Chapter 265: Meeting

On Sunday afternoon, after wandering all day and eating dinner, Wang Yan took a taxi back to his school in Gusu District.

The school was built in the old city, not very large, similar to other normal colleges. He returned today because dorm inspections were held Sunday evening—this was a fully residential school, and all students had to live on campus; inspections were to ensure everyone had returned, since student safety was paramount—any incident would be a major one.

Of course, wherever there are people, there's human nature. Some, like Fengdan Sihai, went out dating or otherwise, and if they didn't return, they'd just notify the dorm inspectors or teachers, who'd then cover for them when reporting upward...

The system's old man had arranged this—he was a low-key person, neither loud nor silent, with relatively low presence. That suited him fine: unobtrusive, blending in, doing his own thing.

Their dorm room housed six people, and the advantage was the bunk beds with desks underneath.

After greeting a few roommates, Wang Yan walked to the bed by the far window, picked up a textbook from the desk, climbed onto the top bunk, and leaned against the wall to read.

If the mission involved these roommates, or if he were still in his twenties or thirties, Wang Yan might've had the interest to interact with these twenty-year-olds—but now he had zero interest. Not just the roommates from the cinematic world, even those from real life—he'd forget them within three months unless they chatted with him monthly. His memory was sharp, his mental energy high, but he remembered far too much.

The other roommates were long used to Wang Yan's demeanor and said nothing, chatting and laughing as they went about their own business.

He was studying "Chinese Language and Literature"; though years had passed, as a former top dog of Peking University's Chinese Department and a literary giant, his professional ability was unquestionably solid—this material was child's play. Moreover, this was a normal college, focused on education; his own level was near the ceiling, if not the ceiling itself—sitting there listening to others lecture him was simply a waste of time.

But he had nothing better to do, so waste it he would—just read light books, occasionally skip class to run errands, no big deal...

In the following days, Wang Yan maintained his routine: waking early for exercise, attending classes, occasionally skipping to handle affairs—his days were fairly full.

The headhunting firms he'd contacted earlier had acted efficiently, already finding several local candidates in Gusu. Wang Yan interviewed them but didn't rush to decide, since more candidates were still coming. After all, his salary offer wasn't low, and Gusu was a place of beautiful mountains, waters, and forests—quite attractive. The headhunters stood to earn well too, so they were diligent. He'd keep looking, compare options.

As for Su Mingyu, Wang Yan hadn't been idle. To court a girl, you had to close the distance—he'd only seen her once, that day. Though the normal college was small, it still had four cohorts, thousands of students. Relying on fate for a chance encounter? That was like fishing for a needle in the ocean—years away. So during this time, he'd gathered information on Su Mingyu: she was studying education, living in Dormitory Building D.

With the target narrowed, finding her became easier. Wang Yan waited outside Dormitory Building D for two days, but timing was off—he never saw her. Then, on Thursday night, he saw Su Mingyu again.

It was just past five, when the cafeteria opened for dinner. Wang Yan sat idly at a distance from the female dormitory, and when Su Mingyu emerged, he shamelessly stood and followed her all the way to the cafeteria.

He watched as Su Mingyu took a tray and served herself—only a dish of shredded potato, no meat at all. Then she sat alone in a corner and ate. Probably tired of steamed buns and pickles, she wanted a change of taste.

Wang Yan lined up with his tray, served himself a full plate of food, and walked straight to the table opposite Su Mingyu, delivering the cliché opener: "What a coincidence."

Su Mingyu looked up, saw Wang Yan sitting across from her, remembered the distant eye contact and wave from that day, frowned slightly, and said coldly: "I don't know you."

"Let me introduce myself—I'm Wang Yan, the 'yan' meaning 'to speak.' 2007 cohort, Chinese Language and Literature." Wang Yan smiled and extended his hand. "Now don't we know each other?"

"Sorry." Su Mingyu picked up her tray and moved to a nearby table.

"I know your name is Su Mingyu—we're acquainted now!" Wang Yan calmly retracted his hand, picked up his chopsticks, and said: "Also, you've probably heard the rumors lately. But I need to clarify—I didn't start them. At least three people saw you get into that stranger's car."

When handing out flyers, though far away, it was still the same street—others had indeed seen Su Mingyu enter the middle-aged man's car. It was natural for gossips to spread it, and rumors followed—though most treated it as a joke, sighing about declining morals, unable to connect it to Su Mingyu.

But those who recognized her would point and whisper: "Hey, hey, look—it's her! That girl from our college everyone says is kept by a boss!"—they'd never stop gossiping.

Su Mingyu's strength lay in how the injustices she'd endured hadn't broken her; instead, they forged her resilience—she was ambitious. She naturally disliked these rumors, but she held firm, never fell into despair. So when Wang Yan mentioned it, she kept eating, not even glancing at him.

Unfazed, Wang Yan ate his meal heartily.

The cafeteria's big-pot meals were just okay—not delicious, but not unpleasant. Soon, he finished his full plate, then said "See you" to Su Mingyu, who was barely halfway through her meal, and left.

Su Mingyu, who had been eating with her head down all along, finally raised her head, watching Wang Yan's tall, swaying back fade into the distance...

Due to her experiences, she was deeply guarded in matters of emotion, unwilling to easily accept anyone, let alone romance. Her own life was exhausting, difficult—how could she afford such thoughts?

So the only way to win her over was one thing: grovel. Make her accustomed to having someone nearby, accustomed to warmth and beauty, until she grew used to it. Then create distance—sometimes near, sometimes far—making her anxious, restless, sleepless, tossing and turning for several rounds, until she was finally won.

Of course, saying it was easy; execution mattered. For a guy like Wang Mou, courting a college girl was child's play. But groveling didn't mean acting like a dog—he wouldn't bow and scrape like a slave. Just maintain normal, respectful contact—no problem.

Time passed. Aside from occasional chance encounters with Su Mingyu, Wang Yan's company was preliminarily established.

After interviewing top executives, under Wang Yan's instructions, they registered "Long Teng" Holdings, health supplements, and tech companies, along with trademarks and filings.

For the company's location, due to recent high-tech industry growth and national policy, most first- and second-tier cities had high-tech parks or innovation zones—Gusu was no exception. Thus, Long Teng was set up in Gusu's high-tech park, roughly midway between Taihu and the school.

Actually, this location wasn't ideal. Wang Yan planned to buy land near Taihu later, when he had more money, and build a headquarters building—would feel great. But that depended on time—even with China's rapid infrastructure, constructing a landmark HQ would take three to five years. If he waited until he had spare cash but no time left, building it would be pointless—he'd never see it completed...

With the location chosen and executives selecting high-end office furnishings, they began recruitment: HR conducted open hiring, headhunters scouted talent, and they hired many operations and R&D staff, plus no shortage of Daoist masters and I Ching experts.

Simultaneously, they rented a factory, installed a production line, and signed procurement contracts with herbal bases nationwide. The production line was already modified and had produced its first batch of Qiang Shen Wan. Wang Yan's personally recruited sales director, after assembling his team, was now seeking TCM masters or so-called "experts" to begin health lectures...

This wasn't Wang Yan's idea—it was standard practice for health supplements: tricking elderly folks with eggs and milk, or spending heavily on ads.

To run ads in today's mobile internet age, before its arrival, CCTV still held the greatest influence. But the environment had changed—CCTV ad prices were astronomical, and the infamous "No gifts this holiday" campaign had ruined public trust. For his product to appear on CCTV or major satellite channels? Pure fantasy. If his product were truly proven effective, Qiang Shen Wan would already be selling out—why bother with ads?

So the sales director could only hold lectures, supplemented by ground promotions, to first crack the Gusu market, then expand to other major cities.

As for the sales team, though initially only market penetration mattered and word-of-mouth would outperform sales later, Wang Yan wouldn't be the type to kick the mule after the grain was threshed. He'd still launch food delivery, ride-hailing, etc. —all needing ground teams. He revived these efforts not for money, traffic, or influence, but primarily for his artificial intelligence service. As for data privacy? Forget it—he was the world's conscience, no need to elaborate.

Of course, his main focus now was selling Qiang Shen Wan—because "Chun Dun" only needed a start; even with direction, it required massive investment. Computer components were numerous, many developed from scratch—his hundred million yuan wouldn't go far. He needed Qiang Shen Wan to gain sales and reputation first, then use revenue as collateral for loans to fund large-scale R&D.

As for Su Mingyu, chance encounters on campus were left to fate—but whenever she went to eat, Wang Yan would inevitably show up.

First time he greeted her, she moved to the next table. Second time, farther. Then farther still. Then she stopped coming to the cafeteria for a long stretch. When she returned, he still encountered her—she sat far away. After several more encounters, she gradually moved closer. By December, after autumn had passed, she finally sat at the adjacent table, just like their first meeting.

Gusu's winter average temperature was above zero, but barely—just one to four degrees. Combined with southern dampness and chill, it still felt unpleasant. People wore cotton coats for warmth; leaves fell from trees, rotting into the soil. Jiang Nan wasn't always beautiful.

Su Mingyu, bundled in a cotton coat, looked helplessly at the familiar figure approaching with a full tray, sitting across from her, smiling as he delivered the same old greeting: "What a coincidence, Mingyu."

"What do you want? What are you trying to do? Don't you know you're annoying? Disgusting? And I have a surname—I'm not familiar with you. Call me Su Mingyu."

Wang Yan took a big bite of rice, then a bite of vegetables, then looked at Su Mingyu, slightly flustered, and muttered: "Alright, Mingyu."

"You..." Su Mingyu took a deep breath, exhaled, and said: "What exactly do you want? Can't you just stop following me?"

"Didn't I say? I want to be friends." Wang Yan smiled. "Besides, is it stalking if we just happen to meet at dinner?"

"I come early, I meet you. I come late, I meet you. Every single time, I meet you. Is that coincidence? What else is it?"

"Could it be fate?"

Su Mingyu rolled her eyes. She knew this guy was thick-skinned and shameless—she ignored him and ate her meal.

Wang Yan smiled faintly, said nothing, and kept eating heartily.

Soon, Wang Yan finished his plate and sat there watching Su Mingyu eat.

Feeling Wang Yan's gaze, Su Mingyu felt uneasy: "Finished eating? Then leave. Why are you staring at me?"

Wang Yan propped his chin on his left elbow, resting his arm on the table: "Don't you notice anything wrong?"

"Wrong? What's wrong?" Su Mingyu frowned, looked down at herself, glanced around, then met Wang Yan's eyes. "If anything's wrong, it's you—you're the scoundrel."

"No, no, no." Wang Yan raised his right hand, extended his index finger, and slowly pointed at Su Mingyu. "It's you who's wrong."

"Me?"

Su Mingyu felt as if she'd heard the biggest joke—her temper flared: "Are you crazy? Go get help. Seriously—what could possibly be wrong with me?"

Wang Yan shook his head and pointed to the table beside him: "According to tradition, you should be sitting there."

Su Mingyu snapped out of it, her face flushing: "Boring. Let's just leave after eating. What are we still doing here?"

"We ate at the same table and talked so much—we're practically friends already. Today's Friday, so how about this: I'll treat you to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. What do you say?"

"You're dreaming—who would ever..."

Wang Yan ignored her protests, nodded, and went on: "It's settled then. Tomorrow at five, I'll wait for you at the school gate. Don't be late." He raised an eyebrow at her, gave her no chance to reply, stood up, grabbed his tray, and walked off.

"Hey, you..."

Su Mingyu opened her mouth—but by the time she did, Wang Yan was already far away. She fell silent, her face twisted in frustration, picking listlessly at her simple meal.

Wang Yan put his tray away, walked to the cafeteria entrance, glanced back at the troubled Su Mingyu, smiled, pulled aside the curtain, and left.

He was well aware of Su Mingyu's situation. After receiving Meng Zhiyuan's support, she exploded just as she had in the original plot—studying day and night, but not her major courses; instead, business administration and marketing. On weekends and free time, she worked and studied at Meng Zhiyuan's "Zhongcheng." She did sales work—Meng Zhiyuan assigned veteran employees to guide her, taking her out to build relationships and pull in clients. She was truly busy.

To be fair, Meng Zhiyuan treated Su Mingyu well. But as Su Mingyu herself had said when promoting herself—it was just an investment. Though Meng Zhiyuan's company was nowhere near its later scale compared to the timeline in the original story, given his mention of giving commissions—thirty thousand yuan in half a year—ten or twenty thousand was pocket change.

Perhaps Meng Zhiyuan found it novel that something from a story or legend was unfolding before his eyes, and helping out wasn't a bad thing. If she succeeded, he gained a loyal junior and subordinate; if she failed, it was simply an act of kindness, accumulating virtue—quite a good thing.

The next day, Wang Yan had nothing to do. After morning exercise and breakfast, he rode his previously purchased bicycle around town. Whenever he spotted a snack stall, he'd stop, buy something, taste it, and carefully savor the city's subtle details.

He wandered until afternoon, then slowly pedaled to the school gate. He checked his wristwatch—three minutes to five. Perfect timing.

He parked his bicycle against the wall beside the security booth and waited patiently for Su Mingyu. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Until half past five, she finally arrived.

Standing before Wang Yan, she looked into his deep eyes and said: "I'm sorry—I never agreed to go out to dinner with you. Goodbye." Then she turned and ran back into the school.

Wang Yan watched her retreating figure with a smile, until she vanished from sight. He shook his head, chuckled, turned, and rode off on his bicycle. No one to join him for dinner? Fine—he'd eat alone. He found a small restaurant he'd heard had good food, feasted heartily, and even had a little wine.

After dinner, Wang Yan slowly rode his bicycle toward the villa. Suzhou, where rain was rare, unexpectedly began to drizzle.

Of course, this rain didn't fall for sentiment—it wasn't because of Wang Mou's mood. On the contrary, he thought the rain suited him well: the low beams of passing cars, the dim yellow streetlamps lining the road, tracing the falling raindrops, pedestrians hurrying home—yet he alone drifted slowly, finding quiet charm in it all...

Su Mingyu thought no one knew—but he knew. It was his mysterious, ineffable sense that told him.

From the moment he stopped his bike and waited at the gate, eyes had been watching him—until half past five.

From that direction, faintly sensed, Su Mingyu came walking...