Chapter 61

"Who?" Louis Lehman feigned innocence, refusing to admit to the public that he had sent someone to follow Yang Cheng.

"It's okay, just small talk." Yang Cheng waved his hand dismissively.

"This is Mr. Anthony Arnott? This is Louis Lehman." Louis Lehman bypassed Yang Cheng and reached out to Anthony.

"Hello, Mr. Lehman, call me Anthony." There's no room for hypocrisy in this circle. If you don't like someone, you keep it superficial.

"Papa, papa..." Hamandan clapped his hands.

"The game will start right away. Who wants to play? I'll be the banker." Hamandan wasn't referring to betting at a betting company, but betting within his own box.

"Count me in, how do we play?" The director of Volkswagen Group was the first to respond.

"I play too." Sam Branson followed suit and raised his hand.

"And I."

...

After a while, everyone in the box joined in. They were all people of means. With the Crown Prince of Dubai as the banker, they engaged in betting.

"Okay, then we will bet on the outcome. Brazil loses 1.5 and Germany loses 2. The minimum bet is 5 million US dollars. There is no upper limit." Hamandan strolled to the center of the box and explained the rules of the game to the players.

Clearly, from the odds perspective, Hamandan was optimistic about Brazil winning. In fact, major bookmakers were also optimistic about Brazil in the market for this game. There were three reasons:

First, Brazil was the host.

Second, despite star player Neymar's serious injury in the last game, they still boasted the world's strongest central defender combination and other skilled players.

Third, the German team lacked superstars this summer, having just concluded the European competition before coming to Brazil. They were fatigued. On the contrary, many Brazilian players played in their national leagues, giving them a physical advantage. This might seem negligible, but it was a key factor influencing the game's direction.

Hamandan wasn't naive. While discussing odds with gaming company professionals, he intended to create an enjoyable atmosphere. He didn't mind losing a bit to maintain good spirits, but losing a lot would dampen the mood.

"Yes, simple! Exciting! Let me bet 10 million, Brazil wins." Sam Branson led the way and set the tone for the bet. After writing a check, tearing it off, and handing it to the staff in charge of recording, the bets began.

In the stadium, the atmosphere soared as the Brazilian team entered.

The expensive box seemed to lose its soundproofing effect, with the sounds of roaring mountains and crashing tsunamis assaulting everyone's eardrums. The violent and frenetic atmosphere was truly exhilarating.

As expected, some of the second-generation rich got carried away, their adrenaline soaring, and they started issuing checks for 10 million and 20 million. For these wealthy individuals, life was just a mood. If they lost 12 million dollars, they could simply ask their dads for it.

So far, the highest bet was 25 million dollars from a black man. Yang Cheng didn't know him, but Anthony informed him that the man was a warlord from a certain African country, with more than 10 gold and diamond mines under his control, and he was on friendly terms with Cartier.

"MD, he's richer than I am." Yang Cheng envied and lamented.

"Hamandan, Harry and I each have 5 million. Brazil wins, not as much as your group of local tyrants." Prince William toasted to everyone, adding a teasing tone.

This was merely a joke, and no one took it seriously. As one of the surviving members of the world's oldest royal family that still wielded real power, William represented the last nobility in the empire that never sets. His status couldn't be measured by wealth. Furthermore, who would think the British royal family had no money? The treasures they looted from the Old Summer Palace were enough to sustain them for hundreds of years. Moreover, the Windsor family had inherited the wealth accumulated by generations over centuries. The depth of their foundation was beyond ordinary people's imagination.

Everyone smiled in good-natured cooperation. David Beckham joined the fun and said, "I'll also put in 5 million, but I bet Germany will win..."

Yang Cheng looked at Beckham in surprise and joked, "David, you're supporting your archenemy in front of William and Harry. Is that really a good idea?"

"Haha..."

Laughter erupted...

Sam Branson smiled happily. Young people loved liveliness, and this atmosphere was what a carnival should have. The older gentlemen had been too serious before.

Beckham smiled wryly, self-mockingly saying, "I have to go back home. If I lose Victoria, it won't be worth it. Anyway, I've retired. My wife is more important than my archenemy."

"Hahaha..."

Another round of laughter ensued. Westerners especially liked this kind of self-deprecating humor. Speaking of self-deprecation, who could match it to a high degree? Her stubbornness, even when wearing broken shoes, was a fashion trendsetter. It was said that her husband divorced her because he couldn't stand the smell of her feet. Did he draft a glowing PR statement about foot health? It would go like this: "Wang Ou, at night, engages in discussions on actresses' foot health." This would instantly elevate her status and credibility, surpassing the previous research script!

There was another burst of laughter. Westerners particularly enjoy this self-deprecating humor. Speaking of which, who could boast both an ample bosom and a pair of stubborn, broken feet? Rumor had it that her husband couldn't stand the scent of her feet and had to concoct a luminous script. Ridiculous, right? The PR draft at the time should've read, "Wang Ou spends nights discussing actresses' foot health." Instantly more elevated and credible than TM's research script!

Xiaolu also tried to cheat, and that guy 1 is no genius, but he lacks the self-deprecating spirit. For instance, when he fell sick and his family was absent, Xiaolu dutifully fulfilled her sisterly responsibilities, caring for him throughout the night. Not bad, right? Suddenly, she rose to the moral high ground, leaving netizens with nothing to criticize. Young Master Jia also knew when to take a step back, satisfying everyone and ensuring a cheerful atmosphere.

Enough of this, I'm getting carried away, and this novel is turning into a PR essay...

Yang Cheng, having made a joke, unintentionally drew the 'fire of war' upon himself. "Jason, stop making jokes about David; you haven't placed a bet yet," Prince William said, adding a touch of seriousness. The joke, heavier than intended, wasn't meant to target Yang Cheng.

"Hey... I have a slight misunderstanding with Louis. You continue your game. How about we have our own bet, Louis?" Yang Cheng tried to dig a pit, enduring it for over a week, nearly unable to contain himself. The book fans were on the verge of revolt!

The box fell silent, and the air froze for a moment.

The Brazilian national anthem began playing in the stadium, and the audience stood up, singing in unison.

"Why not? I'm Brazilian, so naturally, I support Brazil to win," Louis cleverly seized the opportunity, choosing the side with a greater theoretical victory. As for his excuse of being Brazilian, he turned a deaf ear. After all, the Lehman family immigrated from Switzerland.

Yang Cheng expressed regret on the surface, but deep down, she was happy. "Okay, then I will back Germany. How much are you willing to wager?"

"How much are you willing to wager?" Louis Lehman calculated in his mind. He wasn't interested in gambling; he wanted Yang Cheng's promise to help them acquire Hershey. That meant Catherine Kane siding with Lehman, requiring Lotte to give up the competition for Hershey shares.

Louis's cunning made Yang Cheng hesitate. Initially confident of winning the bet, Louis's calm demeanor raised suspicions. Was this Louis Lehman's attempt to manipulate the game?

The thought appeared suddenly, and Yang Cheng felt a twinge. Could it be? This was the World Cup semi-finals, the global spotlight, not 2002 when information wasn't as freely spread. Back then, manipulation was daring. But in 2014, with social platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Weibo ablaze, a scandal of World Cup manipulation would be disastrous for Brazil.

It was impossible to reassure himself. Louis Lehman or not, Yang Cheng had ways to influence the game, just like major gaming groups. Bribing referees, buying players, or even drugging key players for profit were not unheard of.

Neymar's direct sidelining in the previous game hinted at potential foul play. Before that, the odds favored the Brazilian team, and public opinion leaned towards them. If this script played out, the bookmaker would lose big.

Recalling the 1:7 result in the previous life, Yang Cheng shuddered. It was indeed terrifying.

Yang Cheng was lost in thought. The referee had blown the whistle for the game to start. Yang Cheng glanced at Louis Lehman, who nervously watched the match. If he remembered correctly, the German team scored shortly after kick-off, and the game quickly spiraled in their favor. Even if Louis Lehman had plans, it was too late to recover. The referee wouldn't arrange for a penalty kick.

"Only 30 million, right?" Yang Cheng suddenly declared the amount.

Everyone present was taken aback. The tension between Yang Cheng and Louis Lehman seemed more than just a misunderstanding.

"Quite bold, aren't we?" Louis Lehman had a disdainful yet elegant smile, a hint of contempt in his eyes.

As expected by Yang Cheng, Louis Lehman did meddle with the game, aiming to make Yang Cheng lose. However, he couldn't get the cash. At that point, he intended to make his demand. But Yang Cheng refused.

"You name the figure." Yang Cheng shrugged, eyes on the field. At the game's start, both teams had ample energy, engaging in a few exchanges before gradually accelerating.

"50 million!" Louis Lehman declared loudly, 50 sounding like a casual 50.

"Sister Ni... Did your beautiful knife grow out of the ground?" Yang Cheng scolded internally.

"Mr. Lehman, Jason, any misunderstandings need resolution? With so many people here, there's always a way. Don't ruin the peace," Anthony intervened, seeing the brewing conflict. He stood up, trying to mediate.

"Don't worry about Anthony; this is between me and Jason. You can't interfere. Besides, if he can't pay up, I won't bother with him," Yang Cheng asserted. This was a forceful approach, and Anthony had no retort. While, in other small families, Liu Yun's face might warrant Anthony's help in suppressing the issue, the Lehman family wasn't small. It rivaled the strength of the LVMH group.

Then again, if it were a small family, Yang Cheng could handle it on his own.

"Huh... Quite bold. Since that's the case, let's make it more interesting. If you want to bet, we'll wager 100 million. Don't regret it if you lose. You spoke big; don't blame me for turning the tables in the end!" Yang Cheng responded bluntly, doubling the bet on Louis's offer. His expression conveyed indignation, making those unfamiliar with Yang Cheng believe that the heir from the distant mountains was still young.

"Alright, deal. Three princes, please bear witness," Louis eagerly agreed. He couldn't wait to settle the bet.

Yang Cheng snorted coldly, took out his mobile phone, and sent a few text messages to Hansen. Cheers erupted in the box, and he instinctively looked into the field again.

It turned out the German team scored...

The story continued.