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

5:30 p.m.

Zhang Yan swept aside a shared bicycle; the chain was stiff and creaked.

The setting sun cast a long shadow of his ascent westward, plunging into the prime real estate of Cloud Top Manor.

Car logos on the road are getting more and more expensive.

From Mercedes-Benz and BMW, it has become Bentley and Rolls-Royce.

Wearing a shampoo-white T-shirt, Zhang Yan rode his bicycle for half an hour, looking like an ugly duckling who had mistakenly wandered into a flock of swans amidst the torrent of luxury cars.

Out of place.

Finally, the heavy, ornate iron gate stood before us.

"What are you doing!"

The window of the security booth was suddenly flung open.

The middle-aged security guard poked his head out; his uniform was impeccably tailored, and his eyes scanned Zhang Yan up and down as if he were a thief.

His gaze lingered on the dilapidated bicycle and cheap canvas shoes for two seconds.

Finally, the focus fell on Zhang Yan's overly youthful face.

Poor student.

The assessment is complete.

"Looking for someone." Zhang Yan gripped the brakes, bracing himself with his legs on the ground. "The owner of Building A-09."

The security guard was amused.

A mocking smile curled at the corner of his mouth, as if he had heard the biggest joke of the year.

"A-09? Do you know who lives there?"

He pointed to the signboard next to him, his tone dismissive.

"No appointment, no owner's phone number, not even a license plate. Do you think this is a farmers' market? Get out of here, don't block the cars behind you."

Zhang Yan didn't move.

He didn't want to argue, he just silently took out the phone with the cracked screen.

Open WeChat and find the pure black profile picture.

I was stopped by security.

The security guard watched his movements, sneered, and crossed his arms to watch the show.

Installed.

Continue assembling.

He can stop about ten poor guys a month who want to sneak in, take photos, and post them on social media.

Less than half a minute.

"Ring ring ring—"

The red internal hotline in the guard booth suddenly went off without warning.

The security guard's expression changed.

This phone line connects directly to the core homeowners and usually rings less than twice a year.

He hurriedly answered the call, his back instantly bending down, his voice as obsequious as a eunuch.

"Hello, South Gate Guard Post..."

There was no small talk on the other end of the line.

There was only a lazy, slightly sleepy, hoarse female voice.

"The boy riding a bicycle at the entrance."

The security guard felt a chill run down his spine, and cold sweat trickled down his temples.

That voice... it's that of President Nie, who's known as "Bamboo Leaf Green"!

"Yes, yes! Don't worry, Mr. Nie, I'll kick him out right away and make sure he doesn't dirty your place..."

"Let him in."

The person on the other end of the phone interrupted him, their tone playful.

"That's the private chef I... hired."

beep--

The phone hangs up.

The security guard froze on the spot, nearly dropping the receiver.

Private...private chef? !

Mr. Nie's private chef?

This student who rides a shared bike and wears clothes that cost only a few dozen yuan from a street stall?

He mechanically turned his head, looking at Zhang Yan, who stood calmly outside the door, his throat dry.

These are hardly poor students.

This is clearly the Crown Prince traveling incognito!

"Open the door! Quickly!"

The security guard frantically pressed the remote control, rushed out of the guard booth, and grinned from ear to ear.

"Oh, young man... no, sir!"

He rushed to Zhang Yan, bent over at a ninety-degree angle, and tried to grab the handlebars but didn't dare to touch them.

"I'm so sorry, I was blind! Please don't take it to heart!"

"I'll watch this car for you! Parked in the best spot! Please come in, please come in quickly!"

Arrogant at first, then obsequious; his demeanor changes as easily as turning the pages of a book.

Zhang Yan looked calmly at the sweat on the security guard's forehead.

This is the taste of power.

Nie Qingcheng didn't even need to show her face; a single word was enough to open that unattainable door for him.

"Thanks."

Zhang Yan parked the car, and without saying much, walked straight into the gate.

Behind him, the security guard remained bowing until the slender figure disappeared around the corner, only then daring to straighten up and wipe his sweat.

……

Building A-09.

Zhang Yan stood in front of that familiar carved wooden door, not yet having a chance to raise his hand.

Click.

The door opened.

A sophisticated, cool fragrance mixed with woody notes wafted out first.

Zhang Yan subconsciously looked up.

Their gazes froze instantly.

That awful lace nightgown from last night isn't here.

But the scene before us is only more destructive.

Nie Qingcheng wore a silver-gray silk cheongsam.

This color is extremely selective; even the slightest flaw can make someone look older. But on her, it exudes a breathtaking sense of sophistication.

The fabric clings to the body, and every inch of the cut feels like it's grown onto the flesh.

The S-shaped curves were outlined to the fullest extent, with the plump parts almost bursting out of the clothes, while the waist was so slender that it seemed as if it could be grasped in one hand.

The most amazing thing is the fork.

It went all the way up to the thigh.

As she leaned against the doorframe, a long, dazzlingly white leg was faintly visible.

She had her hair up, revealing her long, swan-like neck, and the beauty mark at the corner of her eye shone alluringly under the light.

"You're here?"

The voice was languid, with a hint of something else.

If she was a wild and untamed cat last night, then today she is a beautiful snake with its tongue flicking out.

Elegant, dangerous, deadly.

"Um."

Zhang Yan's Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty, and he quickly lowered his head, staring at the tips of his canvas shoes.

I dare not look.

Even glancing at it is a sin.

"Come in, do I have to invite you?"

Nie Qingcheng turned around, her high heels clicking crisply on the floor.

Zhang Yan changed into slippers and tried to keep his eyes straight ahead.

But the entryway is really too narrow.

Nie Qingcheng didn't rush to the living room, but stopped by the entryway cabinet, seemingly looking for something.

"Strange, where's my pen...?"

She muttered something to herself and suddenly bent over.

This action is practically a crime.

The fabric of the cheongsam tightened instantly, stretching the curves of the back into an exaggerated arc.

The fabric slipped down at the slit.

Large swathes of snow-white skin were unreservedly exposed to Zhang Yan's peripheral vision.

The fragrance in the air seemed even stronger, carrying body heat, forcefully penetrating the nasal cavity.

Zhang Yan felt all the blood rushing to his head, his cheeks burning, and his breathing completely out of control.

He frantically memorized the recipes in his mind.

For scallion oil noodles, first fry the white parts of the scallions, then fry the green parts...

"Found it."

Nie Qingcheng straightened up, holding a fountain pen in her hand, and turned around to look at him with a half-smile.

Those fox-like eyes were full of mockery.

She did it on purpose.

She had seen countless people and was accustomed to the greed and desire in men's eyes.

But this boy in front of me...

Even though her ears were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, and her fists were clenched so tightly, she still forced herself to stay on that line.

This kind of youthful composure, this kind of predicament struggling on the edge of desire.

He's a million times more interesting than those men who start touching you inappropriately.

"Little cook."

Nie Qingcheng took half a step forward, getting closer to Zhang Yan.

A faint smell of alcohol wafted across his face.

Why are you blushing?

Zhang Yan stumbled backward, his back slamming against the door panel.

There was no way to retreat.

"It's hot inside."

He gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah?"

Nie Qingcheng chuckled and lightly touched his burning cheek with her fingertip.

"Then let's go to the kitchen, it's cool there."

As if granted a general amnesty.

Zhang Yan almost scrambled to his side, like a startled rabbit, and plunged headfirst into the kitchen.

Until the sliding door closed, blocking that scorching gaze.

Zhang Yancai leaned against the kitchen counter, panting heavily.

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, making my eardrums ache.

This woman...

Absolutely a prodigy!

In the living room.

Nie Qingcheng looked at the closed kitchen door and felt great.

She walked to the sofa and sat down, crossing her legs. The hem of her cheongsam slipped down, revealing her stunning figure.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to my secretary.

Check out the shops near Jiangnan University.

Her typing paused, and a domineering smile curved her lips.

[I want the one closest to the school, the best one. Buy it.]

Cycling back and forth every day is too slow.

Why not set up a shop for him near the school and enclose the area?

after all.

This is her private kitchen.