An Feng got in touch with Teraland by phone, spending over ten minutes chatting with one of their acquisition managers.
He walked the representative through the biological mechanisms and clear market advantages of his new organic fertilizers.
When asked for his valuation, An Feng casually quoted ten million dollars.
The manager didn’t immediately accept or decline, stating instead that they needed to review the technical data further and discuss it internally.
An Feng wasn’t worried about them stealing his formula, so he happily emailed over the informational packets he had prepared earlier.
In the United States, intellectual property laws were fiercely protective.
He already held the registered patents.
If they tried to copy his work, he’d essentially be handed a winning lottery ticket in court fees and damages.
‘Go ahead, try me,’ he thought with a grin.
‘I’ll buy a second vineyard just with the settlement money.’ After hanging up, An Feng headed back to his home gym to resume his battle with the barbell.
Lately, the estate had felt incredibly quiet.
Joanna and her family had flown down to Florida for a vacation.
When they spoke on the phone yesterday, she had loudly complained about how boring the family reunion was, claiming she would rather be back in California shoveling horse manure.
An Feng had laughingly told her to relax, enjoy her vacation, and try not to be the odd one out.
But after only twenty-four hours of silence, he was already starting to regret his advice.
Having no one around to talk to was surprisingly dull.
He couldn’t exactly corner his vineyard workers and force them into long, deep conversations; they actually had jobs to do, while he, as the boss, had the luxury of lounging around all day.
With the summer heat turning oppressive outdoors, trail riding was temporarily off the table.
Left with no other options, An Feng decided to stay inside, work out, and begin training his two Retriever puppies, Pipi and Eggy, on the treadmill.
His grand plan was to raise them into elite hunting dogs.
California’s hunting season opened in the winter.
All he needed to do was obtain a hunting license, and he could head into the wilderness with a shotgun to track deer, antelope, wild boar, or even black bears.
By the time winter rolled around, his two little giants would be mostly grown.
Even if they weren’t ready to wrestle a black bear, they could surely handle chasing a rabbit, right?
After grinding through his final set of bench presses, An Feng collapsed onto the bench, panting.
He had kept up his gym routine since his college days, but his physical progress had never been this explosive.
He suspected that whatever bio-pharmaceutical had enhanced his brain was also quietly, systematically optimizing his physical body.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he didn’t have the cartoonishly bulky physique of a professional bodybuilder, but his lean, athletic definition was easily on par with a Hollywood action star.
Standing at 181 centimeters and weighing just over 86 kilograms, his bench press limit had somehow reached a staggering 200 kilograms.
‘No wonder that M1911 barely felt like it had any recoil the other day,’ he mused, flexing a bit in the mirror.
Before he could get too carried away posing, his phone buzzed.
It was Lei, his personal banker.
An Feng wiped his sweat with a towel and walked over to the window to answer.
Lei frequently contacted him with exclusive invitations to charity auctions, golf tournaments, and fashion events.
An Feng had attended a fashion showcase recently and found it quite eye-opening.
This time, Lei was inviting him to an upscale auto show.
Unlike the massive, highly corporate industry events in Geneva or Frankfurt, this was a more exclusive, relaxed gathering featuring rare manufacturer displays and private collections.
An Feng asked for the location, liked what he heard, and agreed to go.
Two days later, he polished up his convertible Ferrari and hit the road.
In California, distances weren’t measured in miles, but in time.
A fifteen-minute drive was considered right around the corner, and anything under an hour was practically next door.
Besides, with the top down and the coastal breeze in his hair, the two-hour drive to Monterey County felt like a luxury in itself.
The show was held in a coastal valley near Pebble Beach, a region famous for its historic tracks and legendary classic car gatherings.
As he approached the venue, the local car culture was on full display.
The roads were packed with convertibles—mostly classic Ford Mustangs and Chevrolet Camaros—alongside thunderous fleets of Harley-Davidsons.
The attendees wore the classic California uniform: sunglasses, casual short-sleeve shirts, fitted jeans, and relaxed smiles.
As An Feng was searching for a parking spot, he watched a sleek, matte-black Lamborghini pull up to the curb.
The scissor door swung upward, and a foot wearing a casual rubber flip-flop stepped out onto the pavement.
‘Now that is peak California wealth,’ An Feng laughed to himself.
After finding a spot, he hopped out of his car.
A woman stepping out of a Corvette Z06 parked next to him caught his eye, smiled warmly, and offered a polite “good afternoon.” An Feng smiled and returned the greeting.
He noticed that in these high-end gatherings, people were incredibly friendly and polite, even to total strangers.
It was a stark contrast to the chaotic, high-stress rush of Los Angeles, where road rage and casual insults were practically a daily sport.
Slipping his sunglasses into his pocket, An Feng showed his digital invitation at the VIP gate.
The event was delightfully low-key.
The crowd was a mix of invited affluent collectors and passionate automotive journalists.
Walking onto the manicured lawns, the atmosphere was a far cry from the chaotic commercial auto shows back in China.
There were no aggressive sales pitches, no loud music, and no scantily clad models distracting from the machinery.
The cars were parked elegantly on the grass.
Aside from a few ultra-rare vintage pieces protected by low decorative ropes, most vehicles were completely accessible.
An Feng found himself wandering into an incredible display of legendary supercars.
He spotted a silver-gray McLaren F1, an absolute masterpiece of 1990s engineering, kept in pristine, museum-quality condition by its private owner.
Over at the Ferrari section, the iconic brand had brought out a striking 599 GTO, alongside their historic and modern flagships: the legendary Enzo and the hybrid LaFerrari.
An Feng pulled out his phone to snap a few pictures, fitting right in with the casual crowd.
The spectators seemed to fall into two distinct camps: casual phone-snappers like himself, and hardcore automotive journalists carrying heavy DSLR cameras with massive lenses.
Further down the lawn, An Feng ran into a true crown jewel of the automotive world: a vintage Ferrari 250 GT California Spyder.
This 1960s classic was easily one of the most valuable Ferrari models in existence, with pristine examples commanding tens of millions of dollars at auction.
They were appreciating at over fifteen percent a year, making them a better investment than most prime real estate.
Fascinated by the car’s flawless lines, An Feng took two steps backward to frame a dramatic wide-angle shot on his phone.
Bump.
“Oh!” a voice gasped behind him.
An Feng spun around quickly.
“Oh, I am so sorry!
I wasn’t looking where I was stepping.” “No, it’s completely fine.
I was standing too close,” the woman replied with a warm, easy smile.
She was a striking blonde, dressed in white sneakers, denim shorts, and a lightweight long-sleeve shirt tied casually at her waist.
She glanced at the classic Ferrari on An Feng’s screen.
“Do you like this one?” An Feng smiled.
“It’s a legend.
Honestly, I’m just incredibly impressed by the owner.
Keeping a piece of history running this flawlessly takes serious dedication.” “Could you use my camera to take a photo of me with it?” she asked, handing him a high-end compact camera.
“Of course.” She walked over to the front of the classic car, leaning back slightly and casually tossing her hair.
Her poses were effortless and highly photogenic.
An Feng quickly captured the moments, timing the shutter perfectly.
“You look fantastic in these!” An Feng said, handing the camera back.
She scrolled through the shots, her eyes lighting up.
“Wow, your reflexes are really fast!
These are great.” An Feng grinned.
“When the subject is beautiful, the photographer’s job is pretty easy.” She laughed.
“You’re quite a charmer.” “Just speaking the truth,” An Feng said.
“Are you a professional model?
Your posing is incredibly natural.” “I’ve done a bit of modeling work,” she replied, shaking her head playfully.
“But no, I’m actually an actress.
Just starting out, mostly small roles.
My name is Jennifer, but my friends call me Jenny.” “Nice to meet you, Jenny.
I’m Alex,” An Feng said, offering a hand.
“An actress!
Now I can say I met a future Hollywood star.” Jenny laughed, clearly pleased by his easygoing humor.
“How about I take a picture of you with the car now?” An Feng stepped back into the frame, and Jenny snapped a few excellent photos of him.
After reviewing them, she looked up with a spark of mischief in her eyes.
“We should take one together.” “I’d be honored,” An Feng replied.
Jenny stepped close, raising her camera for a quick selfie.
Unsatisfied with the lighting, she grabbed An Feng’s phone instead, deleted a few test shots she didn’t like, and took a fresh pair of photos where they both looked great.
“There,” she said, handing the phone back with a satisfied smirk.
“Now you have a photo of the absolute best-looking Jenny.” An Feng chuckled.
“Perfect.
When you’re winning Oscars in a few years, I’ll show this to my friends back home to make them incredibly jealous.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Jenny smiled.
“Do you want to walk the rest of the show together?” “The pleasure is all mine,” An Feng said, offering a polite gesture to lead the way.
As they strolled through the displays, An Feng shared what he knew about the various models, while Jenny talked about what brought her to Monterey.
“I’m actually here supporting a close friend,” she explained.
“She’s a professional model working the elite car auction this afternoon.
I brought my camera along to take some behind-the-scenes photos for her.” An Feng checked his watch.
“The auction doesn’t start for a while, does it?” “Yeah, but they have to be there hours early for makeup, rehearsals, and positioning.
It’s just like acting—doing the exact same thing over and over again until you get it perfect.
Just like our selfie.” An Feng nodded in agreement.
Jenny pulled a tissue from her pocket, lightly dabbing her forehead.
“Whew, it’s getting really warm out here.
Want to grab a drink and take a break?” “Sure, though I have to admit, I don’t know the local spots very well,” An Feng said.
“Oh, I know an amazing artisanal ice cream parlor just outside the venue,” Jenny said, her tiredness instantly vanishing at the mention of dessert.
An Feng laughed at her sudden burst of energy.
“Lead the way.” “It’s a bit too far to walk in this heat, though,” she noted.
“Should we drive?” “We can take my car.
I’ll go pull it around,” An Feng said.
A few minutes later, An Feng purred up to the curb in his brilliant red Ferrari convertible.
Jenny’s jaw dropped slightly.
“Wow…
this is your car?
I should have guessed!” An Feng smiled, leaning over to open the door.
“Doesn’t it suit me?
Hop in.” Jenny slid into the leather passenger seat, looking around the luxurious cockpit with genuine excitement.
“It’s gorgeous.
No wonder you were admiring those classics on the lawn.” “I suppose I have that classic Ferrari to thank,” An Feng said, shifting into gear.
“Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bumped into you.” He pressed the accelerator, and the throaty roar of the Ferrari engine echoed off the surrounding buildings as they swept out onto the coastal road.
Jenny pulled out her phone, suddenly groaning.
“Ugh, I forgot my sunglasses in my friend’s trailer!
Oh well, let’s take a driving selfie anyway.” She leaned over toward him, aiming the camera back at the two of them.
An Feng, his sunglasses securely on, flashed a cool, movie-star grin for the lens.