I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping Chapter 2294 - 1457: The Ten Thousandth Digit of Pi

I still recall the question I once posed to Goddess Pei.

How much do the stars weigh?

Eight grams.

Why?

Because 'Starbucks.'

Right now, Jiang Chen sat inside a Starbucks.

Shen Zhou reclaiming its spot at the world's center isn't just empty talk.

Society's every nook confirms it.

From automobiles to quick-service spots like McDonald’s and KFC, they're all getting swamped by surging local brands.

Starbucks faces the same fate.

Reflect on Starbucks' former splendor, back when milk tea cost just two yuan per cup, yet it charged exorbitant prices of tens for coffee, drawing massive crowds in frenzy.

In those days, the middle class boasted about sipping Starbucks, with even a Starbucks cup turning into prime chatter for their social scenes.

Contrast that packed, seat-scarce past with today's reality.

Though it hasn't been ousted from the Shen Zhou market like certain failures, it's clearly fading amid assaults from homegrown milk tea rivals; Starbucks has tumbled from its pedestal, and as local brands match its prices, stripped of its 'noble' aura and 'status symbol', one word sums it up.

Limping along.

Back in college, Jiang Chen frequented Starbucks—well, for part-time shifts, and sure, as a customer too—from his own view, its flavor struck him as mediocre, hardly justifying the hype, yet Shen Zhou's realities persist; as a foreign import, Starbucks' air of 'nobility' fueled much of its triumph here.

If an overseas brand fails to deliver that vanity boost, why pick it over local milk tea?

Of course.

Not that Starbucks' slide stems solely from stagnant pricing hikes; even sky-high costs today couldn't halt its downturn.

As Shen Zhou strides back to global prominence, national pride surges anew, people ditch chasing vanity with cash, and foreign brands' easy profiteering era grinds to a halt.

Unlike certain folks, Jiang Chen never favored 'domestic' over 'imported'—not in his broke days, nor now after upending his destiny—his choice to sit in Starbucks proves zero bias.

He took the part-time gig there purely for the better pay rate on temp shifts.

Thus, beyond optimism, Jiang Chen stays pragmatic; ease and value truly count.

The coffee that seemed merely passable then tastes identical now, as he scans a handful of office workers tapping on laptops around him, Jiang Chen delves deeper into Fujiwara Reiki’s ideas.

What does Shen Zhou’s five millennia of history reveal?

It shows many issues hold solutions within the past.

Can today’s fresh wealth and old fortunes, akin to new versus established nobles of yore, truly not dwell in peace?

Evidently not.

At minimum.

Old nobility never views upstarts as equals.

This stems from innate arrogance and bias.

Fujiwara Reiki excels at sowing devilish seeds in minds, outshining Song Chaoge; she once tried akin tactics on Jiang Chen, but they faded fast and weakly—lost in reverie, he missed someone approaching until they plopped down opposite, prompting his reflexive tap on the tabletop phone.

Despite picking lunch hour deliberately, the arrival lagged by roughly twenty minutes.

No issue.

Their mere presence signals ample courtesy.

'What would you like to drink?'

Jiang Chen inquired, skipping any tardiness mention.

Cao Jinse eyed the coffee before him. 'Flat White.'

What luck.

He'd chosen Flat White himself.

Jiang Chen headed to order, returning post-pickup—despite VIP perks, he displays zero airs.

But that's unavoidable.

Starbucks runs that way.

No server deliveries; equality rules, kings fetch from the counter too.

Jiang Chen set the fresh, sugar-free Flat White before the other.

Princess Cao skipped thanks.

Better without.

Overly formal politeness in tight bonds spells big trouble.

'Where’s the thing?'

Princess Cao lifted her Flat White, sipping with head bowed, face calm and neutral.

'What thing?'

Jiang Chen responded on reflex.

Cao Jinse glanced up.

'Sticky note.'

Evidently, Princess Cao grasped that returning after last ejection meant solid prep.

And a blank Japanese-labeled note makes the perfect ace.

Surprisingly, Mr. Jiang failed to produce the sticky note directly on the table. Instead, he reached out, lifted his Flat White as well, and casually declared, "Lost it."

Lost it?

Just like that?

Cao Jinse had suspected the man might have forgotten about it—otherwise, it would have been presented already—but she never imagined such a nonchalant reply.

"Song Chaoge can testify."

To demonstrate he spoke the truth, Jiang Chen invoked a witness.

Hmm.

Young Master Song was indeed present as a witness, but had he actually seen what was written on it?

Besides, would Young Master Song even deign to show up and provide testimony?