Chapter 32: Is This What You Call Rational? (Requesting Monthly Votes)

“Boss…” Gao Fei knocked on Qi Hao’s office door.

“What is it?” Qi Hao added, “I don’t answer gossip questions.”

Are you the Supreme Elder Lord, why so obsessed with gossip?

Qi Hao finally understood why Zhang Tianming had said he was perfect to voice the male lead in Iron Man.

He’d thought the guy was impressed by his voice.

Now he realized the bastard was probably hinting he was just like Stark—a playboy.

That was just too much.

“Not gossip, not gossip, Boss, I believe you too!” Gao Fei hurried to say.

“Thanks!” Qi Hao doubted her sincerity but chose to believe her anyway.

“My dad asked when you’re picking up the car?” Gao Fei was just a little messenger.

“Oh right, the car…”

Qi Hao remembered the thing he’d already forgotten.

“My dad also said he’s going to Shanxi in a few days—asked if you want to have a drink with him?” Gao Fei was speechless; her dad’s drinking capacity was legendary, yet he seriously invited someone out for liquor.

Damn, his daughter nearly died laughing.

“Pick up the car this afternoon. Drink tonight—I’ve got nothing else to do today.”

The car was at the dealership; Qi Hao took Finance Officer Fan Qingxi to pick it up.

It felt like opening a blind box.

Fixed assets like this are usually registered under the studio’s name—it’s not tax evasion, just normal business practice.

“I wonder what kind of car Boss Gao sent? Coal Boss is so rich.”

Fan Qingxi was riding with Qi Hao for the first time, slightly excited—he was a recent college graduate just entering society.

He had some experience, sure, but not much.

Qi Hao and Lao Tian only needed professionals, not professionals who helped with tax evasion.

For a small studio, someone like Fan Qingxi was perfect.

“Coal Boss isn’t stupid…”

Qi Hao couldn’t help laughing. Most people had the illusion that the rich spent recklessly—just a little spill from their fingers could drown others.

But the richer you are, the more rational your spending becomes.

At the dealership, Qi Hao stared at the Spirit of Ecstasy hood ornament and fell into thought.

“Rolls-Royce…” Fan Qingxi’s voice turned dry.

Boss, this is what you call rational?

“Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended, on-road price 9.88 million RMB…” The dealer smiled broadly.

They’d already sold the car; nearly all paperwork was complete.

They didn’t care who bought it—human or not.

“Wait a sec—I’ll make a call!”

Qi Hao scratched his head. Though he was a shareholder of Penguin Group, 9.88 million wasn’t astronomical to him—but having 9.88 million and being able to spend it on a car were two different things.

Without hundreds of millions in net worth, spending this much on a car was just showing off.

“Mr. Qi, please…” The dealer beamed—like a blooming chrysanthemum.

Qi Hao dialed Gao Yang’s number. After it connected, besides Gao Yang’s voice, he heard other noisy sounds—like mahjong.

“Big Brother Yang, this joke’s too big. My appearance fee doesn’t even hit 500,000. You send me this monster? I’m afraid I can’t handle it.”

Generally, stars like Zhang Xueyou, Liu Dehua, and Zhou Jielun charged around 700,000—they were low-premium; even if you had money, you couldn’t always book them.

For example, Liu Dehua’s fee for just two songs at a commercial event exceeded one million RMB.

Korean top stars like Rain, accounting for international travel and accommodation in China, also charged over one million RMB.

Second-tier Hong Kong/Taiwan stars like Lin Zhiying, or mainland stars like Zang Tianzuo, could sometimes be hired for 100,000 to 300,000 RMB.

Mainland stars’ fees were generally lower than their Hong Kong/Taiwan counterparts.

But Qi Hao was one of the Four Little Kings—not a professional singer—and rarely appeared at commercial events.

Getting him for around 500,000 RMB would require serious spending.

But no matter how much you spent, you’d never pay 9.88 million.

Rich women and tycoons dating hot young idols? That’s about the price.

Of course, those transactions were mostly about securing development resources, not cash—something with no long-term value.

“Hey, little brother, I’ve already sent my daughter to you—what’s a car? Don’t you remember? I’m a coal miner. Coal bosses love cars like this.”

Gao Yang replied while playing mahjong.

He treated the million-dollar Rolls-Royce Phantom like nothing.

“It’s too valuable.”

Qi Hao suddenly remembered Gao Yang’s self-deprecating line: “Spitting in Pierre Cardin, driving a Rolls-Royce through red lights.” He hadn’t been exaggerating at all—it was pure realism.

Coal Boss really had ordered a Rolls-Royce Phantom.

In fact, last year, Chinese buyers purchased 8.3 million cars, 106 of them Rolls-Royces—already 10% of Rolls-Royce’s global sales.

A significant portion came from coal bosses.

And they strongly preferred the extended version; soft-top convertibles held little interest.

“This is our friendship, not business—it can’t be measured by money.”

Friendship is friendship, business is business. If it were business, I wouldn’t let you take a single yuan from me. But if it’s friendship, I think our bond is worth it—this car isn’t wasted.”

“I just happened to order this car. Take it.”

“Don’t forget the drink tonight.”

“Gotta go—this hand’s almost ready. Hahaha~”

What could Qi Hao say? He sat in the dealership’s VIP lounge sipping tea; most procedures were done. Fan Qingxi handled the rest.

The VIP lounge was luxurious.

Everything you could want was there.

Hmm, even things you didn’t want.

“No thanks, really—I’d just like to be alone.”

Qi Hao saw two women being led in—he quickly waved them off, signaling he couldn’t handle it.

He didn’t act like a sage trying to convince them to quit their line of work.

Everyone had their own life and choices.

Besides, he didn’t understand the services here—maybe they were just performing arts, not selling their bodies.

The VIP lounge also had some books.

But most were self-help or success literature.

Hmm, probably tied to the main clientele.

Qi Hao had seen the cars parked here—all over 300,000 RMB, at least a BMW 3 Series minimum.

Qi Hao sat in the lounge reading some chicken soup for a while; by then, the paperwork was done—the car was now studio property.

“Want to take it for a spin?” Qi Hao asked Fan Qingxi, holding the keys to the million-RMB car.

“Boss, you drive—I’m too scared to.”

Fan Qingxi had already insured the car, but just thinking of its price made his heart race.

“Alright~” Qi Hao slid into the driver’s seat.

The car smelled like a new car—definitely not formaldehyde, since formaldehyde is odorless.

The car was comfortable, but for him, it was kind of useless.

Because soon he’d own a “metaphysical” Santana 2000—then would he drive the Santana or the Rolls-Royce Phantom?

The Santana would be so proud.

Damn, one day he’d be choosing between a Rolls-Royce Phantom and a Santana.

And the Santana would win!

If Qi Hao took a long trip, he’d definitely pick the Santana.

That triple accident immunity was an insane trait—almost three lives.

No matter how advanced or expensive a car, it couldn’t make passengers immune to injury in a crash.

Not even a tank could do that.

“Guys!” Back at the company, Fan Qingxi couldn’t hold back—he shouted: “You know what car I picked up with Boss today?”

“Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended…” Shi Feng replied calmly.

“How did you all know? Did Gao Fei tell you?” Fan Qingxi’s plan to shock everyone instantly failed.

“It’s all over the internet,” Shi Feng sighed.

Technically, Zhan Qi Laiden handled PR and he handled marketing, but with only a few people in the studio, they constantly had to collaborate.

Already heavy workloads now had one more task added.

No surprise—they’d be working late tonight.

“There aren’t just reports—there are clear photos too. Probably taken by someone at the dealership. Boss, you’re the VIP—why would someone be angry enough to leak your info?”

Zhan Qi Laiden was deeply curious.

He realized Qi Hao couldn’t be judged by normal standards.

He didn’t at all resemble the cold, introverted, even somewhat gloomy figure people imagined.

After actually interacting with him, Zhan Qi Laiden realized Qi Hao also had a goofy, easygoing side—and if he didn’t need to think, he wouldn’t, down to the point of being nearly idiotic.

“Let me think…” Qi Hao looked genuinely baffled. How had he ended up making enemies just by going out?

“It probably isn’t the distributor—you’re his top client; he’s counting on future cooperation. Who did you meet at his club?”

Lao Tian, who knew Qi Hao best, chimed in from the side.

“Oh, I remember—I was waiting in the VIP lounge, and they assigned me two… women. I didn’t let them in. Maybe that’s how I offended someone.”

If Qi Hao actually bothered to think, he was certainly not stupid.

But this whole business today was ridiculous.

I didn’t let you come in to keep me company—so now I’ve offended you too?

Seriously…

I don’t even know what to say.

“That’s probably it,” Lao Tian suddenly understood. He sighed. “Assigning blame now is pointless. Since it’s already out, let it be. The car will still be driven eventually—everyone will find out you own a Rolls-Royce.”

“Think positively—others might think our studio is powerful and be more willing to collaborate with us.”

The agent Zhang Nan also leaned toward not pursuing it.

Don’t talk about celebrities having privacy—if you make your living off public attention, you can’t expect the same privacy rights as ordinary people.

Besides, celebrities’ marketing tactics have grown increasingly lowbrow in recent years.

They often deliberately leak their own private lives to gain attention.

If you don’t even care about your own privacy, how can you demand others respect it?

“But it could bring trouble too—what if someone sees how rich the boss is and tries to kidnap him…” Fan Qingxi suddenly thought of this.

“You jinx…”

Lao Tian thought for a moment and couldn’t rule out the possibility. A few years ago, someone named Wu Ruofu was kidnapped; luckily, police rescued him after over twenty hours.

For an ordinary person, they might have just been buried alive.

“Should we put something in the car for self-defense?” Qi Hao was scared too.

He wasn’t afraid the kidnappers would demand ransom—what if they had some weird preferences?

“Put in an urn filled with baby formula—eat it while shouting, ‘Great-grandma, lend me your strength!’” Zhan Qi Laiden sneered.

You’re a big celebrity, and you’re thinking about arming yourself?

Do you think you’re Fang Long from the furniture store, where even Thanos gets two punches?