Chapter Fifty-Seven: Stirring Up the Mood

The next morning, March 1st.

Ren Qian had just prepared breakfast and was about to call Wen Run to eat when Wang Yi Company sent over the bank transfer information.

Three million in cold, hard cash!

Now, he was truly wealthy.

Unexpected, yet not entirely so. Unexpected, because in just a month, the download numbers had soared so high; but expected, because the quality of these songs fully deserved such returns.

Still, when one considered it carefully, in this age that revered copyrights, these ten-odd high-quality songs had only fetched three million—it was, in truth, a “bargain sale.”

If these songs had been packaged as an album, it would easily have sold half a million copies. That would be ten million in the bank, just like that.

With the album’s impact, he could have stepped directly into the ranks of first-tier singers. Then, with performances, award shows, galas, and all manner of money-spinning events, Ren Qian would soon become a local magnate who could stir up trouble wherever he pleased.

But perhaps this was for the best.

If he released three albums over two years, with sales gradually increasing, the media would at most write a few perfunctory lines—“Such-and-such first-tier singer’s new album is a hit.”

But if he held back a big move, and his very first album sold in astonishing numbers, not only would it be shocking, but the media would report on it madly, the influence far greater.

Standing in the entertainment circle, one ought to act with an entertainer’s perspective. Seizing the headlines—that was the true path.

Rather than earn a steady stream of money with multiple albums, why not “take a shortcut” and win both fame and fortune?

His bet with the “King of Flattery” was, without a doubt, a stroke of genius.

After breakfast, Ren Qian and the nurse set out to view some houses. Though real estate in Jiangnan City was expensive, three million was more than enough.

He could even afford a first-class villa with a garden and a garage by the Xiang River.

Soon, they arrived at the “Great River Metropolis” development.

On the unfinished commercial tower, a banner hung. The slogan was simple yet fresh—“Buy one riverside suite, get one free.”

“Buy one, get one free!”

Ren Qian couldn’t help but smirk when he heard the nurse’s astonished exclamation. “It’s just a little marketing trick.”

Wen Run shot him a glare. Every time he grinned crookedly, it was that same seven parts lewd, three parts lascivious smile that made her grit her teeth in frustration!

“Can’t you be a little more decent? Every night your head is full of dubious thoughts, and you can’t pass a bathhouse without that smirk and a string of shameful jokes.”

At times, she wanted nothing more than to crack open Ren Qian’s head and scoop out all the chaotic, messy matter inside, leaving only a silent, song-writing musician in his little black room, not this ever-scheming scoundrel.

“How can it be a trick? It’s all written down in black and white—ask the driver what he thinks.”

The taxi driver raised both hands in agreement with the nurse’s view. Buy one, get one free—quite true.

But the customers who received a complimentary home first had to buy a super-luxury villa worth over ten million; only then would they get a little loft or something as a “gift.” It was an old trick of the developers.

“Ah, you’re all too naïve. The slogan just uses a simple concept swap. ‘Buy one, get one free’—even a pack of condoms could be described as a ‘set’ after all…”

As soon as Ren Qian finished, he caught a glimpse of the driver’s horrified face in the rear-view mirror.

Suddenly, the taxi jolted with a violent shudder, and the piercing sound of brakes screeching came from outside.

“Eat shit, you up front! Do you even know how to drive?”

“Who drives like that? If you damage my luxury car, your wife will be paying it all back!”

Still pale and shaken, the driver swallowed twice, ignored the shouting behind, and hurriedly drove off.

He swore he would never forget this young man’s face—and that he would never pick up his fare again.

Who knew what other thunderous, bizarre statements he would come up with next time?

…

In the sales office, several curvaceous saleswomen guided a handful of clients around the scale model of the development, eloquently describing the villas’ land area, location, transport links, and other selling points.

Sitting nearby, a modernly dressed feng shui master lounged in a chair, sipping tea, his gaze occasionally drifting to the gaily dressed saleswomen.

Ren Qian chuckled—what a comical scene.

“What’s so funny? Being a feng shui master is a decent profession. Just answer a few questions for clients now and then, and you get paid by the hour—over ten thousand a month is nothing. Some billionaires even keep feng shui masters on retainer at a million a year.”

The nurse gave Ren Qian a serious nudge.

Laughing at others for no reason—whether out of kindness or malice—was always considered rude.

…

“This gentleman and lady, if you’d like to purchase a villa, please come this way.”

The voice arrived before the person did, along with a strong waft of perfume.

The moment Ren Qian and Wen Run entered, this saleswoman had noticed them. After observing for a few seconds, she used basic sales instincts to judge: this married couple was here to buy.

So, without further questions, she led them straight to select a house.

“You’re free to choose your preferred location. I highly recommend this area—high greenery, and a sparkling view of the Xiang River. It’s only three million seven hundred and sixteen thousand.”

“Also, our company is running a promotion. Anyone who buys a villa gets to enter a lucky draw. The prizes are generous—laptops, LCD TVs, fully automatic washing machines, ovens… all valuable items. Our grand prize is a luxury villa worth eleven million! If you’re lucky…”

The saleswoman smiled, leaving the rest to the imagination.

“Just one house and you get a draw? Then if I buy two houses at over a million each, do I get two chances? And if I win the luxury villa, will you try to silence me?”

Ren Qian shook his head with a grin, bantering about exploiting loopholes.

If someone really bought two million-yuan houses and then won an eleven-million-yuan villa, the developer would lose a fortune…

So to him, the luxury villa as a prize was clearly just a marketing stunt. He couldn’t help making a few jibes.

“This young man’s idea isn’t bad—spend a million to win ten million, what a deal! Miss, give me two houses, I want to win the luxury villa!”

Everyone turned at the sudden outburst; faces twitched involuntarily.

It seemed someone with more brawn than brains had arrived.

“Come, come, I’ve decided! Give me the two cheapest houses, then tell me how to enter the draw! Hahaha, I can feel that luxury villa beckoning to me…”

Wen Run: “…”

Ren Qian gave a dry laugh and quietly steered the nurse toward the exit, just a dozen steps away.

“Let’s watch from here. If anything goes wrong, we run and never look back!”

He whispered gravely in the nurse’s ear.

The “brave soul” had been inspired by his quip to try his luck.

In other words, he’d indirectly stirred up the commotion—

Even the cheapest two villas would cost over three million. For the sake of a fanciful luxury villa, risking millions was reckless indeed.

And reckless people tend to do reckless things.

Ren Qian feared that if the “warrior” came to grief, he might try to hold him liable for the loss.

If the man really made a scene, there would be no reasoning with him.

Yet, knowing the risk, why didn’t Ren Qian just leave immediately with the nurse?

What a joke—

Who would willingly miss out on such a spectacle?