Is this car really yours

A few minutes later, Su Yang turned a corner and spotted a house about thirty or forty meters ahead, its roadside adorned with festive decorations.

The building appeared to be three or four stories tall, with a large spotlight on one of the middle floors illuminating the surrounding road.

Red lanterns and other celebratory ornaments hung on either side of the front gate—clearly, this was Song Anquan’s home.

Su Yang glanced at it and grinned. "We’re here. This is the place."

As he spoke, he drove the car onto an open patch of land in front of Song Anquan’s house. Just then, a figure hurried out from inside.

It was Song Anquan himself—around 175 cm tall, dressed in a plain gray T-shirt and black shorts.

He had a slightly stocky build, short hair, a round face, thick eyebrows, small eyes, a low nose bridge, big ears, and full lips.

At first glance, he gave off the impression of an honest, good-natured guy.

Su Yang spotted him too and leaned out the window with a smile. "Anquan!"

"My man!! You finally made it!" Song Anquan rushed toward Su Yang but froze mid-step when he noticed the Spirit of Ecstasy ornament on the car’s hood.

His eyes widened in shock.

"Wait, wait, wait—is that... a Cullinan?"

Su Yang nodded with a chuckle. "Yep. Think this’ll work as your wedding lead car?"

"Holy crap!! Bro, you’re a legend!! You actually rolled up in a Rolls-Royce?! This is insane—I wouldn’t even dare dream of this!"

Su Yang parked the car beside a few other vehicles near the house and stepped out.

Song Anquan immediately ran over, exclaiming, "Dude, you’re next-level! A Cullinan as the lead car? That’s gonna blow everyone’s minds!"

"Man, this thing is gorgeous!" Song Anquan circled the car excitedly before turning back to Su Yang. "Hey, how much does it cost to rent a Cullinan for a day?"

Su Yang shot him a playful look and smirked. "It’s not rented. It’s mine."

"Yours..." Song Anquan repeated with a grin, then suddenly did a double-take.

"Wait, what? YOURS?"

Su Yang nodded. "Yep. Mine."

"Bro... you’re messing with me, right? I may not be some big shot, but I know how much a Cullinan costs—this thing’s like seven or eight million!"

Su Yang chuckled, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering one. "You smoke these days?"

"Nah, nah."

"Good habit. Better not start."

He put the pack away and lit one for himself. "Here’s the thing—I’ve been doing some business with friends the past couple years, made some money. Long story short, after cashing in, I treated myself to a Cullinan."

Su Yang said it casually, but Song Anquan looked utterly stunned.

He swallowed hard. "You say that like you just bought a used Jetta. What kind of business pays like that? Man, you gotta hook your boy up!"

Su Yang laughed. "Absolutely. Once the wedding’s over, we’ll talk details. If you’re up for it, you’ll have to move to Haicheng for work."

"Never mind Haicheng—I'd even work at sea if it meant making good money!"

Su Yang patted Song Anquan's shoulder with a laugh. "Good, as long as you're not picky about the location."

Song Anquan stared at the Rolls-Royce Cullinan in front of him, his eyes gleaming for several seconds before taking a deep breath and asking again, "Just to be sure—this car is really yours?"

"Hey, was everything I just said wasted on you? Yes, it's really mine. Why would I lie? Don’t you trust me? And do I even need to put on an act in front of you?"

"Holy sht!" Song Anquan couldn’t help but blurt out the expletive.

Su Yang chuckled and gave his shoulder another pat. "Quit standing there like an idiot—come help me carry something."

"Carry what?" Song Anquan hurried after him.

Su Yang walked to the rear of the car, popped open the trunk, and lifted out a case of Moutai, placing it in Song Anquan’s still-dumbfounded hands.

"It’s been so long since I last visited. Brought a case of Moutai for your dad."

"Ah, you didn’t have to bring anyth—" Song Anquan cut himself off mid-sentence, looking down at the full case of premium liquor in his hands before raising his gaze back to Su Yang, eyes full of admiration. "Damn, bro, you’ve really struck it big. This is insane."

Su Yang shook his head with a smile. "Wouldn’t say I’ve struck it big. We’ll catch up properly later." He then pulled out two packs of Hetianxia cigarettes from the trunk before closing it.

Song Anquan took another deep breath, briefly fantasizing about the day he’d drive a Cullinan himself, then grinned and nodded. "Alright, bro, let’s head inside. Dinner’s almost ready~"

"Sure, let’s go~"

Su Yang followed Song Anquan toward the house. The Song family home was a three-story building, with the first floor consisting of three large rooms—the central one being the spacious living room.

The right side served as the dining area, while the left, originally a storage space, had been cleared out to accommodate extra guests. Behind the living room was a backyard where the kitchen and bathroom were located, along with space for butchering livestock during festivals or major events. The second and third floors were reserved for bedrooms.

As soon as they stepped inside, they saw a group of men and women gathered around the living room sofa.

Song Anquan beamed and announced, "Dad, Su Yang’s here!"

Hearing this, a man in his fifties with slightly graying hair turned his head—Song Haihua, Song Anquan’s father.

Spotting Su Yang behind his son, he immediately stood up with a smile. "Xiao Su! Ah, it’s been so many years—I almost didn’t recognize you! Look at you, so tall now!"

Su Yang strode forward with a grin. "Uncle Song, long time no see. I came to help out with Anquan’s wedding."

"Ah, thank you, thank you! Come, come, have a seat here." Overjoyed, Song Haihua clasped Su Yang’s hands and guided him to the sofa.

Meanwhile, Song Anquan placed the case of Moutai on the coffee table in front of them and said cheerfully, "Dad, my bro Yang got you some top-shelf liquor."

Song Haihua had been about to introduce the others present when his gaze landed on the bold lettering on the box—Moutai. He froze, stunned.

"This... Xiao Su, how did you—"

Before he could finish, Su Yang casually added, "Oh, right, Uncle Song, I also brought two packs of cigarettes. I remember you smoke, don’t you?"

As he spoke, he pulled out two packs of Hetianxia cigarettes from the black plastic bag in his hand and placed them into the utterly bewildered Song Haihua's grasp.

This move didn’t just leave Song Haihua stunned—the few people sitting nearby were equally dumbfounded.

Since when did a decent person show up at someone’s door carrying an entire case of Moutai? And on top of that, two packs of cigarettes priced at 110 yuan each?

Generally speaking, in China, when visiting close friends or relatives for important occasions, the most one would bring is a couple of decent bottles of liquor, paired with a pack of cigarettes or a box of tea—that’s already considered quite generous.

But Su Yang went straight for a whole case of liquor, and not just any liquor—Moutai.

What stood out most were the bold characters printed on the box. In most Chinese households, this was practically liquid gold.

With just this brief encounter, everyone in the room had already formed a basic understanding of Su Yang’s means.

......