The Thrust on the Elevated Highway and 54321 on the License Plate

The Miami blue Porsche 718 followed the ramp onto the elevated highway, merging into the city traffic.

Chen Ziang gripped the leather steering wheel with both hands, his right foot applying steady pressure to the accelerator.

He wasn't speeding, nor was he weaving illegally through traffic.

But within the legal speed limit, he pushed the seat-pressing acceleration and responsiveness of the mid-engine, rear-wheel-drive sports car almost to their limits.

He pressed the accelerator.

The roar of the engine exploded behind him.

The car shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. The steering wheel's feedback was crisp and sharp, and the low-slung chassis clung tightly to the road.

The feeling of controlling that ferocious machine sent the blood coursing faster through Chen Ziang's body.

Especially when he thought about how he had finally wrested back the upper hand he had lost in that invisible contest in Room 504.

The excitement he had suppressed for days grew more and more intense.

In the passenger seat,

Han Dong's hair had already been whipped into a bird's nest by the wind, but he didn't care at all.

The burly Northeastern man clutched the door handle with one hand and held up his phone, recording frantically with the other, whooping with excitement.

"This acceleration is insane!"

Han Dong shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to make himself heard over the wind and the roar of the engine.

"Boss Chen, you're awesome! Riding in this thing is a blast!"

Chen Ziang glanced at the rearview mirror.

All he could see were a few family sedans behind them. There was no sign of Lu Chuan's elusive secondhand runabout.

He raised an eyebrow slightly, finally venting all the resentment he'd been holding in.

"This is nothing."

Chen Ziang held the wheel with one hand.

"The road's wide up ahead. I'll give it some more gas."

As soon as he finished speaking,

he spotted a gap ahead, turned the wheel in one smooth motion, and slammed his right foot down.

The sudden surge of acceleration pinned Han Dong against the back of his seat.

"Holy shit!"

Han Dong was so excited he nearly dropped his phone.

"That one made my back go numb!"

"Now this is a car a man should ride in!"

Han Dong's unabashed, heartfelt, homespun praise was even more gratifying than the finest flattery.

Chen Ziang had wanted to keep up appearances and act like an unruffled young master.

But as Han Dong egged him on, one line after another,

he couldn't keep up the act any longer.

Hot air howled into the cabin on the elevated highway, mingling with the roar of the 700,000-yuan sports car and the brilliant morning sunlight over Jiangcheng.

This was how he, Chen Ziang, was meant to make an entrance.

In today's first round,

he had won big.

After the car had traveled a stretch along the elevated highway, its speed and pace gradually eased.

Han Dong was still riding the high, holding his phone and watching the video he'd just recorded over and over, muttering about how awesome the color was.

Chen Ziang felt good all over from the praise.

But he wasn't some brainless straw-man villain, after all.

As he slowed down at an intersection, he turned to glance at Han Dong.

"Dongzi."

Chen Ziang's tone grew a little more serious.

"When we get to the hot spring spa, let's check in at the front desk first."

"Then we'll go wait for Lu Chuan and Zhao Yifan at the entrance."

Han Dong put down his phone.

"No problem."

Chen Ziang watched the traffic ahead, seemingly weighing his words.

"But there's one thing."

"When we see Lu Chuan, don't make fun of his secondhand car."

Han Dong froze for a moment, evidently unable to follow the young master's sudden leap in thought.

Chen Ziang held the wheel and laid out his reasoning clearly.

"We're all college students."

"Being able to buy a car with his own money is already impressive."

"Whether it's secondhand or a beat-up runabout, at least he's doing much better than the vast majority of people our age."

He really did care about saving face deep down, and he really did want to outdo Lu Chuan in material possessions and showmanship.

But that was pure competitiveness between guys.

He wanted to win, but that didn't mean he wanted to grind someone into the dirt.

"Between brothers, there's no need to make things ugly over this kind of thing."

Chen Ziang added.

After listening, Han Dong scratched his head, then nodded emphatically in agreement.

"I get it."

"Forget a secondhand car. Even if he rode a secondhand electric scooter, he'd still be doing better than me, getting around on my own two legs."

Han Dong grinned.

"Besides, Old Lu's a pretty good guy."

"During military training, he even bought us sanitary pads to keep our feet from chafing. We're all brothers in the dorm, so what is there to show off about or put him down for?"

Those blunt truths, delivered with a thick Northeastern accent, instantly brought the somewhat overblown, show-off atmosphere in the car back to a warm gathering of brothers.

Chen Ziang gave a soft snort after hearing him out.

"Good, as long as you understand."

Though he still sounded a little haughty, he felt quite good inside.

Han Dong might usually be loud and boisterous, but he really was an honest, straightforward guy who knew how to appreciate kindness.

Having a roommate like that

wasn't tiring.

In stark contrast to the Porsche 718 racing into the waves of heat on the elevated highway,

on another city thoroughfare leading to the western suburbs,

a white Bentley Continental GT was merging smoothly into traffic.

The moment the door closed, two worlds were completely shut off from each other.

Outside was the lingering clamor of Jiangcheng's morning rush hour, the honking of buses and the darting of electric scooters.

Inside the car, however, it was exceptionally quiet.

Wind noise, road noise, and even the deep rumble of the W12 engine were all sealed out by the thick double-layer laminated glass and top-quality soundproofing materials.

The air conditioning was set at just the right temperature, its breeze dry and comfortable against the skin.

The top-grade, hand-stitched leather seats cradled their bodies, soft without sinking, filtering out every little bump in the road.

Zhao Yifan sat in the passenger seat.

He didn't look and touch everything around him like Han Dong, nor did he exclaim loudly in amazement.

But from the first minute he got into the car, he had already understood a great deal.

He pushed up the blue-light-blocking glasses on his nose.

He neither praised the car's luxurious interior nor asked about its total purchase price.

Zhao Yifan turned his head and looked at Lu Chuan, who was driving, and casually posed a question.

"Jiang A·54321."

Zhao Yifan looked at Lu Chuan.

"That plate wasn't easy to get, was it?"

In Jiangcheng, there weren't many people who could afford luxury cars costing millions, but they were by no means a rare species.

But putting a plate with five consecutive digits on your car was definitely not something money alone could accomplish.

That required deep connections, the right channels, and influence.

Lu Chuan rested one hand on the wheel.

Watching the traffic light ahead, he applied the brakes, bringing the car to a smooth stop behind the line.

"Got lucky."

Lu Chuan's tone was light, as though he were saying the breakfast buns had tasted good that morning.

"The vehicle administration office randomly drew it for me."

The answer came naturally and effortlessly, without the slightest pause that might have suggested he was making up a lie.

After hearing it, Zhao Yifan didn't press further, much less say anything pointless.

He simply turned to look at the traffic ahead and gave a very slight smile.

That smile held far too many complicated meanings.

Of course he didn't believe it.

The odds of randomly drawing a top-tier consecutive number like that were lower than being struck twice in a row by lightning while walking down the street.

The light turned green.

The white Bentley Continental GT pulled away smoothly, its chassis taut and its body exceptionally steady.

Zhao Yifan understood perfectly.

Chen Ziang's Porsche 718

was for display.

It was a prop used to show the world that he had money, taste, and youthful energy.

Lu Chuan's Bentley Continental GT, on the other hand,

was for living.

Neither car was cheap.

But the qualities they represented and the logic of the lives behind them existed on entirely different planes.

The car passed the elevated highway's ramp and entered the main road leading to the hot spring spa in the western suburbs.

A soothing old song played inside the car.

After a brief silence, Zhao Yifan suddenly turned his head.

He looked at Lu Chuan, a very faint smile in his eyes behind his lenses.

"You're pretty interesting too."

Watching the road, Lu Chuan casually asked,

"How so?"

Zhao Yifan left it at that and asked in a tone that was half joking, half probing,

"You took this car out on purpose today."

"Was it to tease Chen Ziang a little?"

Lu Chuan gave a soft laugh when he heard that.

Holding the wheel, he gave an answer that was distinctly his own.

"If I run into him later, I'll tease him a little."

Lu Chuan's tone carried an innate ease.

"If I don't, forget it."

Those two simple sentences

captured Lu Chuan's easygoing nature to perfection: he didn't contend or compete, yet he could be a little mischievous now and then.

He hadn't deliberately brought out this multimillion-yuan Bentley specifically to put Chen Ziang in his place.

He had simply been going out.

Life had happened to bring him to this point.

If he happened to see that young master's deflated expression, he'd enjoy the spectacle while he was at it. If they didn't meet, that was fine too.

After hearing that answer, the final piece of the puzzle fell completely into place for Zhao Yifan.

He was now more certain than ever of one thing.

The most formidable and impressive thing about Lu Chuan

wasn't how many assets he held or how much influence he wielded.

It was that he truly didn't think much of the things ordinary people saw as utterly out of reach.

The two cars were following different routes toward the same destination.

Yet in their respective cabins, the journeys had entirely different qualities.

On the elevated highway,

Chen Ziang was still enjoying the thrust of acceleration every time he pressed hard on the gas.

Immersed in the pleasure of controlling the machine, he felt he was the most eye-catching presence on the road that day.

Han Dong held up his phone in the passenger seat, shouting into the wind.

He was still filming frantically, still thrilled by the sensation of riding with the sports car's top down.

Meanwhile, on another main road more than ten kilometers away,

The white Bentley Continental GT.

It might not have been any faster than the Porsche.

But its bearing was steadier, its rhythm smoother.

Its broad body rolled over the seams in the road, the hefty suspension gently ironing out every bump. It was as if the car were not driving, but gliding close against the pavement.

Both cars were headed for the Tangquan Bathhouse in the western suburbs.

One strained to prove itself to the whole world beneath the blazing sun and in the howling wind.

The other pressed quietly against the road, as if its very existence needed no further proof to anyone.