Zhou Ying mentioned to their Male Manager that she wanted to have dinner with Jiang Cheng, and the Male Manager naturally agreed without hesitation.
He even urged her to get off work quickly and told Finance to settle her wages immediately.
While waiting for the payment, Zhou Ying said to Jiang Cheng, "Jiang Cheng, wait a moment—I'll go change clothes."
Jiang Cheng glanced at her again and nodded.
The outfit looked great, but it was hardly everyday wear.
Zhou Ying hurried back to the staff office, slipped out of the sexy dress and into something casual.
Today's choice was simple: a fitted white tee, black straight-leg pants, and sneakers.
After changing, she studied herself in the mirror, swapping her bold red lipstick for an everyday coral.
Satisfied, she folded the gown and tucked it into a bag.
Bag in hand, she left the lounge and walked briskly toward Jiang Cheng.
Ten minutes later she was standing in front of him.
Jiang Cheng took in her delicate features—bright eyes like misty smoke and slender willow-leaf brows.
The simple outfit only amplified her air of a refined young lady.
No wonder everyone called her the campus belle.
Once her wages were paid, the two headed to the auto-show exit.
Jiang Cheng pressed the Ferrari's unlock button.
Zhou Ying slid naturally into the passenger seat.
Seatbelt fastened, she said, "Thanks to your car, I earned a ¥12,000 commission."
"Only twelve thousand?"
Seeing his surprise, Zhou Ying laughed. "I'm not a Ferrari employee—just a model. Without your nod I wouldn't get a cent. Yours was a full payment, so my cut's 0.2 % of the base price, options excluded."
"So that's how it's calculated—no wonder it's low."
"A regular salesperson gets 0.5 %, and if you'd financed it, the cut would be even bigger."
"First time hearing these insider rules; I thought luxury-car sales paid huge commissions."
"For regular folk it's decent, but these cars don't move. The whole show sold three, and one was yours."
Jiang Cheng nodded. "What's a model's daily rate?"
"Me? This is my second gig—¥2,000 a day." She rummaged through her clutch as she spoke.
"Not high?" He was surprised.
"Top models get ten or twenty grand. I only landed this through Mom's contact. My looks bump me up; average girls pull five or eight hundred."
"With your looks, twenty grand sounds right," Jiang Cheng said.
"Seems I've got potential."
He admired her frankness. "Why work? Summer job?"
She'd expected the question. "You know my family went bankrupt. I need to cover uni living costs."
Seeing him stunned, she lightened the mood.
"Surprised? It's been over a year; I'm used to it. People gossip, but I never had close friends, so the talk slides off. Life's tough, but earning my own money feels good."
Jiang Cheng offered no sympathy, just kept driving steadily.
"A beauty like you can always earn."
"Everyone says that, but no one explains where the money comes from," she quipped, quoting an online meme.
Her words cracked him up.
So much for the ice-queen campus belle—she was refreshingly down-to-earth.
She pulled a lolly from her bag, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.
Offering another, she asked, "Lollipop?"
He waved it off. "No thanks—real men don't do lollipops."
"Why not? Are men banned from lollipops?"
He couldn't explain he already had one—24/7 on tap—and it was reserved for top-tier girls like her.
And it was hers alone to taste.
When he stayed silent, she shrugged. "I meant to treat you, but now I'm freeloading."
"Food is food," he said. "Work finishes after the show?"
"Yep. These few days cover my uni expenses; I'll hunt for the next gig later."
"Hard work deserves a reward—treat yourself."
"Tonight was supposed to be my celebration dinner with you—guess it's postponed."
"That simple?"
She gave a wry smile. "Rich folks have countless joys; for the poor, a good meal is the biggest celebration. Tuition still waits…"
Jiang Cheng couldn't argue. Barely ten kilometres to the restaurant, yet traffic stretched it to forty minutes—proof that even supercars hate jams.
They rolled into a farmstead restaurant ringed by hills and water, airy and fresh.
Besides Wang Zheng and Chen Hao, two more had arrived.
After quick introductions, dishes began landing on the table.
Just as things wound down, five newcomers showed—three men, two women.
They strode straight toward Jiang Cheng's group.
Chen Hao frowned. "Damn, what's he doing here?"
He turned to Wang Zheng. "Brother Wang, I swear I didn't invite him."
Jiang Cheng noticed Wang Zheng's darkening face. "Problem?"
"Far right, Gucci tee—that's Wang Qiang. He and Brother Wang have beef; we don't mix. Whoever invited him's an idiot."
Wang Zheng clapped Chen Hao's shoulder. "Relax. It's not his turf; he can come. You're the host—look after him."
Chen Hao nodded. "You got it—let's sit, everyone's here."
At the table Chen Hao introduced Jiang Cheng around.
When he reached Wang Qiang he paused, grinning. "Xiao-Qiang Bro, who dragged your holy self here? I'm pretty sure I didn't send you an invite."
Wang Qiang's face darkened—he hated that nickname more than anything.