Chapter 20: Making Money Is as Easy as Breathing

The salt company residential area, with peeling walls, bore the marks of time’s wear.

“It’s good to have a broken place—at least you don’t pay property fees.”

Chen Yansen glanced up, muttering under his breath; he knew exactly why Old Chen had suddenly exploded—most likely, the man had discovered that half his years of savings had been “swiped” by his son.

“At his age, he still panics at the slightest thing. Old Chen still needs cultivation.”

Chen Yansen hummed a tune, strolling home at a leisurely pace.

On the fourth floor, he noticed his door wide open.

Through the gap, he saw a club as thick as a bowl’s mouth tightly gripped in Chen Guobin’s hand.

Chen Yansen stepped back, turned, and walked away.

“Get in here!”

But Chen Guobin spotted him at once; seeing him turn to flee, he immediately grabbed the club and charged out.

The old man’s eyes were wet with tears, brimming with hurt and disappointment.

He had watched his son’s behavior these past days, believing Chen Yansen had finally grown up and become sensible—only to find he’d planted an even bigger bomb.

“Old Chen, put the club down first. Let’s talk calmly.”

Chen Yansen didn’t step inside; instead, he retreated further, one foot already on the stair landing, ready to bolt at any moment.

“Did you take the bank cards from the photo album?”

Chen Guobin gritted his teeth, eyes red, glaring fiercely at Chen Yansen.

“Yes.”

Chen Yansen answered, forcing himself to stand his ground.

“How much is left?”

Old Chen’s lips trembled, gasping heavily, terrified Chen Yansen would reply, “Spent it all.”

“Not a single cent touched.”

Chen Yansen spread his hands, expression utterly serious—no hint of jest.

“Hmph, a mouse falls into a grain storehouse and doesn’t eat a single grain?”

Chen Guobin froze, then snorted coldly—he didn’t believe a word.

“There’s an ATM at the gate. Go check it yourself!”

Chen Yansen pulled out the bank card from his pocket and carefully returned it to Chen Guobin.

“Don’t try any tricks. We’re going together.”

Chen Guobin’s expression softened slightly. He exhaled deeply and finally dropped the club on the floor.

*Clang!*

The wooden stick thudded down, rolling to the side of a coarse burlap sack, beside which lay a bundle of nylon rope.

“Old Chen, before you opened your bookstore, weren’t you some kind of outlaw?”

Chen Yansen swallowed hard, staring at the “Three Treasures of the Loving Father” his father had so thoughtfully prepared, forcing a smile.

“If there’s even one fen missing from that card, I’ll hang you up and beat you!”

Seeing Chen Yansen’s smirking face, Chen Guobin flew into a rage, shouting.

“If my mom…”

Chen Yansen reused his old tactic, launching right in.

“If your mother were alive, she’d beat you harder than I would for being such a failure.”

Chen Guobin cut him off irritably.

The card held 135,800 yuan—he’d saved it for eighteen years. Even if Liang Huizhen rose from the dead, she couldn’t stop him from wanting to kill Chen Yansen.

“Let’s go! But you’re so old now—next time, stay calm. Don’t make me worry so much. Hey hey hey, leave the rope behind? I’m not running! Do you really plan to tie me up and drag me to the bank?”

As he spoke, Chen Yansen slipped away, sprinting off.

“Stop right there!”

Chen Guobin didn’t even close the door—he rushed after him.

One ran ahead, the other chased behind.

When they passed the ATM, Chen Yansen stopped voluntarily, leaning against the glass wall, waiting calmly for Old Chen.

“Good on you for being sensible. Stay put.”

Chen Guobin shot him a furious glare, then pulled out the card and inserted it into the slot.

“Your card balance is 135,800 yuan.”

Only when the long string of digits appeared on the screen did Chen Guobin rub his eyes in disbelief.

He’d imagined countless possibilities—but never this one.

“I’ve got another card. Mind checking this one too?”

Chen Yansen rummaged in his pocket and handed over his own bank card.

“Whose card? Yours?”

Chen Guobin frowned, bewildered, asking repeatedly.

“Mm.”

Chen Yansen crossed his arms, a faint smile on his face.

Though the card held only 180,000 yuan—nothing compared to his eight-digit balance before rebirth—this sum meant everything to him.

First, it confirmed the system’s authenticity; second, it laid the foundation for his future business empire.

“180,000!? Where did you get this money?”

Chen Guobin was stunned again, eyes bulging like copper bells, staring at Chen Yansen, waiting for a reasonable explanation.

“Are you questioning my talent?”

“Making money is as easy for me as breathing.”

“So take the few thousand on your card and buy a few apartment blocks. Just wait for the demolition compensation.”

Chen Yansen patted the dazed Old Chen, speaking with solemn gravity.

“You made 180,000 in one summer?”

Chen Guobin couldn’t believe it.

“More precisely, it took about ten days.”

Chen Yansen’s tone was calm—he saw nothing extraordinary in it.

Then he laid out the whole story of reselling MP3s and MP4s, finally clearing up Chen Guobin’s confusion.

“Next time you do something like this, talk to me first.”

Chen Guobin’s expression was complex—relief, joy, and melancholy all tangled together.

With his son’s earning ability, he probably looked down on his meager savings.

“If I’d told you in advance, would you have agreed?”

Chen Yansen outwardly agreed readily, but inwardly scoffed.

Both carried private thoughts as they walked home; neighbors who saw this scene couldn’t help but stare in wonder.

Just moments ago, father and son had been chasing each other out of the compound—now they walked home peacefully, leaving everyone baffled.

Living room.

Chen Guobin picked up the club, nylon rope, and burlap sack, shoved them under the bed, then took out two EMS envelopes and placed them gently on the coffee table.

“Teacher Zhang delivered them personally. One’s yours, the other’s Zihao’s.”

Chen Guobin sat on the sofa, gulped down his cold tea, and finally calmed down.

“Chengdu College, 2010 Admission Notice: Chen Yansen, you have been admitted to our Journalism program…”

Chen Yansen tore it open—the content matched his past life exactly.

In truth, both his and Wang Zihao’s admission letters had arrived at the school long ago, but they’d been busy with driver’s license tests and making money, delaying them for over ten days.

“If you want to retake a year, I won’t stop you.”

Chen Guobin glanced quickly, thought for a long while, then spoke seriously.

“No need. For me, first-tier and second-tier universities make no difference—the goal is to make money. Why waste an extra year?”

Chen Yansen smiled, utterly unconcerned.

“Just make sure you’re sure—don’t regret it later. Also, your grandparents heard you got into college and want you to visit.”

Chen Guobin’s expression faltered, then he let out a wry laugh, waving his hand with a sigh—he knew pushing was useless.

“I’m not going!”

Chen Yansen refused immediately—he had no desire to relive his past life’s experience.

Some grandparents dote on their grandchildren; others despise them.

“Fine. I understand.”

Chen Guobin wanted to argue further, but seeing his son’s firm gaze, he gave up instantly.

“I’ll take Zihao’s letter to him. I won’t stay for dinner.”

After a moment of silence, Chen Yansen spoke first, stood up, took Wang Zihao’s admission letter, and said to Old Chen.

“Come home early. Don’t stay out too late.”

Chen Guobin offered a token reminder.

“Got it.”

Chen Yansen waved goodbye, strolling out slowly, pulling out his phone to send a message to Meng Jie.

"You've got to keep your word—you must have received your acceptance letter already. Where are the pictures of the white stockings?"

On the other side.

All alone, Meng Jie stood in the lingerie section of Shanfu Department Store, stealthily selecting items.

"This one has too much lace—obviously not respectable."

"This style is too sheer—it’s like wearing nothing at all."

"This one won’t do either—why is there a heart pattern?"

As Meng Jie picked, she muttered to herself.

Her short hair, once level with her earlobes, had grown an inch longer; her black-rimmed glasses had been replaced with frameless ones better suited to her face. Her pink lips were glossy and lustrous, clearly coated with lip gloss.

"Ding-ding-ding—"

Hearing the phone alert, Meng Jie quickly picked it up. The text on the screen made her heart tighten, and her cheeks flushed even redder.

(End of Chapter)