Following Roger to an surprisingly ordinary-looking bar, An Feng was immediately struck by the crowd of fashionable men and women gathered outside.
It was clear that without being on a strict guest list, getting past the velvet rope was impossible.
After handing his Ferrari keys to the valet, Roger led the group straight to the front.
When a burly bouncer stepped forward to block their path, Roger casually pulled out a sleek, matte-black card, gave it a quick flick, and the bouncer immediately stepped aside with a polite nod.
Noticing An Feng’s curious stare, Roger explained as they walked inside, “This is a highly exclusive private club.
Celebrities hang out here all the time, so they’re always booked solid.
Ordinary people have to make reservations weeks in advance, or pay an astronomical membership fee.
The only other way is to do what I did—get the top-tier black card from AmEx.” “The Centurion?” An Feng asked, taking the card Roger offered.
It was surprisingly heavy, crafted from brushed titanium.
He knew the card was legendary, reserved strictly for the ultra-wealthy.
“Exactly.
AmEx only extends the invitation based on your annual spending.
It has a high fee, but there’s no credit limit, an insane overdraft capacity, 24/7 personal concierge service, and instant VIP access to the world’s most exclusive venues.
I just flash this, and they let me in, no questions asked.” An Feng handed it back.
“What do you think my chances are of getting invited?” Roger thought for a moment.
“Based on your current assets, you’re definitely a prime candidate.
If you make a few more high-ticket purchases, I can easily put in a word and guarantee your invitation.” “Like buying another hypercar?” An Feng asked with a smirk.
“Precisely,” Roger laughed.
“I’ve been talking to you all day, and that is the first time you’ve actually sounded like a billionaire.” They were escorted to a spacious, secluded booth lined with plush leather sofas.
Since it was still early, the lounge wasn’t overly crowded yet.
Beyond the incredibly creative interior design and the sheer size of the venue, An Feng didn’t find the bar particularly mind-blowing.
The girls, however, were in high spirits, immediately whispering and pointing out local gossip.
“Is it always like this?” An Feng asked, genuinely curious.
Roger shrugged, swirling his glass of champagne.
“Who knows?
A lot of high-profile people come here to see and be seen.
But to me, it’s just a place to grab a drink.” An Feng smiled.
‘I definitely still have a lot to learn when it comes to acting this casually rich.’ As they chatted, the conversation naturally drifted to the ladies.
An Feng couldn’t help but notice how incredibly forward Roger was.
This guy had only known his Latina companion for a brief period, yet he was already cuddling and kissing her in front of everyone without a hint of hesitation.
Initially, An Feng felt a bit of traditional Eastern reserve creeping in.
But after a couple of dry martinis, his confidence surged and he began to relax.
Thanks to Joanna’s grueling etiquette and language lessons, he was starting to understand the casual, expressive nature of Western social culture.
Amused by An Feng’s quick-witted banter, Roger raised his glass with a grin.
“You know, Alex is hands-down the most fun Chinese guy I’ve ever met.
Most of the guys from back home are so rigid, or they just stick to their own tiny circles.
But you’re different.
You’re incredibly special.” Roger suddenly stood up, raising his flute.
“To our very special Alex!” They all clinked their glasses together in a lively toast.
As Roger slid back onto the sofa, he leaned in.
“By the way, there’s an exclusive, private jewelry showcase happening in Los Angeles in a few days.
It’s paired with a charity auction.
A lot of top business magnates, politicians, and Hollywood A-listers will be there.
Are you interested?” Roger then glanced slyly at Jenny, a knowing smirk on his face.
“And yes, you’ll definitely need a beautiful date.” An Feng blinked, realizing Roger was trying to play matchmaker.
Cathy immediately nudged Jenny’s shoulder, whispering excitedly, “Oh my gosh, Jenny!
I heard major producers and directors are always at those charity gigs.
If you can rub shoulders with them, it could be your big break!” “Could I…
really go with you?” Jenny asked, turning her large, striking blue eyes toward An Feng with an expression of pure, hopeful excitement.
An Feng couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.
“Of course.
If you want to go, I’d be delighted to have you.” “Yes!” Jenny cheered, happily throwing her arms around him in a brief, excited hug.
Roger winked at An Feng.
“Trust me, Alex, it’s a great event to attend.
Rubbing shoulders with local business leaders and politicians is never a bad thing when you’re establishing yourself here.” ‘Ah, so he’s trying to introduce me to his network,’ An Feng thought.
He didn’t mind.
In a capitalist society like the United States, power and wealth walked hand in hand.
Building these connections was just a different version of the relationship-building back home—only here, it was fueled by Benjamins.
When the night finally wound down, they prepared to head home.
An Feng and Jenny swapped numbers, keeping things warm and friendly without any awkward, forced romance.
As they watched the two girls wave goodbye and hail a cab, Roger emerged from the lobby and nudged An Feng with his elbow.
“Man, why didn’t you make a move?
Both of them were totally into you.” An Feng rolled his eyes.
“Come on, Roger.
We literally just met today.” “So what?
Opportunities don’t just fall into your lap, my friend; you have to create them!
As long as you want it, it’s yours.
Tell me, what do you think of Jenny?” “She’s beautiful, incredibly sweet, and fun to talk to,” An Feng admitted.
“But again, it’s only been a few hours.” Roger burst out laughing.
“Who cares!
Look at me—do you think I’m planning our wedding?
It’s completely fine to just live in the moment, even if it’s just for one wild night!
Who says every date has to end with a marriage proposal?
My shy Eastern friend, you need to let go and actually start enjoying your incredible wealth!” With a victorious, slightly drunken grin, Roger piled into a waiting stretch Lincoln, wrapping his arms around his date as the door shut.
‘Unbelievable.
Absolutely zero loyalty,’ An Feng thought with a chuckle.
He pulled out his phone and opened a ride-hailing app to book himself a designated driver.
The next morning, An Feng woke up to a phone call from the acquisition manager at Teraland.
The manager explained that after reviewing his scientific data, they were highly impressed, but their actual financial situation presented a hurdle.
Instead of purchasing the patents outright, they proposed a corporate restructuring: they wanted to value An Feng’s two agricultural patents at eight million dollars, exchanging them for a thirty-percent equity stake in the company.
As for an outright cash buyout, they simply didn’t have the liquid capital to pull it off without crippling their operational budget.
An Feng didn’t commit to the offer immediately, telling them he needed time to think it over.
When he opened his laptop to check his email, he found a message from another interested firm.
He dialed their number and spent ten minutes on the phone, but the call was disappointing.
They were willing to do a cash buyout, but their absolute ceiling was four million dollars.
Because An Feng was an independent researcher and couldn’t provide multi-year, large-scale industrial trial data, they viewed the acquisition as a high-risk gamble.
An Feng politely declined.
He knew his biological formulas were worth far more than a measly four million.
He spent the entire morning pacing around his living room, weighing his options.
Currently, these were the only two viable leads.
One company offered the valuation he wanted but couldn’t give him cash, leaving him with non-liquid equity.
The other had the cash but was offering less than half of what his technology was worth.
The path to his first major payout was proving to be much more complicated than he had anticipated.
‘Do they think high-end biotechnology is some clearance-bin special?’ An Feng grumbled, flopping onto his bed in frustration.
‘Ignorant earthlings!’ After staring at the ceiling and complaining to himself for a solid ten minutes, a sudden flash of inspiration struck him.
If neither of the passive options satisfied him, why on earth was he sitting around waiting to accept them?
Teraland was clearly desperate for his formula, but they lacked the cash.
He knew from his research that Teraland had an excellent brand reputation and a solid distribution network, but they were losing market share simply because their core products had hit a technological bottleneck.
An Feng’s bio-organic fertilizer was the exact miracle cure they needed to save their business.
‘What if…
instead of just accepting thirty percent…
I leverage a few more of my agricultural patents to negotiate a fifty-one percent controlling stake?
Or even higher?’ If he took control of the company, he could steer their development, implement his own vision, and transform from a passive observer into an active decision-maker.
With a fully established corporate vehicle under his command, he could successfully bring an entire wave of future technologies to the market.
“I am an absolute genius!” An Feng shouted, jumping off the bed with a massive grin.
“Yes!
That’s the play!
But first, I need to call Lei and have him recruit a top-tier financial analyst and a personal assistant.” At his core, An Feng’s grand ideas were always tempered by one defining trait: he was incredibly lazy.
Now that he was wealthy, his primary goal in life was comfort and enjoyment.
Aside from the things that genuinely sparked his interest—like his horses and his private lab work—he preferred to let professionals handle the heavy lifting.
He was a firm believer in the art of delegating: a few quick phone calls to set the strategy, and let the hired experts handle the execution.
Setting his phone down, he let out a relaxed sigh.
He would leave the complex financial structuring to the experts.
All he had to do was wait for their final proposal, and either nod or shake his head.