Chapter 6: I Never Said It Was My First Time

The next morning, Chen Yansen woke up naturally.

When he opened the door and saw the stack of cash on the dining table, he couldn’t help but smile broadly.

Old Chen was a man who talked tough but had a soft heart—he’d come home last night, waving his belt, insisting on stir-frying him some shredded pork.

But he’d been shut down by Chen Yansen’s line: “If my mom were still alive, would you dare hit me?”

Chen Yansen was outright bullying a good-natured man, precisely targeting Old Chen’s weak spot.

In the end, Chen Guobin dropped the belt and walked back to his room, looking dejected.

“Sigh, am I wrong for trying to set him up with a wife?”

Chen Yansen clicked his tongue, frustrated with Old Chen’s lack of ambition.

“She’s just my sister. My sister said purple has charm.”

His phone suddenly rang in his pocket. Chen Yansen pulled it out slowly, pressed answer, and immediately heard Wang Zihao’s furious voice.

“Fucking Chen Yansen, are you still not up?”

Chen Yansen scratched his ear, then glanced at the wall clock—it was exactly 9:30.

“So what?”

Chen Yansen’s tone was flat, his emotions perfectly steady.

“I’ve been waiting for you at Cross Street for half an hour.”

Wang Zihao shouted, each word deliberate.

“Oh, and what then?”

Chen Yansen’s tone remained flat as he slipped the driving school tuition Old Chen gave him into his pocket.

“Didn’t we agree on the usual place and usual time?”

Wang Zihao laughed bitterly, forced to explain patiently.

“I did say the usual place, but I never said the usual time. I planned to call you at ten, but you showed up at Cross Street at nine.”

Chen Yansen spoke slowly.

“Ah! Is that how it was?”

Wang Zihao froze, straining to recall yesterday’s conversation—it was true, Chen Yansen had never actually set a meeting time.

So, had he wrongly blamed Chen Yansen?

Wang Zihao felt something was off, but he wasn’t the type to deny his mistakes—he apologized openly: “Brother Sen, sorry! When will you get here? I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Ten o’clock.”

Chen Yansen chuckled and hung up the call himself.

With his master-level time management, how could he forget this? His motive was simple: to tell Wang Zihao that in business, at work, or in love, the only person you can trust is yourself.

Whether Wang Zihao understood or not, Chen Yansen didn’t care—he had the skill to slowly mold a little fox.

In his past life, a woman had once patiently guided him step by step, shaping the Chen Yansen who could “smile amid countless blossoms, hum softly while chasing beauty.”

When he strolled lazily to Cross Street, he saw Wang Zihao crouching by the intersection, leaning against a bicycle, his expression a mix of excitement and agony, heavy with guilt.

“Mouse, did you steal someone or steal money?”

Chen Yansen gripped the brake, teasingly ribbing him.

“Here’s three thousand.”

Upon seeing Chen Yansen, Wang Zihao’s face relaxed—he furtively pulled out a wad of cash and shoved it into Chen Yansen’s hand.

“What did you tell Uncle Wang?”

Chen Yansen took the money, stuffed it straight into his pocket, and asked casually.

“I told him I was taking the driving test.”

Wang Zihao shrugged, honestly admitting it.

“Maybe this is what growing up means—when I was little, I’d never dare lie this much.”

“If you don’t hand over a driver’s license before school starts, won’t Uncle Wang beat you to death?”

Chen Yansen sneered, teasing Wang Zihao.

Wang Zihao’s father had been a soldier, fought on the battlefield, and believed firmly in the principle: “No beating, no talent.” If it didn’t kill him, he beat him harder.

“Damn! Don’t scare me—I’m about to go pay the driving school tuition!”

Wang Zihao shuddered, gritting his teeth.

“Relax, I’ve never made a profit in business in my life.”

Chen Yansen patted his best friend, gestured for him to get on the bike, and joked:

“Oh, never lost is good… bullshit, Brother Sen, aren’t you trying to say ‘I’ve never lost in my life’?”

Wang Zihao pedaled hard, catching up to ask.

“We’ve been childhood friends—have you ever seen me do business?”

Chen Yansen rolled his eyes and grinned back.

“Damn!”

Wang Zihao was stunned. His emotions swung wildly, his mind filled with images of his father holding a wooden stick.

Bro, don’t play me like this!

Wang Zihao stared hard at Chen Yansen, couldn’t read a thing, then sighed deeply and followed along, resigned.

Passing the Construction Bank, Chen Yansen opened online banking and deposited 100,000 Huayuan into the account.

Seeing this, Wang Zihao, trailing behind, finally felt the heavy stone lift from his chest—if Chen Yansen dared risk 100,000, what did he have to fear?

His anxious heart settled instantly; he couldn’t stop grinning.

“Let me sync you in: I’ve lined up three suppliers, but I’ll pick only one—depends on the sample quality.”

Chen Yansen stepped out of the bank and spoke to Wang Zihao.

“When do we start selling?”

Wang Zihao was impatient—he immediately asked after hearing Chen Yansen.

“No rush. Short term, three to five days; long term, seven to eight. First, let’s enroll at the driving school.”

Chen Yansen tossed the U-shield into his backpack and hopped onto the bike.

“But I don’t have money!”

Wang Zihao, still dazed, replied blankly.

“I’ll cover it—who told you to call me Brother Sen?”

Chen Yansen said no more, pedaling hard toward Tongfei Gate, heading straight for the “Daxiang Driving School” outside the city.

“Brother Sen, you’re my real dad!”

Wang Zihao trotted after him, shamelessly calling out.

Though he still didn’t fully grasp why Chen Yansen went through this roundabout route instead of just handing him 3,000 as his share, he could clearly feel that since two days ago, his best friend had changed completely.

At this moment, he firmly believed Chen Yansen could make him a fortune.

Fifteen minutes later, the two entered the enrollment hall of “Daxiang Driving School.” The air conditioning was strong; several middle-aged women sat chatting together.

“Excuse me, who do we see to enroll?”

Chen Yansen tapped the desk and called out.

“C1 manual: 2,500. C2 automatic: 2,800. Fill out the form first, then turn right outside to the finance office to pay.”

One plump middle-aged aunt sized them up, handed out two forms with practiced ease, and added the prices.

“Miss, could I borrow a pen?”

Chen Yansen leaned forward, smiling warmly, his tone softened.

“You call me miss? That’s nice. Young man, you’ve got a sweet tongue—want some water?”

The aunt blinked, then beamed.

Clean-cut and around twenty, Chen Yansen wore a carefree grin, his direct gaze making her reluctant to look too long.

“Would it be too much trouble?”

Chen Yansen accepted the pen with a smile, feigning embarrassment.

“Not at all.”

The aunt covered her mouth, giggled, and quickly pulled two bottles of Binglu from the fridge, enthusiastically handing them over.

Then, in a back-and-forth exchange, Chen Yansen quickly learned the basics of “Daxiang Driving School”—which instructor had the highest pass rate, which was kindest, which had the fewest students, and so on.

“Sister Zhang, we’ll pay first, then treat you to bubble tea later.”

Chen Yansen finished the form quickly and waved goodbye.

“Chen Yansen, you’re too smooth to be doing this for the first time.”

Wang Zihao, trailing behind, muttered gruffly.

“Heh, I never said I was doing it for the first time.”

Chen Yansen chuckled, slung an arm around his best friend’s neck, and headed toward the finance office.

(End of Chapter)