Eight o'clock the next morning.
Wang Zhefei threw on a floral T-shirt, baggy shorts, and flip-flops. He slipped on the Richard Mille, grabbed the Lamborghini keys, and left home, driving all the way to the office.
He deliberately put the windows down and the top back, even though the morning sun was already getting scorching, making his scalp feel warm.
But... damn, it felt good!
He gripped the steering wheel with one hand, nonchalantly resting his other arm—the one with the Richard Mille—on the open windowsill.
He pulled up to a red light, right at the front of the line. In the next lane, the passenger window of a BMW suddenly rolled down.
A young woman was driving, and another was in the passenger seat.
"Hey, handsome. Where you headed?"
The pink-haired girl in the passenger seat called out with a flirtatious smile.
"It's a rental. Don't waste your time hitting on me!"
