Chapter 32: Little Brother, I

Hearing the noise at the door, the group turned their heads in unison.

“Grab a drink?”

Chen Yansen raised a snack in one hand and a beer in the other, grinning brightly as he suggested it.

“I—I can’t drink.”

Song Yang sat on the bed, his expression hesitant.

He suffered from mild social anxiety; he felt he and Chen Yansen had only exchanged greetings so far, far from familiar enough to sit together drinking.

Can’t drink?

Bullshit.

In his past life, he’d passed through Qin Island; the two of them had stood on crates and downed a full dozen Blue Ribbon 1844s—back then, Song Yang had merely loosened his belt, not even blushing.

“Stop blabbing. Either get down here fast, or I’m coming up.”

Chen Yansen grinned, openly threatening him.

“Brother Sen, I’ll drink with you.”

Zhu Xiaopeng, who had just criticized Chen Yansen twice, felt guilty and decided he owed him something—he was the first to respond, smiling broadly as he hurried over.

“Damn it! Can’t sleep anyway, and it’s so damn hot—no fan in the dorm? This is brutal!”

Tang Zhenzhe cursed as he got out of bed, grabbed a beer, and tilted his head back to gulp down a huge mouthful.

Chen Yansen laid his suitcase down, dumped all the snacks out in a heap, filling the space completely—worth at least two or three hundred yuan.

“Homie’s generous! Save me a chicken leg!”

Wang Zhengqiang flipped off the bed in a flash, dragged over a chair, and praised Chen Yansen, then turned to the remaining two: “BoBo, YangYang, you two are the last ones.”

Meng Xibo and Song Yang exchanged a glance, then stopped hesitating, thanked him, and joined the group.

"Brother Sen, you must have made a fortune running campus card proxy sales, right?"

Meng Xibo raised his beer, clinked it lightly against Chen Yansen’s, then cautiously asked.

Whether in speech or dress, Chen Yansen seemed far more mature than the others.

Add to that a 800,000-yuan Mercedes, his 184-centimeter tall frame—and in their eyes, Chen Yansen carried an aura of seniority.

After a brief hesitation, Meng Xibo followed Zhu Xiaopeng’s lead and called him “Brother Sen.”

“Not much—just a little hustle money.”

Chen Yansen brushed it off casually.

He knew revealing he made 150,000 yuan a day would shock them too hard—each of them got only five or six hundred yuan a month for living expenses, at most two thousand.

“Brother Sen, I heard from fellow townspeople that you give them fifty yuan commission per card.”

Meng Xibo didn’t believe it—he’d already learned the commission rates through the hometown association.

“Want to sell campus cards? Sure, no problem. Come find me at the telecom promotion site tomorrow.”

Chen Yansen caught the hidden meaning in Meng Xibo’s words and cut straight to the point.

“Thanks, Brother Sen—I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Meng Xibo froze slightly—he hadn’t expected Chen Yansen to agree so readily.

The reason he didn’t buy cards from upperclassmen? Simple—he didn’t want to pay the middleman markup.

“Brother Sen, can I join too?”

Seeing this, Zhu Xiaopeng’s eyes lit up with interest; he smiled eagerly and asked.

Chen Yansen glanced at them—all except Song Yang, the hidden rich kid, showed signs of interest; some stepped forward boldly, others held back out of pride.

Damn, I just wanted to catch up with old classmates, and now he’s turned this into a recruitment fair.

After a moment’s thought, he said: “Anyone who wants to sell campus cards, come find me at the telecom site tomorrow. Let’s drop this topic—tell us about Qiang’s love life—did you finally lose your virginity?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, your minds are filthy—I meant I couldn’t resist the pressure and gave up my first kiss.”

Wang Zhengqiang took a sip of beer and grinned mischievously.

“Pfft—you’re such a bore!”

Tang Zhenzhe, who’d been waiting eagerly, felt tricked and immediately complained.

“Anyone who thought dirty—go stand in the corner and reflect!”

Wang Zhengqiang loved this effect—he burst out laughing.

Tang Zhenzhe rolled his eyes, muttered “boring,” then turned to Chen Yansen with curiosity: “You really own a Mercedes E300?”

“I rented it.”

Chen Yansen answered honestly.

But the group exchanged glances—they didn’t believe him for a second.

Sometimes life’s like that: when you lie, they believe you; when you tell the truth, they refuse to believe it.

Aside from campus cards and luxury cars, they had plenty to talk about—games, comics, novels, movies, soccer gossip, even Japanese action movie stars.

In the end, the room filled with a shared, silent laugh.

…

…

The next morning, Chen Yansen woke up groggily.

“These animals—snoring, grinding teeth, talking in their sleep—this dorm’s like a chicken coop.”

Chen Yansen rubbed his eyes, silently grumbling.

Last night, everyone swore they never snored—turns out they’d never heard themselves snore.

Chen Yansen got up, picked up his toiletries, and walked into the bathroom.

When he returned after brushing his teeth and washing his face, all five were still fast asleep.

Chen Yansen changed into clean, fresh clothes and headed toward the telecom station on Xuelin Road; on the way past the cafeteria, he bought a few breakfasts.

As he approached, he spotted a familiar back.

“Little Chen, perfect timing—these two students want to work part-time selling campus cards. Talk to them.”

Gu Wenwen spotted Chen Yansen and waved him over, then grabbed a breakfast and ate it without hesitation.

“Chen—Chen Yansen, this is Senior Sister Jiang Ruoxuan from third year—we want to become second-tier telecom agents.”

Song Yuncheng felt awkward, but remembering the critical first two days for card sales, she gathered courage to explain.

Telecom had lured most freshmen with unbeatable plans; she and Jiang Ruoxuan were China Unicom agents, already at a disadvantage due to poor signal—and now even fewer people wanted Unicom cards.

All day yesterday, they’d sold only a handful.

“No problem—twenty cards each, fifty yuan commission per card. Leave your contact info and hand over your student ID—I need to register you.”

Chen Yansen spoke calmly, following procedure.

Song Yuncheng froze slightly—she’d expected to beg, even endure mockery before he’d agree; nothing matched her expectations.

“Didn’t bring it, or won’t give it? Registration is because I don’t take prepaid card fees—if you want to pay upfront, fine.”

Seeing her stunned, Chen Yansen smiled lightly and explained.

“No, no—I have my student ID.”

Song Yuncheng hurried to say, then pulled out her ID and placed it gently before Chen Yansen; Jiang Ruoxuan did the same.

“Thank you, Brother Chen.”

After receiving the cards, Jiang Ruoxuan bowed slightly and thanked him with a smile.

“Thank her—that’s enough. Second-tier agents were already full; I only made an exception because of Song Yuncheng.”

Chen Yansen lied casually.

Her identity was obvious—she was almost certainly the “senior sister” Song Yuncheng had mentioned before: average looks, light makeup, a face full of pleading charm.

Jiang Ruoxuan, hearing this, turned and thanked Song Yuncheng repeatedly—whether true or not, she had to show a gracious attitude.

Chen Yansen saw she was sensible, so he said no more, waved his hand, and signaled her to go earn money for him.

“How are you going to thank me?”

After Jiang Ruoxuan walked away, Chen Yansen turned to Song Yuncheng.

“I can treat you to dinner.”

Song Yuncheng thought long and hard, bit her lip, then spoke—as if inviting him to dinner was an unbearable burden.

“Dinner’s out. Just kiss me.”

Chen Yansen grinned brightly, eyes half-lidded, teasingly watching Song Yuncheng.

“???”

Song Yuncheng thought she’d misheard—until she saw Chen Yansen’s smug, carefree smirk, and realized she hadn’t.

“Palm or back of hand—pick one.”

Chen Yansen paused, then added, extending his smooth, slender right hand before her.

Oh thank god—it’s just a kiss on the hand—I was terrified!

Song Yuncheng exhaled in relief, then snapped back to reality—kissing his hand was still unacceptable!

She shook her head furiously inside.

“Not willing? Then give back the cards.”

Seeing her frozen, Chen Yansen’s face darkened and threatened.

“Brother, I’m your senior sister.”

Song Yuncheng looked around at the passing students, parents, and teachers, bent slightly, eyes misty, pleading pitifully.

If she sold forty cards, her semester’s living expenses were secured—but Chen Yansen’s demand was too much; she simply couldn’t do it.

Chen Yansen saw her eyes reddening, on the verge of tears, and ultimately couldn’t hold his ground.

He tilted his lips into a faint smile: “Senior, I was just joking—don’t tell me you took it seriously?”

Song Yuncheng’s furrowed brows froze suddenly; her lips parted, but the words stuck in her throat, leaving only one thought in her mind:

This guy is such a jerk!

(End of Chapter)