"OK," Wilson nodded. "As long as you know what you're doing." He took out his phone and made a call. A minute later, there was a knock on the door of the luxury suite.
William said, "Come in," and saw Wilson's head of security, Thomas, open the door and bring in five or six people from China. To William's surprise, among them was Shen Cheng, someone William had been waiting to meet for days.
After a brief moment of surprise, William smiled, stepped forward, shook hands, and greeted the guests. Once the pleasantries were over, he led everyone into the suite's meeting room, where they all took their seats. William got straight to the point. "I believe Wilson has already told you why we're meeting today."
"Yes, Mr. Devonshire," one of the senior executives from the Chinese construction company said. "We are very pleased to receive your invitation. Based on our preliminary estimates, the timeline seems feasible. The only potential issues are the source of materials and the number of construction crews."
William interrupted, "Hold on. I'm not interested in where you get your materials or how many crews you bring in. I just want to know if you can deliver a quality new stadium and its facilities for £300 million through your registered company in England within two years."
Considering the amount, which was close to 3.7 billion Chinese yuan at the time, the executives hesitated. Sensing this, William sweetened the deal, "If your proposal satisfies me, I have another £200 million museum project for you—also to be completed in two years.
"And if you do well in both projects, the demolition of the old stadium and the construction of three luxury residential towers over 20 stories high could also be yours. That's a total of £700 million worth of contracts."
"What?" Hearing the figure of £700 million, the Chinese executives became visibly excited. "Mr. Devonshire, we need to take a short recess to discuss this and get back to you shortly."
"No problem," William nodded. "Take your time. If you need anything, feel free to call for suite services. Gentlemen, I'll see you soon."
"Thank you."
William and Wilson left the meeting room and stood by the suite's floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping the whiskey Abigail had handed them.
"Are you really going to give the entire project to that Chinese company registered in London? Mate, that's a £700 million project. Can Chinese companies really build such a large stadium?" Wilson asked skeptically.
"Can I insult you, Wilson? You're too behind the times. When it comes to infrastructure, no one beats the Chinese," William said with a grin. "Besides, even if they don't make much profit, they'll still finish the project on time with high quality. This is a rare advertising opportunity for them.
"English construction companies and those in Australia want four years; they only need two. Can you imagine the advertising impact once the project is complete? And don't worry, they'll still make money off that £700 million."
"I still find it hard to believe," Wilson shook his head.
As they chatted, the first race of the day—a two-year-old horse race before the main event—began. The broadcast started announcing the names and details of the horses. William patted Wilson, who clearly wasn't focused on the races. "Alright, mate, the first race is about to start. Feel like placing a bet?"
Wilson quickly shook his head. "No way. If word got out, I'd be in big trouble."
"Come on, at least help me make a recommendation. You've been around horses since you were a kid; you definitely know more than I do."
"Sure, I can act as a consultant. Just remember, horse racing is unpredictable, and if you lose, don't blame me," Wilson said with a laugh.
"No worries, I'm just playing around."
Wilson thought for a moment and then said uncertainly, "Horses 5, 6, and 11 have the best chances of finishing in the top three, but I can't guarantee which one will win or even if they'll all place in the top three."
"That's fine, just having fun," William said, picking up the suite's call button and asking the manager to place a £1 million bet on horses 5, 6, and 11 to finish in the top three, with horse 6 as the winner.
After William placed his bet, Wilson said, "£1 million for a 'just having fun' bet? Good Lord, I regret giving advice. I wasn't even sure, and you placed a combination bet. The odds of winning are slim."
Sure enough, a few minutes later, when the race started, none of horses 5, 6, or 11 finished in the top three. Wilson shrugged apologetically at William, who just laughed and patted his shoulder, saying, "No worries, I said I was just playing."
Seeing that William wasn't upset, Wilson smiled and asked, "Ready for the next race?"
"Do I look like an idiot? Losing £1 million already makes me an idiot if I keep following your advice. If I bet again, it'll be on Chitu."
"Haha, I thought you didn't care about money," Wilson chuckled. "But didn't your trainer tell you? The Royal Ascot doesn't allow owners to bet on their own horses."
"Huh? There's such a rule?"
"Of course," Wilson confirmed.
The two continued to chat for another half hour until the highlight of the day finally arrived: the three-year-old horse race. Chitu was placed in lane 7, a neutral position, neither advantageous nor disadvantageous.
William and Wilson remained calm, unlike the spectators in the stands who were waving their arms and shouting. Abigail, who was watching horse racing for the first time, however, was visibly excited, clinging tightly to William's arm with her eyes fixed on Chitu.
As the gates opened and the horses charged out, it quickly became clear how crucial the start was. After the first 300 meters, the competition was already starting to show.
Although Chitu was slightly shorter than the English thoroughbreds, after 300 meters, it was already in the top three.
Seeing Chitu move into the top three, a smile spread across William's face. According to Chitu's head trainer, Old Neil, if Chitu had a strong start, it was highly likely to win the second half of the race. Now, after just 300 meters, Chitu was already in the top three. Barring any accidents, Chitu was sure to win today.
"Go, go, Chitu!" Abigail cheered in an imperfect accent. As the race passed the 1600-meter mark, Chitu, who had been in third place, began to accelerate. In just 200 meters, it surged into first place, and it only continued to gain momentum.
Even Wilson, who hadn't been particularly excited at first, started shouting encouragement.
By the time the race reached the 2400-meter mark, with the final sprint ahead, the entire crowd was chanting Chitu's name. Chitu had built such a massive lead—seven or eight lengths ahead of second place—that it was almost unheard of at the St. Leger Stakes in recent years.
The gap continued to widen, with Chitu showing no signs of fatigue. Instead, it looked as though the horse had just finished warming up, running faster and faster. By the time it crossed the finish line, Chitu was 18 lengths ahead of second place, breaking the event record with a time of 2 minutes, 59.43 seconds.
"My God, my God!" Wilson exclaimed, holding his head in disbelief as the event record symbol flashed on the big screen. Abigail, on the other hand, threw her arms around William and kissed him excitedly.
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