Chapter 19: The First Bucket of Gold: 180,000! (Begging for Follows)

“Chen Yansen, what did my dad say to you?”

On the way back, Meng Jie grabbed Chen Yansen as soon as she got in the car and started pressing him for answers.

“He asked me if we’re dating.”

Seeing her anxious expression, Chen Yansen couldn’t help but smile faintly and teased her casually.

“What!? How could he ask that!”

Meng Jie froze for a moment, her emotions collapsing instantly—especially when she saw Wang Zihao in the front seat barely holding back his laughter, making her feel she’d lost all dignity.

“So how did you answer?”

After venting for a while, Meng Jie gripped Chen Yansen’s arm again and asked cautiously, afraid he’d give her an answer she couldn’t accept.

“What do you want me to say?”

Experienced as he was, Chen Yansen kicked the question right back.

“Tell the truth.”

Meng Jie looked at him as if it were obvious.

“Yeah, we thought the same thing—I told him the truth.”

Chen Yansen nodded, praising her.

“So what exactly did you tell my dad?”

Meng Jie pressed on.

“I told him the truth.”

Chen Yansen stretched his arms wide, yawned, and grinned mischievously, repeating himself like a broken recorder.

Meng Jie finally caught on, teeth bared in fury, cursing loudly, her cheeks still flushed.

In reality, Meng ZhenGuo would never ask such a question; with his experience and depth, a few casual words were enough to discern a person’s character, academic and career prospects, and whether they could positively intersect with Meng Jie’s future.

What he hadn’t expected was that Chen Yansen’s level was far beyond his own.

Their back-and-forth exchange, filled with hidden meanings, yielded only the information Chen Yansen deliberately revealed—none of the insights he truly wanted were extracted.

Thus, Meng ZhenGuo felt both admiration and resentment toward Chen Yansen.

He admired Chen Yansen’s maturity far beyond his years—such exceptional insight would surely let him thrive in society, making him more than qualified as a son-in-law;

He resented that his own daughter’s emotional intelligence and capabilities were utterly insufficient to control Chen Yansen—if this boy turned out to be fickle and promiscuous, Meng Jie would only suffer.

After much deliberation, he decided to let it go for now and head home to discuss it with his wife.

The one-hour drive passed in the blink of an eye.

Curious, Meng Jie followed Chen Yansen and the other two into the old house in Xicheng.

“Thud!”

Wang Zihao tossed the cash box onto the floor and plopped down, eagerly beginning to count the money.

“Have you two been doing this all summer?”

Meng Jie pointed at the mountain of boxes piled in the room, astonished.

“Not exactly—we’re only on day two. On the eighth, we’re going to Zhenyang Pass. Are you coming?”

Chen Yansen rolled up his pant legs to his shins and sat cross-legged on the blue stone slabs, utterly unrefined.

“Hmph! Trying to get me to work for free again!”

Meng Jie sat beside him, tone Buman , knowing full well his little scheme.

“Relax, I’m not paying you—so it’s not free labor.”

Chen Yansen spoke with dead seriousness, his handsome face clashing absurdly with his sly expression.

“Guess how much we made?”

Wang Zihao suddenly looked up, grinning at Chen Yansen.

“Four hundred MP3s and two hundred MP4s—just wiggle your toes and you can calculate it. Add yesterday’s profit, it’s under forty-eight thousand.”

Chen Yansen raised an eyebrow, speaking casually—as if forty-eight thousand were forty-eight.

“What did you say!?”

Meng Jie jumped in shock, face filled with disbelief.

Her father, as a bank branch manager, earned eight thousand yuan a month including bonuses—a sum that, in 2010’s Chunshen, surpassed 99.9% of ordinary people.

Yet now Chen Yansen told her he’d earned in two days what her father made in half a year.

“Sales far exceeded my expectations—there’s almost no MP4 stock left. I plan to restock.”

Chen Yansen ignored Meng Jie’s stunned expression, paused to think, then explained to Wang Zihao.

“How much?”

Wang Zihao asked eagerly—he had no objections to Chen Yansen’s decisions.

“I’ll update you tomorrow. I need to reassess the population, spending power, and market saturation of the remaining townships before deciding on the second batch.”

Chen Yansen replied without hesitation.

Greed and caution were both fatal in business; only thorough market research and rational analysis could guide him to the right decision.

Meng Jie watched it all, realizing Chen Yansen’s behavior was nothing like an eighteen-year-old—he seemed more like a seasoned businessman who’d weathered the commercial seas for years.

“Got it.”

Wang Zihao grunted. Honestly, he understood little of what Chen Yansen said—but he knew one thing: just follow along.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you home.”

Chen Yansen exhaled deeply, patted Meng Jie’s head, then turned and walked out.

“Actually, selling goods with you two is kind of fun.”

Meng Jie lowered her head, speaking softly.

“Be at the old house at seven a.m. on the eighth.”

Chen Yansen stopped abruptly at her words, turned around, looked at her, then extended one finger and pushed up her black-rimmed glasses.

“Next time, take off your glasses—I want to see a different you.”

Chen Yansen’s words were gentle, like a warm stream washing over Meng Jie’s heart.

“Forget it—I’ll walk home myself. You don’t need to see me off.”

Her heart racing, she blurted it out and sprinted home without looking back.

Her posture was so cool, Chen Yansen couldn’t help laughing.

Hearing his laughter behind her, Meng Jie ran faster, muttering “damn pervert” under her breath.

…

…

In the following period, the sales team was officially formed.

On every even-numbered lunar day, the three of them traveled outward from Chunshen, hitting markets from near to far.

Wang Zihao’s tongue grew slicker, and Meng Jie’s speed at counting money became increasingly refined.

By late August, they had sold out the second batch entirely.

“August 8, Bao Yi Town: 147 MP3s sold, 85 MP4s sold, revenue 24,118, profit 11,024.”

“August 10, Zhenyang Pass: 235 MP3s sold, 98 MP4s sold, revenue 31,017, profit 14,479.”

“August 12, Feng Zhuang Town.”

“August 14, Shan Jue Town.”

“...”

“We sold a total of 2,987 MP3s and 1,390 MP4s. After deducting chartered bus fees, fuel, meals, etc., we still have over 190,000 in profit.”

In the courtyard of the old house in Xicheng, Wang Zihao held a worn, curled notebook, reporting the latest sales figures.

The 23 defective units were excluded and returned to the factory.

Having absorbed Chen Yansen’s influence for so long, Wang Zihao now spoke constantly of “revenue” and “gross profit”—a transformation so dramatic it was astonishing.

“I told you before—your three thousand yuan counts as five percent. I rounded it up for you—exactly ten thousand.”

Chen Yansen tossed a thick stack of cash from the bag straight into Wang Zihao’s lap.

“Heh, thanks, Sen-ge.”

Wang Zihao held the money, sniffed it, then rubbed his face against it, mumbling: “Man, this smells amazing.”

“Humanity’s Flame +1!”

A semi-transparent string of text floated before Chen Yansen’s eyes—the long-silent system had finally found its use.

“System! Give me points!”

Chen Yansen roared inwardly.

A thin strand of white vapor materialized out of nowhere and shot into his brow—suddenly, a bone-chilling cold surged through his veins into his heart.

The sensation came fast and vanished faster.

Before Chen Yansen could react, the chill was gone, and his physique stat had changed from “1.16” to “1.17.”

Yet he felt no physical change at all.

Except his right foot, which had been numb from squatting, now felt fine.

“Stupid system! Come out and talk!”

Chen Yansen exploded in rage.

After cursing for a while, he remembered the system was just an inanimate object—he sighed helplessly: “Still gotta hustle for money.”

“She’s just my sister. My sister says purple has elegance.”

Music suddenly blared, and his phone in his pocket vibrated wildly; Chen Yansen snapped back to attention and pressed the answer button at random.

“Get your ass home within ten minutes!”

On the other end of the line, Chen Guobin gripped a wooden stick as thick as a bowl and roared into the receiver.

Whether we make it on recommendation this week depends on you all—thank you so much! Please don’t abandon the novel; help me by reading to the latest chapter—I’m begging you.



(End of chapter)