Hai asked the men in the van as they hauled out a large box.
"Who knows… Damn, it's heavy! Man, your woman really knows how to spend…" one of them grumbled, shoving the box at him with a sour face. Jiang Hai ignored the attitude—he was used to it.
The label said it was from San Francisco. Jiang Hai frowned. Heavy, mysterious, and unfamiliar. After signing, he hauled the package onto his cart and brought it back toward the house.
Just then, Feng Yunchen and Ai Xiaoxi rushed out, eyes bright with anticipation.
"What did you buy this time?" Jiang Hai asked, puzzled.
"You heartless man, this was bought for you!" they replied in unison, rolling their eyes.
Jiang Hai blinked, more confused than ever. What on earth could they have ordered for him?
(To be continued.)