Super Rich: Rebirth of the Top-Tier Rich Second Generation

[Ding! Congratulations, everyone! Your Godly Rich System has been bound. Now, please enjoy your wonderful life to the fullest!]

[The system has issued its first task: Give this book a positive review, reward: a versatile 20cm pendulum!!!]

This book is set in a parallel universe and has no connection to reality. Please do not associate it with reality.

[This book is guaranteed to be updated regularly, at least six chapters a day, and frequently more than 10,000 words a day. There will be no breaks in updates; if the author breaks an update, he'll have no brothers!!!]

[Note: Minors should read this book with parental supervision!]

Dividing line ————————————————————

"Change your posture, turn around." Jiang Yan said in a commanding tone.

The woman in front of him gave a submissive, coquettish hum.

Without the slightest hesitation, she immediately and obediently turned around as Jiang Yan instructed.

With his back to Jiang Yan, he rested his hands on the headboard.

She even deliberately turned around and gave Jiang Yan a charming yet pleading look.

She seemed afraid that she might not have done something right and displease this top-tier tycoon who could easily book a presidential suite.

In the presidential suite on the top floor of a top-tier five-star hotel in Beijing, China.

A luxurious and languid atmosphere permeated the air.

Jiang Yan, his muscular upper body bare, leaned lazily against the headboard.

One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million, ten million, hundred million, billion, billion.

A full 1.17 billion!

Jiang Yan stared at the string of numbers and suddenly burst out laughing.

That smile contained mockery, relief, and a deep sense of desolation.

He closed his eyes, and a scene suddenly appeared in his mind—himself from his past life, the poor researcher who, in order to pay off a three million yuan mortgage and to get ahead, slumped on the cold, hard lab table like a dog, and ultimately worked himself to death.

The scene reversed, like a black and white silent film, abruptly pulling his thoughts back to that unforgettable past.

That was in my past life, in a key laboratory of a physics research institute in the capital of China.

The electronic clock on the wall displayed the cold time: 3:15 a.m.

"The data... finally matches up."

Jiang Yan sat in front of the computer, his eyes bloodshot, as sets of materials physics experimental data scrolled rapidly across the screen.

His fingers were stiff from typing on the keyboard until the last set of data was imported into the model.

The curve is closed, the error is zero, and the model is valid.

Jiang Yan leaned back, as if all his strength had been drained.

This was the fourth time he had checked the key data from this set of materials physics experiments.

Once this project is completed, it will be enough to make him famous in academic circles.

Once a paper is published, professional titles, bonuses, and resources will follow.

More importantly, he was finally able to give his father an explanation.

Finally, the man who spent his whole life carrying bricks on construction sites can stop having to save every penny to pay off his mortgage.

With trembling hands, he took out his old phone, its screen cracked at one corner, and sent a long message to his mentor, reporting the exciting news that was enough to cause a sensation throughout the entire research institute.

Five minutes passed, then ten minutes passed.

The chat box was deathly silent; there was no reply.

Jiang Yan chuckled self-deprecatingly. His mentor was probably sleeping soundly in his luxurious apartment within Beijing's Third Ring Road, embracing his wife.

How could I possibly pay attention to a poor student disturbing me in the early hours of the morning?

He stood up, walked to the sink in the corner of the laboratory, turned on the tap, and splashed a handful of icy tap water on his face.

When he looked up at the water-stained mirror on the wall, he froze.

The person in the mirror had a sallow complexion, dark circles under their eyes as if they had been punched hard, and their cheeks were deeply sunken due to long-term sleep deprivation and malnutrition.

Her hair was a mess, like weeds, and her hairline was receding noticeably.

It was clearly a face that belonged to a man only twenty-eight years old, but to the eye, it looked as haggard and worn as a middle-aged man over forty, completely crushed by life.

Jiang Yan wiped the water droplets from his face with a wry smile.

He walked back to his desk, where a photo framed a family portrait was placed on the corner.

The woman in the photo has a gentle smile, but her eyes reveal a lingering weariness.

That was his mother.

The year he was admitted to Tsinghua University's Physics Department as a master's student, his disabled mother, who had been confined to a wheelchair for years and endured the pain to save a few dollars on medicine, finally succumbed to the cold winter and passed away.

My phone suddenly vibrated.

It wasn't a reply from my supervisor, but a WeChat message from my father.

"Son, I carried bricks at the construction site today. The foreman gave me an extra thirty yuan, so I earned a total of three hundred yuan today."

"Dad has transferred the money to you. You never treat yourself to anything good, so don't overwork yourself."

"Dad is in good health and can still save money for your wedding."

Looking at the record of the 300 yuan transfer on the screen, and those simple yet touching words, Jiang Yan's eyes instantly reddened.

He gritted his teeth and forced back the sour feeling.

Three hundred yuan.

That was the money my father earned by bending over and sweating all day.

But when his father sent it to him, his tone was as relaxed as if he had won the lottery.

In his previous life, Jiang Yan carried this kind of love and expectation as he desperately climbed forward in the cannibalistic city of the capital.

His hands were covered in blood from climbing.

There was no turning back.

The gears of memory continue to relentlessly grind forward.

After graduating with a master's degree, Jiang Yan, with his Tsinghua University resume and relentless drive, entered a national key research institute in Beijing.

In this research circle filled with overseas-educated PhDs and where connections and backgrounds are paramount, he, a poor boy with no connections, had only his own life as his sole asset.

He worked tirelessly, taking on projects like crazy, spending day and night in the lab, all for a very ordinary dream.

Stay in Beijing and buy your own small house.

With his master's degree in physics from Tsinghua University and his salary at the research institute, he could barely afford to pay off the down payment and loan for that small apartment if he saved every penny for four or five years.

At the same time, in order to take care of his elderly father, he brought his father from his hometown to the capital.

The father, who had spent his life doing hard labor and whose hands were covered in calluses, moved into the 80-square-meter two-bedroom apartment he had bought with a loan.

The old man's biggest hope every day was to help his son pay off more of his loan and to find ways to cook a hot meal for Jiang Yan, then sit at the dining table and wait for his son to come home from get off work.

Getting home at two or three in the morning is the norm.

Every time he opened the door, all he saw was his father's back as he slept on the table.

The food on the table was heated up and then cooled down, then heated up again.

Once you put the food in your mouth, you can no longer tell whether the food is bitter or life is bitter.

Jiang Yan did not complain.

He always felt that as long as the materials physics project he led was successfully implemented and the paper was published, he could get a professional title, receive a bonus, and move his father to a better place to live.

That day finally arrived.

But what came was not hope.

It's a knife.

His experiment achieved a key breakthrough, and he had the core data and the first draft of the paper.

Just an hour before he was about to submit his proposal to the academic committee, the director's secretary approached him.

"The director wants you to come over there."

The director's spacious and bright office was covered with an expensive handmade wool carpet.

Behind a huge mahogany desk, the portly director was leisurely sipping a cup of premium Da Hong Pao tea. The aroma of the tea rose gently, contrasting sharply with the persistent, musty smell of the laboratory emanating from Jiang Yan.

"Xiao Jiang, have a seat." The director didn't even lift his eyelids, just pointed to the chair opposite him.

Jiang Yan sat down nervously: "Director, you wanted to see me? My materials physics project is already..."

"I know, the progress is very good." The director interrupted him and put down his teacup.

"I've looked at your data, and it's indeed very solid."

"However, after deliberation, the institute decided that the first author of this project should be changed to Zhou Wenchang."

"As a support staff member, your name will be added after it."

The office was silent for a few seconds.

Jiang Yan thought he had misheard.

Zhou Wenchang?

That rich kid who doesn't even know which way the lab door opens, but drives a sports car and goes to nightclubs?

What gives him the right?

Because he was a doctoral student personally supervised by the director?

Is it because his father is a powerful figure in the research department?

Jiang Yan suddenly stood up, his voice trembling.

"Chief, this is impossible!"

"I did most of the work myself, from project initiation and modeling to experimental simulations and data verification!"

"Zhou Wenchang didn't participate in a single experiment, so why is he the first author?"

"This is the culmination of my hard work!"

By the end, his voice was hoarse.

The director looked at him, his face showing no remorse, only a condescending indifference.

"Xiao Jiang, control your emotions."

"Scientific research is not a solo endeavor; it's all about teamwork."

"You're still young, you'll have plenty of opportunities in the future."

"But Wenchang is applying for a senior professional title this year, and this paper is very important to him." The director picked up his teacup and took a small sip.

"You're a smart person; you need to consider the bigger picture."

"Please understand."

Try to understand this: these four words may seem light, but when they hit Jiang Yan's heart, they felt heavier than anything else.

His experiments at 3 a.m., his bald head, his heavy dark circles, his overweight body...

Those meals that my father heated up and then cooled down.

In the face of these four words, everything becomes a joke.

Jiang Yan stared at the director, and for a moment, he really wanted to rush over and throw that cup of tea on that hypocritical face.

He even considered deleting all the data before filing a formal complaint, hoping to ruin everything together, but he couldn't.

He still has his father, a mortgage, and that pitifully small living space.

If he flips the table, he will be blacklisted by the entire scientific research community the next day.

He couldn't bear it, so in the end, all he heard himself say was in a voice that didn't sound human:

"it is good."

"I understand."

The day I left the office, it was very windy in Beijing.

It blows on your face like a slap.