My Manor

"Don't be nervous, my friend. We aren't bad to our friends because we believe in them. Haha, how do I know you're the original owner of this armor? First of all, you were too obvious at the auction. Secondly, our family holds shares in Phillips. While I don't know the name of the armor's owner, I do have access to news about a Chinese person. And today, you're the only Chinese in the audience." Seeing Jiang Hai's nervous look, Du Famen shrugged indifferently, smiling as he spoke.

Although Jiang Hai knew Du Famen was telling the truth, it made him more cautious. This guy isn't as polite as he seems. He must have known I was the owner of the armor before the auction even began. The reason he approached me was likely to get close.

As for the person in charge, it was probably this guy's agent. I must be more careful.

"I just handled the handover of the armor. Your armor is now on its way to my residence in Dubai, and Phillips is transferring your money right now, not a penny less." Sensing Jiang Hai's lingering mistrust, Du Famen smiled, as if this was a typical transaction.

"I don't care about the armor. I only care about the money." Seeing Du Famen sit down directly across from him, Jiang Hai slowly sat down as well, taking a bite of the German roast pork in front of him and smiling.

"That's right, my friend. Don't have any psychological burden—I'm giving you real money." Hearing Jiang Hai's words, Du Famen couldn't help but laugh. He was being very candid.

"So, my friend, now that the transaction is complete, what brings you to me?" Putting down his knife and fork, Jiang Hai looked at Du Famen with some surprise.

"Well, Jiang, as you probably know, we're currently renovating our tourism industry in Dubai. I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining us. As my friend, I'll give you the green light all the way." Seeing Jiang Hai's serious look, Du Famen smiled. Having already given Jiang Hai 1.1 billion, he was hoping to gain more.

"Oh, Du Famen, you're not treating me as a friend when you say this. Is the real estate industry in Dubai really that easy right now?" Looking at Du Famen, Jiang Hai shook his head and immediately rejected the offer. After all, who doesn't know the truth?

With Dubai's oil wells running dry, the Dubai government decided to turn the city into a tourist haven. A flood of entertainment facilities were built, and cheap land prices were offered to attract foreign real estate developers. However, these are mere bubbles. Jiang Hai remembered that just a few years ago, Dubai nearly went bankrupt due to tourism.

At its peak, Dubai owed over 30 billion US dollars. Fortunately, the Arab royal families banded together, and other nations pumped funds into Dubai, saving it from bankruptcy.

Even so, there are still many unfinished buildings, and while people are willing to visit for tourism, few are willing to live there. The cost of living is high, the desert climate is harsh, and public security isn't ideal. No rich Chinese, for example, would choose to live there. The place is built for tourism, but not much else. Anyone who develops property there would be crazy.

"Hehe, it seems my friend is still very smart!" Du Famen didn't mind Jiang Hai's rejection. He knew anyone with a brain wouldn't jump into the Dubai real estate business right now.

"You're not interested in real estate, but how about this?" Du Famen said, pulling a piece of stiff paper from the sleeve of his robe and handing it to Jiang Hai. Jiang Hai took it, and his eyes immediately lit up. While he wasn't interested in real estate, he was very interested in this.

"Why would you want to sell this to me?" Jiang Hai asked, pointing at the paper in front of him, clearly curious.

He truly couldn't understand it. People die every day over such things. While it might seem insignificant, it is the lifeline of the entire world. Jiang Hai didn't believe in falling for any false promises.

"Real estate in Dubai is indeed a tough market, but I need funds to operate. Your armor nearly drained my cash, so I need to recover some for operations. Of course, I trust you won't sell this to anyone else easily. Consider it an investment. I'll leave it with you for now and redeem it later. Of course, if you want to sell it, the choice is yours—after all, it's yours." Looking at Jiang Hai seriously, Du Famen spoke sincerely.

Jiang Hai gently tapped the paper in front of him, deep in thought about whether this deal was worthwhile.

After hesitating for a few minutes, Jiang Hai smiled. He realized he'd been overthinking. No matter Du Famen's intentions, he had received what he wanted. Most importantly, this thing would never depreciate.

Even when he received it, its value was already rising.

Jiang Hai didn't know that Du Famen was likely selling this at a bargain price.

Why would Du Famen allow him to profit from it? But looking at his smile and his occasional glances toward the Soviets, Jiang Hai understood that selling resources to the enemy could indeed yield higher profits in the short term. However, in the long run, it would give his enemies a trump card.

"Deal!" After weighing the value of the item, Jiang Hai extended his hand to Du Famen without hesitation.

Du Famen also smiled and shook his hand. His thoughts were similar to Jiang Hai's: in this business, both would benefit in different ways—Jiang Hai in profit, and Du Famen in time.

After their discussion, Du Famen left, and Jiang Hai stayed to finish his meal.

But instead of heading straight to the hotel, he went to Phillips' auction house, where the person in charge had been waiting for him. As Jiang Hai's phone rang, 282 million US dollars were deposited into his account, and the remaining 400 million was represented by the stack of papers in his hand. Jiang Hai was optimistic about these papers.

Returning to the hotel, Jiang Hai remained on guard. What if Du Famen planned to betray him? What if this was some kind of trap?

Though he looked calm, Jiang Hai remained vigilant, thinking that almost no place in the world was truly safe. His goal now was to return to the hotel and feel a bit more secure.

When he arrived, he quickly handed the car over to the valet and rushed inside.

Upon entering his room, Jiang Hai found the girls watching TV. They stood up to greet him, but Jiang Hai seemed slightly startled by the sight. The girls noticed his discomfort.

"Huh, it's fine. I'm not targeting you. Wait here for me. We'll leave for Boston tomorrow," Jiang Hai smiled, trying to reassure them. Though he hesitated for a moment, he trusted the girls. He approached them, rubbed their heads one by one, and then entered his room.

Inside, Jiang Hai pulled the stack of papers from his clothes.

He opened the folder, and his eyes widened as he looked at the papers. The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.

The papers in his hands were worth 400 million US dollars.

While this wasn't a small amount, it wasn't what made Jiang Hai nervous. After all, he had nearly 600 million in his bank account. It wasn't about the money—it was about what the papers represented.

This stack wasn't just worth 400 million dollars. It was a ticket to higher levels of influence.

Even if he didn't want to use it for personal gain, it could be exchanged for more benefits and money.

In times of crisis, when facing adversaries like the US government or powerful conglomerates, this stack would be invaluable.

400 million? That's just the starting price. If Jiang Hai sold it now, no one could get involved for less than 500 million.

And the best part was, as time passed, its value would only increase—there was no chance of depreciation.

How could Jiang Hai be so confident? Even companies like Coca-Cola can't claim their stock prices will never fall. But Jiang Hai was certain that this stack of papers would bring returns far beyond even the most successful companies.

This was a sure bet. And it was called "oil futures."