Chapter 35: Identity Exposed! Zhao Maolin Grows Suspicious

On the way back to the dorm, Tang Zhenzhe walked at the back, pulling Chen Yansen along.

“Brother Sen, you’ve really screwed me over.”

Tang Zhenzhe frowned, looking thoroughly reluctant.

“Stop pretending with me.”

Chen Yansen rolled his eyes and added, “You think university class monitor is the same as high school? The resources tied to this position far exceed your imagination.”

“First, class monitor gets priority for party membership; second, you never worry about being caught skipping roll call or failing; third, you get more chances to interact with girls and higher odds of getting a girlfriend; fourth, every year’s department student union chair is chosen from among class monitors—worst case, you can at least land a department head position…”

You're always dressed like a dandy—probably a little effeminate. You don't actually plan to stay single all four years of college, do you?

Chen Yansen squinted at him, sizing him up, a teasing smile on his lips.

“You dare threaten me with defamation? I had two girlfriends in high school!”

Tang Zhenzhe had been swayed and was about to thank him, but hearing this taunt, he immediately shot back.

“Left hand? Right hand?”

Chen Yansen chuckled in reply.

“Hahaha! Ah Zhe, be honest—have you ever even had a girlfriend?” Zhu Xiaopeng grinned, turning to ask.

“Brother Sen’s clearly a seasoned player—everything he says is spot on!” Meng Xibo chuckled in agreement.

“So being class monitor has so many perks? I wish I’d tried for it too,” Wang Zhengqiang said after hearing Chen Yansen’s explanation, a flicker of envy in his eyes, filled with regret.

“Brother Sen, thank you.”

After a moment of hesitation, Tang Zhenzhe let out a long breath and sincerely thanked Chen Yansen.

He knew clearly that without Chen Yansen’s help rallying votes, the class monitor title would have gone to Li Wenhao.

“We’re family—no need for formalities.”

Chen Yansen waved his hand, a mischievous grin on his face.

“...”

Tang Zhenzhe smiled bitterly. If anyone else in the dorm joked like this, he’d likely have flipped out—but with Chen Yansen, he simply couldn’t get angry.

“Brother Sen, I still have three left.”

Song Yang, who had been silent until now, patted his pocket and pulled out the unsold campus cards.

Chen Yansen grunted, unsurprised—Song Yang would later open two hotels on Qindao, so he clearly had business sense.

“What the hell? I only sold five—how’d you manage that?”

Zhu Xiaopeng froze, disbelieving, grabbing Song Yang to press for details.

“I sold them all!”

Meng Xibo declared proudly—he’d used the hometown association to host new students from Huinan, and sold all ten cards in one afternoon.

“Wave, you’re awesome! I only sold three.” Wang Zhengqiang looked embarrassed, then turned skeptically to Tang Zhenzhe: “Ah Zhe, how about you?”

“I sold nine.”

Tang Zhenzhe grinned—his answer made Wang Zhengqiang feel even more humiliated.

Men, deep down, always have a competitive streak—they love comparing themselves.

When poor, they compare size; when rich, they flaunt income and bank balances.

“Keep the remaining cards—you can still sell them. Even though orientation’s over, there are still new students who need campus cards.”

Chen Yansen pushed Song Yang’s cards back.

“Alright then.”

Song Yang nodded, already thinking about other places where he could reach large numbers of new students beyond orientation.

Chen Yansen walked ahead, the dim streetlamp stretching his shadow long behind him.

…

…

The next morning, the urgent chirping of birds outside the window woke Chen Yansen.

“I really need to move out.”

Chen Yansen sat up on the bed, sighing deeply—he’d underestimated how hard it was to re-integrate into campus life; even just dealing with his roommates’ snoring and teeth grinding was unbearable.

He picked up his phone, checked the time, then opened his unread messages.

“Mr. Chen, all procedures have been completed. If convenient, you may collect the documents anytime.”

The agency’s message.

Chen Yansen replied “ok,” got out of bed, brushed his teeth and washed his face, then took a neatly pressed suit from his suitcase, dressed fully, and headed downstairs.

His rented Mercedes E300 was parked at the cafeteria entrance; soon after he got in, Wang Zihao, equally sharp in his suit, rushed up, panting.

“Brother Sen, should we go to Zhao Maolin right now to collect our cut?”

Wang Zihao got in the car, curious.

“Not yet. First, come with me to Huamao—I need to pick something up.”

Chen Yansen replied casually, offering no further explanation.

Huamao was the largest comprehensive mall in Xucheng, with heavy foot traffic and surrounded by office parks—the most bustling core area of the city.

Wang Zihao watched the growing bustle and grinned: “Finally left Dong'er Village—now I actually feel like we’re entering the city.”

Chen Yansen smiled, parked in the underground garage, and they took the elevator to the first floor.

Bright lights glimmered; luxury boutiques like Dior and Chanel lined the walls; a few steps further were Tiffany and Cartier. The opulent décor made Wang Zihao uneasy—but when he saw Chen Yansen’s calm demeanor, he instantly relaxed.

“Brother Sen, why are we here?”

Wang Zihao couldn’t hold his curiosity any longer.

“Buy a watch.”

Chen Yansen pointed to a nearby luxury watch store and answered succinctly.

He walked to the display case and said to the saleswoman: “Miss, budget around seventy thousand—recommend me three models.”

The impeccably made-up saleswoman looked up, took in their attire, immediately smiled, and spoke in a sweet tone: “Sir, for your budget, we have three Rolex models that fit—please follow me.”

She gestured politely, leading them to a seating area and serving tea with a smile.

“This Rolex Datejust is our bestseller—sixty-two thousand eight hundred. The bracelet…”

As she spoke, she watched Chen Yansen’s expression. Seeing his calmness, she relaxed and continued: “This Rolex Explorer is sixty-one thousand eight hundred; the top configuration reaches seventy thousand. The last is the Milgauss series, designed for scientific use—magnetic-resistant…”

She was about to elaborate on specs and materials when Chen Yansen cut her off, pointing to the Explorer: “Wrap it up. Put the receipt inside the box. By the way—if unsatisfied, can I return it unconditionally within a few days?”

The saleswoman’s heart leapt at the first half—but sank at the second. She cursed inwardly: “Damn.” Having seen it all, she instantly understood Chen Yansen’s intent.

Yet she dared not show any annoyance, forcing a smile: “You can exchange or return it within two days with the receipt.”

“Card.”

Chen Yansen spoke calmly, handing over his card.

“Brother Sen, are you crazy? This watch is sixty-one thousand eight hundred—not six hundred and eighty!”

Once the saleswoman was out of earshot, Wang Zihao whispered urgently.

“This watch is for Zhao Maolin. You think I’m buying it for myself? We made about thirty grand total—better show some sincerity, let him taste a bit of the broth.”

Chen Yansen explained slowly.

The watch’s value was roughly twenty percent of the total profit—that was his limit. If Zhao Maolin accepted it but still tried to manipulate the cut, Chen Yansen wouldn’t hesitate to break the rules.

“Fucking hell—we bust our asses, and he just sits in his office doing nothing, yet still gets twenty percent?”

Wang Zihao fumed.

“There are plenty who do nothing but take the biggest share. If you’re upset, climb higher—someday, crush them underfoot.”

Chen Yansen sneered, letting out a light scoff.

Twenty percent? What’s that?

Former campus agents got only seventy yuan per card—zero commission from recharge bonuses.

Meanwhile.

Zhao Maolin sat in his office, speaking on the phone: “His father runs a bookstore in Chunshen. I checked the Mercedes—it’s registered under a rental company in Zhoulai. Also, he personally owns a newly established company called Senhai…”

No power, no money, no background?

Zhao Maolin frowned. From what he’d dug up, Chen Yansen wasn’t the second-generation type he’d assumed—but how could a bookstore owner possibly raise someone with such poise and insight?

Something’s off.

Zhao Maolin shot to his feet and paced the room.

(End of Chapter)