《Cash Rules Everything: My Infinite Wallet》

The Phantom's engine had barely cooled when Lu Yuan encountered his second ambush of the day - this time from a walking paradox in navy tailoring. Liu Feiyan stood sentry at the Waldorf's entrance, her pencil skirt cutting precisely five centimeters above dimpled knees, stilettos sharp enough to pierce corporate bylaws.

"Mr. Lu." Her handshake was a calculated paradox - businesslike yet boneless, manicured claws sheathed in cashmere-soft skin. "I'll be your personal concierge during this stay."

The lobby assaulted his senses like a luxury grenade. Ten-meter ceilings dripped crystal shards masquerading as chandeliers. Walls wore velvet like aging courtesans, while a landscape painting stretched wide enough to swallow small nations.

"Your private elevator, sir." Liu's hip brushed the control panel as she keyed a biometric sequence. The cabin smelled of lemongrass and repressed ambition.

Floor 35 unveiled its tribute to capitalism. The hallway carpet swallowed Lu Yuan's steps like financial reports absorbing start-up dreams. A bowing attendant materialized bearing Montblanc's version of breadcrumbs - belt and pen gleaming like corporate baptismal gifts.

Liu's tour unfolded like a luxury catechism:

-"The parlor's floor-to-ceiling windows surveil Beijing's skyline like a Bond villain's lair."

-"Egyptian cotton bedding embroidered with your name in Cyrillic script - our little welcoming ritual."

-"Soundproofed study for plotting hostile takeovers or writing bad poetry."

-"The shower system has more nozzles than a Politburo meeting."

When she paused at the walk-in closet's emptiness, Lu Yuan's retail instincts stirred. "I need a wardrobe transfusion."

"May I suggest..." Liu's lashes dipped like stock market indices. "...personal styling services? I happen to hold dual certifications in color theory and..." Her throaty laugh fluttered paperwork. "...human psychology."

Lu Yuan's gaze traced her silhouette - all corporate severity above the waist, Renaissance painting below. "Why outsource when expertise comes wrapped in Armani?"

Her smile could've chilled champagne. "Shall we begin with Brioni or Zegna, Mr. Lu?"

Outside, Beijing's smog blurred into abstract art as the Waldorf's climate control hummed its approval. Somewhere between the cashmere throw pillows and Liu's strategic blouse button, Lu Yuan's phone buzzed with Chen Guo's eighth "check-in" text of the hour.

The game, it seemed, was afoot.