"Old Wang, how'd it go?" The chubby guy in the passenger seat couldn't wait to ask the moment they got into Wang Xingyu's Cayenne.
Wang Xingyu vigorously rubbed his face with both hands before finally saying, "He's out of my league! I don't dare mess with him. In the future, I might even need to suck up to him!"
Wang Xingyu wasn't some ignorant, hedonistic heir. He knew how to size up a situation—a skill his upbringing had taught him from a young age.
"Oh? What do you mean?" Glasses leaned forward from the back seat, moving his head closer.
Wang Xingyu said helplessly, "You all know about that astronomical contract between Nirvana Technology and Modu Phoenix, right?"
"Of course we do! We were just talking about what that company would even do with so many bikes. In hindsight, our foresight was totally off!" the scruffy youth, who had been quiet until now and was dressed in clean casual wear, chimed in.
