I couldn't take it anymore; when I went home for Chinese New Year, the family genealogy book ha

"That yellow one! That red one! And that blue one! I'll take them all!"

With a cigarette dangling from his lips, Jiang Haoran stepped onto the marble steps of the supercar dealership showroom and shoved the black bank card in the face of the nearest salesman.

The black card grazed the salesman's nose and slammed onto the display shelf at the front desk.

The salesman paused for a second.

He looked at the card, then at the person in front of him.

He had an exaggeratedly dyed head of yellow hair, wore tight pants and loafers, and had a frighteningly thick gold chain around his neck—although it was fake.

He walks with his toes pointing outwards, and he's smoking a Zhonghua cigarette.

Two young men dressed similarly followed behind him; one was chewing gum, and the other was filming a live stream on his phone.

A typical nouveau riche from a rural town.

The sales guy has been in this job for three years and has seen all kinds of people.

He bent down, picked up the black card from the ground, and glanced at it.

Swiss banks.

"Please wait a moment! I'll call our manager over!"

Sales Manager Li rushed out of the office faster than if he'd been fueled by a rocket.

"Young Master Jiang! It's a pleasure to meet you! I've long admired your name!"

Jiang Haoran, with his nostrils flared, said, "Stop talking nonsense. Did you hear what I just said?"

"I heard it! I heard it!"

Mr. Li rubbed his hands together, his eyes gleaming.

"You mean that Lamborghini Huracán STO, that Ferrari F8, and that McLaren 720S?"

"Yes! Those three!" Jiang Haoran flicked his cigarette butt and stubbed it out. "How much? Give me a straight answer!"

"Lamborghini Huracán STO, on-road price 4.8 million. Ferrari F8, on-road price 3.9 million. McLaren 720S, on-road price 4.2 million. The total for these three cars..."

Mr. Li quickly did some mental calculations.

"Twelve million nine hundred thousand."

"Alright, swipe your card!"

Jiang Haoran didn't even look at it, and waved his hand dismissively.

The assistant, who was livestreaming nearby, shoved the camera in front of the POS machine and excitedly shouted into the phone, "Guys! 12.9 million! Three supercars! Cash on the spot! Guess who my brother Hao is?"

A few viewers in the live stream sent a few comments.

"Was this a rented 4S store used to film a short video?"

"It's fake, it must be fake."

"The wrinkles on your clothes aren't even ironed out, and you're talking about a supercar?"

Jiang Haoran did not watch the live stream.

He was circling the yellow Lamborghini, stroking the car with both hands, his eyes shining like light bulbs.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit!"

He said "fuck" three times in a row, his voice getting louder and louder.

"This car is fucking awesome!"

Mr. Li, standing beside him with a smile, said, "Young Master Jiang has excellent taste! This STO is a limited edition; there are only three in the entire province!"

"Drive this one first!" Jiang Haoran slapped the roof of the car. "Give me the keys!"

Mr. Li hesitated for a moment: "Young Master Jiang, this... the new car hasn't been registered yet, if we drive it directly—"

"Stop arguing! Let's go for a spin first! We'll deal with the temporary license plate later! Do you know how far I drove all the way from Qingshui Town?"

Mr. Li opened his mouth, but in the end he handed over the keys.

The customer is king.

The customer for the three supercars is God's father.

Jiang Haoran took the keys and flicked them around—almost sending them flying.

He opened the gull-wing door of the Lamborghini and plopped inside.

All eyes in the exhibition hall turned to this.

Other customers, salespeople, security guards, and even cleaning ladies who were looking at the car all stopped what they were doing and watched as the blond-haired young man got into the 4.8 million yuan supercar.

Jiang Haoran's first reaction upon sitting in the cockpit was—why is the steering wheel so small?

He touched the paddle shifters behind the steering wheel and looked at the densely packed buttons on the center console, none of which he recognized.

But that doesn't stop him from showing off.

"Buzz—!!"

He stepped on the brake and pressed the start button.

The V10 engine exploded in the showroom.

The sound was like a firecracker going off in a closed space, making the spotlights on the ceiling shake.

Several female customers who were looking at cars were so frightened that they screamed.

The security guard adjusted his ear, and his face turned pale.

Jiang Haoran's adrenaline surged to its peak.

"Let's go!"

He shifted into a gear—he wasn't really sure which gear it was, but he flicked the left paddle shifter—and then moved his right foot from the brake to the accelerator.

The accelerator pedal in a Lamborghini is completely different from that in a regular Santana.

Jiang Haoran could count the number of times he touched the steering wheel at the driving school on one hand.

With the Santana pressed down one-third of the accelerator, the car leisurely moved forward.

With the Lamborghini flooring the accelerator to one-third full, the 530 horsepower made the rear wheels spin wildly half a circle, then the whole car shot off like a cannonball.

"Awooo!!" Jiang Haoran screamed in fright.

He instinctively jerked the steering wheel.

The front of the car tilted to one side.

The white marble pillar at the entrance of the exhibition hall, with a diameter of 40 centimeters and a base half a meter high, has been standing in the middle of the entrance for ten years.

Today it faces the biggest test of its life.

"Bang—!!!"

The carbon fiber front of the car crashed into a white marble pillar.

Loud noise.

Debris flew everywhere.

The front bumper of the Lamborghini STO shattered completely. The hood popped up and slammed onto the windshield. The left headlight flew three meters away and landed with a thud on the welcome carpet at the showroom entrance, its casing breaking into pieces.

Two airbags deployed simultaneously, making two muffled thuds as one airbag struck Jiang Haoran's face and the other slammed into his chest.

The entire exhibition hall fell silent for a second.

Then everyone spoke at the same time.

Someone screamed.

Someone is cursing.

Someone is laughing.

The assistant, who was live-streaming, nearly dropped his phone and stammered into the camera, "Guys! Something...something's happened! Hao-ge crashed! He crashed into a pillar!"

The live stream chat exploded instantly.

Hahahaha!

"Driving a supercar without a license?"

"Four million eight hundred thousand worth of fireworks!"

"I suggest scrapping it completely! Scramble it along with the driver!"

Mr. Li froze on the spot, his face as white as a corpse.

He stared at the Lamborghini still smoking and the white marble pillar at the entrance, which had been bent at a 15-degree angle. His knees went weak, and he almost knelt down.

"My car...my stone pillar..."

Ten minutes later.

The traffic police have arrived.

The insurance company has arrived.

The ambulance arrived—although Jiang Haoran was mostly unharmed except for a bruised and swollen face from being hit by the airbag.

He covered his bleeding nose as he was pulled out of the cockpit and plopped down on the curb in front of the 4S store.

The traffic police officer checked his documents.

"Where's your driver's license?"

Jiang Haoran felt his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

Driving school registration form.

I haven't taken the theory test yet.

The traffic police officer remained silent for three seconds before closing the notebook.

"Driving without a license. Vehicle impounded. Fine. Detention."

Three words, six characters, there is no fourth option.

It was only then that President Li recovered and rushed to Jiang Haoran with a calculator in hand.

"Young Master Jiang! The repair costs for this car, plus compensation for Shi Zhu, plus the repairs to the showroom floor—"

He turned the calculator over to show Jiang Haoran the numbers.

"Five million six hundred and seventy thousand."

Jiang Haoran stared at the string of numbers, his face covered in a mixture of nosebleed and tears.

A car worth 4.8 million.

The repair cost was 5.67 million.

Before I even drove the car out of the dealership, the repair costs were more expensive than the car itself.

"Brother Hao!" The livestream's henchman leaned over and whispered. "Someone in the chat said you should crash the other two cars too, to make it a lucky number."

Jiang Haoran lifted his bloodied face and slapped the phone away.

"roll!!!"

On the curb, 22-year-old Jiang Haoran, clutching his bleeding nose, stared at the smoking wreckage of the Lamborghini and fell into deep silence.

When he left Jiangjia Village, he felt that he could not spend 300 million yuan.

Now he's starting to think that 300 million might not last long.

Meanwhile, in the Dijingwan Villa in Qinghe County, his mother, Wu Xiulian, was on the phone.

The news that came from the other end of the phone was even more devastating for her than the news of Jiang Haoran's car accident.

His father, Jiang Jianwen, got so caught up in stock trading at a securities company in the provincial capital that he lost his mind.

Ten million, gone.

Two months have passed.

The lives of the four families deteriorated day by day.

Finally, someone couldn't take it anymore—the first person to want to go back to Jiangjia Village was Liu Cuifen.