The buzzing of his phone pulled Chen Yansen from a heavy sleep. The first thing he registered wasn't his dorm ceiling, but the sterile, generic landscape of a hotel room.
Memories of the previous night flooded back—the club, the drinks, the taxi.
Right. Too drunk to drive back.
He sat up, his head throbbing in protest. In the other bed, Wang Zihao was still a motionless lump under the covers.
"Zihao. Up."
A nudge with his foot yielded only a muffled groan.
"Your commission hit."
Like a switch had been flipped, Wang Zihao jackknifed out of bed, sheets flying. "What?! How much?!"
Chen Yansen ignored the spectacle of his half-naked friend scrambling and headed for the bathroom. "Bank. Now. Move."
As he brushed his teeth, he caught Wang Zihao's strange, lingering stare in the mirror.
What's his problem?
Wang Zihao's mind was racing. Fragments of last night surfaced: Chen Yansen, slumped in the taxi, muttering a name in his stupor.
Wang Ziyan.
His little sister. Fourteen years old.
A cold dread pooled in Wang Zihao's stomach. You dog, Chen Yansen. I might want to be your brother-in-law someday, but not like this! A silent vow formed in his heart: he'd have to monitor this. Closely.
"You need something?" Chen Yansen called out, toothpaste foaming at his mouth.
"Uh—breakfast!" Wang Zihao blurted, fabricating an excuse. "I'll grab it. Save time."
"Hot milk. Multigrain pancake. Two eggs."
Chen Yansen rinsed, oblivious to the protective crisis he'd just triggered.
Bank → East Campus
The bank transaction was swift. Chen Yansen watched impassively as the teller counted out 230,000 RMB in crisp stacks. He took the hefty bag, pulled out two bundles, and tossed them to Wang Zihao without ceremony.
"Brother Sen, this is two thousand too much," Wang Zihao said, though his grip on the money was tight.
"Consider it a performance bonus," Chen Yansen dismissed, already heading for the door. "Now post in the agent group. Meeting at Canteen #1, 10 AM sharp. Commission day."
The drive back was quiet. Wang Zihao finally broke the silence, eyeing the luxury shopping bag at their feet. "That watch for Manager Zhao… what do we do with it now?"
Chen Yansen glanced at the bag. He'd bought it as a strategic gift, but Zhao Maolin had chosen the higher ground of a "favor owed" over a transactional bribe.
"Waste not," Chen Yansen shrugged. At a red light, he pulled out the box. Inside, a Rolex Explorer gleamed under the morning sun. In his past life, his collection had featured more complicated pieces—Vacheron, Patek. This felt almost… simple. He fastened it to his wrist anyway. A tool for now. A symbol for later.
"Tch. Calling a 60,000-yuan watch 'making do,'" Wang Zihao snorted, rolling his eyes. "Show-off."
Canteen #1 – 10:03 AM
A palpable energy buzzed in the nearly empty canteen. Nearly fifty second-tier agents—sophomores and juniors—clustered around tables, their conversations falling to a hush as Chen Yansen entered.
"Brother Sen!"
"Senior!"
The greetings came in a wave, respect and anticipation mingling in their voices. The few remaining cafeteria aunties paused their wiping, staring at the well-dressed young man who commanded such a presence.
Chen Yansen didn't smile. He walked to a central table, placed his bag down, and in one smooth, dramatic motion, upended it.
Thwump.
A brick of 210,000 RMB in cash sprawled across the tabletop.
A collective gasp ripped through the room. Eyes widened. Someone whistled low.
(Power Stones, come on! This is the payoff! 💎)
"Silence." Chen Yansen's voice, calm but carrying, cut through the murmurs. "When I call your name, you come forward. Li Hui."
A lean junior stepped up quickly, trying and failing to hide his nervous excitement.
"542 cards. Commission: 27,100 RMB." Chen Yansen nodded to Wang Zihao, who began counting out the bills with practiced efficiency.
The math was instant in everyone's head. Even after paying his own sub-agents, Li Hui was walking away with over 12,000 RMB—a fortune for a student in 2010. The envy in the room was a tangible heat.
"Thank you, Brother Sen! Thank you, Brother Hao!" Li Hui bowed slightly, cradling the money like a lifeline. For him, this was a peak—the biggest score of his campus hustle career.
"You earned it," Chen Yansen said simply, his gaze already moving down the list. "Next. Zhang Wei."
For the next thirty minutes, the ritual repeated. Names, numbers, the rustle of banknotes. The pile on the table shrank, transferred into eager hands. With each payment, loyalty was cemented, and Chen Yansen's legend grew a little more.
As the last agent collected their share, several of the more savvy ones closed in.
"Brother Sen, Brother Hao, you have to let us treat you to lunch!"
"Yeah, our treat! Anywhere you want!"
Chen Yansen waved them off with a faint smile. He leaned closer to Wang Zihao, his voice dropping. "You go. Mingle with them. Especially the sophomores. Find out who's in the Student Union, who has influence. This isn't just about cards for next year. It's about your runway."
Wang Zihao's eyes cleared with understanding. He nodded, then let himself be pulled away by the group, his laughter soon blending with theirs.
(Favorite this novel if you love smart MC moves! ▲)
Chen Yansen's eyes scanned the dispersing crowd, landing on a figure trying to slip away unnoticed.
"Song Yuncheng."
She froze, shoulders tensing. Slowly, she turned. Her once-defiant eyes now held a flicker of wariness. "I… I was going back to the dorm."
"I'm hungry," he stated, walking toward her. His tone was softer than she expected. "You're buying."
Her lips, slightly chapped from days of hustling under the sun, pressed into a thin line. "Fine. The canteen, then." The words were grudging, her thought clear: Of course the rich guy wants to mooch off the poorest one here.
Chen Yansen fought a smile. "Lead the way."
The "Date" at Canteen Window #3
"What do you want?" Song Yuncheng asked flatly, gesturing at the steam trays as if they displayed torture instruments.
"The shrimp. The ribs. The beef. The chicken. Two steamed eggs. And that greens dish." He pointed with unapologetic greed.
Song Yuncheng's eye twitched. Each item was a stab to her wallet.
"Well, hello, Xiao Cheng! Is this your boyfriend? Such a handsome lad!" The serving auntie beamed, recognizing Chen Yansen as the "money-throwing boss" from earlier. Her ladle hovered with uncharacteristic generosity.
"Auntie, no, he's not—" Song Yuncheng began to protest, flustered.
"Auntie, Xiao Cheng is just shy. And I love meat, please be generous!" Chen Yansen cut in, flashing a disarming grin.
"Don't you worry! Auntie's hand is steadier than a rock!" she laughed, piling enough food on his tray to feed three people.
(Comment: Who do you ship Chen Yansen with? Song Yuncheng? Someone else? 💬)
They sat at a secluded table. Before she could take a bite, Chen Yansen issued his first command.
"Little Orange. Peel me a shrimp."
"It's Senior Song to you!" she hissed, her old fire briefly returning.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "Do you want to be a top agent again next year?"
The threat was implicit, wrapped in a casual tone. Her face paled, then flushed with anger. "In your dreams! I have a boyfriend!"
"Ah." Chen Yansen leaned back, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. It was a predator's smile. "And does this boyfriend know… that you kissed the boss to secure your campus card territory?"
The world stopped for Song Yuncheng. Her breath hitched. "I… I never kissed you!" The denial was a desperate, hushed whisper.
He said nothing. Just held her gaze, his own calm, unyielding, letting the weight of the implied scandal sink in.
A minute-long battle of wills fought in silence over a tray of canteen food.
With a shuddering breath of defeat, Song Yuncheng reached out with trembling fingers. She picked up a plump shrimp and began to peel it, her movements rough with suppressed fury.
Victory.
A different kind of warmth bloomed in Chen Yansen's chest—not from food, but from power. He closed his eyes for a second, focusing inward.
'System. Convert the points.'
A sensation, cold and sharp as a sliver of ice, pierced his brow. It streamed through his veins, a shocking chill that made his muscles quiver. Just as the cold became almost unbearable, it ignited—transforming into a sunburst of heat that erupted from his core, flooding his limbs with vibrant, thrilling strength.
Constitution: 1.17 → 1.38
The fatigue from the late night and alcohol was scorched away, replaced by a humming, potent vitality.
"Ahhh…" The sigh of profound relief escaped him before he could stop it—a deep, contented sound.
Across the table, Song Yuncheng's ears burned crimson. She refused to look up, furiously peeling another shrimp, her mind screaming a single, horrified thought:
Chen Yansen… you're a total freak!
(End of Chapter)
Author's Note: The money is distributed, the hierarchy is set, and a new… understanding is reached. The campus is his foundation. But what will he build upon it first? The Humanity Points are accumulating… what will their purpose be? Stay tuned!