Flint Red

For Chen Cheng, thirty means interest—the interest rate.
From 3,000, to 100,000, to a million, to ten million, and then to over a hundred million...
An ever-increasing amount of principal, an endless stream of interest.
With money generating money, compounded interest calculations made Chen Cheng exclaim:
This money can't be spent! Absolutely can't be spent! For a lifetime, I can't finish spending it!

Maximize Interest, My Money Grows Infinitely

Under the magnificent crystal chandelier are faces flushed red from wine.


Chen Cheng leans back in his chair, taking great interest in the scene before him.


The Croatian woman, with her quintessential Eastern European features, profound eye sockets, deep blue eyes, and flaxen hair, is quite captivating.


The Venezuelan girl is spicy, fitting the image of a beauty queen nation, from her physique to her features, all of them top-notch. Her miniskirt barely covers her thighs, and her long legs sway back and forth like flames.


The Argentinian is enthusiastic and open, with a tiny waist you could grip with one hand and seemingly special-effect enhanced long legs that could excite any man's nerves.


And the Brazilian beauty brings an innate vitality, her wheat-colored skin gleaming healthily, her peachy butt, larger than a washbowl, is truly exaggerated.


Chen Cheng's memory gets a bit muddled, this Sha, that Ya, they're hard to remember indeed.


Chapter 135: We Must Learn Foreign Languages