I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping
Chapter 1272 - 878 Shu Rui ah (Asking for monthly votes at the beginning of the month!)_2

Chapter 1272: 878 Shu Rui ah (Asking for monthly votes at the beginning of the month!)_2

Xiao was stunned by his demeanor, slowly losing his initial anger. His mind began to regain clarity.

Realizing the immense class divide between them, he was momentarily speechless.

"There’s no noble or lowly work; labor is most honorable."

Who can say this effortlessly? But how many people really believe it?

Even for theory to hold true, there needs to be equality—and yet, just one of his cars would require Xiao to work several lifetimes.

"No wonder people nowadays curse you food delivery workers. If it weren’t for this line of work, scumbags like you would probably starve to death."

The enraged Ferrari owner no longer hid his overwhelming sense of superiority, speaking in an acerbic and caustic tone.

The traffic officer remained indifferent,

after all, his job was solely to manage traffic.

Moreover,

insults weren’t considered illegal.

Facing the man’s relentless stare, Xiao’s face turned crimson with humiliation. The sheer sense of degradation silenced him; the righteous outrage he had displayed earlier was completely gone.

Having worked his way through society for over forty years, Xiao was far too familiar with its unwritten rules.

In this grand pyramid of society, they were the ants living at the bottom. Those perched high above needed only to spit, and their spit alone could drown them.

"Watch your damn mouth!"

If it weren’t for reaching his breaking point, Guo Ran’s temperament wouldn’t normally allow such an outburst.

"Did I say anything wrong?"

The Ferrari SF90 owner, who couldn’t fathom empathy, shed any pretense of decorum.

"Are you going to tell me your boyfriend delivers food and that makes him noble? Honorable?"

"At least he earns money with his two hands. And you? If you weren’t relying on your parents, what the hell would you be?"

Even long-time roommates like Zheng Jingjing and Xu Siyi—who had lived under the same roof as Guo Ran for four years—were stunned.

In their eyes, Guo Ran had always been quiet and reserved, never once arguing let alone sharing harsh words. Hearing such remarks leave her mouth wasn’t something they could have imagined.

Turns out, everyone has things in their heart they deeply value.

The Ferrari owner froze. Clearly, this idea was foreign within his worldview.

After a brief moment of surprise, he chuckled silently, as though finding this notion strange and amusing.

"You’re not wrong."

He nodded, showing no intention of contesting the point. Rather, he spoke with apparent pride: "Without my parents, I really am nothing. But what can I do? I have parents. If your parents had wealth, would you still be self-reliant? Don’t kid yourself. The reason you rely on yourselves isn’t because you’re independent—it’s because you have no one to depend on."

His words dropped like a hammer.

Even Zheng Jingjing was left speechless for a moment.

It was true.

Suffering was never meant to be a virtue.

If given the choice, who would willingly choose hardship?

The most despicable, treacherous, and poisonous lie in this world is dressing up the struggles of the poor as inspirational stories to deceive those at the bottom.

The Ferrari owner smirked knowingly, seeing he had rendered everyone silent.

"If you want to blame someone, go back and blame your parents. Ask them why they failed to try harder, why they were so poor, and most of all, why they bothered to give birth to you?"

Like knives. Like swords. Like needles piercing the soul.

Even the relatively uninvolved Xu Siyi couldn’t help but show discomfort on her face.

It wasn’t just about Qu Jing and Xiao anymore—it was an attack on all of them.

"How much did this car cost?"

A calm voice interrupted.

The Ferrari owner, immersed in his diatribe, turned his head with a smug smile.

The coldly beautiful woman had finally responded to him.

"Nine million eight hundred and eighty-eight thousand. Fully loaded."

His detailed response further emphasized his position of privilege.

Li Shuru said nothing but took out her phone and approached him.

Was she asking for his contact info?

The Ferrari owner speculated, immediately pulling out his own phone.

Under everyone’s gaze, Li Shuru stepped up to him.

He was ready, his smile cocky, "Add me, then."

But it seemed he had misunderstood.

"Payment code."

He was momentarily dazed, silently observing the stoic beauty in front of him, appreciating her more and more, but failing to understand her intentions.

"Payment code."

Li Shuru repeated.

The SF90 owner’s confusion deepened, but he eventually pulled up his payment code, curious about her next move.

Li Shuru scanned the code.

And then—

"Dingdong."

"Your bank account has received a transfer of 10,000,000."

Seeing the notification on his phone, the Ferrari owner was utterly dumbfounded, his pupils contracting in disbelief.

Ignoring the logistics of exact change, Li Shuru lowered her phone and turned to Guo Ran and Qu Jing.

Guo Ran stared blankly at her, mouth agape. "Shuru..."

"Go destroy the car."

Locking eyes with her, the humiliated Qu Jing’s jaw clenched tightly. He hesitated for a moment before turning toward the roadside.

Approaching his electric scooter.

And then,

the gathered crowd witnessed something utterly shocking.

The deliveryman picked up his helmet hanging on the scooter, walked over to the intimidating supercar, and began smashing it wildly.

"Crash! Bang! Smash!"

Modern deliverymen indeed use quality helmets; the material proved incredibly sturdy. Within minutes, the once awe-inducing luxury car was unrecognizably battered—its windows shattered, its body riddled with dents and gouges.

Onlookers were frozen in place.

The owner was dumbfounded.

Even Xu Siyi and her female companions were speechless.

The traffic officer, too, stood watching the scene unfold, completely blank and forgetting to intervene.

Even Bodhisattvas have moments of fury—how much more so people?

Drained from exertion, Qu Jing stopped; his helmet, now bent out of shape, testified to the sheer force behind his actions.

"Heh."

Staring at the wrecked Ferrari, the SF90 owner chuckled faintly—but his face betrayed no amusement.

"Interesting. Truly interesting."

Setting his phone down, he tightened his fist, glancing at Qu Jing as if taking stock of both exhaustion and resolve before shifting his focus to the enigmatic beauty who had sent him the transfer.

Looks like he underestimated her.

"Miss, impressive."

He raised his thumb in acknowledgment.

Transferring him ten million without batting an eye, then orchestrating such a display—her methods had widened his perspective.

Respect.

True respect.

"But you do realize that we haven’t completed the ownership transfer yet. Legally, this car was still mine. What you just did wasn’t a simple act of vandalism—it constitutes criminal damage."

He offered the clarification kindly.

"Do you want to press charges?"

Li Shuru remained expressionless, though she at least gave him her attention.

"Oh, not at all."

The Ferrari owner shook his head. Toying with commoners was already entertaining enough—stooping to such measures would only cheapen the thrill.

"Miss, since you’ve been so generous, I, Du Jiahui, won’t be petty. Consider this car yours."

As he spoke, he made a show of pulling out his phone and dialing a string of numbers, broadcasting his intentions theatrically.

"Bring out all the cars—we’ve got a beauty here generously offering replacements!"

"Shuru..."

Zheng Jingjing quickly approached her.

Xu Siyi followed suit, though she remained silent.

Their ballroom dancing studio had brought her a decent income, yet the gulf between her and Shuru felt insurmountable.

Without flinching, Li Shuru had spent ten million to defend their honor.

How many years would it take her to reach that level?

Li Shuru offered a faint smile, nonchalant as ever. Under Xu Siyi and the others’ watchful gaze, she, too, raised her phone.

Du Jiahui’s earlier remark contained an undeniable truth.

Relying on one’s parents is perfectly normal—there was no shame in it.

So relying on friends, boyfriends, or partners was just as reasonable.

"Sister Qianqian."

As the call connected, Xu Siyi and the others glanced at each other in confusion. They had expected Shuru would call someone else.

At Jinhai Industry’s East Sea headquarters.

"What do you want it for?"

The increasingly dignified Shi Qianxi furrowed her brows curiously. The "spy" affair had long been resolved, yet this request suddenly seemed random.

"I’ll explain later."

Jiang Chen hesitated to elaborate.

Shi Qianxi, now consumed with her responsibilities, couldn’t afford the time for further questioning.

"I’ll have the police retrieve the record. I’ll send it to you."

With that,

her office desk’s phone began to vibrate.

"Buzz..."

Both individuals instinctively glanced toward the screen.

Li Shuru.

Seeing the name displayed, Jiang Chen froze, looking up slowly.

Shi Qianxi seemed equally surprised, her face registering faint astonishment.

"What are you staring at?"

Without hesitation, she picked up the phone, adopting a poised and approachable demeanor.

"Shuru, dear."