Chapter 42: The Campus-Wide Hiring Frenzy (32k Seeking Follows)

“Little Chen, I’m the head of the entrepreneurship park; supporting your startup is exactly what we should do. A few desks and chairs? I can even get you computers.”

Cao Dahua noticed Chen Yansen’s skeptical expression, puffed out his beer belly, and frowned.

“You can get me a computer too?”

Chen Yansen blinked in surprise at Cao Dahua’s sudden change in attitude and asked with a smile.

“We’ve retired some teaching computers from the library’s computer room—if you want them, I can have two moved over for you.”

Cao Dahua grinned.

“Thanks, Director Cao, but I’ll handle the computer myself.”

Chen Yansen chuckled and waved him off.

Those teaching machines couldn’t even handle Minesweeper smoothly—try opening a slightly larger spreadsheet and they’d crash outright.

“Heh, Little Chen, I brought up the computer thing first—you’re the one who refused. If anyone asks later, don’t pretend you forgot.”

Cao Dahua glanced around, leaned in, and whispered.

“Someone’s asking?”

“The dean? Or the president?”

No wonder this old bastard’s attitude shifted so drastically—he must’ve been tipped off in advance.

I haven’t even gotten started yet, and someone’s already taking notice?

“Director Cao, you’re my benefactor—I’d never forget your kindness.”

Chen Yansen laughed it off, responding warmly.

Whoever was watching, he knew the old saying: the local official is more powerful than the distant emperor.

“By the way, there’s a water dispenser still in storage—want it?”

Seeing him so cooperative, Cao Dahua added quickly.

“Then I won’t refuse your generosity.”

Chen Yansen thought: if you can get something for free, why not? This was the advantage of starting a business on campus—if the administration needed you, free resources always turned up.

After he carried the water dispenser upstairs, Cao Dahua summoned two free laborers and helped him buy two barrels of purified water from the dorm supervisor next door.

No choice—the water in Xucheng was too hard; if you didn’t want to lose your hair in bulk, you had to drink mineral or purified water.

Near nine o’clock, people began trickling up to the second floor.

In an era where part-time hourly wages were under ten yuan, a monthly pay over two thousand yuan—plus Chen Yansen’s promise of internship stamps and official reports—drew considerable attention from third- and fourth-year students.

“He’s the project lead? He looks so young!”

“Chen Yansen from the 10th Journalism class—you don’t know him? He snatched the campus general agent position from a third-year athlete just by selling campus cards—he’s probably made at least this much!”

“One hundred thousand?! Dude, do you even believe that yourself?”

The crowd erupted into chaotic chatter.

Chen Yansen checked the time, cleared his throat, and shouted to the noisy crowd: “Students who want to join Senhai, please line up first. Did you bring your resumes? Paper or electronic is fine.”

After speaking, he turned and sat down, leaving an empty chair directly opposite him.

A simple interview booth was thus set up.

“Huh? We need resumes? It’s just a part-time job—do we really need to be this formal?”

“Damn it! This guy’s such a show-off! I’m out!”

“He’s a freshman and doesn’t even call us seniors—no manners at all.”

Whispers of mockery spread through the crowd, and some actually turned and walked away.

Chen Yansen’s face remained expressionless, calm and composed—he thought: if you can’t even prepare a resume, leave now. Better that way.

“Who’s first for the front-end development position?”

Chen Yansen scanned the faces of the crowd seriously.

“Chen—”

A short boy with black-rimmed glasses and a red-and-black plaid shirt stepped forward, but froze when he realized he didn’t know how to address Chen Yansen.

Call him “Junior Chen”?

“Boss Chen”?

Or just his name?

“Just call me Chen Yansen. Hand me your resume and give me a self-introduction.”

Chen Yansen nodded slightly and smiled faintly.

“Uh, okay. My name is Zhang Wenbo, Computer Science major, senior this year. I’m proficient in HTML, CSS, and JavaScript—I also know a bit about front-end frameworks like jQuery...”

Zhang Wenbo adjusted his glasses and spoke methodically.

Being the first to step up meant he had some confidence—he spoke fluently, clearly outlining his academic and project experience, showing clear dedication to his field.

Though Xucheng College was a second-tier school with many slackers, there were plenty of hardworking students too.

After he finished, Chen Yansen set down the resume and asked: “How would you implement a simple image slideshow in JavaScript?”

He didn’t want a bookworm who memorized textbook answers—he wanted someone who could start coding right away.

“Usually you use a timer to control the image-switching frequency and add control buttons so users can switch manually.”

Zhang Wenbo thought for a few seconds and answered seriously.

“I have a computer here—can you demonstrate?”

Chen Yansen pushed his business laptop toward him and asked.

“No problem.”

Zhang Wenbo nodded confidently, took the laptop, saw no programming files on the desktop, but noticed a mobile broadband card plugged in.

He logged in smoothly, downloaded a lightweight JS editor and testing tools, then tapped the keyboard rapidly, coding live.

Seeing this, many students without practical experience slipped away quietly, avoiding the embarrassment of going up next.

In just ten minutes, Zhang Wenbo pushed the laptop back, launched the test tool, and showed Chen Yansen the code in action.

Chen Yansen said nothing, then asked: “How do you optimize webpage loading speed? How do you implement responsive web design? How do you prevent XSS attacks?”

In his past life, though he came from business and operations, during early startup days, he’d had to understand basic code and product knowledge.

Facing three questions in a row, Zhang Wenbo stayed calm, speaking fluently while typing live demonstrations.

“Have you had development experience before?” Chen Yansen suddenly asked.

“I interned at an off-campus software company for half a year,” Zhang Wenbo replied.

“Four thousand a month, two days off per week, six hours daily. Report tomorrow. Any questions?”

Chen Yansen paused briefly, then offered Zhang Wenbo the position on the spot—he knew students of this caliber were rare.

Pay him less, and he’d rather take freelance gigs off-campus.

“Thank you, Chen... Chen Zong!”

Zhang Wenbo beamed, standing up to thank him.

He’d worked part-time at off-campus software firms—he knew the market. Other companies might pay more, but demanded at least ten hours daily with only one day off per week.

After rent and food, there was little left.

Nothing compared to Senhai—food and lodging on campus, his effective hourly wage was far higher.

“Four thousand! Holy shit! I thought the job posting said 2000–4000 meant the base was 2000! I didn’t expect the top rate!”

“We’d never get four grand for an internship off-campus, right?”

"Forget it—those off-campus outsourcing companies treat girls like boys and boys like donkeys!"

The moment the first offer was made, the crowd’s interview enthusiasm ignited instantly.

But Chen Yansen’s enthusiasm cooled rapidly—the rest of the interviewees were average at best, with poor practical skills; not one was even passable.

Landing Zhang Wenbo had clearly been a lucky break.

“Damn. Guess I’ll have to recruit from the social pool.”

Chen Yansen sighed, thinking.

Just as he was about to continue interviewing for back-end developers, Song Yuncheng arrived, hair disheveled, panting as she stopped: “Boss Chen, I’m here to report.”

Chen Yansen glanced at her—her cheeks flushed, beads of sweat on her forehead—and said casually: “You handle the resumes.”

Song Yuncheng nodded, set down her bag, and stood stiffly beside him like his personal secretary.

By noon, Chen Yansen hadn’t hired anyone satisfactory—he knew rushing wouldn’t help, so he exhaled deeply and said to Song Yuncheng: “Congratulations on your new job. Want to treat me to lunch?”

“Huh?! Are you kidding? As the boss, shouldn’t you be treating me?”

Song Yuncheng blinked, taken aback.

“You know I’m the boss—don’t you fear I’ll make your life hell?”

Chen Yansen crossed his arms, half-jokingly threatening.

“Only the cafeteria.”

Song Yuncheng’s chest heaved; she swallowed her anger and snapped sharply.

“Why are you making so much money if you never spend it?”

Chen Yansen teased with a smile.

“None of your business.”

Song Yuncheng clutched the resumes, trailing behind Chen Yansen, muttering under her breath: “Heartless boss, always exploiting this poor girl!”

“By the way, send me the computer specs you need.”

Chen Yansen turned his head, saw her lips moving but no sound—frowned: “You’re talking trash about me? Calling me a heartless boss? Let me tell you, my ears are sharp.”

“Huh? How could I? I’d never say anything bad about you!”

Song Yuncheng’s mouth hung slightly open in shock, then he grinned foolishly and denied it, though inside he thought: Holy shit, can he read minds?

“I can’t read minds, but your face is screaming it!”

Chen Yansen clenched his fist and tapped lightly on her head, a small punishment.

“You’re going to buy me a computer?”

After her mind stuttered to a halt, Song Yuncheng finally snapped back, asking with wide-eyed delight.

“That’s office equipment—what kind of fantasy are you dreaming? Stop daydreaming, or you’ll grow stupid!”

Chen Yansen walked ahead, mocking coldly.

“Thank you, Boss!”

Song Yuncheng bowed to him, eyes brimming with sincere gratitude.

“Next time, don’t be so stingy—just treat me to a good meal at a restaurant,” Chen Yansen replied with a light laugh.

Song Yuncheng smiled awkwardly, said nothing, and hurried after Chen Yansen like a junior assistant.

On the other side, the first offer from Senhai spread rapidly across campus.

“Six hours a day, four thousand yuan a month, and double weekends?”

“If I’d known this was an option, I wouldn’t have skipped class. Can you imagine? Four thousand a month—what a heavenly life!”

“I heard the interview was brutal—by noon, out of dozens of applicants, only senior Zhang Wenbo made it through!”

“Pengfei, you’re the backbone of our department—why don’t you give it a shot?”

In a third-year male dormitory, a boy covered in acne asked his roommate.

“I’m afraid this project won’t last even a few months—it’d just waste my time,” Xiang Pengfei said after a few seconds of thought, raising his head.

“In a few months you’d earn enough for a whole year’s living expenses! If I had your level, I’d definitely go for the interview!”

His roommate urged.

“Room 206 in the Entrepreneurship Park, right? Fine, I’ll give it a try.”

Xiang Pengfei pushed up his glasses, slightly tempted.

Similar scenes played out in countless third- and fourth-year dorms; many didn’t even bother eating lunch, rushing to revise their resumes.

Meanwhile, many sneered at Chen Yansen.

How could a first-year student treat upperclassmen as employees?

He just got lucky with campus cards—wait till he loses money!

Dear godfathers, please follow and support!

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(End of Chapter)