Can't afford to pay for the takeout? Stunning CEO: Then pay with your body!

The air in the studio seemed to have been sucked out, becoming thin and scalding hot.

Nie Qingcheng's fingertips, like a small piece of ice, touched Zhang Yan's heart through his thin T-shirt.

Those fox-like eyes, which could always stir up bloodshed, now resembled those of a frightened cub, filled with wariness and a hint of panic that even she herself was unaware of.

"You see right through me..."

Her voice was low, with an uncontrollable tremor.

"This makes me...feel very insecure."

Zhang Yan remained silent.

He simply lowered his eyes and looked at her hand, which was pressed against his chest, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

Then, he extended his good right hand, his movements slow but gentle, and gently covered the back of her hand.

His palms were dry and warm, like a fine net, gently wrapping away all her unease and sharp edges.

Nie Qingcheng's body stiffened for a moment.

She looked up and met Zhang Yan's clear eyes.

There was no prying, no scrutiny, not even a hint of amusement in it.

There was only a pure, almost pious appreciation, and a kind of focus that made her heart race uncontrollably.

It was as if she wasn't a secret that could be seen through, but a unique treasure that he had created with his own hands.

"This is for you."

Zhang Yan finally spoke, his voice calm, yet like a pebble thrown into Nie Qingcheng's turbulent heart, instantly smoothing out all the ripples.

It was a gift for her.

These three words are like a curse.

The aggressive and menacing aura that had just erupted from Nie Qingcheng dissipated rapidly at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Instead, a more domineering and self-righteous possessiveness has emerged.

This painting is his.

The person in the painting is her.

Therefore, this painting belongs entirely and completely to her alone.

Nie Qingcheng grabbed his hand in return, and the panic and unease on her face were instantly replaced by a sly and triumphant smile.

She released her fingers from his chest, turned and walked towards the door. Speaking into the intercom on the access control system, she gave instructions in a queenly tone that left no room for argument.

"Uncle Fu, come up here."

In less than a minute, an elderly butler with gray hair, dressed in a well-tailored tuxedo and full of energy appeared at the studio door.

"Miss."

The old butler bowed deeply, his posture as elegant as that of a medieval nobleman.

"Go and bring me the finest Versailles painting in its gold-leaf frame from my collection room."

Nie Qingcheng pointed to the still-dry oil painting on the easel, her chin slightly raised, her tone revealing undisguised pride, "Framed with the highest-grade bulletproof constant-temperature glass."

Uncle Fu looked in the direction she pointed, and when he saw the person on the canvas, a hint of amazement flashed in his usually calm eyes.

He had been by Nie Qingcheng's side for decades and had never seen the young lady show the same expression as in the painting.

That is... a kind of softness that willingly succumbs after being completely conquered.

"After framing..."

Nie Qingcheng paused, a sweet smile curving her lips, and said something that stunned Zhang Yan: "Hang it in my bedroom, on the wall directly opposite the bed."

"I want to see it first thing every time I open my eyes, and it should be the last thing I see when I close them."

Uncle Fu's expression remained unchanged; he simply bowed again and said, "Yes, Miss."

Just as Uncle Fu was about to leave, a hearty laugh came from outside the studio.

"My lovely girl, I hope this old man's uninvited visit hasn't bothered you?"

An elderly man, dressed in a Chinese-style button-down jacket and looking quite sprightly, walked in slowly, leaning on a sandalwood cane, led by a bodyguard.

When Nie Qingcheng saw the newcomer, the domineering aura on her face subsided somewhat, replaced by a hint of junior's respect.

"Uncle Chen, what brings you here? You didn't even tell me beforehand."

The elderly man, known as Uncle Chen, is Chen Jinglun, a renowned collector of antiques and calligraphy in Jinghai City. He is also a long-time friend of the Nie family and can be considered an elder who watched Nie Qingcheng grow up.

"Haha, I heard you bought a scroll of Tang Yin's original calligraphy from Sotheby's, and I've been so excited about it that I came here to see it for myself."

Chen Jinglun smiled and waved his hand, casually scanning the studio.

When his gaze inadvertently swept over the brightly colored oil painting on the easel, the smile on his face suddenly froze.

His eyes, which had seen countless masterpieces, were instantly captivated, as if drawn by a magnet, and he could not look away.

"This...this is..."

Chen Jinglun's breathing suddenly became rapid.

He loosened his cane, not even bothering to greet Nie Qingcheng, and rushed to the easel in two steps at a time.

He stood before the painting, his body trembling slightly with excitement.

He didn't look at who the person in the painting was; his entire attention was drawn to the masterful technique and the overwhelming emotion conveyed in the painting, which seemed to burst forth from the paper.

"God! It's truly amazing!"

Chen Jinglun stretched out his wrinkled hand, wanting to touch it, but then stopped abruptly an inch away from the canvas, as if afraid that his mortal aura would tarnish this masterpiece.

"This light and shadow! This brushstroke! This is no longer technique, this is the essence! This is the soul of painting!"

Like a fascinated child, he circled the easel again and again, constantly uttering exclamations of admiration.

Finally, he turned around abruptly, and an unprecedented, burning light burst forth in his cloudy old eyes as he stared intently at Nie Qingcheng.

"Girl! Name your price!"

His voice was a little hoarse from excitement, but it carried an undeniable determination.

"I'll take this painting!"

"I'll offer 100 million!"

One billion!

These three words, like a thunderclap, exploded loudly in the quiet art studio.

Uncle Fu, standing to the side, couldn't help but gasp.

One hundred million to buy a contemporary painter's work?

This is an unprecedented astronomical price in the entire history of art auctions!

However, faced with this offer that would drive anyone crazy, Nie Qingcheng simply reached out and took the arm of Zhang Yan, who had been silent all along.

She leaned against him, a languid smile on her face that was almost smug.

She looked at Chen Jinglun, her red lips parted slightly, and the words she uttered were more heart-wrenching than any direct rejection.

"Uncle Chen, I'm so sorry."

"This is not for sale."

She paused, her beautiful fox-like eyes curving into two lovely crescent moons, the light in them astonishingly bright.

"The artist is my man."

"If you want..."

She deliberately dragged out her words, speaking with a naive yet cruel tone, and said with a smile:

"Go ask your man to draw it."