The Hilton Hotel's service was swift. While one of the heirs might not have been very competent, the chefs were certainly top-notch. In just over half an hour, a dining cart arrived outside Jiang Hai's room.
After tipping the hotel staff, Jiang Hai didn't allow them to enter—mainly because Pra Walton was still completely naked. He pushed the cart inside himself.
Pra, still bare and lounging, caught sight of the food. Despite having insisted earlier that she wasn't hungry, the sight of it clearly told a different story. Her eyes lit up, and she climbed to the edge of the bed, lifting the lid on one of the trays to reveal a thick, juicy steak.
"Wow!" she gasped, unable to contain her excitement.
Without hesitation, she reached for the steak with her bare hands, acting as if she were a child again. Gone was the cold, domineering woman Jiang Hai had first encountered. What remained now was a girl brimming with unguarded innocence.
But Jiang Hai wasn't about to let her grab everything with her hands. He tapped her hand lightly, then moved the dishes over to a nearby table he had already prepared.
He had ordered a full Western meal: two of the largest steaks, a serving of pasta, a baked lasagna, a cheese-covered lobster tail, and a hearty bowl of beef, persimmon, kohlrabi, and potato stew—Suber soup. Rounding out the meal was a basket of warm, buttered bread. Not a massive spread, but more than enough to satisfy.
The two sat across from each other. Neither had eaten anything since the night before, so hunger quickly took over. They dug in enthusiastically, though Pra's appetite was much smaller than Jiang Hai's. She nibbled through a steak and some pasta, then stopped, too full to continue. The rest, naturally, ended up in Jiang Hai's stomach.
But just as Jiang Hai was enjoying his meal, he suddenly stiffened. A pair of small feet had crept under the table and now playfully nudged at his groin, teasing places best left untouched at the dinner table.
Startled, Jiang Hai glanced up at Pra Walton. She merely sat there with a mischievous grin, pretending as if nothing was happening. Below the table, her delicate feet—soft and white—were making increasingly bold movements.
It was... a new experience. And, to his own surprise, not entirely unpleasant.
"We're eating. Don't mess around," he said, lightly patting her calf—though it was more a caress than a scold.
"You eat your food, I'll play with mine," she replied cheekily, looking up with pride. "This is my baby—the thing I love most in the world."
"You're really pushing it," Jiang Hai muttered, giving up on eating as he stood and lunged toward her, sending Pra Walton into a fit of laughter.
While Jiang Hai and Pra Walton were busy indulging in shameless pleasures, the top brass of Walmart was in the midst of a high-level emergency meeting.
Walmart's founder, Sam Walton, had kept the majority of shares within the family, even after the company went public. After his death, the shares passed on to his children. Although Robertson Walton currently held the most, his edge wasn't much, which is why Jim Walton could easily challenge his authority—he only needed to rally a few others. The rest of the siblings remained neutral, content to share the wealth.
Despite their immense net worth—each attendee in the room was worth at least tens of billions—the meeting was being held in a humble, even cramped, conference room. This was a family tradition.
Pra Walton's love for extravagance could be traced back to her materialistic mother. The Walton family itself, however, was famously frugal. Sam Walton had been a billionaire, yet he lived in a modest home in Bentonville and drove an old pickup truck. Everyone in town knew him as the stingy billionaire who paid only five dollars for a haircut—the cheapest rate available locally.
And yet, he had donated hundreds of millions to American universities and funded numerous scholarships across the country.
His children inherited his habits. Jim Walton, as the CEO of the largest corporation in the U.S., worked from a mere 20-square-meter office—considered spacious only because he was the youngest and had a bit of pride. Robertson Walton's office was even smaller at just 12 square meters, and its outdated furniture was never replaced, no matter how worn.
In elite American circles, people often joked that Walmart was a business where poor people sold to poor people. But beneath the sarcasm was resentment. After all, the world's number one retail empire didn't rise by accident. Its stores spanned the globe, and it didn't get there by wasting money.
Still, the room was undeniably cramped, even for this group of ultra-wealthy individuals.
"Brother, aren't we going to discuss our next move?" Jim Walton asked, smiling at Robertson.
"I'd like to hear everyone's thoughts first," Robertson replied calmly.
"We absolutely must not give in! We can't let a child manipulate us!" Dong Minglun suddenly shouted, his face red with frustration.
He hadn't slept at all the previous night. Every time he closed his eyes, he imagined Pra Walton and Jiang Hai together. Unfortunately, the imagination was likely accurate.
The thought of compromising now was unbearable. He was still a man, after all. He had pride.
"But if we don't agree, how do you plan to get that beef?" asked an elderly woman gently.
It was Alice Walton, Sam Walton's eldest daughter and once the second richest woman in the world. Though she didn't involve herself in corporate affairs, her voice still carried weight.
Dong Minglun was silenced. She had cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Just as she'd said, they couldn't afford to gamble. If Jiang Hai stopped supplying them, who else could they turn to?
Jim Walton turned to another figure in the room, a rotund white woman. "Sister-in-law, what's your opinion?"
This was Christy Walton, widow of Sam's second son, John Walton. Now the richest person in the room, with a net worth of $20 billion, Christy understood diplomacy well. She merely smiled and said she had no opinion.
"Jim, the others won't object either way. What do you think?" Robertson asked, knowing only their opinions truly mattered now.
"I think we can't afford to lose this supplier. Let Pra stay on as president. But, brother, after all this—do you still trust her?" Jim replied, knocking his fingers against the table.
"That's my business," Robertson said flatly.
Jiang Hai, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware that his actions had tipped the scales at one of the world's largest corporations.
The two stayed holed up in their suite for the day. Pra Walton's stamina as an American woman—bolstered by Jiang Hai's spiritual energy—was impressive. Despite his advantage, Jiang Hai hadn't fully "conquered" her. At times she resisted, though resistance often led to her quicker defeat.
That evening, Pra received a call from Elizabeth Roland, informing her that the board had decided—she would remain as president of Sam's Club for another year.
Ecstatic, she threw her arms around Jiang Hai again. She couldn't deny that he had helped her tremendously—this was a huge favor.
News of her reinstatement spread quickly. Those who had attended the previous night's party whispered about it in elite circles. But the real topic of conversation wasn't the Waltons' internal drama—it was Jiang Hai, the mysterious young Chinese man who could turn ordinary cattle into premium-grade beef.
Clearly, there was a secret behind it. No one knew what it was, but everyone was dying to find out.
After confirming she was in the clear, Pra spent one more day with Jiang Hai in New York before returning to Atlantic City. Her employees were anxious, and she needed to reassure them.
Jiang Hai didn't accompany her. He returned to his manor instead, finally stepping out of the hotel room after three intense days and nights. What he'd been doing inside hardly needed explanation.
With Pra gone, Cheryl Lee got confirmation that things had settled. She didn't rush to leave—in fact, she stayed, wanting to thank Jiang Hai in person.
Originally, she'd planned to offer her body in gratitude. But Jiang Hai, exhausted and currently disinterested in women, politely declined.
Surprisingly, that moved Cheryl. Jiang Hai hadn't helped them just for sex—he actually respected both her and Pra.
After observing him for three days, Cheryl had reached a conclusion: Jiang Hai was a good man… albeit one surrounded by too many women.
It was obvious the five women living in his villa had feelings for him. If Jiang Hai gave the signal, any of them would gladly sleep with him. Perhaps Jiang Hai himself was the only one who hadn't realized this.
After a lingering kiss, Cheryl drove her sports car away from the manor, headed for Atlantic City. She hadn't seen Pra Walton in a while, and since Jiang Hai didn't plan to keep her around, she might as well return to her true partner.
Awkward as it may be, the truth was clear—Jiang Hai and Pra Walton were rivals in love.
Then again, maybe neither of them realized it.
For the first time, someone other than her girlfriends had taken up space in Pra Walton's heart. And in Jiang Hai's already-crowded heart, Pra had carved out a space for herself, too.
What would become of them?
No one could say for sure—not even Jiang Hai.
After more than a year of storytelling, even he wasn't sure who the heroine of this story was supposed to be. What a mess.
(To be continued.)