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

The sweet and sour pork ribs were steaming in the bowl, the sweet and sour aroma filling the air, but it failed to whet Zhang Yan's appetite.

"orphan."

As soon as those two words were spoken, the soft sounds of chewing and clinking of bowls and chopsticks in the restaurant seemed to be cut off by an invisible hand.

Nie Qingcheng's fingers, gripping the wine glass, suddenly tightened, her knuckles turning bluish-white.

The scarlet liquid in the glass sloshed violently, nearly spilling out.

She stared at the person opposite her.

The boy kept his head down as he ate his rice, his back straight as an unyielding ruler.

He spoke in such a nonchalant tone that it was as if he were simply saying the weather was nice today.

This excessive calm is more piercing than a hysterical attempt to elicit sympathy.

Nie Qingcheng had seen countless people and had encountered far too many men who fabricated their past stories to gain sympathy in front of her.

But in Zhang Yan's eyes, there was only composure and indifference, as if he had long been accustomed to licking his wounds alone.

It turns out that his clarity, which seemed out of place in this bustling city, was because he had never been immersed in worldly warmth.

My throat feels a little blocked.

Nie Qingcheng tilted her head back and downed half a glass of red wine. The alcohol was harsh, but it couldn't suppress the inexplicable bitterness rising in her heart.

The rest of the meal was quiet and somewhat oppressive.

After finishing the last bite of rice, Zhang Yan put down his chopsticks and skillfully got up to clean up the mess.

He cleaned the bone plate and sorted the bowls and chopsticks into the sink.

The water was rushing loudly, and he was slightly bent over, his faded T-shirt clinging to his back.

The fabric became transparent from the sweat, outlining the boy's thin yet taut shoulder blades.

Nie Qingcheng leaned back in her chair, her gaze wandering over the figure in the distance.

My gaze fell on the neckline—it was already loose and deformed from washing, with fine frayed edges, and you could even see a small patch of skin below the collarbone.

It's blinding.

This outfit doesn't match the focus he was having while cooking, nor does it suit the style of this villa.

A strange sense of irritation welled up inside me.

She wanted to do something to fill the void in her heart that she had felt when she heard the word "orphan."

Stop.

Nie Qingcheng's voice broke the monotony of the flowing water.

Zhang Yan turned off the tap, his hands still covered in foam, and looked back somewhat blankly.

"President Nie?"

The high heels clicked on the floor, making a crisp "tap-tap" sound. Nie Qingcheng stopped half a step behind him.

A rich, cool fragrance mixed with the smell of alcohol wafted over, and Zhang Yan subconsciously wanted to back away, but the kitchen counter pressed against his lower back.

"This dress."

Nie Qingcheng raised her hand, her slender fingertips drawing a circle in the air, pointing at the old T-shirt, her tone carrying her usual domineering and picky nature.

"Too old, too broken, too unsightly."

"It seriously affected my appetite."

Zhang Yan paused for a moment, then looked down at himself.

This was his most presentable piece of clothing; it had no holes and was very clean.

His fingers unconsciously clenched the hem of his clothes, his fingertips turning white from the force.

Poverty is not shameful, but being pointed out to one's face by a female CEO worth hundreds of billions still makes one feel embarrassed.

"Feel sorry."

Zhang Yan's voice was a little strained, "This is all I have."

"Then change it."

Nie Qingcheng turned around and strode towards the pile of shopping bags that had been prepared in advance in the living room.

She picked up the bags with the understated logo, turned around, and threw them directly into Zhang Yan's arms.

"Put this on. From now on, this will be your work uniform when you come to my place."

The bag was heavy, and it felt dull and heavy in my arms.

Zhang Yan glanced down at it.

There's no obvious brand, but the heavy, luxurious feel of the packaging alone gives off an "I'm expensive" vibe.

He placed the bag on the table, his expression returning to calm.

"I cannot accept undeserved rewards, Mr. Nie. I am here to repay my debts, not to sell myself."

The refusal was swift and decisive.

Nie Qingcheng laughed in exasperation.

This kid is tougher than she imagined.

She stepped forward, her captivating fox-like eyes narrowing slightly, staring at Zhang Yan with a dangerous aura.

"Sell yourself? You wish!"

She extended her index finger and tapped Zhang Yan's chest with considerable force.

"Get your identity straight. You're my private chef. Every move you make reflects my taste. If you wander around here dressed like a refugee, whose face will we lose if guests come?"

"These are work uniforms; they're company property."

Nie Qingcheng's logic was impeccable, giving Zhang Yan no chance to refute her.

"If your clothes get dirty, the company will wash them; if they get worn out, the company will replace them. You won't have to pay a penny, and it's not considered part of your benefits."

"Now, go upstairs, the second bathroom on the left."

She pointed to the stairs, her chin slightly raised, exuding a queenly aura.

"Or... do you want me to help you undress yourself?"

Zhang Yan: "..."

That last sentence was incredibly damaging.

Seeing Nie Qingcheng's eager expression, as if she was really ready to make a move, Zhang Yan's last bit of resolve crumbled instantly.

Trying to reason with this woman is just asking for trouble.

He grabbed the bag and rushed towards the stairs as if fleeing.

Second-floor bathroom.

The sound of the door lock clicking shut was exceptionally clear.

Zhang Yan leaned against the door, his chest heaving.

That faint, cool fragrance seemed to still linger on the tip of my nose.

After calming his breathing, he opened the bags.

A pure cotton white T-shirt, well-tailored black casual pants, and even underwear and socks.

No hang tag.

It was obviously cut out beforehand.

Zhang Yan paused.

This detail made something hard in his heart soften slightly.

Was she trying to protect his pitiful sense of self-esteem?

Take off the damp, cold old clothes and put on new ones.

That tactile sensation doesn't lie.

Premium long-staple cotton feels like a second skin, lightweight and breathable.

Zhang Yan stood in front of the full-length mirror.

The person in the mirror made him momentarily dazed.

The system's claim of "improving physical condition" is not unfounded.

Her originally slightly thin frame was now outlined perfectly by the fitted T-shirt.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist, slightly protruding pectoral muscles, smooth lines full of explosive power.

The black casual pants elongated his legs, making him appear tall and straight.

The sense of despondency brought on by the long-term pressure of life was swept away, replaced by the sharpness and pride of an eighteen-year-old.

Clothes make the man, and a saddle makes the horse.

The ancients never lied to me.

Downstairs living room.

Nie Qingcheng poured herself another glass of red wine and nestled into the sofa.

The TV was on, but she wasn't paying attention to what was playing. Her ears were constantly perked up, listening for any sounds coming from the stairwell.

Actually, I was too harsh just now.

But if I weren't so assertive, that stubborn, foolish boy definitely wouldn't accept me.

"Da, da, da."

Footsteps approached. Very light, yet very steady.

Nie Qingcheng subconsciously turned her head and glanced at it casually.

Once I saw it, I couldn't take my eyes off it.

The wine glass stopped at her red lips, but she forgot to drink it.

Soft, warm light shone on the stairwell.

The boy walked down slowly, one hand in his pocket.

That minimalist black and white outfit seemed like a battle robe tailor-made for him.

Without any superfluous decorations, it amplifies that clean and refreshing quality to the extreme.

Especially those eyes.

Against this backdrop of noble attire, the black and white contrasts sharply, shining brilliantly.

If Zhang Yan was a rough gem covered in dust before, then now he is a rare treasure that has just been polished and is beginning to show his brilliance.

Nie Qingcheng felt her throat was a little dry.

A certain burning sensation, even more intoxicating than the red wine I had just drunk.

She thought she had just adopted a cute little cat.

Unexpectedly, after being cleaned, it turned out to be a young leopard that hadn't grown up yet.

Zhang Yan walked to the sofa and awkwardly tugged at the corner of his shirt.

"Mr. Nie, it's all changed."

Nie Qingcheng snapped out of her daze, quickly concealing the fleeting look of amazement and greed in her eyes.

She took a sip of wine, using the glass to cover half her face, and deliberately kept her voice calm, but couldn't hide the hint of pleasure in the last syllable.

"Hmm, it's alright."

"It's barely watchable, but not disgusting."

But in my mind, I was screaming: This isn't watchable! This is practically inciting me to commit a crime!

Damn.

It seems like this deal turned out to be a bit of a loss.

This isn't just hiring a cook; it's practically creating a problem where someone's hormones are constantly radiating.