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

At the dining table, the atmosphere seemed subtly complex.


Young and sultry girls from Taiwan, a mature and intellectual married woman, and the voluptuous girl-next-door.


Three different personalities intermingled in the Camellia private room, ambiguous yet somewhat unrestrained.


Wen Shulin took a sip of corn silk tea, nodded in satisfaction, and praised elegantly: "Xiao Er, the corn silk tea you made really has a unique flavor!"


"Sister Lin, do you think it tastes good?"


"It's light and tasty, perfectly offsetting the richness of the pigeon. Your skill is truly exceptional!"


Xiao Meier felt a bit embarrassed by the praise, hurriedly waving her hand: "Sister Lin, you flatter me, it's just a small skill of mine."


Su Liya watched the two going back and forth and couldn't help but secretly give Chen Cheng a suggestive look.


Chen Cheng had not yet grasped the deeper meaning of that look when he felt a pair of small feet gently kick his own under the table.


Chapter 142: Who Stepped on My Foot