OFR – Chapter 164(2) Bugatti Veyron

The clients here were all people of considerable wealth, worth the effort of offering such attentive service.

“Sir, this car is the Bugatti Veyron 16.6 Legend Limited Edition. It weighs 1,888 kilograms, goes from 0 to 100 km/h in just about two seconds, and has a top speed of around 550 km/h. Its engine is on par with that of an F1 fighter jet. As for safety, it has undergone repeated testing— even at top speed, in the event of a crash, its full-range airbags and other protective measures can still guarantee the driver’s safety.”

The speaker was a young woman wearing a name tag that read Zhang Xiaojing, a saleswoman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, who was smiling as she introduced the car to a middle-aged man beside her.

Although she noticed Mu Bai nearby, she only gave him a glance before ignoring him.

She knew very well that most nineteen- or twenty-year-old customers were second-generation rich kids riding on their parents’ wealth. They might afford a three- or four-million luxury car, but a Bugatti Veyron was far beyond their reach.

The middle-aged man before her, however, was her true target.

He was Zheng Xin, a shareholder and director of a publicly listed materials company, with a net worth of three to four hundred million yuan—someone fully capable of buying a Bugatti Veyron.

If she sold this car, her commission alone would be no less than six figures.

That kind of commission naturally made Zhang Xiaojing serve the man with utmost respect.

She poured tea, fetched water, and even allowed for occasional physical closeness.

“So, how much exactly is this car?”

Zheng Xin held a cup of hot tea, sipping leisurely, while enjoying the soft touch of her arm against his.

“Sir, the transaction price for this Bugatti Veyron 1.65 Legend Limited Edition is 36 million RMB. As for purchase tax and other fees, our company will cover them entirely. And we promise that once you sign the contract, all procedures can be completed within an hour, and the car will be delivered immediately. What do you think?”

Hearing Zheng Xin ask about the price, Zhang Xiaojing’s face lit up with joy. As she spoke, she leaned in even closer to him.

But soon after quoting the price, she noticed a flicker of hesitation cross Zheng Xin’s face, followed by words she did not want to hear:

“Thirty-six million? Let me think about it.”

The veiled rejection made Zhang Xiaojing anxious.

She didn’t want all her effort to end up fruitless, so she softened her voice coquettishly and said, “Director Zheng, in my opinion, this Bugatti Veyron perfectly matches your mature, luxurious, and imposing aura. Besides, I’d really love to experience riding in a Bugatti Veyron myself. If you bought it, perhaps you could take me out for a night drive? I’m sure I wouldn’t tire of it even after months.”

The implication was very clear.

If Zheng Xin bought this car, she would earn hundreds of thousands in commission—an amount that for many of her classmates and friends would take years, even a decade, to earn.

So for the sake of this commission, Zhang Xiaojing was willing to tolerate spending a few months keeping this not-so-handsome, slightly overweight older man company.

But Zheng Xin’s reply quickly dashed her hopes.

After all, aside from a few upstarts, anyone who could amass a net worth of several hundred million was no fool blinded by lust.

Though Zheng Xin did feel some attraction toward Zhang Xiaojing’s youthful beauty and graceful figure, 36 million was simply too much.

He had only come intending to buy a sports car worth seven or eight million—already more than enough to flaunt his status. But cars like the Bugatti Veyron, costing upwards of thirty to forty million, were beyond what he could reasonably afford.

A net worth of three to four hundred million didn’t mean he had that much cash on hand.

So after thinking it over, Zheng Xin gave an awkward smile and said, with some reluctance:

“I’ll take a look at the other cars. Let’s leave this one for someone it’s destined for.”

This indirect refusal left a trace of disappointment on Zhang Xiaojing’s pretty face.

But after a moment, she forced herself back into a professional smile.

Even though she was inwardly disappointed in Zheng Xin, she knew he was still a high-potential client.

Suppressing her frustration, she prepared to continue serving him—when suddenly, a low and magnetic voice sounded from behind her.