Wang Zhuo was not an arrogant man, but when he earned the right to be arrogant, he certainly wouldn't be overly cautious or self-deprecating. Why do so many people’s ways of acting clash so jarringly with their actual status?

Because they haven't had time to fully transition into their new roles. Consider the nouveau riche habits of the newly wealthy, or the condescending airs adopted by those who have risen above their former peers.

In the vast majority of situations, Wang Zhuo managed this transition exceptionally well. Though there were moments of overcorrection, overall, his adaptability was formidable, which accounted for his rapid rate of change.

It was precisely because of this awareness that when he discovered the world’s most powerful nation, the United States, was far from invulnerable in many aspects, the image of that space fortress instantly crumbled before him. Just a few months ago, he was using antique rifles, weapons invented nearly a century prior, to fund African rebels and probe the nation’s limits; now, he was already contemplating weaving himself into the tapestry of this empire, inserting himself into the election of the world’s most powerful president!

Money makes the world go round—it is a universal truth, undeniable. No matter how many explanations or twisted rationalizations spring from this adage, the principle of its broad applicability and powerful generalization remains unchanged.

So what if Americans elect their president? This truth still holds!

In 1964, the campaign cost for a US presidential election was two hundred million dollars; by 1972, that figure had ballooned to four hundred million; in 1996, it set a new record at $1.14 billion; and even amidst the financial crisis of 2008, American candidates still splashed out $1.7 billion. Although US law stipulates that an individual cannot donate more than five hundred dollars to a presidential candidate, or a group more than one thousand, major financial conglomerates still found various ways to circumvent the regulations, channeling funds to their favored candidates to facilitate a "power-for-money exchange" with the presidential hopefuls.

This led to the cynical saying that American elections are "money elections"—whoever has more money wins the presidency, and the victor, inevitably backed by powerful conglomerates, would then repay those financial backers through skewed policies during their tenure. In 2008, Obama’s campaign spending reached $740 million.

A US presidency lasts four years; if one could purchase the highest office for that price, it would be a bargain. In reality, when all associated expenses and operational support were factored in, the cost for major conglomerates to cultivate a president ran far higher than that figure, and it still carried the risk of failure, as seen when candidates McCain and Hillary effectively flushed hundreds of millions down the drain.

The marketplace is a battlefield, and the war of politics is clearly fiercer than commercial combat. But Wang Zhuo understood that given the current scale of his business empire, his trajectory inevitably led him to participate in political competition.

A plump sheep must evolve sharp teeth and claws to survive when encircled by beasts. "Mr.

Thompson," Wang Zhuo began, leaning back slightly, "I hear you are considering resigning as Mayor of New York City soon, in preparation for next year's presidential race?" On the very top of the Statue of Liberty, Mayor Thompson had specially ordered the floor closed to tourists for an hour to accommodate the visit of the King of Wealth. It was under this extraordinary dispensation that Wang Zhuo casually posed the question.

"Oh?" Thompson paused for a beat, then smiled. "I didn't expect Mr.

Wang to be concerned with the nuances of our American elections. You are correct; I am already arranging the handover of my current duties." Wang Zhuo chuckled, spreading his left hand toward Qu Jingyou beside him.

"Miss Qu brought me this news. She possesses a Green Card for the US, but regrettably, that still doesn't grant her the voting rights she cherishes so much.

She’s been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to formally become a citizen lately." "Ah-ha," Thompson murmured, his eyes lighting up as he caught the subtext. His politician’s instinct immediately signaled a prime opportunity to secure a heavyweight ally!

To aspire to the presidency, one cannot exist without allies, nor can one refuse "political contributions." Furthermore, one cannot accept funding from just a single faction, as that easily makes one a target for everyone else. Thus, the first lesson any presidential candidate must master is how to seek equilibrium among various forces, garner widespread support, and achieve mutual benefit and win-win outcomes.

Thompson immediately made a connection: what kind of backing could possibly compare to the power of the man universally recognized as the King of Wealth standing before him? Thompson’s excitement surged instantly.

This was better than the best-case scenario he had imagined before meeting Wang Zhuo, and the fact that Wang Zhuo brought it up actively felt like a godsend! Wang Zhuo maintained an impassive facade, yet his X-ray vision had already captured every flicker of Thompson's inner thoughts with perfect clarity.

Thompson had extensive connections and rich executive experience, and his past lacked any significant blemishes that could derail a campaign. While he lacked sharply defined political platforms and the ambition to fundamentally reshape the nation with a bold stroke, these very shortcomings were precisely what Wang Zhuo required.

Moreover, in the eyes of this potential New York president, Wang Zhuo detected a deeply hidden, yet fiercely potent, ambition—something he could certainly exploit! "My beautiful Miss Qu," Thompson declared warmly, "if you are considering becoming a formal American citizen, please do not hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to assist.

I will exert every effort for you. If you have any questions that require consultation, please call me anytime; I would be honored to serve you." "Thank you, Mr.

Thompson," Qu Jingyou replied with a radiant smile, nodding politely. "It is also my honor to know such a warm-hearted friend." Over the ensuing days, Wang Zhuo and Thompson moved from tentative probing to active cooperation, reaching mutually satisfying agreements on numerous fronts.

Thompson successfully secured Wang Zhuo as a powerful backer, and Wang Zhuo truly established a strategic alliance with a man who might soon become the President of the United States. Should this gentleman indeed attain the presidency, the investment Wang Zhuo was about to make in him would yield returns of incalculable magnitude.

That afternoon, the Xiangyun was en route to Los Angeles, flying beneath an expanse of flawless blue sky. The journey from New York to LA spanned nearly the entire continental US, offering ample scenery for enjoyment along the way.

"We can't put all our eggs in one basket. While this Old Tom is certainly promising, the more chess pieces we have, the greater our odds of victory." Wang Zhuo, who thoroughly enjoyed playing political games, was now truly embodying the role of the shadowy puppet master behind the scenes.

At this moment, he regretted not having begun his layout in this arena sooner; otherwise, he wouldn't be forced to feel his way forward now, possessing vast wealth but few places to spend it politically. "If you need pieces," Qu Jingyou teased him, though she certainly didn't want to admit she was jealous of Irene, "you should be flying south along the route through Boston, Philadelphia, Washington, and Atlanta.

Most of America’s key economic hubs are concentrated there. Along that route, you could meet many politicians with broad prospects, instead of flying across the entire continent just to chase after your female movie stars in Hollywood." "It’s the premiere of her new film," Wang Zhuo chuckled sheepishly.

"And I’m a shareholder in Warner Brothers; my investment is tied up in this movie too. What’s wrong with showing a little concern?" Qu Jingyou let out a soft laugh.

"Others become husbands by chasing women, or shareholders by trading stocks. You've become a shareholder by chasing women—you’re setting a new precedent." "True, I became a shareholder by chasing a woman.

But what about you? You tried to kidnap someone and ended up throwing yourself into the mix.

I wonder who’s more embarrassing?" "Hmph..." "Seriously now. Have a son with me.

We’ll have him run for President of the United States someday." "Absolutely not. Having a child around is such a burden." "That’s because you don't know the happiness of motherhood.

Besides, don't you want to see what a magnificent child might result from the combination of our genes?" "Mine are certainly excellent genes. I haven't seen where yours are so excellent, though." "...Come here.

I'm making a little person right now!" "Are you scared of me? I'm in my safe period today." "Then forget it.

Tonight, we’ll just settle for a massage to relax, followed by a facial mask!" "..." Technically, the masks Wang Zhuo provided for his beauties shouldn't have been called 'masks' but rather 'topical coating agents.' This was because once dried, the film could not be peeled off; it had to be washed away with water. If it were evening, Qu Jingyou would happily accept the "mask" Wang Zhuo offered as a reward, nestling into his arms for a deep sleep.

But it was still afternoon. She couldn't show her face to others with a shiny, dried film on it, nor could she bear to wash away such precious essence.

So, she struck a deal with Wang Zhuo. "Can it be inside my mouth for a while?" Wang Zhuo asked, his bare legs dangling.

His T-shirt was pushed up to his chest as he leaned comfortably on the sofa, enjoying the tenderness of this celestial woman while appreciating the closeness of his pride against her devastating beauty. Seeing her suddenly pause and make this request, he felt a touch of surprise.

"Why?" In the two years they had known each other, Wang Zhuo’s image in Qu Jingyou’s mind had ascended to a godlike level of omnipotence. A man pushed to the ultimate masculine extreme provides a woman with an intense sense of attachment and belonging.

Though Qu Jingyou maintained a dignified exterior, wasn't that also a kind of flirtatious dance within desire? But when it was time to deliver, Qu Jingyou always delivered.

Thus, her answer to Wang Zhuo was not flattery, but it surpassed ten thousand compliments and saccharine words. "I don't want to waste a single drop of your essence." Alright, Wang Zhuo conceded.

Although Qu Jingyou was a woman with a checkered past, her current performance was enough to compensate for all the mistakes she had made previously. Only at this moment did Wang Zhuo completely accept Qu Jingyou as one of his own.

It was clear that if a choice had to be made where one of them had to die, Qu Jingyou would genuinely sacrifice herself for him. If a woman can reach that point for a man, then no amount of goodness from him toward her would be excessive.

Consequently, Wang Zhuo ultimately did not grant Qu Jingyou’s specific wish. However, he found another avenue to deeply pour his essence within her body.

While it was true she was in her safe period, that period wasn't entirely foolproof. Moreover, anyone with basic medical knowledge knew that sperm could survive for four or five days after leaving the body.

The seed had been sown. It cost him nothing extra...

Now, they could only do their best and leave the rest to fate and destiny.

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