52: Chapter 52 Class Reunion? I'm Going to Show Off My Wealth, Not to Be Misered.

Tianhai Grand Hotel was magnificent and resplendent.

As one of the top money pits in Tianhai City, the very air here was thick with the scent of banknotes.

The revolving doors spun rapidly, and those coming and going were either business elites in suits or urban beauties carrying designer handbags.

Jiang Chen wore a set of seemingly ordinary casual clothes—in reality, they were made of a state-supplied nano-bulletproof fabric, which was stab-resistant, cut-resistant, and featured automatic temperature control, with a cost comparable to a sports car.

But in the eyes of those who didn't know better, it was just a discounted item from Uniqlo.

He had the pitch-black, slightly menacing-looking "titan" helmet tucked under his arm, and with an arrogant swagger, he sauntered into the lobby.

"Sir, food deliveries please use the side entrance..."

The receptionist at the door was about to reach out to stop him, but her words stuck in her throat halfway through.

Because she saw Jiang Chen's eyes.

In those eyes, there was none of the haste or humility of a delivery driver; there was only a composure as if he were patrolling his own back garden, with even a hint of the languor of someone in a position of power.

An aura, sometimes, is more effective than clothes.

"I'm here to eat."

Jiang Chen smiled at her, revealing a set of white teeth, "The Emperor Hall, class reunion."

The receptionist was stunned for a moment, subconsciously took a step back, bowed, and said, "I'm sorry, sir, please go ahead."

Even until Jiang Chen walked into the elevator, she was still muttering to herself: These days, the wealthy have more and more strange habits; who brings a motorcycle helmet to dinner?

Third floor, Emperor Hall.

A huge crystal chandelier cast a warm, ambiguous light, and the large round table, which could accommodate thirty people, was already full of people.

The atmosphere was lively, albeit somewhat hypocritical.

"Oh my, Class Monitor Zhang Wei, I heard you got promoted recently? Is your annual salary up to 500,000 now?"

"Nowhere near that, just a million or so, just scraping by. I can't compare to Manager Li, I heard you just picked up a BMW 5 Series?"

"Eh, it's just a commuter car, I still want to switch to a Porsche."

The sounds of mutual flattery rose and fell, and amidst the clinking of wine glasses, everyone was striving to display the "success" they had achieved over the past three years.

Just then, the heavy, carved wooden door of the private room was pushed open.

"Creak—"

All sound vanished instantly, and dozens of eyes looked over in unison.

Jiang Chen stood at the doorway, holding the helmet under one arm, his other hand in his pocket, with that signature, lazy smile on his face.

"Sorry everyone, traffic jam, I'm late."

After a brief, deathly silence, there was a burst of suppressed whispering.

Class Monitor Zhang Wei, sitting in the seat of honor, swept his gaze over Jiang Chen's "street-stall clothes" and the plastic-looking "helmet," a flicker of imperceptible contempt flashing in his eyes before he immediately put on an exaggerated, enthusiastic smile.

"Oh! Isn't this our young Master Jiang!"

Class Monitor Zhang Wei stood up, but didn't walk over to greet him, just waved from across the table, "Come in, come in! We were just talking about you! Everyone thought you weren't coming!"

He deliberately raised his volume, his tone tinged with seemingly concerned mockery: "Jiang Chen, are you... did you ride a motorcycle here? I see you're still carrying your helmet."

"The traffic is pretty bad these days. While riding a motorcycle is a bit exposed to the elements, at least you don't get stuck in traffic. It's good, very pragmatic."

As soon as these words were out, several snobbish classmates nearby immediately understood and burst into laughter.

"Class Monitor, you don't know, it's quite profitable to do instant delivery these days. As long as you're willing to work hard, earning over ten thousand a month isn't a dream."

"Exactly, Jiang Chen is getting rich through hard work; we should learn from him."

"Jiang Chen, can you give me a ride after the party ends? I'll give you a five-star review!"

Facing this barrage of sarcastic barbs, the smile on Jiang Chen's face didn't waver in the slightest.

Angry? Not at all.

When you stand at the peak of a mountain looking down at ants, would you get angry because of the ants' chattering? You would only find it amusing.

"It is indeed quite pragmatic."

Jiang Chen strode to the table, found an empty seat, and casually placed his priceless neural helmet—capable of connecting to a single-soldier nuclear mecha—onto the table. "Thud!"

A sound that was extremely dull and heavy.

It wasn't the sound of plastic or fiberglass hitting the tabletop at all, but rather like a solid iron ingot slamming hard against a wooden board.

That solid wood round table, which could support several hundred pounds, actually shook violently twice from this impact, making the wine glasses on the table clatter loudly.

The female classmate sitting nearby was startled, and the chopsticks in her hand fell.

The whole room went quiet for a second.

Class Monitor Zhang Wei's eyelid twitched. Looking at the pitch-black helmet, he felt puzzled: How could this piece of junk sound so heavy?

But he quickly ignored this detail and continued his performance.

"Come, come, everyone sit."

Class Monitor Zhang Wei regained control of the situation. He deliberately slapped his BMW car keys onto the table with a crisp sound, landing right next to Jiang Chen's helmet.

An exquisite blue-and-white logo next to a black metal lump filled with violent aesthetics. A sharp contrast.

"Jiang Chen, since you're here, don't be a stranger. I'm treating today."

Class Monitor Zhang Wei poured himself a glass of Moutai and began his speech with a flushed face, "I know your family has recently... cough, encountered some issues. We are all classmates, and it's only right that we help each other out."

"If you find delivering food too hard, I happen to need a security captain over at the Financial District. Although the salary isn't high, just five or six thousand, at least you won't be exposed to the wind and rain, and meals are provided. Do you want to consider it?"

Li Li, who had always been interested in him, also leaned over. With a face full of exquisite makeup, she wore a look of hypocritical sympathy: "Yeah, Jiang Chen, don't stubbornly hold on. How much is face worth? Class Monitor Zhang Wei is trying to help you. If you're willing, I can also have my boyfriend find you a job at the construction site..."

Jiang Chen leaned back in his chair, fiddling with the metal lighter he had brought back from the Wasteland, quietly watching the performance of this group of people. Brilliant. Truly brilliant. This acting, these lines, were much better than those internet celebrities.

"Thanks, Class Monitor Zhang Wei."

Jiang Chen lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and blew a perfect smoke ring, "But I won't be a security guard. I'm lazy and can't stand for long periods."

"As for delivering food..." He pointed to the helmet on the table, a playful arc forming at the corners of his mouth: "My helmet is too heavy. If I wear it to deliver food, I'm afraid I'll break my neck."

"Heavy?" Class Monitor Zhang Wei sneered. How heavy could a beat-up motorcycle helmet be? Two pounds? Three pounds? This Jiang Chen, stubbornly holding onto his pride and suffering for it, still putting on an act at this point?

"Enough, Jiang Chen, we're all old classmates, why the act?"

Class Monitor Zhang Wei felt it necessary to pierce the last bit of self-esteem of this down-and-out rich kid, so that he could never lift his head up here again.

"Come, come, move this thing."

Class Monitor Zhang Wei stood up and reached out to grab Jiang Chen's helmet, "Such a big thing on the table, it's blocking everyone from picking up food. I'll put it on the chair next to you."

He looked completely nonchalant, as if he were about to pick up a tissue.

Jiang Chen didn't stop him, but a glimmer of amusement flashed in his eyes as he watched the show, and he even kindly reminded him: "Class Monitor Zhang Wei, be careful, this thing... is indeed a bit heavy."

"Tch, how heavy could it be? Heavier than my BMW keys?"

Class Monitor Zhang Wei snorted disdainfully and reached out a hand, grabbing the edge of the helmet.

In his view, this was just a plastic shell that could be lifted with a little effort. Thus, he casually pulled upward. It didn't budge.

The helmet seemed as if it were welded to the tabletop, not even wobbling once.

"Huh?" Class Monitor Zhang Wei was stunned for a moment. What was going on? Was it stuck?

He didn't believe it. He increased the force in his hand, the veins on his arm bulging, and pulled with all his might again! "Up!"

It still didn't budge. The helmet seemed to possess its own gravitational field, as steady as Mount Tai.

Now, everyone at the table noticed something was wrong.

Class Monitor Zhang Wei's face instantly turned the color of a pig's liver. He was in front of the whole class! If he couldn't even lift a beat-up helmet, where would he put his face?

"I don't believe it!"

Class Monitor Zhang Wei could no longer care about his composure. He put both hands on it, even leaning half his body over the table, bracing himself, and using every ounce of strength he had.

"GET! UP!"

He roared in his mind, his face turning bright red, the veins on his neck about to burst, and his teeth clenching loudly.

However, the black helmet remained quietly on the table, emitting a cold metallic luster, as if silently mocking this mortal's overestimation of his own abilities.

It had extreme density. This was the core control terminal for the Wasteland "titan" mecha, crafted from collapsed-state ultra-high-density alloy; although it was only the size of a helmet, its weight... was a full two hundred kilograms!

Never mind Class Monitor Zhang Wei, a finance guy whose body had been hollowed out by wine and women; even someone like the special forces king Zhao Gang would have to think twice about lifting it with one hand.

"Class... Class Monitor Zhang Wei? Are you okay?" Li Li, sitting nearby, watched Class Monitor Zhang Wei's expression—gritting his teeth, sweating profusely, and looking as if he were constipated—and asked cautiously, "Did it... get stuck?"

Class Monitor Zhang Wei let go, gasping for air, feeling as if his two arms were no longer his own.

He looked at the helmet in terror, then at Jiang Chen, who was calmly smoking, his voice trembling: "Ji... Jiang Chen... is this even a helmet?"

"Did you fill it with cement?!"

Jiang Chen flicked the cigarette ash, smiling brilliantly, that nonchalant, humble-bragging air instantly filling the entire private room: "Cement? Class Monitor Zhang Wei, your perspective is too small."

"This is a... counterweight I specially customized to keep from lifting off when I'm speeding."