'Whatever. I never opened the bag anyway, so I have no idea what's inside. Right, no idea at all.'
Muttering to himself, he slammed on the gas, and the Raptor shot toward the garage exit.
Seeing this, the middle-aged man behind him shook his head helplessly, unable to stop himself from sighing.
"Sigh. The rich are so low-key these days. A guy worth at least tens of billions driving a half-a-million-yuan pickup truck. Tsk, tsk. Is this what they call 'returning to one's roots'?"
...
Leaving those two aside, Fang Chenyi drove his Raptor straight to the apartment complex where he first rented a place.
When he arrived, he stared at the run-down complex and felt a wave of emotion. Just half a month ago, he was living in a place like this on a 3,000-yuan salary, eating instant noodles and not even willing to splurge on a sausage to add to it.
He gently patted the clutch bag tucked under his arm. It all felt like a dream.
