I was a prince in the Middle East

Chapter 3 Holy crap! The art of the super-rich is as deep as the sea!

In Walid's view, beneath the surface of this seemingly extravagant and thrill-seeking competition, there are likely undercurrents of arms trade and political deals.

His heart was pounding.

He remains curious about the competition itself.

Well, he was even more eager for the warm-up activities!

But at this moment, interest in the hidden meaning behind this match has suddenly soared to a whole new level.

After all, this is his area of ​​expertise.

To study economics without considering politics is a complete joke in Western economics.

Every arms sale in the Middle East is never just about military significance; it carries a strong political connotation.

So, what does this mean?
However, now is clearly not the time to delve into this.

He suppressed his turbulent thoughts and pushed open the door leading to the inner room.

……

“Go, Walid, the Salman family is right, it will indeed be good for you.”

After understanding the situation, Princess Mona did not hesitate; her voice was gentle and calm.
"Bandar's place is a mixed bag, so be careful, observe more, listen more, and speak less."

She paused, then added, "He's with little Angari; he knows the people there."

“Yes, Mother,” Walid replied.

Luna immediately jumped up, grabbed her brother's sleeve, her little face full of pleading.

"Brother! Can you film a video for me? I need to film the Bugatti and the fighter jet! Especially who won in the end! Please!"

Her big, bright eyes, filled with pure curiosity and dependence, softened Walid's heart.

"Okay, I'll definitely take the picture for you!"

Walid affectionately ruffled his sister's hair.

Looking at his sister's carefree smile, and recalling the eerie match involving Prince Bandar, a thought suddenly flashed through his mind.

He hesitated for a moment, then looked at his mother and asked in a low voice,
"Mother... about this bet, and that Mirage 2000... do you know anything... about the inside story?"

From his own memories, he knew that his mother was not some simple palace princess.

Kochi's mother has always done a lot of behind-the-scenes work for her father, and could even be said to be his advisor.

At this moment, Princess Mona did not answer directly, but instead spoke in a guiding tone.
"Since you're starting to get interested in this kind of thing... Walid, then try analyzing it yourself."

She turned her head slightly and gave instructions to Zainabu, the housekeeper who stood in the shadows of the corner, almost blending into the environment.

"Compile a briefing on Prince Bandar's recent activities and send it to His Highness."

Zaina bowed and accepted the order, then silently withdrew, her movements as swift as the wind.

"You can take a look when you have time."

Walid was somewhat surprised; he hadn't expected his mother to expose him to this information so directly, and to react so quickly.

His face showed undisguised confusion: "Mother, this..."

Princess Mona stood up and walked to Walid.

She was much shorter than Walid and gently adjusted the collar of her son's white robe.

“Walid,” her voice was soft, but each word was clear.
You need to understand your responsibilities.

Your father and I only have you as our living son, and your Uncle Alwaleed also has no living son.

You are the only male descendant of the third generation of the Talal lineage.

You will have to face these things sooner or later, and you must learn to face them.

I know……

Exposing you to these things now might be very unfamiliar to you, and could even make you feel helpless and lost.

“But my son,”

Princess Mona's lips curled into a smile, a smile brimming with undisguised pride and encouragement.

"When you were convincing me at the restaurant just now, the look in your eyes, the way you were thinking, was... very cool."

That's how a man plans for his future and his family.

I believe you are capable of understanding these things and finding the information you want from them.

She gently patted her son's arm, her eyes full of encouragement.

"It's okay if you don't understand it right away. Go. God will guide you."

Walid was startled.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his turbulent emotions, and his eyes hardened: "Yes, Mother! I understand."

He bowed to his mother again, winked at Luna to indicate "I'll take care of the video," then turned and strode out of the room.

The heavy curtain fell behind him, shutting out the tranquility of the inner room.

……

After meeting up with the Salman brothers, the three headed towards the parking lot outside the palace.

Turki's car was a modified Rolls-Royce Phantom.

This is nothing unusual for Middle Eastern royal families; Walid has become accustomed to his experiences over the past three months.

To his great surprise, there was a lazy cheetah lying on the back seat of the car!

"Holy crap!" Walid, who was about to get on the bus, instinctively took a step back.

"Hehe! My 'Lightning,' isn't it beautiful? I'm taking it to see a speed battle today!"

Turki stroked the cheetah's smooth fur with satisfaction.

"Come on, get in my car and get up close to 'Lightning'."

"No! No!" Walid waved his hands repeatedly, cursing the lunatic in his heart!
I saw a video of a prince with a cheetah in my past life and thought it was very cool. I also thought that one day I would do the same.

However, at this moment, he still wouldn't dare to sit next to someone else's cheetah.

After all, it wasn't raised by me.

Turki laughed heartily, "Coward! You have no manly spirit at all!"

Walid snorted coldly upon hearing this, then a wicked smile curled at the corner of his mouth. "Damn! Is this what you call manly conduct? Fine, Turki, let me see your courage?"

Before Turki could respond, Walid suddenly shouted, "Simba!"

It was like a thunderclap out of nowhere!

The entire courtyard fell into an eerie silence, and even the heatwave seemed to freeze for half a second.

Immediately afterwards, a thunderous roar suddenly tore through the air!
Everyone's attention, including Turki and Muhammad's, was instantly drawn to the announcement, their eyes fixed on the depths of the courtyard.

The heavy, black wrought iron gate, carved with a ferocious lion totem, was silently opened a crack.

A massive, agile, and majestic figure, as if flowing with molten gold, slowly strode out, exuding an aura of regal authority!

Simba!

This African lion, at the peak of its life, is so enormous it's breathtaking; its shoulder height is almost as high as an adult man's waist!
Its entire body is covered in pure golden fur, which looks like burning gold under the midday sun. The smooth and bulging muscle lines undulate beneath the fur, outlining an explosive profile of power.

With each slam of its massive paw, the lion sank deep into the scorching sand, leaving a clear royal mark that silently proclaimed its unshakeable absolute sovereignty!
Sunlight streamed down, casting an almost sacred halo over the walking golden statue, and the oppressive feeling was like a tangible tsunami crashing down on you!

As it surveyed the area, Turki's cheetah "Lightning" instantly bristled and was terrified.

Literally, it means "peed".

A pale yellow liquid dripped down the leather seats of the luxury car.

Incredibly flamboyant...

Turki's face immediately turned green. "You...you brat, you're shameless!"

Is this some kind of bullying tactic?!

A male lion's attack on a female leopard is a complete and utter defeat; the female leopard is utterly subdued.

Well, when he looked Simba in the eye, his legs went weak.

“Simba, come here.” Walid beckoned with his finger.

"Don't!"

Watching Simba start running wildly, Turki's face turned even greener.

Muhammad, standing beside him, was in no better shape, his legs trembling as he nearly fled.

However, what happened next made everyone's eyes pop out.

The 250-kilogram beast, upon reaching Walid, obediently sat down like a large orange cat.

She even nuzzled her fluffy head into his hand, letting him pet her.

There was no other way; this male lion named Simba was a cub that Walid had rescued from a dying lioness shortly before the car accident, when Walid was fifteen years old. At that time, Simba was as thin as a kitten and looked like he wouldn't survive.

Walid personally fed him little by little with a bottle, and held him in his arms day and night.

Simba was less than six months old when the accident happened.

It refused to leave the palace grounds where Walid slept, refused to let anyone approach except for certain servants, and would even occasionally lie down by Walid's bedside and wail.

Seven years is enough time for a lion cub to become the king of beasts, but it cannot erase the bond etched into its very bones.

In Simba's eyes, Walid will always be the master who brought him back from the brink of death and gave him warmth and food.

"Sweetie, I'm going out, just wanted to say hello," Walid rubbed the lion's head. "Take good care of the house, I'll come back and play with you tonight."

To be honest, when he first woke up and saw Simba rushing towards him, he was so scared that he almost traveled back in time.

Strangely, however, his body showed no fear; instead, he instinctively reached out to hug Simba.

Only after learning more did he realize that this loyalty and protection that transcended life and death was a priceless treasure that no amount of money could buy.

Moreover, after getting to know him, he realized that this was the 'Millionaire Gong' of the lion world.

Simba made a gurgling sound in his throat and actually turned around and walked away.

Before leaving, it didn't forget to bare its teeth at Turki's cheetah, scaring the poor creature so much that it peed again.

"Hell..."

Turki's face turned green. "Your lion has become a demon, hasn't it?"

Walid shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it. I raised him from a baby, so he's quite clingy."

“My car!!!”

Turki pointed at his expensive Rolls-Royce Phantom, whose seats were dripping with pale yellow liquid, his face contorted with anger and his heart aching.

"It's over! This car is now unusable!"

He was all too clear.

Animal urine contains strong pheromone markers!

Even if you disassemble the entire interior and wash it ten times with the most expensive cleaning agents, you still won't be able to completely get rid of this smell!

From now on, whenever his "Lightning" smells this lingering scent, it will instantly recall the terror of being dominated by that golden lion today, and then it will stand there with its fur standing on end, go berserk, and may even lose control of its bladder again!
This car is completely totaled!
Muhammad couldn't help but chuckle, "Alright, alright, Walid, get in my car."

Turki, you'd better have someone give 'Lightning' a bath?

Turki walked toward another Rolls-Royce Phantom, cursing and swearing. Before leaving, he turned back and glared at Walid, his eyes seeming to say: You just wait!

Walid wasn't buying it and immediately made an extremely exaggerated face at Turki's back.

Sticking out his tongue, rolling his eyes, and adding a "lè lè lè lè"!
His childish expression was his best cover at that moment.

This youthful spirit had a good effect, causing Turki to stumble.

He pointed at Walid, both amused and exasperated, and roared fiercely.

"You little brat! Only you would dare to provoke me like this! Anyone else would have gotten a good beating today!"

"hey-hey!"

Walid grinned smugly, then turned and darted into the back seat of Mohammed's Maybach Landaulet.

Bang!
The car door closed, shutting out the noise from outside.

Walid comfortably sank into the airline seat, which was even more luxurious than a top-of-the-line sofa, but inwardly he couldn't help but complain wildly.

Holy crap! A Rolls-Royce Phantom! And a custom gold one at that!
And they even have one as a backup?!

Big dog owner!
What a damn rich bastard!
However, he quickly dismissed the thought as soon as it popped into his head, feeling bored.

Because he realized that at this moment he seemed to have no right to criticize others...

My uncle, Prince Alwaleed, who is incredibly wealthy, travels with a private fleet consisting of at least three Boeing 747 passenger planes!
One car for myself, one for the company team, and one for the servants!

Fine... the pot calling the kettle black?
Well, it's more like the pot calling the kettle black!
At this moment, Walid finally understood.

Wow, this is practically performance art!
As we all know, anything involving the word "art" is beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

In his past life, he was a craftsman; now, he is a young artist.

To celebrate the awakening of this "Sleeping Prince," his uncle generously gave his nephew a toy airplane to play with!

It's not a small plane, it's a damn aerial behemoth, the A380!

Personalized Custom Edition!
Delivery can be made in the second half of the year.

I heard that with the modification costs included, the total price will soar to over 7 million US dollars!
There's even a damn swimming pool up there!
Moreover, it is also a fleet of three aircraft.

This is mind-blowing...

Walid just wanted to cover his face.

Poverty certainly limits imagination.

But it's so ridiculously rich that it completely shuts down the imagination!
This kind of "art," Walid bin Khalid can only say that he "doesn't understand it but is deeply shocked."

Okay, if you can't figure it out, then don't think about it.

The art of the wealthy is as deep as the sea; lying down and accepting it is the most comfortable way!

So, he settled comfortably in the back seat of Mohammed's unassuming Maybach Landaulet, his face instantly switching to a mode of genuine admiration.

My fingers gently brushed across the cream-colored Nappa leather interior, which was within easy reach and exuded the scent of top-quality leather. My gaze swept over the details inlaid with subtle metal patterns and dark wood, understated yet radiating an air of "I'm expensive," and I couldn't help but sigh:

"Brother, it has to be you! Your taste is absolutely amazing!"

He gave a thumbs up and launched into a shower of compliments, saying, "Reserved yet sharp, low-key yet thunderous in silence! Humble yet possessing the grandeur of a thunderbolt!"

Compared to some nouveau riche who practically plaster their faces with gold, they're worlds apart!

After such a barrage of flattery, even MBS, who would later be known for his iron-fisted approach, blushed slightly on his young and handsome face, a rare occurrence.

He was even a little embarrassed by the praise!

Muhammad coughed lightly and quickly changed the subject.

"Cough... Walid, how's your recovery going? You were running pretty fast just now."

His tone carried an older brother's concern, and his gaze fell on Walid's arms, which were noticeably stronger than they had been three months ago.

Still feeling a bit unsatisfied, Walid snapped out of his daze and showed off his biceps.

"Not bad, I can bench press 70 kilograms now."

Muhammad raised an eyebrow in surprise. “For someone who has been asleep for seven years, this is nothing short of a miracle. God has truly blessed you.”

God bless you!

Walid immediately responded with a pious expression, placing his hand on his chest.

His facial expressions were impeccable; he perfectly captured the prince's elegance and humility.

However, deep within the heart of his blond soul, there lay a desolate, snow-covered expanse, unbearably cold.
Damn! How could it not be a miracle?
In my past life, I was a crispy duck from Nanjing!

After pulling an all-nighter to finish a paper and then flipping through several terabytes of study materials on my hard drive, it all just crunched away, and the time-traveling package was delivered right to my door!
It's like a brand new gun that just came out of the factory, with the rifling not even warmed up yet. Before it even had a chance to fire a couple of shots on the battlefield, it was shoved directly into a glass case in a military museum as an exhibit!

Now God (or perhaps Allah?) has opened his eyes and given me a top-of-the-line gold-plated body, along with a lifetime VIP experience card as a 'Middle Eastern prince'!
If you don't train like crazy, turning your body into a titanium pile driver, how can you justify this enormous wealth?!

My prince!
This is a prince from the Middle East!
And they're from the very richest small group of Middle Eastern princes!

Just imagine the magnificent, colorful, and wonderful life one could theoretically have in the harem...

Without solid hardware and long battery life, wouldn't that be a waste?!

Thinking of this, Walid's gratitude towards his wealthy father surged like a never-ending river.

Luckily, I have a biological father!
"Dear father" is not an adjective, but a noun, specifically referring to His Highness Prince Khalid bin Talal!
During the seven years he was in a coma, although his body was in a vegetative state, Khalid used mountains of gold and silver and a top-notch medical team to maintain his body as if it were a national treasure!
Every day, without fail, a professional physical therapist provides a full-body massage to prevent muscle atrophy;
State-of-the-art neurostimulation equipment maintains muscle activity;
The nutrient solutions are specially supplied by the laboratory, with formulas accurate to the microgram level to ensure that cell vitality is not lost.
There's also a dedicated team responsible for turning the baby over, cleaning, and joint mobility training...

This is hardly the care of a person in a vegetative state.

This is clearly a preservation and maintenance procedure for a top-tier supercar!

Seven years!

Seven whole years!

They managed to keep this body in near-perfect "factory condition"!
After he regained consciousness, his family was immediately provided with the world's top sports rehabilitation team and personal trainer.

Various high-tech instruments, customized nutritional meals with nutrient solutions that cost more per milliliter than Moutai liquor, training plans accurate to the second...

With the combined power of money and cutting-edge technology, a complete transformation in three months is at most a "normal performance".

Walid finally understood:
Why were those top-ranking nobles in my past life still able to party on yachts with young models every night, even in their seventies or eighties, and remain so energetic?
Why is it that for ordinary people, especially in the era before he transmigrated, when they were only in their twenties or thirties, their wonderful lives were put on pause or even declared obsolete?

There is no other reason...

Only money.

……

(End of this chapter)