Zhao Ritian burst out laughing.
"Lu Chengwen, I need your help with something."
"What is it?"
"I just made 140 million. In foreign currency, too."
Lu Chengwen fell silent for a moment. "Does the money have the Jade Emperor or the King of Hell printed on it?"
"Hey, what kind of person do you take me for...? You think I can't tell real money from spirit money?" Zhao Ritian said. "I want you to find me a villa, the kind you live in—beautiful, huge, luxuriously furnished, the kind that makes people jealous at first sight..."
Lu Chengwen said gloomily, "Keep pouting, keep pouting."
"Huh?"
"Not talking about you. Go on."
"Oh, I mean, now that I have money, I want to show some filial respect to my three masters too. Buy them a house and let them enjoy themselves..."
"That's not what I asked you about," Lu Chengwen said. "Tell me about those 140 million. How did you make it?"
"Business."
"You? Doing business? And you made 140 million?!"
"Yes!"
"You... Ritian, whenever some enormous windfall drops out of the sky, you need to calm down and ask yourself whether you're worthy of such a huge blessing. Why would something that good land on your head? Any unexpected fortune or unbelievably tempting bargain is almost one hundred percent a scam or a bottomless pit."
"What do you mean, Lu Chengwen? You mean I'm not as capable as you, that I'm some huge idiot! It's perfectly normal when you make ten billion, but when I make one hundred million... I don't deserve it, it must be fake, I must have been conned, I must be getting played—is that what you mean?"
"Ritian, I didn't say you don't deserve it. But can you understand the logic here? Why did this money just