By noon, the FoxTao members trickled downstairs to the canteen.
Chen Yansen finished reviewing the product list from Zhang Yifeng, looked up, and saw only three customer service reps left on duty. He patted his slightly hungry stomach and headed out.
Xuelin and Xuehai Roads were pulsing with students in the lunchtime rush. A pity, really—autumn was waning, and the once-common sight of girls in short skirts and stockings was growing scarce.
"Someone fainted! Can anyone help?!"
A sharp cry pierced the chatter ahead, stirring the crowd into a chaotic knot.
Chen Yansen heard the commotion, glanced over with mild detachment, and planned to skirt around it.
Only college kids would dive into this kind of drama so eagerly. A decade from now, who'd dare step up so readily?
He chuckled inwardly and was about to walk past when a glimpse of the fallen girl's belongings caught his eye: an ugly tan backpack and a business laptop—the very model FoxTao had issued.
His brows knitted instantly. He thrust his arms through the gawking crowd, shoving people aside as he pushed his way to the center.
There, on the pavement, lay Song Yuncheng. Pale-lipped, eyes shut, her knees and palms scraped and bleeding, yet she seemed utterly unaware.
"Move it!"
Chen Yansen barked, then bent and scooped her up into his arms.
Only then did he realize—her face might look soft, but her frame was painfully light, probably under ninety pounds. She felt like a hollow bird in his hold.
No time to dwell. He tightened his grip and broke into a run toward the campus infirmary.
"Holy crap! That guy's strong—running that fast while carrying someone!"
"Isn't that Chen Yansen from FoxTao? Damn, he's handsome and heroic."
"This backpack and laptop belong to the girl who fainted. Can someone take them to the clinic?"
"I'll do it!"
A bespectacled girl volunteered, grabbing Song Yuncheng's things and dashing after Chen Yansen.
…
…
"Xiao Chen, is this your girlfriend? Let me tell you—you're eating well and dressing warm, but your girlfriend is anemic and malnourished. If I'd known you were this kind of scum, I never would've signed off on your sick leave slips."
Meng Yating glared at Chen Yansen, her eyes dripping with such contempt she looked ready to spit.
"Sister Ting, don't wrong an innocent man! She's a FoxTao employee. I pay her three or four thousand a month. How she managed to run herself into the ground is beyond me." Chen Yansen shot back, irritation flaring.
Meng Yating's older sister was the campus telecom branch manager—the very connection that had secured Chen Yansen his medical excuse notes.
"Oh… I see. Well, don't worry. It's just low blood sugar. This glucose drip will fix her right up." Meng Yating's expression stiffened into an awkward smile, realizing her misjudgment. She hurried out of the treatment room.
On the bed, drifting in a groggy haze, Song Yuncheng faintly heard Chen Yansen's words: "She's a FoxTao employee." A strange wave of relief washed over her. Yes. That was all they were—boss and subordinate. Nothing more.
A single crystalline tear welled at the corner of her eye. She squeezed her eyelids tight, refusing to let it fall.
"Senior, here are her bag and laptop. I'll leave them on the chair."
The bespectacled girl entered, smiling, and pointed at Song Yuncheng on the bed.
"Thanks." Chen Yansen offered a faint, polite smile.
The girl waved it off, but her eyes lingered on him, stealing secret glances.
"Something else?" Chen Yansen asked abruptly.
"N-no! Bye, senior!" Flustered, she shook her head and retreated with a strained laugh.
Chen Yansen pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down, muttering under his breath, "What a hassle. Earns a few grand a month and lives like this. What, does she have a sick mother, a gambling father, and a kid brother in school too?"
Song Yuncheng wanted to keep pretending to be asleep, but the jab pierced her heart. Her eyes flew open, and she retorted fiercely, "You're the one with a sick mother, a gambling father, and a brother in school!"
In battle mode, she was all bristling fur and sharp claws—a provoked wildcat.
"You were faking it?" Chen Yansen raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, my mistake. I'm leaving." Seeing her awake and looking ready to bite, Chen Yansen snorted lightly and turned to go.
"You—!" Song Yuncheng stared at his retreating back, anger choking her words.
…
Chen Yansen wasn't one for soothing tempers. After lunch, he returned to Room 0418 for a nap and didn't amble back into the startup park until half past one, yawning.
"Class Monitor, here's the December office supplies procurement list and the employee benefits proposal. Any adjustments needed?" Xu Xingxing approached, beaming, a stack of documents in hand.
"Mm. Leave it here." Chen Yansen tapped the desk calmly.
FoxTao now boasted a stable daily active user base of around 600,000. Of those, 400,000 were newcomers from the "0-Yuan Discount" blitz, 50,000 from ad channels, and the remaining 150,000 were existing users.
Once the ads and freebie promotions stopped, that number would plummet below 100,000 in no time.
The platform averaged over 70,000 orders daily, with a rough gross profit of about 500,000 yuan. After deducting marketing, payroll, and tech costs, around 200,000 yuan remained—translating to 6 million per month.
Money needs to be spent.
In this life, Chen Yansen's appetite for villas, supercars, and yachts had waned. He'd had his fill in his past life. Having brushed with life and death, he valued health more. So, he'd tasked Xu Xingxing with drafting employee benefits—a convenient excuse to circulate the cash.
He opened the document and skimmed:
Festival Gifts: 200-yuan red envelopes for Chinese New Year, Mid-Autumn, Dragon Boat Festival, and employee birthdays.
Supplementary Health Insurance.
Monthly Team-Building Activities.
Annual Company Trip.
Chen Yansen shook his head, picked up a pen, and started slashing.
Team-building? Crossed out!
Company trip? Crossed out!
Wouldn't it be better to just give them the cash?
He added a note at the bottom:
Team-Building Fund: 200 yuan/month for full-time employees, disbursed with salary.
Travel Allowance: 2,000 yuan/year for full-time staff, increasing by 1,000 yuan per additional year of service, capped at 10,000 yuan.
Whether employees actually used it for team-building or travel was none of the company's business.
Giving only 200 yuan for holidays felt stingy. He crossed it out and changed it to 500 yuan.
Finally, he added one more clause:
Meal Subsidy: Effective immediately, 500 yuan/month for all FoxTao members, to be uniformly recharged onto meal cards by Admin. Non-reimbursable.
He tossed the document back to Xu Xingxing. She glanced at it and let out an involuntary squeal of excitement.
Heads turned across the floor, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Class Monitor! You… you didn't add an extra zero by mistake, did you?" Xu Xingxing, aware of the stares, ducked her head shyly, voice trembling with disbelief.
"Enough nonsense. Starts today. Here, take my card." Chen Yansen rolled his eyes and flicked his meal card toward her.
Xu Xingxing caught it, scampered back to her seat, revised the document, and promptly fired the updated benefits plan into the group chat.
"Ahhh—! Wooo!"
Cheers erupted across the second floor moments later.
Chen Yansen allowed a faint smile. These miscellaneous perks—each employee would add at least one point to his "Humanitarian Compensation" metric per year. With more hires, that meant tens of thousands of points.
Even Superman would have to kneel and sing 'Conquer' at that rate.
Galvanized, the FoxTao team worked with redoubled fervor, as if injected with adrenaline.
After her glucose drip, Song Yuncheng returned to the park and immediately sensed the shift in atmosphere.
Why is everyone so… energized?
Puzzled, she sat down, booted her laptop, and saw the new file in the project chat.
Supplementary insurance, festival bonuses, travel funds, team-building allowance, and… a 500-yuan monthly meal subsidy?
Through the gap between her screen and its frame, she stole a glance at Chen Yansen. The line "Meal subsidy is non-reimbursable" in the document felt like a rule tailor-made to fence her in.
Maybe… he's not entirely a bad guy.
The memory of being bullied by him that morning was quietly buried a little deeper in her heart.
Around two o'clock, a van branded "First Time Media" pulled up at the startup park entrance.
"Chen Yansen, let me introduce Zhang Liang, the field host from 'First Time.' He's come all the way from Lucheng to film your segment." Cao Dahua led the crew into Room 206.
"Welcome, Director Zhang."
Chen Yansen greeted them, then guided the group to Room 202—an empty office that could serve as an interview set.
Zhang Liang couldn't help sizing up Chen Yansen. The young man was maybe eighteen or nineteen, wearing a white shirt under a brown jacket, handsome with delicate features, and stood a head taller than Zhang Liang himself.
His demeanor and speech bore no resemblance to a typical college student; he carried himself like a seasoned veteran of the business world.
After the crew adjusted lights and mics, one staffer asked, "Director Zhang, should we apply some light makeup for Mr. Chen?"
"No need. With skin and features like his, makeup would only detract." Zhang Liang waved a hand after studying Chen Yansen's face for a moment.
The ensuing interview left Zhang Liang even more astonished. The young man was flawless—witty, humorous, experienced, turning what could have been a dry exchange into a captivating conversation.
This episode is going to be a hit.
Zhang Liang was certain of it as they packed up.
Three days later, the program aired. Chen Yansen's confident, eloquent appearance on screen instantly sparked a buzz across the province.
Clips from the segment soon trended on social media, and three major portal sites reposted the coverage.
Overnight, Chen Yansen and his FoxTao platform were viral.
Chen Yansen' looks alone drew attention, but the media's label—"The Youngest Post-90s Millionaire"—ignited a firestorm of admiration among students and white-collar workers alike.
Most of these admirers were women, who flocked to register FoxTao accounts, buying clothes, bags, cosmetics, and snacks on the platform.
Some even took to Weibo to promote and cheer for him.
This led many bewildered netizens to assume Chen Yansen was a freshly debuted celebrity.
Chen Yansen was both amused and exasperated when he found out—he hadn't expected to follow in the footsteps of someone like Cheng Ou.
But he didn't hold back. He immediately registered a Weibo account under the handle "FoxTao CEO Chen Yansen," and without ceremony, uploaded several handsome photos alongside a link to the 0-yuan discount promotion.
"Hello everyone, I'm Chen Yansen, founder of FoxTao. I endorse myself. Shop smarter with FoxTao!"
He didn't mince words, directly lifting Cheng Ou's famous line. As for what the other party would do in the future—what did he care?
Walk someone else's path so they have no path left to walk—now that's satisfaction.
Within days, his Weibo followers skyrocketed from zero to 800,000, poised to break the million mark.
Meanwhile, far away in Chunshen City, Chen Guobin sat before the television, watching his impeccably dressed son on screen, and was once again seized by doubt:
Is this guy really my kid?