Chapter 58 Exclusive Release Chapter 58 Her Desires Are Never-Ending...
The private elevator doors of the Casanova flagship store slid open silently, and as Yuan Ning stepped into the rooftop salon, the air was filled with a mixture of three scents:
The soft scent of the newly delivered French custom-made cashmere tapestry, the fruity aroma of the Guatemalan Geisha coffee freshly brewed by the assistant, and the ever-present, irreplaceable scent of a Fifth Avenue afternoon—the slow fermentation of money and ambition under the sunlight.
“Boss, the Vogue interview has been rescheduled to four o’clock.” Assistant Fiona hurried after him, her laptop screen filled with a densely packed schedule. “Also, it’s confirmed in Paris that the Himalaya crocodile skin you ordered has arrived at the workshop. And what about the dinner invitation from Carolina Herrera? Are you going?”
“Send a gift, saying my schedule conflicts.” Yuan Ning stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, outside which were the already yellowing tree canopies of Central Park.
Fiona nodded and was about to leave when she remembered something: "Oh, right, this was delivered downstairs."
She handed over an invitation in a thick, cream-colored envelope. There was no gold foil, no ostentatious decoration, only a minimalist badge embossed in the lower left corner: three wavy lines and the words "Southampton Yacht Club" in small print below.
Yacht clubs. Not the kind of elite clubs you can join just by paying money; it's a place where you need your grandparents' names to be on the membership list to be eligible to apply.
"When?" she asked.
“Next month, on the 6th. The theme is Last Summer, and white is required attire.” Fiona paused. “The person who sent the invitation said that Mr. Van der Berg will also be attending.”
“Understood.” Yuan Ning placed the invitation on the shelf next to her, where other letters she had received that day were already piled up: a private shopping preview invitation from Bergdorf Goodman, a VIP pass to the Tiffany high jewelry exhibition, and a handwritten card from a member of a branch of the Swedish royal family whom she had just met at the Met Gala last month, inviting her to lunch next week.
Five years ago, she would have racked her brains to get a single ticket to any of these things. Now, they drift onto her desk every day like autumn leaves, requiring her assistant to carefully categorize and filter them.
After Fiona left, the salon fell silent again. Yuan Ning walked to the Italian marble island in the center of the room and picked up a stack of fashion magazines that had just been delivered.
The cover of the October issue of American Vogue features a candid profile shot of her backstage at Milan Fashion Week.
She opened the book to find an interview that filled six pages. When asked about her secret to success, she replied, "Always know what you want."
A very standard answer from a success philosophy perspective.
But only she knows what a constantly expanding, endless list of desires lies behind the words "what I want".
She wanted too much; her desires were endless.
Five years ago, the list read:
An apartment that doesn't require sharing with others;
A Chanel handbag from this season;
You don't need to look at the prices before ordering at Balthazar restaurant;
Shut up those who mocked her for going bankrupt.
Now, the list has become:
Casanova plans to open three new flagship stores in Asia next year, and the locations must be in the best shopping malls and the best locations.
Acquire a struggling, long-established perfume line from LVMH and repackage it for relaunch;
Buy a villa in Southampton with an ocean view; it doesn't need to be too big, but the garden must be perfect.
And this is the latest addition to the list, surpassing Percival Capital in a new project this year.
In the cigar room of a members-only club in Midtown Manhattan.
Smoke swirled around the walls. The walls were paneled with dark mahogany and hung with a few understated nautical-themed prints.
“So you’re going to tell me that you want to use a portion of the funds we’ve raised to acquire that private bank in Switzerland,” a silver-haired, tortoiseshell-eyed gentleman began slowly, “to invest in something that doesn’t exist in any physical bank, doesn’t have any government backing, and doesn’t even have a physical certificate… an electronic code?”
Elias van der Berg sat in the center of the sofa. He wore a charcoal gray three-piece suit, no tie, and his shirt collar was casually open. He held a glass of bourbon whiskey in his hand, ice cubes swirling slowly in the glass.
“It’s not misappropriation, Henry. It’s allocation,” Elias said calmly. “5%. At most, it won’t exceed 5% of our total fundraising.”
"Used to buy Bitcoin?" another investor scoffed. "Elijas, I thought you were the most level-headed one among us. This stuff is for those hoodie-wearing kids in Silicon Valley, or worse, for drug dealers and money launderers."
Justin Thorne sat on the single sofa to Elias's left.
Compared to five years ago, he was more composed, but his eyes still shone with the unique light of a believer in science.
He had just flown in from California, still carrying that casual yet expensive Bay Area mix-and-match style, with a custom-made shirt and old jeans.
“Bitcoin is just the beginning,” Justin continued. “The real value lies in the underlying blockchain technology. It establishes trust without relying on any central authority, and that can be revolutionary—”
"Change what? Change the financial system we've built over two hundred years?" Henry interrupted him, raising his cigar. "Young man, trust isn't built on mathematical formulas. It's built on surnames, family history, and deals made by sitting in the same room, looking each other in the eye."
A few soft chuckles echoed in the room.
Elias didn't laugh. He put down his glass and leaned back slightly, a posture he was used to, one that held him in a superior position.
“Henry, in your grandfather’s time, people believed that only tangible land and gold were wealth,” he said. “In your father’s time, they accepted that stocks and bonds were wealth on paper. In our time, we’ve become accustomed to the numbers on a screen being wealth.”
Justin Thorne chimed in: “Now, a bunch of brilliant madmen have invented a new set of rules—a completely decentralized, immutable, globally circulating digital store of value. You can laugh at it, you can ignore it, but you can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.”
He is now a very good partner with Elias van der Berg.
"So you want us to gamble real money on a game played by a bunch of lunatics?" someone pressed, their voice laced with obvious sarcasm.
Elias didn't answer immediately. He picked up the cigar cutter on the table and, with elegant movements, cut off the cap of a Partagas D Series 4. The gesture itself was a language; he was in control of the rhythm.
"What you're talking about, Bitcoin, it doesn't even have a piece of paper. It's just a string of code!"
“Elijas, I’ve known your father, Arthur, for forty years. The Van der Berg family has always been synonymous with prudence, stability, and foresight. I don’t understand why you’re suddenly fascinated by this… ethereal thing.”
An old gentleman shook his head in disappointment and stubbed out his cigar in the crystal ashtray.
“If you insist on changing your original investment strategy, then we do not think Percival Capital will be a good investment firm.”
As expected.
The next three months were among the most difficult periods Elias had encountered since founding Perseus.
The first article to arrive was a column in The Wall Street Journal titled "Old Money Playing with Fire: Why Are the Heirs of Van der Berg Obsessed with Digital Illusions?"
It cited “several senior bankers who declined to be named” who questioned whether investing in cryptocurrencies complies with “the due diligence obligations of a trustee.”
Then came a formal lawyer's letter. From one of Percival Capital's largest institutional investors, a foundation that manages hundreds of billions of dollars in university endowments.
The letter used strict legal language to express concerns about "potential compliance and reputational risks of the digital asset class" and requested Percival Capital to provide "additional risk disclosure and isolation measures".
Then came a formal lawyer's letter. It came from one of Percival Capital's largest institutional investors—a foundation managing hundreds of billions of dollars in university endowments. The letter used strict legal language to express concerns about "potential compliance and reputational risks of the digital asset class" and requested Percival Capital to provide "additional risk disclosure and isolation measures."
“Our fundraising progress has slowed by 30% this year,” Richard said, displaying a disturbing chart on his PowerPoint presentation.
Percival Capital has always been an investment firm with "steady growth" as its core focus. Now, former clients are feeling uneasy about their investments in non-traditional asset classes and are choosing to withdraw their funds, which is a significant blow to any capital firm.
All eyes were on Elias at the end of the long table.
Even within the company, not everyone agrees with the boss's decisions.
"Perhaps you're too ahead of your time, boss. Maybe we should really stay in the traditional industry."
The meeting ended in a dull atmosphere. No resolutions were reached.
Elias van der Berg is not God, and his investment decisions will not always be correct.
In the evening, Elias did not return to the Van der Berg mansion.
He asked the driver to take him to an unassuming whiskey bar.
There's no cigar room here, no uniformed waiters, just rough wooden tables and walls covered with whiskey bottles.
He sat in the corner and ordered a Laphroaig.
The strong smell of peat and iodine burned my throat, but it brought not pleasure, but a kind of self-destructive clarity.
Shortly after, Yuan Ning entered from the bar entrance.
She was wearing a coat and carrying a handbag when she walked over and sat down next to him.
She took off her coat and draped it over the back of the chair, revealing a simple black cashmere sweater underneath.
Elias looked up at her, his icy blue eyes appearing somewhat moist in the light and under the influence of alcohol.
He didn't speak, but simply pushed away the almost empty glass of Laphroaig in front of him.
Why did you choose this place to meet?
He seemed to have been putting up with this for a long time.
Yuan Ning picked up his wine glass and downed half of it in one gulp.
"I happen to have a meeting nearby today, so it's more convenient to choose this place."
Elias didn't say anything; his tie had been loosened, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone.
After Yuan Ning sat down, she noticed a section of his collarbone that was exposed and asked, "You look very agitated?"
“Yes, everyone is pessimistic about the investment decision.” Elias picked up his wine glass, found it was empty, and put it down again.
"I never thought you'd end up like this." Yuan Ning tilted her head. "You just need to wait quietly and let time prove you right, right?"
Elias glanced at her: "That's the problem. Right now, I feel like I don't have that confidence. This thing... seems really ethereal."
Yuan Ning seemed to understand something, and traced a line across his exposed collarbone: "I was wondering why. When I came in from the bar just now, it looked like I saw a man hiding in a cheap bar, drinking alone."
"Will you laugh at me if I really fail?" he asked.
“No.” Yuan Ning shook her head. “After all, I often failed in the past, and you have always given me chances.”
She leaned closer, close enough to smell the mixture of whiskey and cologne on him: "Besides, by then, what's more important isn't mocking you, but conquering you."
Elias looked at her, and his feigned vulnerability gradually changed.
She nestled into his arms with a smile; the two hadn't talked about work for a long time.
"I see..." He gently brushed away the stray hairs from her forehead. "Then you'll have to work hard."
She wrapped her arms around his waist and asked in a coquettish tone, "So, do you think I have a chance?"
Elias raised an eyebrow, and Yuan Ning's gaze gradually returned to that "cheeky" look: "You can be the boss's wife of Perseus if you want, why don't you have the chance?"
"This is so boring." Yuan Ning pushed him away and got up from his embrace.
“Where is the boredom? I’m serious. Wouldn’t it be better if the two of us joined forces to conquer the world? Why do we have to kill each other?” Elias’s fingers gently brushed the stray hairs at her temples, a gesture so tender it was unlike him.
Yuan Ning knew that he was just joking.
"You wish, Elias. My life's goal is to bring down your ship."
Elias looked somewhat aggrieved: "Wynne, we are lovers, not enemies."
He put his arm around her shoulder, and she lay back in his arms, her eyes curving into crescents.
When the kiss ended, the two separated, slightly out of breath. Yuan Ning's lips were a little red from the kiss, and her eyes were glistening with tears.
“Actually,” he suddenly spoke, his voice regaining its calm, “I just need to confirm one thing.”
"What's up?"
"I'm sure that even if I fail, you'll be the first to seize the Perseus ship before everyone else. I won't be willing to let it fall into someone else's hands."
Yuan Ning smiled and replied, "Of course, I'm very clever, and I'm quick with my hands."
At 2:47 a.m., only the desk lamp remained in the study, illuminating a small circle of the workbench, where Elias was still sitting at his desk.
Before making any investment decision, he needs to complete an industry analysis as thoroughly as possible. He was not originally a computer science major, but recently he has thoroughly studied the underlying logic of blockchain.
The sound of typing had stopped for a long time. Elias leaned back in his chair, his fingers unconsciously stroking a cigar that had been extinguished for a long time, his gaze fixed on the figure curled up on the sofa.
Yuan Ning was sleeping soundly, her breathing even and long. Her hand, resting on the armrest of the sofa, was slightly curled up, and there was still nude nail polish on her nails that she hadn't had time to remove. She probably didn't even have time to go to the nail salon today.
Elias watched her quietly for a moment, then stood up and stepped barefoot onto the thick Persian carpet, making almost no sound.
She was watching TV on the sofa before falling asleep, having finished her work earlier that day.
Elias stared at her for a few seconds, then knelt down on one knee and took off her shoes.
By the time I finished all this, it was already 3:10 a.m., and dawn was approaching.
After hesitating for a few seconds, Elias finally bent down, put one hand under her knees and the other hand on her back, and lifted her up steadily.
Yuan Ning groaned softly, feeling uncomfortable from the sudden movement.
Elias paused, then gently soothed, "Shh, go to sleep."
Yuan Ning unconsciously rubbed against his chest, finding a more comfortable position, and her breathing became even and long again.
The bed sheets in the guest room were made of cool gray Egyptian cotton, which shimmered with a soft, pearly sheen under the moonlight.
Elias gently placed her on the bed, the down comforter automatically sinking into its soft curve, supporting her young and supple body.
He should have left. He tucked her in, closed the door, and went back to his study to continue reading the white papers he hadn't finished analyzing.
But he didn't.
The citrus-scented lip balm still had a faint sheen on her lips.
He first sat on the edge of the bed, at the same height as her face.
Then he began to kiss her lips.
He licked the citrus-scented lip balm clean, bit by bit.
As if sensing something in her sleep, Yuan Ning unconsciously licked her lips.
Then, he lowered his head and gently kissed her lower lip; the touch was incredibly soft.
Yuan Ning finally reacted in her sleep. She gave a muffled hum and unconsciously wrapped her arms around his neck.
Elias's movements were extremely restrained; he merely held her in his mouth, gently caressing her with the softest part of his lips. Yet he knew perfectly well she was asleep.
He then cupped her face in his hands, kissed her lips, and kissed her chin.
She unconsciously moved closer to him, letting out a kitten-like whimper.
"Awake?" Elias whispered in her ear, his breath hot.
But Yuan Ning didn't answer; perhaps she was dreaming.
Elias decided not to ask any further questions or delve into the matter.
Elias propped himself up and gazed at her in the moonlight. Her long hair was disheveled, and her lips were red.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, yet also adorable.
This realization filled his chest with a burning emotion.
Yuan Ning finally opened her eyes halfway, not fully awake yet, but as soon as she opened them she saw a handsome blond man crawling devoutly on her body, and she fell back asleep peacefully.
Until, outside the window, the New York City morning officially arrived.
A new day has begun.
Morning light streamed through the gaps in the curtains, cutting out thin, golden streaks that fell onto Yuan Ning's eyelids.
She frowned, trying to turn over to avoid the light, but felt a wave of weakness spreading through her limbs.
Especially her lower back and inner thighs, the soreness from overuse made her gasp for breath a second before she opened her eyes.
Memories flow back slowly like the tide.
In her dream, someone kissed her, a very forceful kiss, their hands roaming over her body, burning hot. She seemed to respond, seemed to say something, or perhaps she was simply lost in a golden, dizzying halo.
Yuan Ning slowly opened her eyes.
She blinked and tried to sit up, but the soreness in her waist and abdomen made her fall back onto the pillow.
"Awake?" He walked in.
Yuan Ning didn't speak, but just stared at him, her gaze sweeping from his meticulously styled hair to his hands holding the tray, and then back to his face.
Elias placed the tray on the bedside table with a glass of warm water, a small glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, two slices of perfectly toasted whole wheat bread, and a small dish of blueberries.
"Drink some water first." He avoided her gaze, picked up the water glass, and brought it to her lips.
"What time is it?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
“8:40.” Elias put down his water glass and picked up his orange juice. “Your first meeting was at 10:30, but I had Fiona postpone it to 11:00.”
Yuan Ning raised an eyebrow: "Why should my assistant listen to you?"
“I sent the message using your phone,” Eliastan said.
"Okay, thanks to you, I don't want to get out of bed at all now." Yuan Ning glared at him, her eyes filled with a coquettish reproach after being fully satisfied.
"You didn't sleep all night?" she asked, noticing the faint bluish tinge under his eyes.
"I took a nap," Elias said, avoiding the main point, and handed her a piece of toast. "Have something to eat."
Yuan Ning took it and ate it in small bites. The toast was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, with a thin layer of her favorite almond sauce spread on it.
"I'll go run the bathwater." He stood up and walked towards the bathroom. "A hot bath will make me feel better."
She slowly sat up when she heard the sound of running water from the bathroom.
Elias returned quickly, carrying a clean bathrobe and a soft towel.
"The water's ready," he said, then naturally bent down and picked her up in his arms.
“Hey—” Yuan Ning instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
The bathroom was already steamy. In the huge jacuzzi, a few drops of muscle-relaxing essential oil floated on the surface of the water, exuding the aroma of lavender and chamomile.
Elias placed her in the bathtub. The warm water instantly enveloped her aching body, bringing her a long, soothing sigh.
"Soak for twenty minutes." Elias squatted by the bathtub, testing the water temperature. "I'll go get your clothes ready."
"Wait." Yuan Ning grabbed his hand.
Elias turned around.
"I want more."
She leaned over the edge of the bathtub, tilted her head back, and demanded with a matter of course.
A month later, Percival Capital quietly launched a digital asset fund. It was small, only $100 million.
In Percival's vast capital empire, this was merely an experimental side project.
However, it still represents Elias van der Berg's optimistic outlook in the investment field.
He spends two hours each week listening to presentations from the digital asset team, usually on Friday afternoons after the trading markets close.
“Bitcoin prices have dropped another 15% this week.” Richard pushed up his glasses; the candlestick chart on the screen was a sea of red. “The Mt. Gox exchange hack is still unfolding, and market confidence has completely collapsed. Mainstream media are saying this is the end for Bitcoin.”
Elias leaned back in his chair, twirling a Montblanc pen in his hand: "What about our holdings?"
“A 32% unrealized loss.” Richard’s voice was a little dry. “If you factor in operating costs and research investments, the losses this quarter will be quite severe.”
“Keep holding,” Elias said.
"Now?" Richard exclaimed in surprise. "The market is crashing; we should be thinking about cutting our losses—"
“The market is reshuffling,” Elias interrupted him. “It’s weeding out the speculators and leaving behind those who truly believe in the idea. That’s the bottom.”
"Boss, apart from you, no one really believes in this concept, the concept of virtual currency."
Elias paused, then suddenly asked, "What's going on with Flying Capital?"
Richard paused for a moment, then realized: "Ms. Wynne? Her brand is focusing on expansion in Asia this year. I haven't heard that she's interested in cryptocurrency."
Elias nodded without saying a word.
"Since you're so optimistic about this direction, are you perhaps going to remind her to also pay attention to this cryptocurrency?"
Elias shook his head: "I won't give her any advice."
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