Golden cage
In a private club on Manhattan’s Upper East Side, the crystal chandelier illuminates the cufflinks of 42-year-old SD Mark. Opposite him, SB Amy is wearing Chanel’s early spring series, and the diamond necklace on her clavicle reflects the cold light. “This month’s living expenses have increased to 50,000,” Mark turned the red wine glass of Chateau Latour, “but I want you to accompany me to the board dinner every Wednesday.”
Amy’s eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows under the artificial light, and she remembered the original Monet she saw at Sotheby’s last week, which was priced at exactly ten times 50,000. “Deal,” she raised her glass and clinked it with his, “but I want you to attend the charity dinner next week, and I need a front-row ticket.”
Pure love specimen
In Brooklyn at three o’clock in the morning, Lily squatted on the old carpet of a second-hand bookstore, her fingertips stroking the yellowed pages of “The Little Prince”. The phone suddenly vibrated, and a screenshot of a Bitcoin wallet was sent from an unknown number: “Tomorrow at 12 noon, Central Park Bethesda Fountain.”
She clenched the coffee cup in her hand, and the wall of the cup still retained the body temperature from working in the cafe last night. The other party’s profile page read “Looking for a Platonic soul mate”, but the profile picture was a K-line chart of a cryptocurrency exchange. Lily touched up her lipstick in the mirror and suddenly found that her heartbeat was faster than when facing any other customer.
Value Equation
At the Hermès flagship store on Fifth Avenue, Sarah was trying on a crocodile leather platinum bag. “This color suits your skin tone very well,” the salesgirl put on a professional smile, “limited to 30 worldwide.”
The phone vibrated in the bag, and the text message from the sugar daddy came with a screenshot of a bank transfer: “Buy it, come to my apartment tonight.” Sarah looked at the jumping numbers in the account balance and suddenly remembered that he said last month that he would sponsor her art study abroad project. “I want this,” she pointed to the ostrich leather Kelly bag in the window, “and give me an Hermès scarf.”
Innocent Virus
At the opening of the Chelsea Gallery, James stared at the NFT artwork in front of him. “This is the Golden Age that I generated using an AI algorithm,” the creator handed over champagne, “the transaction price is equivalent to 200 bitcoins.”
SB’s message suddenly popped up on the phone: “I’m pregnant.” James’ hands trembled, and the champagne stains spread on his suit. He remembered the girl he met at the cryptocurrency summit three months ago, whose eyes looked like dancing pit bulls when she smiled. “Kill it,” he stared at the candlestick chart on the screen while typing, “I will make it up to you.”
Alchemist
In the office of a hedge fund on Wall Street, David is analyzing the latest cryptocurrency trends. “If the Bitcoin ETF is approved, the price will exceed 100,000,” he told the trader, “but we need more liquidity.”
The phone vibrated on the desk, and SB’s message came with a pregnancy test report: “This time I want gold, physical gold.” David looked at the Statue of Liberty outside the window and suddenly remembered the girl he met in the library in college, who always carried a notebook with the scent of sunflowers. “Deal,” he replied, “but the delivery location is up to me.”
Innocent love fuse
In the Greek and Roman exhibition hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Sophia is repairing a bronze statue. The phone suddenly vibrated, and the message from Sugar Daddy came with a screenshot of a cryptocurrency wallet: “Tonight at 8 o’clock, rooftop bar.”
She looked at the scarab amulet in the glass display case and suddenly remembered the programmer she met on Tinder three months ago. He said he would give her a unique NFT, but he disappeared on the day when the cryptocurrency crashed. Sophia took off her gloves, and there was still a small wound on the inside of her ring finger from repairing the statue. “Okay,” she replied, “I’ll wear your favorite red dress.”
Value Reconstruction
The climax of the story takes place at dusk on the Brooklyn Bridge. When the price of Bitcoin broke through $100,000, the SDs celebrated with champagne on private yachts, and the SBs swiped their cards crazily in luxury stores. Lily stood in the middle of the bridge, looking at the balance of the cryptocurrency wallet on her phone, and suddenly threw her phone into the East River.
“What are you doing?” James’ voice came from behind. Lily turned around and saw that he was holding a bunch of sunflowers in his hands. “I want to quit,” she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes, “I don’t want gold, I want…”
James suddenly kissed her, and the pollen of the sunflower stained the corners of their mouths. “I know,” he whispered, “I cast our chat history into NFT, which is now worth 200 bitcoins.”
The New Golden Age
The Manhattan skyline woke up in the morning sun, and Sofia stood at the rooftop bar, looking at the screenshot of the sugar daddy’s cryptocurrency wallet. “This is the last gift,” he said, “and then we’ll be clear.”
She looked at the Statue of Liberty in the distance and suddenly threw her phone into the pool. “I don’t want gold,” Sophia said with a smile, “I want you to accompany me to see Monet’s water lilies.” Sugar Dad was stunned, and suddenly laughed out loud. “Deal,” he stretched out his hand, “but I want you to promise to keep this stupid innocence forever.”
