Chapter 78

“Bro, what’s your squat weight?” Hu Yongfan handed him a bottle of mineral water, curiously pressing for an answer.

“Dunno. Let’s try.” Chen Yansen took the water, deliberately checking the bottle’s mouth—seeing it was intact—he twisted off the cap and drained a third of it.

“I’ll spot you. Take a break first!” Hu Yongfan suggested.

“No need.” Chen Yansen waved him off.

Without another word, he walked over to the bench press machine, piled on extra weight—starting with 120 kilograms—and Hu Yongfan hurried after him, worried something might go wrong.

Chen Yansen lay on the bench, gripped the bar, didn’t rush to lift—he first felt the weight.

Everyone assumed he couldn’t lift it, but the moment that thought formed, they heard Chen Yansen grunt, and the 120-kilogram barbell rose steadily to his chest.

“Clang!”

Chen Yansen returned the barbell to the rack, exhaled, and sat up slowly.

“Add more weight?” Hu Yongfan watched his move, scalp prickling—he’d trained three years and could barely press 100 kilograms.

Of course, his short stature and light frame limited his ceiling.

“Never tried 140, but feels fine.” Chen Yansen clipped on the safety locks, speaking casually.

“Alright! I’ll spot you from behind.” Hu Yongfan warned.

“Thanks.” Chen Yansen nodded slightly, reclined again.

He took a deep breath, muscles in arms and chest tensed, veins bulging in his neck, wrists trembling slightly.

Hu Yongfan instantly reached out, hovering his hands near the bar.

Nearly three hundred pounds rose inch by inch, lifted until it hovered mid-air.

Chen Yansen’s hands trembled—not from weakness, but from misaligned power points; once corrected, his arms stabilized quickly.

“Clang!”

Chen Yansen returned the barbell to its rack, sat up panting, arms slightly numb.

“Bro, you’re coach material. Add me on WeChat, let’s train together sometime.” Hu Yongfan praised.

“Next time.” Chen Yansen declined again.

He had no time for this—spending a few minutes on a point was tens of thousands of times more efficient than lifting iron.

“I’m totally straight,” Hu Yongfan insisted, thinking Chen Yansen misunderstood him—his eyes turned mournful.

“I believe you.” Chen Yansen’s face was dead serious, no trace of a smile.

First rule of the mentally ill: never admit you’re ill.

By extension, Chen Yansen naturally didn’t believe Hu Yongfan—mainly because the guy’s eyes were way too sincere.

At that moment, a girl in a striped sweater squeezed over: “Handsome, can I add your QQ?”

“Sorry, I don’t have a QQ.” Chen Yansen smiled faintly, turned, and walked out.

She wasn’t his type—too sweet, too clingy; he had zero interest.

Chen Zong had his own unique xp—he ignored anyone he didn’t find appealing.

“No QQ?!” Du Yaoyao stared at Chen Yansen’s back, gritted her teeth: “So what if you’re hot? Such a lazy excuse—you’re such a jerk!”

Outside the gym, Chen Yansen thought: At just 1.67 meters, he’s already this strong—I need to recruit and build up fast to grow stronger.

Back at the startup park, Chen Yansen interviewed with full energy, hiring ten part-time customer service reps—adding to the original ten, they’d soon fill two rooms.

Except for Meng Xibo and Zhu Xiaopeng, all were girls—both men were thrilled, secretly messaging Chen Yansen with endless thanks, almost ready to kneel and call him Dad.

Chen Yansen sent back a look of disdain and kept interviewing.

“Wait—how is it you?!” Du Yaoyao walked into the interview room with her resume, instantly recognizing Chen Yansen.

“Why not me?”

Chen Yansen crossed his arms, smirking slightly.

He hadn’t expected to run into her again just two hours later.

“You’re Chen Yansen? No wonder.” Du Yaoyao murmured, leaving the second half unsaid.

Chen Yansen’s name echoed louder than Tang Qingshan’s at Xucheng College—but few had actually seen him.

He usually stayed in the startup park, skipping major courses, electives, even PE.

With the president’s “absentee pass,” halfway through the semester, he didn’t even know his professors’ surnames.

“Still interviewing?” Chen Yansen tapped the table, snapping her out of her daze.

“Yes, of course!”

Du Yaoyao snapped back, smiled lightly, and sat down: “I’m Du Yaoyao from Class 07 Chinese Language. Interviewing for editor role—proficient in all writing styles…”

“Monthly salary 3,000. If acceptable, report tomorrow at 9 a.m.”

Chen Yansen, seeing her articulate and logical, asked no further questions.

Simply put: after negotiating with merchants, submit brand group orders; after category operations approve, editors input them into the backend, replacing product titles and main images uniformly.

The job was repetitive, mechanical, low-tech—anyone could do it!

“Uh, okay. Mr. Chen, can you stamp it as an internship and provide five insurances and one housing fund?” Du Yaoyao asked cautiously.

“We’re a legitimate company.” Chen Yansen rolled his eyes.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Chen!” Du Yaoyao stuck out her tongue politely and took her leave—once she learned Chen Yansen was the boss of Fox Tao , her casualness vanished.

“Next!” Chen Yansen called.

The next three interviewees for editor roles were all pretty girls; after brief chats, Chen Yansen hired them on the spot.

Xu Dan was an outstanding HR major—these candidates had already passed the first round; as long as there were no major flaws, Chen Yansen generally approved.

He then confirmed two more staff for product promotion operations.

In Fox Tao 2.0’s UI, the core included four sections: store rebates, Super Rebate, 9.9 Yuan, and search rebates.

From 9.9-yuan cheap goods to high-value branded items worth hundreds or thousands, Fox Tao planned to cover them all.

He wouldn’t repeat Taobao’s mistake—cutting off small C-store traffic to upgrade the Taobao Mall, handing the opportunity to Pinduoduo.

The Xiachen market and users were always there—they wouldn’t vanish just because you stopped selling cheap goods.

Only by following the trend could you go further!

Having lived two lives, Chen Yansen wouldn’t make such a basic error—since launching Plan 2.0, he’d clearly defined each module’s responsibilities to serve users across different price tiers.

The final few candidates were applying for sales recruitment roles.

Chen Yansen focused on communication and logical expression; among nine candidates, he kept eight, eliminating only one who looked sharp but spoke incoherently, missing all key points.

After finishing work, he turned and saw the sky outside had darkened—night was coming.

Chen Yansen returned to Room 206 and saw Song Yuncheng sitting by the window, on the phone.

His laptop lay open on the desk, the page displaying dozens of e-commerce sites: “Mengbasha, Zouxiu.com, Jiatianxia, Haolemai,” each followed by progress notes.

“People who want to make money really hustle.”

Chen Yansen chuckled softly, didn’t disturb Song Yuncheng.

He checked his watch and headed downstairs.

Early winter in Huibei—bitter wind, dry and sharp.

Many wore fleece hoodies; some even had thin down jackets. Chen Yansen only then realized he wore just a long-sleeve shirt—and felt no cold.

Soon, he reached the girls’ dormitory building.

Meng Jie had already been waiting; seeing Chen Yansen, she grabbed his arm and pulled him toward campus exit.

“What’s up?” Chen Yansen asked.

“Drink, chat, flirt, then kiss you.” Meng Jie replied bluntly, giggling.

“Fine.”

Chen Yansen smiled—he liked this kind of girl: called him brother by day, called him brother by night.

Girls like Su Meiling and Du Yaoyao—he’d already grown bored of them in his past life; say a few words and they’d cry—boring.

“I’m treating!” Meng Jie lifted her chin, grinning.

“Then I’ll take you for everything you’ve got.”

Chen Yansen draped his arm over Meng Jie’s shoulder, joking.

He was thirty centimeters taller—seen from behind, he looked like a father leading his daughter.

At the campus gate, Meng Jie pointed to a row of restaurants across the street: “Pick any one.”

“Let’s go to Shuangqing Chicken Pot. Tang Zhenzhe said the one across the street is pretty good.”

Chen Yansen didn’t care much about food—he said it offhand.

Meng Jie nodded; they crossed the street, walked up two floors, and found a restaurant with a chicken pot poster.

“Hey—that looks like your roommate!” As Meng Jie pulled open the glass door, she spotted a round table with six people—Tang Zhenzhe was one of them.

Before Chen Yansen could greet him, Tang Zhenzhe saw him, jumped up, and called: “Brother Sen! We just got here—add some dishes, join us!”

Chen Yansen glanced—besides him, there was Su Meiling; the other four were strangers.

Hearing Tang Zhenzhe’s invitation, Chen Yansen looked at Meng Jie.

“More people, more fun—meet new friends.” Meng Jie didn’t hesitate, agreed readily.

“Fine. Tell the boss to add more dishes, pay the bill first, then bill me back.” Chen Yansen leaned close to Meng Jie’s ear and whispered.

Meng Jie nodded, turned toward the cashier; Chen Yansen sat down.

“Brother Sen, she’s Meng Jie? So you like tomboys?” Tang Zhenzhe pulled Chen Yansen close, grinning mischievously.

Meng Jie’s hair, though grown for months, was still much shorter than most girls’—just brushing her shoulders.

“Shut up! She’s got a temper—watch out, she’ll crack a beer bottle on your head.” Chen Yansen glanced at the beer on the table, half-jokingly warned.

“Alright, I didn’t say anything.” Tang Zhenzhe believed him, clamped his mouth shut.

Su Meiling introduced the others to Chen Yansen; they were all from the Wenxue Academy student union, and Chen Yansen nodded in greeting, not even remembering their names.

University student unions are useless, especially at a second-tier university.

When Meng Jie returned after refilling the dishes, everyone raised their cups and drank.

Su Meiling’s glass held juice; seeing Meng Jie drinking beer loudly with several boys, showing no feminine restraint, she couldn’t help thinking: Does Chen Yansen like wild girlfriends? But I can’t drink at all.

Thinking of the white silk stockings hidden in her dorm, Su Meiling felt deflated.

She glanced at Tang Zhenzhe, then at Chen Yansen, briefly considering giving Tang Zhenzhe a chance—then immediately dismissed the thought.

Tang Zhenzhe wasn’t bad—he was attentive, constantly checking on her—but he couldn’t compare to Chen Yansen.

“For the New Year’s Eve party this month, every class has to put on a performance, but our class has almost no singers. Xu Xingxing signed up to sing ‘Bad Girl,’ but the teacher rejected it, saying it doesn’t match the Wenxue Academy’s spirit.”

“So do you have a performance now?” Chen Yansen asked.

“I asked a senior from the Shangxue Academy for help—we’ll do a poetry recitation with thirty people on stage. Doesn’t matter how good it is; the sheer spectacle will win Best Performance.”

Tang Zhenzhe grinned broadly at the question.

Chen Yansen gave him a thumbs-up in praise.

Don’t underestimate recitation—this kind of performance has strong emotional impact and is the easiest to win awards at university.

“I signed up for the Shangxue Academy’s New Year’s Eve show—you have to come,” Meng Jie nudged Chen Yansen, seriously reminding him.

Last time’s welcome party, she’d prepared for weeks, but Chen Yansen stayed late at the Entrepreneurship Park with Zhang Wenbo and others, making her furious.

“I’ll definitely come,” Chen Yansen raised his hand, solemnly promising.

After dinner, everyone parted ways on Xuelin Road.

Meng Jie pulled Chen Yansen toward a small grove beside Zhenzhu Lake and plunged inside.

Chen Yansen’s expression turned odd—he wondered: Is this… not quite right?

(End of Chapter)