Perfect Match

"Go out," Zheng Fei said coldly.

Zhang Ye had a complaint of suffering and had to leave with grievances.

Zheng Feiyu fastened seven mother-of-pearl buttons and grabbed a flat ironed suit. With his clothes on, he felt like he was burned by a red soldering iron, his forehead was swollen, his teeth were clenched, and he almost wanted to call Zhang Jian back and scold him again-which is worthy of a suit? !! It is simply a raincoat with a very poor breathability!

The cloth wrapped heavily around the body, and the sweat had nowhere to go, evaporating between the enclosed mezzanines. Sultry, humid, and sticky, not as good as a wet quilt that can never be dried in the rainy season!

He clasped his collar, and it took a long time to exhale slowly, without letting his irritability take over.

In the restaurant, Zhang Huan set up a table for breakfast. From clear porridge and soy milk to Kesong coffee, Chinese and Western styles are available. I am afraid that it does not fit Zheng Fei's appetite, but the discerning Master Zheng still did not appreciate his face.

He took a small sip of coffee, and then his face changed, and he spit it all back, then smashed the cup rough on the table, and left the apartment without looking back.

What coffee beans make this taste?

It's terrible!

This world is about crazy ... no, it must be crazy.

The dishes he cooks, ranging from snacks to large ones, can almost be said to have shaped his set of criteria for food. No matter whether it is Michelin or Samsung or the treasures hidden in the folk, it cannot be compared with it. After moving out of the Zheng family mansion, he once complained that he was not used to cooking by the new chef, and his father asked Zhang Huan to come and take care of his diet.

But even the dishes that cultivated the taste buds gradually became worse than meals, making it hard to swallow.

Every day, Zheng Feiyan's life begins in a similar mess.

This was the case last month and the same last week. To this day, shirts, suits, breakfast ... the problems he pointed out more than a dozen times have not only failed to improve, they are getting worse. Everyone persuaded him to be "calm and calm", but he did not know who, except the saint, could endure such a life in peace.

At 7:30 in the morning, the black Maybach stopped on time under the building on time. The driver pulled the car door, respectfully asked Zheng Feiyu to take his seat, then returned to the driver's seat and started the car.

He was preparing to leave, and Zheng Feiyu suddenly said, "Get off."

The driver slammed an excitement, dared not to ask a word, immediately opened the door and got out of the car and waited outside. After a while, I heard Zheng Feiyan say, "Get in the car."

Then he sat in again with a sincerity.

The sound insulation of this car is very good, the interior is extremely quiet, and the heavy air is heavy on his shoulders, scaring the driver into a cold sweat. He was uneasy, and did not know what Zheng Feiyu was trying to do. He could only straighten his back and sit there motionless.

Zheng Feiyu's eyes wandered over the shirt cuffs, while rubbing lightly and slowly with his fingertips, he said gently: "Just now, I glanced at the oil meter reading."

The driver's expression changed drastically, and his shoulders were obviously stiff.

"If I remember correctly, for three consecutive days, the amount of oil you came to pick me up was 10%, less than twenty liters." Zheng Feiyan lifted his eyes and struck a sharp gaze on the rearview mirror. "Last night I drove back by myself, and noticed the amount of fuel before entering the warehouse, no more, no less, exactly 50%-so where did the remaining 40% go overnight? I need a reasonable explanation. "

His tone was so cold that the driver shivered and said, "I ... I don't know."

"You do not know?"

Zheng Feiyu repeated it softly, and seemed to feel quite humorous.

The driver's soul was scared, and he hurriedly said, "General Zheng, I ... I'll be honest. In fact, when I come here every morning, your car is all empty."

"Empty oil ?!"

Zheng Fei sat upright and stared at the back of the driver.

The driver was scared to sweat on his forehead, and a lot of sweat fell down the horns: "Yes, right, right, from about half a year ago, your car ... every two or three times every month. I have nothing to prepare. I had to temporarily pump some oil out of my car and secretly fill your car. "

He swallowed and continued: "But, since Tuesday, your car has run out of fuel every day. I wondered if Maybach should not be used to bargains. I ca n’t always fill it with low-quality oil. Just take it every day. A barrel of new oil is coming. Your car has a large fuel tank, more than a hundred liters. I can fill in a small tank of oil, and it will only be ten percent dead. "

As soon as the voice fell, the atmosphere inside the car freezed to freezing point.

Zheng Feiyu pressed the painted armrest tightly, the back of his hand was exposed, the wrist trembled, and his face was white. After a short while, he let go of his hand and leaned back like a collapse.

"Let's go."

The driver fastened his seat belt and was frightened to get on the road.

The car was running smoothly on the street, but Zheng Feiyan's mood was extremely bad.

The car was too quiet and suffocating, and the jasmine-like fragrance smelled worse than ever. He wanted to blow a blow, then opened the seam of the car window, who knew the car exhaust outside seized the opportunity to take advantage of it, constantly irritating his weak nasal mucosa.

He couldn't help sneezing and had to close the window tightly.

The car drove up the viaduct, and the morning light in the distance was dazzling, like a scorching sun at twelve o'clock. Skyscrapers on the river bank are hidden in layers of clouds, and the glass wall surface has lost its luster, dim and old, as if more than ten years behind the times. As he approached the city center, across a layer of one-way glass, he saw greasy streets, manhole covers with sewage flowing, and street signs that had faded due to the wind and sun all year round.