Wealthy Mansion and the White Phantom in the Underground Garage

It was a weekend in Jiangcheng, and the sky was just beginning to brighten.

In the camphor trees outside the men's dormitory, even the early-rising sparrows had yet to make a sound.

In room 504, Chen Ziang was already wide awake.

He lay staring at the ceiling, the fire in his heart burning so fiercely that he couldn't stay in bed. Today was a big day. He had to hurry home and bring the Porsche 718 his father had given him as a start-of-term present to campus.

Ever since the semester began, he had run into walls at every turn in the dorm.

One thing after another had left this local young master's face almost ground to dust.

The 718 was his ultimate trump card for establishing his authority in Jiang University circles and showing off his strength there.

Without bringing the car over, he always felt three inches shorter on confidence, even when he walked.

Chen Ziang quietly lifted his lightweight summer quilt and eased himself down the ladder.

When his toes touched the floor, he didn't even dare put on his hard-soled slippers, afraid the slightest sound on the terrazzo floor would wake his roommates.

He tiptoed to his desk and, by the faint morning light filtering through the window, began applying products to his face like a thief.

His foundation had to be light, and his eyebrows needed definition.

Finally, he picked up a bottle of styling spray.

"Hiss-hiss-"

The carefully muffled sound of the spray rang out in the quiet dorm.

Chen Ziang turned his head from side to side in the mirror. Only after making sure that not a single stray hair was out of place did he nod in satisfaction.

He didn't even take the time to grab breakfast at the cafeteria. He snatched the keys off his desk, slipped open the dorm room door like a thief, and hurried out.

Not until broad daylight.

The early autumn sun streamed through the gaps in the security bars, spreading a dazzling glow across the light gray floor tiles of room 504.

Only then did Lu Chuan wake naturally.

He rolled over and slowly opened his eyes.

His breathing was slow and steady. The prospect of seeing a Porsche 718 today hadn't rattled him in the slightest, nor did he feel any urgency to rise early and compete for attention.

At this point in his previous life, he had probably been even more eager than Chen Ziang, itching to rent the flashiest sports car he could find and cruise around the campus gate before dawn.

Looking back on such behavior in his second life, he found it utterly ridiculous.

Lu Chuan sat up in bed at an unhurried pace, folded his quilt, and climbed down the ladder.

He picked up his washbasin and draped a towel over it.

In his slippers, he walked steadily toward the washroom.

The cool water from the tap splashed against his face, waking him instantly.

He squeezed out toothpaste, brushed his teeth, and washed his face.

Not even the rhythm of his brushing was thrown off in the slightest by any special plans for the day.

The sound of water in the washroom had barely stopped.

Han Dong climbed out of bed shirtless, yawning.

With his hair a mess like a bird's nest, he scratched his belly vigorously with one hand and rubbed his eyes as he came up to the washroom door.

"Old Lu, you're up early."

Han Dong stretched, his bones cracking all over.

"Right, didn't you say you bought a car too? Where did you park it?"

He leaned a little closer, curiosity written all over his face.

"Do we need to go downstairs and wait for you at the campus gate later? It's the weekend, so there'll be loads of people on campus. It'll be hard to drive in, won't it?"

Lu Chuan turned off the tap.

He wrung out his towel and casually wiped his face with it.

"It's parked nearby, just a short walk away."

He hung the towel on the rail, his tone as casual as if he were discussing which cafeteria to have lunch at.

"No rush."

"Chen Ziang's home is a long way from campus. The round trip will take him at least two or three hours. We have plenty of time."

Han Dong scratched his head, spat out a mouthful of toothpaste foam, and casually replied.

"Where does Boss Chen live? Is it that far away?"

Lu Chuan turned around and walked out of the washroom.

"Wealthy Mansion."

He casually let slip the name of the residential complex.

Han Dong's hand froze in midair just as he was reaching for his cup.

Thinking he had misheard, he stared blankly at Lu Chuan.

"What's that?"

Han Dong dug at his ear, the toothpaste foam at the corner of his mouth almost dripping off.

"Wealthy Mansion? Jiangcheng has a residential complex with a name that blunt and in-your-face? That's way too tacky!"

With an unchanged expression, Lu Chuan walked over to the desk, picked up a comb, and ran it through his hair a couple of times.

"That really is its name."

"Chen Ziang's dad, Chen Fugui, specifically hired someone to check the feng shui when he bought a home back then. He took a liking to how auspicious those four characters sounded and thought living there would bring him wealth and treasure, so he deliberately paid a high price to buy a place there."

Lu Chuan spoke casually, without the slightest hint of teasing.

It was as though he were simply stating the most ordinary of facts.

"Hahahahaha!"

Han Dong burst into wild laughter, rocking back and forth and slapping his thigh.

"Oh my god, that's hilarious!"

A straightforward fellow, he didn't think any further about it.

He simply assumed Chen Ziang had accidentally let it slip while chatting and gossiping with Lu Chuan in the dorm.

"Boss Chen is so particular about everything. He'd change clothes three times a day if he could, and if a speck of dust gets on his shoes, he'll spend ages wiping it off. But then he goes home, and there are four huge characters spelling 'Wealthy Mansion' over the gate."

Han Dong laughed until his stomach hurt, waving his hands repeatedly.

"That young master image of his and the name of his complex are just too much of a contrast. No wonder he never mentions where he lives. If it were me, I'd find it embarrassing too."

Still laughing, he carried his washbasin into the washroom, humming an unfamiliar tune.

At the other end of the dorm.

Zhao Yifan sat at his desk with a textbook for his major in hand, preparing to organize his reading notes for the day.

When he heard the four characters for "Wealthy Mansion."

Zhao Yifan abruptly stopped turning the page.

His fingertips froze at the edge of the paper.

He didn't laugh carefree like Han Dong. Instead, his heart thumped heavily twice in his chest.

Others might not understand Chen Ziang, but he considered himself fairly familiar with him.

That local young master's pursuit of sophistication and social standing was etched into his bones; he would rather suffer than lose face.

Someone so concerned with appearances could never reveal the real name of a complex like "Wealthy Mansion," so full of nouveau riche tackiness, even to roommates he lived with day in and day out.

If pressed, Chen Ziang would sooner make up a name on the spot, something like "Guanlan Peninsula" or "Yujing Bay," which sounded fashionable and upscale.

Not to mention laying bare every last detail of Father Chen's bizarre, superstitious, and vulgar reason for buying the place.

There was no way Chen Ziang had revealed those details to Lu Chuan himself.

The only explanation was that Lu Chuan had looked into it himself.

Zhao Yifan reached up and pushed his blue-light glasses up the bridge of his nose with a somewhat stiff motion.

He felt a faint prickle along his back.

Lu Chuan knew the inside story of that top luxury brand, information circulated only within a tiny old-money circle, like the back of his hand. That alone was enough to make one's heart race.

Now, Lu Chuan had even found out all about the assets of a powerful local tycoon, down to the private facts the man himself tried so hard to hide.

The exact location of the home bought by a boss in Jiangcheng's building materials industry worth over a hundred million, and his private superstitious preferences, were not things one could simply find online.

That required a deep network of connections, or some channel for obtaining information that stood above the local wealthy businessmen.

Such control, the ability to produce information others tried desperately to conceal at his fingertips and recount it as though listing his own treasures, was simply unfathomable.

Zhao Yifan looked at Lu Chuan's back as he sat at the desk drinking water.

He hardly dared imagine just how vast and terrifying an intelligence network lay hidden behind Lu Chuan.

Lu Chuan paid no attention to his roommates' differing thoughts.

He set down his cup.

"Let's go. Breakfast first."

Han Dong quickly finished washing up and pulled on a loose short-sleeved athletic shirt.

The three of them strolled out of the dorm building and went to the second cafeteria.

On a weekend so early in the semester, the cafeteria wasn't too crowded.

Lu Chuan ordered a basket of pan-fried buns, a bowl of steaming soy milk, and two golden, crispy fried dough sticks.

He ate at an unhurried pace.

He wasn't anxious about the upcoming luxury-car comparison, nor did he deliberately maintain any sort of elegant table manners.

The morning, full of the feel of everyday life, left his stomach feeling comfortably settled.

After breakfast, the three parted at the cafeteria entrance.

"Ten thirty, at the campus gate."

After arranging the time with Han Dong and Zhao Yifan, Lu Chuan walked out of Jiang University's gate alone and hailed a taxi by the roadside.

"Quiet Garden, please."

Ten minutes later.

The taxi stopped outside Quiet Garden's wrought-iron gate.

Lu Chuan swiped his access card, followed a quiet tree-lined path, and took the elevator straight down to the underground garage.

The garage was quiet and dimly lit.

Lu Chuan walked past the neat rows of parking spaces.

He stopped in front of a spacious reserved spot.

The white Bentley Continental GT he had paid for in full sat there quietly.

Its broad, streamlined body gleamed with a cold, expensive metallic sheen under the cool white glow of the motion-sensor lights. The body sat low, its lines smooth but understated.

It was like a white phantom sleeping in the shadows: elegant and deep, yet carrying an overwhelming presence that could not be ignored.

Lu Chuan stepped forward.

His well-defined fingers closed around the cold chrome door handle and pulled hard.

The heavy door opened.

The luxurious scent of top-quality leather and solid-wood trim washed over him.

He ducked into the hand-stitched leather driver's seat, its fine texture supporting him securely.

The door closed, shutting out every faint noise in the garage.

Lu Chuan rested a long finger on the one-touch start button.

He pressed it firmly.

"Vroom-"

The W12 engine erupted into a deep, rich roar the moment it started, echoing long through the empty underground garage. A powerful tremor ran through the seat as well.

Lu Chuan gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

He had all along strived to live a peaceful, low-profile life, yet the familiar sound of the engine still stirred something in his heart.

The corner of Lu Chuan's mouth lifted, and, for once, he felt a touch of the mischievous humor of an eighteen-year-old.