Mr. Dior : Chapter 3: The President’s Million-Dollar Bride (3)

The entire Shifei building was filled with high-tech facilities. For instance, the elevators required an employee card swipe; every employee’s access to specific floors was fixed, and one had to apply for permission to visit floors outside their clearance.

The President’s private elevator used his fingerprint and could access any floor in the building.

Zhang Chenfei entered the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor as a matter of course. As an overbearing president, he should have an office with 360-degree panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, standing at the highest point of the city every day, looking down on the common masses.

Do you not remember the floor? Jiao Qi looked at him strangely and reached out to press the floor located in the middle of the building.

As it turned out, he did not have a panoramic office on the top floor. Instead, following the traditions of the 1990s, the executives’ offices were arranged on the middle floors to facilitate communication and provide an easy escape route.

It was not stylish at all!

With a ding, they arrived. Three secretaries, two men and one woman, were standing at the entrance holding files. Seeing Jiao Qi, they immediately stood at attention, their speaking speed twice as fast as usual.

President, these are the files that need to be signed today.

President, you have a meeting at 10:00 AM today in the top-floor conference room. I will remind you again at 9:45 AM.

President, President Li called just now; he is coming over at 2:00 PM today.

The President nodded steadily, wrapping an arm around his little delicate wife’s waist as he walked into the spacious office. From today on, you will work here.

Hmm? Jiao Qi raised an eyebrow, eyeing his lover sideways.

Oh my god! The three secretaries couldn’t help but exclaim, and the female secretary in high heels nearly tripped.

You will be my private assistant, responsible for serving tea and water, organizing files, and also… The President said, leaning in to lightly bite his wife’s fair earlobe, adding in a voice only the two of them could hear, relieving the President’s desires.

Jiao Qi couldn’t help but blush. He hadn’t heard this man speak so lewdly in a long time and was surprisingly nostalgic. He coughed lightly, pushed him away, and said with a cold face to the three secretaries, I will be moving my office here soon. Any files approved by the President must be brought to me for review first.

Yes! The three secretaries bowed in unison at a 45-degree angle, accepting without hesitation, not even pausing for a beat.

Cancel the meeting with President Li and tell him to come back tomorrow. Neither of us will be at the company this afternoon, so if there is any urgent business, handle it this morning.

Understood, President Jiao!

The President watched helplessly as his subordinates obeyed his wife completely. After hearing the lecture, they walked out of the office in a daze, moving with stiff, synchronized limbs, without even meaning to ask for his opinion. He couldn’t help but reach out a hand, wait, what about…

Click. The heavy solid wood door was gently closed. The office fell silent, and in a daze, the President felt like he could hear the sound of autumn leaves being swept away.

Something was wrong! Zhang Chenfei turned back to see his little delicate wife already swaggering into the chair that belonged to the President, skillfully typing the login password on the keyboard. The computer, which lacked any loyalty just like the secretaries, fawningly played a welcome tune.

The President walked slowly to the desk and looked down at his wife. How do you know my login password?

What is strange about that? Jiao Qi looked up at him. All of our passwords are shared.

The President’s expression was unpredictable. He suddenly moved to grab his little delicate wife, who was rummaging through his computer, and pinned him to the sofa.

You are a business spy sent by the Wang family, aren’t you?

Huh? Jiao Qi was stunned.

You really act like it. The thing about your father owing money is just a cover, right? The President pressed his lips together tightly. I have told you before, the price of betraying me is something you cannot afford! As he spoke, he suddenly tore open his wife’s shirt, and an exquisite button flew off.

Asshole, this is a new Dior shirt I just bought! His wife struggled in terror.

President, the meeting is about to start… The secretary pushed the door open, his jaw dropping to the floor. Then, like a turtle scalded by boiling water, he instantly shrank back and slammed the door shut, pretending he had never appeared.

Due to the secretary’s interruption, this scene of “cruel corporate dominance” could not continue. The President could only change the login password with a ferocious expression. The password has been changed. You had better behave and stop trying to mess with the computer.

Is it 0826? Jiao Qi elegantly re-buttoned his shirt.

How did you know? The President looked up in shock.

Don’t be ridiculous, that is my birthday.

…

Jiao Qi followed Zhang Chenfei all morning, keeping an eye on him. Surprisingly, although the President had cognitive biases regarding their relationship, he had no major issues handling company business, which made Jiao Qi secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

Come with me to a place this afternoon. After lunch, Jiao Qi pulled Zhang Chenfei into the car to take him to see a private doctor.

Public hospitals are quite superficial, so wealthy people have private doctors. Most of these doctors open their own clinics after leaving hospitals; their fees are high, but their medical skills are exceptionally refined.

Where are we going? Shaking off the hand that was tightly gripping his, Zhang Chenfei stopped three steps away from the car, his attitude extremely uncooperative. Obviously, if he wasn’t given a good reason, he would flip out in the next second.

Paying off debts. Jiao Qi coaxed him, fearing a scene.

Zhang Chenfei sneered, stretching out a long arm to trap his little delicate wife in his embrace. He pinched that delicate chin between two fingers and whispered quite evilly into his ear, I said that before you get pregnant, I will not pay a single cent of your father’s debt.

The hot breath sprayed on his face, turning one of his wife’s ears red.

“Let’s just—” Cough, at least pay a deposit first. Jiao Qi broke free and forcibly shoved him into the passenger seat, appealing to his reason and emotion. “Prostitutes get two hundred for a night, and you slept with me twice last night.”

He stepped on the gas, and the silver Maserati dashed out of Shifei’s underground garage.

Zhang Chenfei was initially unhappy, feeling a bit annoyed at being outsmarted by his little delicate wife, but then he thought it made sense. His wife’s father owed so much money; if he didn’t pay a deposit, his limbs might be hacked off, and he didn’t want Jiao Qi crying every day.

Fine, considering you served me well last night, I’ll give you a one-hundred-million deposit first. Zhang Chenfei pulled out his black card and spun it between his slender, bony fingers.

Jiao Qi glanced at him sideways. Then I really thank you, Mr. Dior Zhang.

No, call me Dior. Between us, we shouldn’t be so distant.

…

The Maserati lurched, nearly hitting a beggar at the intersection who was trying to wash the windshield with a dirty rag.

If you don’t want to pay, just say so. The beggar looked at him with contempt, frantically wiping the windshield into a mess.

After a bumpy ride, they finally arrived at the private clinic.

Hidden among green trees, a small white western-style building could be seen in the distance. It was pure European-style architecture, magnificent and gorgeous, not looking like a clinic at all.

The interior decoration style was highly consistent with the exterior, following a high-end, luxurious route. The reception room contained royal blue velvet sofas and was carpeted with thick, starry-sky rugs. Rubens’ *The Descent from the Cross* hung on the wall; regardless of whether it was real or fake, it looked very high-end displayed there.

Hello, Mr. Jiao. Dr. Que is already waiting for you in the consultation room.

The doctor who owned this clinic was named Que De, a Chinese-American. Having grown up in the United States, he was a medical genius who received his doctorate at a young age. One day, he had a whim to return to China to open a clinic specifically to treat rich people.

Since he was working in China, he had to have a Chinese name.

The friend who helped him prepare was from Tianjin. When he asked him about the pricing of various services, his face wrinkled like a Goubuli bun. “You’re really lacking in virtue [Que De], you might as well just be called Que De.”

And so, he was called Que De.

Dr. Que’s clients were all wealthy, and most of the wealthy were middle-aged or elderly. The middle-aged and elderly always had sentiments that were hard to discard and often carried a grateful heart. Thus, around *The Descent from the Cross*, there hung a dozen red silk banners inscribed with things like “A Living Hua Tuo” and “Miraculous Recovery.”

It was a combination of Chinese and Western styles.

Let me scan Mr. Zhang’s smart brain. The front desk clerk smiled at Zhang Chenfei.

The “Louis XIII” was currently being repaired, so the current Zhang Da Diao was a primitive man without a smart brain. The thoughtful front desk clerk was not stumped by this; he issued him a temporary card and brought out a POS machine to collect the fee for the temporary card.

Seeing the card reader, Zhang Chenfei understood. He thought, my wife’s father really has no taste; looking for money from someone like this with no class. They ask for money right away without chatting, and there’s no stringing up of the father-in-law to make the wife cry and scream.

Boring.

The President, unable to act like a big boss, took out his black card and lifted his chin slightly. How much?

Two hundred. Jiao Qi pulled the black card over and handed it to the clerk.

Only two hundred? What a joke!

If it’s such a small amount as two million, you can just ask the secretary to take it. The President was very dissatisfied that he had to run an errand for such a small thing.

It’s two hundred yuan. Jiao Qi pointed to the amount displayed on the card reader.

The clerk smiled and handed him the “200 yuan” receipt to sign.

Zhang Chenfei stared at the number in a daze and whispered to his little delicate wife, Twice last night, I should give you four hundred.

… Get lost!