On the other side, Zhao Xuan had arrived at their destination: the Jinshitan Beach Resort.
This developed area was a fairly famous scenic spot, but due to its location, the weather was only nice enough for tourism part of the year, so overall profits were so-so.
Still, every summer, hordes of tourists came to relax.
The resort offered rental villas for visitors, and Zhao's original plan was to rent one.
But yesterday he found out the villas had to be booked in advance — and they were all taken. So he had to settle for a room at the Hilton Hotel in Jinshitan. (In reality, this hotel wouldn't be completed until 2018, four years later.)
Zhao checked the reunion group chat — besides Lu Wenyin and himself, everyone else had already arrived. A few girls had gone down to the beach to play, while the guys were waiting for him to sort out the rooms. Zhao told the group he was almost there, and two of them said they'd come meet him.
Four guys and four girls could've filled four rooms, but one guy had been hospitalized the night before with an illness, leaving the guys in an awkward 3‑person situation.
When Zhao drove into the hotel parking lot, he spotted Wan Chujun, Bai Lvdi, and two other girls unloading stuff from a sports car — a white Aston Martin DB9, no mistaking it.
Ever since getting the system, Zhao had started paying attention to luxury goods and supercars, so he recognized this Bond-edition model instantly.
No doubt it belonged to Wan Chujun — among everyone he knew, even Cao Shudong and Luo Changhao probably couldn't afford a 4‑million‑yuan car, let alone the other girls.
That surprised Zhao a little — he'd thought Wan would go for something flashy and head‑turning, like a Ferrari or Lamborghini, the kind that screams "expensive" at first glance.
The DB9 didn't really fit the "Miss Wan" persona. Show it to ten people who don't know cars, and nine will think it's a coupe version of a Ford Mondeo, especially from the front — the grille looks almost identical.
Even though one DB9 could buy about twenty Mondeos.
Zhao's Audi A8, a luxury D‑class sedan by normal standards, suddenly felt like a grocery-getter next to that car.
After musing that the gap between people could be bigger than between humans and dogs, Zhao drove in.
The above‑ground spaces were full, but the hotel had a semi‑underground garage, so he wouldn't be stranded. Since the garage wasn't directly connected to the hotel and there were plenty of outside spots, it was pretty empty.
He parked near the entrance. Going downhill, he saw the other three guys passing the garage entrance. They spotted Zhao, and when he stepped out of the car, all three turned to look at him, faces full of shock.
Earlier that day, they'd seen Wan Chujun arrive in a "plain‑looking" sports car. Bai Lvdi educated them — it was worth nearly 4 million yuan.
For Wan's status, that wasn't outrageous. Then they saw Zhao pull up in a car they recognized — not the W12 version, but still around 1.5 million yuan.
As classmates, they'd been sure Zhao's family didn't have that kind of money.
One of them had already snapped a pic and posted it in the group.
Naturally, the chat exploded — everyone gasped that Zhao had been hiding deep, then started speculating he was a secret super-rich second gen, or even a young heir from a hidden ancient clan. The theories got wilder by the minute.
Can't blame them — Zhao's three‑year track record was that of a totally ordinary, low‑income student. Even though most classmates came from well‑off families, only a handful (like Wan and Cao) had cars worth over a million. For most families, a car budget wouldn't exceed a year's income.
Minutes earlier, Wan's DB9 had already caused a stir, but no one was surprised — Zhao's arrival, though? That was the real shock.
The three girls at the beach reacted differently to the news.
Under a beach umbrella, sipping cold drinks, they'd all seen the messages.
Ling Yunfang and another girl barely interacted with Zhao at school, so they were just as amazed and doubtful as the rest.
Bai Lvdi wasn't surprised at all. Days earlier, when she'd seen Zhao spend over 100,000 yuan on clothes for a woman without blinking, she'd known he wasn't from some ordinary doctor's family. Today just confirmed it. She read the messages, eyes glinting strangely.
Wan Chujun showed nothing but disdain — she hated everything Zhao did, and her contempt would never be mistaken for sour grapes. After all, her DB9 had already blown everyone's minds in the group chat.
Close to Ling Yunfang, Wan had agreed to come the moment she was invited. She'd never imagined someone like Zhao could join this level of spending. She was a little shocked, but her disdain for him wasn't about his money — it just made her look down on him even more.
"Chujun, why do you hate Zhao Xuan so much?" Ling Yunfang noticed Wan's attitude and asked, puzzled. As a good friend, she'd always thought their conflict was minor — but today it felt deeper.
Most girls weren't fond of Zhao — he wasn't outgoing, wasn't handsome, and had low emotional intelligence. But he was a top student, so most kept their distance without being hostile. Wan's reaction bordered on hatred.
"I just don't like the way he is. It started freshman year," Wan said, caught off guard. After a pause, she went back to her ice slush, then looked up. "You'd better stay away from him, too. He's disgusting."
Ling shook her head. Had she known the rift was this bad, she'd never have invited both. Luckily, the others didn't have issues with either, so the trip wouldn't collapse — worst case, they'd just split up and do their own thing.
Bai Lvdi watched Ling and Wan, eyes glittering — she seemed to know something.
Inside the hotel, Xia Siheng and the other two guys had grilled Zhao for details. Zhao "admitted" his family was actually well‑off, but his parents had kept it secret until after the gaokao.
That was the most believable explanation — no one would go digging into his background.
Then, Zhao checked into a south‑facing sea‑view king room. Xia and another guy, Gong Shizheng, took a twin room on the opposite side of the hotel, far apart. Given Zhao's newfound "status," the other two were happy to save money and just unpacked.
The south room's floor‑to‑ceiling windows looked straight out to the ocean, and the sunlight poured in.
The north side faced hills, cooler in summer — not necessarily bad, just no sea view from the room. It was smaller than Zhao's Grand Hyatt executive suite, with fewer amenities. Hilton's a five‑star, but on the most basic tier — basically boutique economy.
It was already 4 PM. The three of them planned to wander a bit, then find dinner. Xia insisted that Zhao treat, to make up for three years of being "deceived." Zhao didn't refuse. He changed into workout clothes, slung a bag over his shoulder, and headed out.
Zhao had lived in Lianhai for years, but school took up most of his time. Aside from school and a few downtown malls, he'd hardly been anywhere — beach vacations were unimaginable before. The other two were a little better off, but not much. Many hadn't hung out with friends like this since middle school.
No wonder so many college kids go wild once they start.
The third guy, Gong Shizheng, was a decent student but not top tier, like Zhao, low profile. His parents clearly hoped he'd go into politics; he'd gotten into Capital Foreign Studies University. Zhao had only talked to him during study sessions before.
But chatting in the group these past days, Zhao had gotten cozy with many classmates he barely knew, Gong included.
When Zhao came down, the two were deep in discussion about a newly released game — something called Overwatch.
Zhao's old home computer was a dinosaur that could barely browse the web; he'd left it in the old apartment when moving. That place was small and rundown, but in a good location near schools and commercial areas — property bought before prices skyrocketed. Zhao Guxu seemed set to rent it out now that they'd moved their essentials to the villa.
Zhao Mingdong worked at the hospital, and Zhao Guxu knew nothing about computers, so they hadn't bought a new one yet. Meaning Zhao had almost no grasp of gaming.
Apparently, everyone had started playing Overwatch right after the gaokao. Xia had even preordered before finals.
Zhao remembered seeing posters for it outside internet cafés near his place — it sold for 198 yuan, a small fortune to his past self. He'd never set foot in a café, so he felt no urge to play.