I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2194 - 1402: Gasoline Cars and New Energy

"Sister Luck, your figure is getting better and better."

Once the aerobics session wrapped up, the trainer—built like a powerhouse—showered compliments on his private trainee with enthusiasm.

Sister Luck just offered a polite smile to the trainer's blatant flattery, dabbed away the perspiration from her brow, and stayed quiet.

A flicker of disappointment crossed the eyes of the attractive, burly trainer, though he kept it hidden.

"Just give me a shout whenever you're free next, Sister Luck."

With no elaborate cosmetics on, Sister Luck flashed an OK sign. Maybe the workout had worn her out, dimming the lively spark she typically showed in clubs after dark.

"Go ahead and relax a bit first, Sister Luck."

The trainer wisely chose not to push, departing with composure. When handling clients like her, rushing things was a no-go; patience was key, waiting for her to make the first move, or it could backfire.

Even without advancing personally, the charge for each session brought in a tidy amount.

Not everyone falls for riches.

Yet others chase easier paths.

Sadly for the trainer, Sister Luck—rich and capricious—picks and chooses; not every guy catches her eye.

After sitting on the floor for a quick breather, she rose and headed to the digital scale, stepping on while still in her shoes, setting her apart from most women.

156.6

Evidently, she'd put on half a pound compared to her previous check.

No surprise there.

The trainer had fibbed, but Sister Luck wasn't one to nitpick; he had his job to do, and it came from a good place.

"Sigh~"

Gazing at the scale's reading, Sister Luck let out a gentle sigh, appearing mildly irked by the number.

She overlooked, however, that trading her nightclub nights for more gym time might yield different results.

Fortunately, Luck avoided emotional drain. Those who wallow in feelings often stay slim, and any upset over her weight faded the instant she left the scale.

"Boom!"

Over in the weights section.

The hanging bag jolted wildly from a solid punch, then caught a mighty roundhouse kick on its return swing.

"Bang!"

As she drew near, Sister Luck felt her pulse quicken, half-expecting the bag to burst under the assault.

"You’re in a high mood today."

Her comment spared the battered bag. The source of the fierce blows turned out to be a woman, surprisingly soft-featured with flowing locks.

Gravity pulled the bag into a slow sway, its swings dying down bit by bit.

The long-haired woman halted.

"Come on, let’s take a break."

Sister Luck suggested.

Lounge zone.

Two sodas sat before them.

"Something on your mind?"

Sister Luck probed carefully.

"No."

The long-haired woman took a sip, her denial ringing false.

They'd been acquainted more than a day or two; her edginess screamed trouble brewing.

"You always like to keep things to yourself. Humans are social creatures and need to share. If you speak out your happiness, it’ll double; if it’s a worry, it’ll become half."

Still, the long-haired woman held her tongue, true to form since their first encounter.

Oddly, after years—three or four at least—they remained nameless to each other.

Indeed.

Friends they were, yet Sister Luck knew zilch about her background or identity.

But it didn't faze Sister Luck, who never considered digging deeper. Her circle included all types, and this enigmatic one added flavor.

"Is this rare invitation just to watch you beat up a punching bag?"

Sister Luck chuckled. Their physiques clashed: she carried a bit of extra softness, while the other stayed lean, their temperaments opposites too.

"Don’t tell me it’s a breakup. Who’s the guy that couldn’t see your worth, shall I go stand up for you?"

Sister Luck teased. Names eluded her, let alone romantic details. Basically, a courteous distance defined their bond.

"Do you think someone like me would be in a relationship?"

"Why not?"

Sister Luck shot back swiftly, "You’re beautiful, with a great body, and you can fight. If I were a man, I’d definitely want someone like you, it feels so secure."

Sister Luck pushed as much as she could, but the other's calm facade held, no grin in sight.

"Stop thinking about anything else."

Sister Luck stated firmly, "Later, I’ll take you out to have fun, all kinds of men will be there, pick anyone you like!"

No denying it: friendship with Sister Luck spelled pure luck.

Loaded.

Big-hearted.

True-blue.

"Are you really planning to form a harem with 3,000?"

Sister Luck's obliviousness didn't mean the other was in the dark about her. In dealings or daily life, she prized honesty, like when she boasted her fortune to a total stranger without reserve.

"You know me. I’m just playing around, looking for fun, killing time. Those pets think they can climb into my bed, but they aren’t even worthy of licking my toes."

Sister Luck nursed her soda, her softly rounded chin lifted in smugness.

"But, to be honest, I’ve recently met an interesting guy. If he’s willing... maybe..."

Sister Luck's answer stayed elusive and hazy, followed by an odd sigh.

"Sigh, what a pity."

"Is there a guy who can escape your clutches?"

"Don’t mention it. The guy’s already taken, and his wealthy partner is even tougher than me."

True to pattern, despite time together, meetings were sparse, and their chats stayed light, skimming the surface.