Chapter 61

"Really? Then I'm honored!"

Lan Qiaoqiao smiled back.

"It shows you and this car are destined to meet."

"Hmm, just destined to meet the car?"

Lan Qiaoqiao playfully blinked, but honestly, she wasn't suited to this style.

She had long legs and a relatively high-end model's face—better suited to the dominant older-sister look: black silk stockings, an OL suit skirt, high heels, and if she added black-rimmed glasses, it would be perfect.

Zhang Xian had no intention of working; otherwise, he could have arranged for her to be his secretary.

But that wouldn't work either—she was a top student at the Medical University, destined to become a doctor.

Still, a doctor's fine; Zhang Xian had never tried a doctor.

Life is about exploring new things, enriching your experiences—they become wealth later.

Today, they followed a date routine: first dinner, then a bit of shopping at the mall.

While shopping, Lan Qiaoqiao showed interest in a trench coat; Zhang Xian bought it outright, spending over two thousand.

To Zhang Xian now, this was pocket change—a trial stone thrown to gauge Lan Qiaoqiao's reaction.

In return, she bought him a 499-yuan razor.

Considering Lan Qiaoqiao was still a student with little income, a 499-yuan razor wasn't cheap.

That's better than some little fairy who only knows how to take.

In truth, men often don't need equal returns—just feedback, emotional value, and they'll spend willingly.

But some little fairies want it all: money spent on them, emotional value provided, and constant surprises.

Like you killed someone and she saw it.

For such little fairies, Zhang Xian only wanted to say one word to them: Get lost!

Get lost as far as you can!

The lick-dog economy has collapsed—still dreaming?

"Xiaoxian, is this a date?"

The sports car stopped again beneath the girls' dormitory. Lan Qiaoqiao didn't get out right away but looked at Zhang Xian and asked.

"What do you think?"

Zhang Xian threw the question back.

"I think it is, because you're the first boy who's ever gone shopping alone with me."

"Then it is."

Zhang Xian nodded. A date didn't matter—as long as they weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

"So what are we now?"

Lan Qiaoqiao clearly wasn't letting him off the hook and pressed further.

"Friends."

Zhang Xian answered bluntly—he had to draw clear boundaries, or he'd end up someone's boyfriend again by accident.

"Just friends? Don't you think you should add a word?"

Lan Qiaoqiao shifted her long legs slightly toward the driver's seat, aiming for maximum visual impact.

"Hmm, female friend."

Zhang Xian wouldn't fall into that trap.

"You added one word."

Lan Qiaoqiao pouted.

"Sex friend?"

"Cough, cough, Qiaoqiao-sis, I'm really not that kind of guy—but if you have demands, I can cooperate."

Zhang Xian kept playing dumb.

"Where did you get that idea!"

"Like I'm that kind of person!"

Lan Qiaoqiao gave Zhang Xian a wounded glare, then pinched his thigh: "Just keep pretending!"

"Ow ow ow..."

The inner thigh was the most sensitive spot—he grimaced dramatically, then placed one hand directly on Lan Qiaoqiao's white leg: "I have to return the favor!"

"Xiaoxian, you..."

Lan Qiaoqiao's cheeks flushed red, but she didn't resist.

"Where should I pinch... here? This spot..."

Zhang Xian muttered softly under his breath, his hands moving swiftly, savoring the softness of her white leg.

"Pervert!"

After about twenty seconds, Lan Qiaoqiao tossed out "Pervert!" then opened the door and got out.

Zhang Xian retracted his hand and brought it to his nose to sniff.

Suddenly, he felt a bit perverted himself.

What the hell was that move!

Sigh, looks like I've been single for too long!

Zhang Xian shook his head, glanced out the window, and saw Lan Qiaoqiao, having walked some distance, turning back to wave at him.

Clearly, the long-legged sister wasn't angry.

Zhang Xian rolled down his window and waved back, then drove off in his sports car with style.

At the alley entrance.

At this hour, the elderly men and women had finished dinner and were gathering to stroll and chat.

"Did you hear Zhang Xiaoliuzi broke up with that female celebrity?"

"Of course we heard—the news reported it! I always said celebrities aren't reliable!"

"How could a big star really like Zhang Xiaoliuzi? He probably tricked her somehow!"

"Old Zhang is no better—he got famous himself but never properly disciplined his son. I see Zhang Xiaoxian running out every day to fish, doing nothing useful!"

"Aren't they making money from writing songs? More than a regular job!"

"Old Zhang's just trying to make up for his son—have you seen any of that money?"

The neighbors chattered back and forth, and lately, every conversation in the alley revolved around the Zhang father and son.

What could you do? The alley had produced Zhang Dongshan, a "celebrity."

Just then, a sleek sports car drove up from afar.

All the elderly men and women immediately turned their gazes toward the car.

"Whoa, this car must cost several million!"

"I wonder whose rich kid this is!"

"Beijing's got no shortage of rich people!"

"Why would a rich kid come to our alley?"

As everyone murmured, the sports car pulled to a stop beside them and rolled down its window.

Zhang Xian stuck his head out and grinned at them: "Uncle Liu, Uncle Pang, Aunt Wang—finished dinner already?"

"Xiaoxian?!!"

Seeing it was Zhang Xian inside the car, everyone was stunned.

"Xiaoxian, whose car is this?"

After a brief pause, Wang Shulan spoke up.

"Mine."

"Bought it today!"

Zhang Xian didn't hide it—he knew his reputation in the alley was poor; the old folks always thought he was a layabout, idle and useless.

So when it came time to show off, he didn't hold back.

You say I'm a layabout? Fine—let you see what a layabout's life looks like.

"Bought today?"

"This..."

Everyone exchanged glances. Zhang Dongshan had only just bought a Wenjie M8, and now Zhang Xian had bought another sports car.

What kind of life were the Zhangs living?

How are we supposed to survive?!

"Xiaoxian, isn't this car expensive?"

"Does it cost several million??"

After a stunned pause, Liu Fusheng asked again.

"Not that exaggerated—just 1.68 million!"

"Just?"

That word made Liu Fusheng feel deeply uncomfortable—he'd just been complaining that Zhang Xian was a layabout with no real income, and now the man had bought a 1.68-million-yuan sports car.

"Xiaoxian, did you earn this money yourself?"

Pang Dachun asked.

"No, my dad paid for it."

Zhang Xian waved his hand, deflecting the credit to his father.

"Alright then, Uncle Liu, Uncle Pang, Aunt Wang—keep chatting, I'm going to find a parking spot!"

After showing off his new car, Zhang Xian didn't linger—he turned the steering wheel right and drove off.