How did I become a god

Chapter 1686 First Impressions of the Feng Family's Old Residence

The exterior walls of the villa are covered with ivy, the years having given them a deep and understated hue. The exquisite wrought iron gate is tightly closed, behind which lies a meticulously maintained garden, inaccessible to outsiders.

There is no ostentatious display of wealth here, only the aura of a top-tier circle accumulated over generations of wealth, connections, and taste, silently telling the story of the understated power of "old money."

The Feng family's old house is undoubtedly the best in this area. The huge, ornate iron gate slowly opened, and the minibus drove in smoothly.

The first thing that catches the eye is the spacious front yard, in the center of which stands an elegantly designed fountain with gently flowing water. The meticulously manicured lawn spreads out like a green velvet carpet, adorned with precious flowers.

The four-story main building is constructed of massive granite blocks, exuding grandeur and filled with Baroque intricacy and elegance in its details.

The huge arched floor-to-ceiling windows reflect the sunlight, and the whole building exudes a sense of majesty and nobility that has been tempered by time. Its vast size is considered luxurious in Hengshan Road, where land is extremely valuable.

The car door was respectfully opened by Feng Xuehua, the eldest and only daughter of the Feng family, a beautiful 32-year-old woman.

Feng Xingjian, Zhong Siyuan, Fang Jianze, Wei Tangping and others, each accompanied by a junior member, waited at the door.

Zhong Siyuan brought his son, Zhong Wu, who works for a state-owned enterprise, not Zhong Yulan, whom Jing Gao was familiar with.

"Mr. Jing, welcome to the Feng family. It is an honor to have you here today."

Jing Gao got out of the car first, smiling as he shook hands with Feng Xingjian.

Zheng Xiaobing, Guo Qianqian, Wen Xiaoli, and Chu Wenjun followed closely behind.

Yao Shengming, Jiang Jingxiang, Cheng Fangyi, Xi Siyan, Wang Qiuyu, and Zhu Yu got off the bus one after another and gathered together.

The group stepped through the gates of this mansion, a symbol of the elite old-money culture of Shanghai.

An aroma wafts over you, a blend of the rich, mellow scent of top-grade cigars, the stale, aged fragrance of rare books, and the subtle, luxurious scent of expensive wood furniture care oils and perfumes—it's the scent of old money.

The hall, with its nearly six-meter-high ceiling, is magnificent. A huge crystal chandelier hangs from the dome, its countless facets refracting a soft yet dazzling halo of light, like a shower of stars.

Underfoot is a dark teak parquet floor, smooth as a mirror, reflecting the figures of people and the intricate carvings on the ceiling. On either side of the hall are wide marble staircases spiraling upwards, their handrails smooth and warm to the touch.

Instead of gaudy gold leaf decorations, the walls are adorned with several priceless original oil paintings, ranging from classicism to impressionism, silently showcasing the owner's profound artistic collection.

Against the wall are Ming-style huanghuali furniture with smooth lines and a warm patina, coexisting harmoniously with elegant European antique sofas.

In the corner, a life-sized blue-and-white porcelain vase stands quietly, its glaze as warm and lustrous as jade. Every piece of furniture, every detail, from the intricate patterns of the Persian handmade carpet to the gentle ticking of the brass clock on the mantel.

The Feng, Zhong, Fang, and Wei families are indeed wealthy families who have accumulated wealth over generations in Shanghai, and can be considered local powerful figures.

The hall is decorated in a rather interesting way.

To describe it as an "intertwining of power and wealth" would be an exaggeration. It's more accurate to say it has a certain flavor.

Their wealth was insignificant compared to Jing Gao's.

The power and connections they have woven may seem strong to ordinary people, but they are utterly vulnerable in the face of real power.

Of course, their wealth has indeed been passed down for a long time. Some things are ingrained in the very bones of the four families, and also in the decoration of their residences.

Today, this profound heritage, enough to make ordinary people hold their breath in awe, is only there to welcome a young financial tycoon. The old pride in the air has been replaced by a cautious reverence.

...

...

The main reception room was located deep inside the first floor of the main building, with heavy oak double doors wide open. When Jing Gao and his group entered, guided by Feng Xingjian and his companions, the previously low-pitched conversation inside instantly vanished, becoming so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The key members and in-laws of the four powerful families in Shanghai stood solemnly in the reception room like soldiers awaiting inspection, bowing slightly to greet Jing Gao.

"Hello, Mr. Jing."

Their movements were somewhat synchronized, their posture was lower than ever before, and their voices carried a deliberately adjusted respect and humility.

Inoue almost instinctively waved and said, "Hello, comrades."

That would be a bit ridiculous.

It must be said that the education provided by this large family is truly excellent; the rituals they practice are very effective and provide him with a great deal of emotional value.

Feng Xingjian, 64 years old, with a full head of white hair and the scholarly air of a Fudan University professor, bowed slightly and said, "President Jing, congratulations on your great victory in this battle, swallowing up Mingyuan and gaining both fame and fortune. We are all sincerely impressed!"

Why don't you say a few words to them? It's their honor.

The local tycoon, whose mere stomp could shake the business districts of Shanghai, now only wanted to submit in the face of the absolute victor.

Meanwhile, the core members of the Feng, Zhong, Fang, and Wei families held their breath and secretly cast awe, curiosity, and even a hint of fear into the eyes of the young man in front of the reception room.

They knew that the seemingly amiable and casual young man inside held the power of life and death over their family.

This doesn't mean that Jing Gao could kill people like a feudal emperor, but Jing Gao could easily destroy these people's luxurious lives and ruin their lives!

The ability to "kill" on an economic level—isn't that power?
For ordinary people, there's absolutely nothing to fear from a financial tycoon or super-rich like Jing Gao. You think you can kill me?
However, for people who have reached a certain level of wealth, it would be extremely painful to be demoted to a lower social class and unable to enjoy such a wealthy life.

"Let's skip the talking. I was just lucky. Everyone, please make yourselves at home." Jing Gao waved his hand indifferently, walked to a large, heavy single sofa at the head of the table, and sat down in a relaxed posture, as if that position was born for him.

He was undoubtedly the one to take on this task.

Feng Xingjian and the other three exchanged glances, each with a wry smile in their hearts.

Jing Gao's voice was low and his tone was flat. He used two words to lightly glossed over a thrilling victory involving hundreds of billions of dollars in capital.

But to these people, this contest was a life-or-death struggle amidst raging waves and crushing weights!
Feng Xingjian and the others dared not force Jing Gao, so they followed his wishes and sat around him, and the young men from various families also took their seats.

Listening to the elders at the head of the table and Jing Gao spouting meaningless nonsense, there's a saying: officialdom is all about etiquette.

This kind of "nonsense literature" is essential in interpersonal communication.

A moment later, Feng Xuehua, who had just changed her clothes, walked in, the light and rhythmic sound of her high heels clicking on the teak floor echoing through the room.

She was clearly dressed meticulously. A light blue silk blouse with a large collar, the smooth, draping fabric with a lustrous sheen, perfectly hugged her mature, 32-year-old figure.

The large lapel design not only reveals the delicate collarbone, but also makes the 34-inch breasts, supported by the lace lingerie, look full and attractive, with a breathtaking full curve.

Her lower body was clad in a pair of perfectly tailored, pure white high-waisted wide-leg pants, which made her waist appear even more slender and delicate. The pants flowed smoothly, visually elongating her already long and beautiful legs.

She possesses both the elegance and intellect cultivated by a scholarly family and the unique sensuality and voluptuousness of a young woman; these two qualities blend perfectly in her, creating a fatal attraction.

"Mr. Jing..."

(End of this chapter)