After Lin Chu left the office, Zhao Rong looked at Hou Chengjin and asked casually, "Xiaocheng, what's the story with this friend of yours?"
"Twenty-four years old with a net worth of a billion? Is he some kind of god who's descended to the mortal realm?"
She mostly believed the part about his billion-dollar net worth.
And at twenty-four, there was no reason to lie about his age.
It was just... he was so young it was terrifying.
The only explanation was that he was the heir to a powerful family. Whether that power came from politics or wealth, however, she didn't know.
'He's on a level I don't even dare to aspire to,' Zhao Rong thought.
"I don't know, either. I met him at the golf club. The first time we met, he tried to give me a Richard Mille—the one that costs over ten million. I didn't have the nerve to accept it, so I gave it back."
"And did you see that necklace he was wearing? Imperial Green. That has to be worth at least fifty million, don't you think?"
