I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2178 - 1393: Sister Luck

Laser lights dangling from the Obsidian Dome resemble three thousand writhing serpents, drifting and ascending the majestic Champagne Tower.

Beneath the thumping bass, carefree men and women raise glasses and exchange tender whispers, their watch reflections capturing lipstick traces on the glass rims, mirroring the heated hormones rising from the dance floor, intensifying their haze and quickening their pulses.

Bar counter with snake-patterned marble.

Attractive male and female bartenders flip and mix cocktails, putting on a show like a live circus act. If any nosy folks were nearby, they'd probably exclaim in awe: "What impressive talent that is."

Yet, patrons at nightclubs, particularly upscale spots like this, show little interest in these minor feats.

The bar's corner offers a prime hideaway for those with social unease who still crave a few sips.

"Your drink."

The female bartender slid over yet another glass, a standard Mojito.

The man in the bar's corner handed back the empty one. Though he'd picked a quiet nook, his spirit seemed agitated, with occasional peeks toward the dance floor.

Absolutely.

Solitary.

No more idle fantasies.

"Why not head over and unwind a little?"

The female bartender who was serving him offered kindly, her perfectly applied makeup framing a warm smile.

Folks in these environments possess sharp observational skills; beyond chasing thrills and amusement, plenty visit bars just to sit and ponder their worries.

"Thanks, but I don't know how to dance."

This gentlemanly patron remained courteous and refined.

Does one truly need dancing prowess in a bar?

A simple sway suffices.

Still, the female bartender merely grinned, withholding further comment, aware that tact is vital in a luxury nightclub alongside keen insight.

The female bartender resumed mixing beverages for other customers.

The man, unmoving for over thirty minutes, lifted the second Mojito, his eyes drawn back to the dance floor inescapably.

Yes, a certain figure had captured his interest.

It was a lady clad in a black sequined mermaid gown, sporting smoky eye makeup and nailing the rhythm despite her heels towering over ten centimeters. Beneath her steps, the laser-created starry expanse sprawled, while the packed dance floor mysteriously cleared a space around her.

No question about it.

She was unmistakably the star of the dance floor.

"Luck! Luck! Luck!"

She appeared to be a frequent visitor and popular regular, drawing cheers from the crowd.

But Jiang Chen, here for the first time, had no clue who she was.

He was attracted to her not for her stunning looks or remarkable moves, but because Miss Luck was... intriguing.

That's right.

Intriguing.

Her outfit screamed sensuality, from the towering heels and open-back dress to the voluminous waves and sultry makeup, yet her build

— was notably curvaceous.

By rough estimate, she tipped the scales at around one hundred fifty to sixty pounds. Naturally, that didn't render her overweight, particularly given her height of about one hundred sixty-six or sixty-seven centimeters. However, this physique didn't align with everyone's ideal.

Beauty lies in personal taste.

Some favor fuller forms, while others seek harmony.

Yet Miss Luck demonstrated something key.

Confidence always amplifies allure.

Though she strayed from his preferences, Jiang Chen kept stealing looks at her, especially at those over-ten-centimeter "combat boots".

Despite the vigorous dancing, they held firm without breaking. Clearly, they cost a fortune.

The radiant Miss Luck paused briefly on the dance floor, heading to the bar amid shouts, her form lacking a slim waist and narrow back but radiating undeniable appeal.

"Luck."

The bartenders knew her well, passing her a soda the moment she neared.

"Gulp."

Out of breath, Luck chugged it down, then slid the empty glass ahead for a refill.

The bartender had to pour another.

Jiang Chen, positioned four or five meters distant, didn't bother hiding his stare, openly appraising her, and with no obstructions, she caught on to his attention.

"Hi."

Miss Luck turned her head, not glaring but offering a poised smile and greeting to Jiang Chen.

Frankly, her facial features were impeccable. In the Tang Dynasty era, she'd qualify as an imperial consort easily.

Jiang Chen smiled back, nodded, and shifted his gaze elsewhere.

"Hey, handsome, new here?"

Luck, clutching her second soda, struck up the chat.

The bartenders stayed unfazed, focused on their tasks.

Minimal prying into guests' business.

"Yes."

Boss Jiang wasn't standoffish, replying with courtesy.

"By yourself?"

Luck pressed on.

"Yeah."

Jiang Chen nodded.

Luck's eyes lit up; perhaps chatting from afar felt cumbersome, so she edged nearer with her drink.

Her hair's aroma blended with perfume wafted his way.

"Judging by your accent, you're not a Kyoto local?"

"I'm not."

Boss Jiang stayed courteous, though somewhat distant.

"In Kyoto for work?"

Luck inquired more.

"Handling a few matters."

"Relax a bit, handsome, don't be so stiff; I won't snap at you. Ask anyone if you doubt it—I'm super approachable," Luck remarked, then glanced aside, "Tonight's bill for this handsome guy is mine."

"Got it, Luck."

Without a doubt, in Beijing Capital,

A hub teeming with remarkable talents.

"Handsome, care to be friends?"

Having footed his tab, Luck proposed boldly, displaying greater directness than many men, who often just flap their gums.

"I'm Luck. Folks here know me as Miss Luck; feel free to use that."

"Jiang Chen."

With her push to cover the drinks, refusing felt awkward, and her vibe suggested she had plenty of cash; besides, just a few Mojitos weren't a big deal.

"Are you married?"

"..."

As anticipated, remarkably direct.

"No."

Luck's grin expanded, then she eyed Jiang Chen closely, "You look youthful; what's your job?"