Chapter 94

“Mr. Chen, we and SIG Asia Venture Capital can offer an 180 million valuation.”

Zhang Jiancheng got straight to the point.

“Mr. Zhang, don’t rush. I suggest Sihui and SIG take more time to observe FoxTao’s profit model, user growth, and conversion rates—let’s discuss financing and valuation slowly.”

Chen Yansen leaned against the chain-link fence outside the volleyball court, speaking calmly.

Don’t rush?

Zhang Jiancheng smiled.

He’d heard that Letian was collecting FoxTao’s data to build a valuation model and had commissioned the country’s largest business data intermediary to conduct a comprehensive assessment on business model sustainability and compliance risks.

If we delay any longer, Sihui might not even get a sip of broth.

So we’re bringing SIG in as a joint investor—to share profits and share risks, and to strengthen our negotiating position.

From previous interactions, Zhang Jiancheng had seen Chen Yansen as a calm, rational entrepreneur who would never budge unless the valuation met his expectations.

Hearing Chen Yansen’s evasive tone, Zhang Jiancheng smiled: “Are you dissatisfied with the resources behind Sihui and SIG, or with the valuation? I know Letian’s offer is high, but Letian has virtually zero e-commerce resources in China—Mr. Chen, you can’t just look at the numbers on paper.”

“IDG Venture Capital is also a good option,” Chen Yansen mentioned casually.

IDG has always made bold investments in China’s internet sector; compared to SIG and Sihui, its capital and network better suit FoxTao’s future development.

“Alright, I get what you mean, Mr. Chen. Looks like we’ll have to compete with IDG on valuation then.”

Zhang Jiancheng sighed helplessly.

He thought Chen Yansen was too shrewd—he didn’t make a single mistake common among young people; to win him over, he’d have to rely on real money to charm this little fox.

“Then please give a more reasonable valuation based on FoxTao’s business model and profit projections,” Chen Yansen said with a faint smile.

Zhang Jiancheng realized this call was pointless; he stopped chatting, exchanged a few polite words, and hung up.

Chen Yansen stood in the sports field and called Meng Jie’s number, inviting her to lunch.

“My dad came,” Meng Jie said softly.

Meng Zhenguó?

Chen Yansen paused, mentally grumbling: Chen Guobin, look at how other fathers behave—didn’t come home for New Year’s, yet he came to campus to see his daughter.

I haven’t been home in three months, called once, and the call didn’t even last sixty seconds.

Ah well, this father-son bond? Better off without it.

“Alright, invite Uncle Meng—we’ll eat in the city. I’ll wait for you at the school gate.”

Chen Yansen said simply, got in his car, drove to the school gate, rolled down the window, and waited quietly.

Soon, a black Santana slowly emerged from Xuelin Road.

“Chen Yansen!” Meng Jie leaned out, greeting him with slight awkwardness.

“Uncle Meng, long time no see—you look even more dashing.” Chen Yansen rested his arm on the steering wheel and smiled in greeting.

This brat!

Meng Zhenguó’s lip twitched; he didn’t want to respond, but Meng Jie sat in the front passenger seat, nudging him with her elbow.

“Little Chen, let me treat you to lunch today—thank you for taking care of Meng Jie at school.”

Meng Zhenguó glanced at Chen Yansen’s car and gritted his teeth.

He hadn’t misjudged him—this kid had already made a name for himself in business before the first semester of freshman year ended.

When Meng Jie told him Chen Yansen’s company had a valuation of over a billion, he didn’t believe it—so he searched online, and then had nothing left to say.

“I insist on handling this—thanks to Uncle Meng’s help in Shanghai.”

Chen Yansen was polite—he’d already gotten the reservation contact from Xu Xingxing and booked the private room.

Seeing Chen Yansen’s firmness, Meng Zhenguó stopped refusing, asked for the address, and had Meng Jie set the navigation to the destination.

Chen Yansen pressed the accelerator and quickly overtook Meng Zhenguó—he worried the other man wasn’t familiar with Xucheng’s roads, so he wanted to lead the way.

But Meng Zhenguó misinterpreted it—he thought the kid was challenging him, so he sped up and passed him at the next intersection.

“If I can’t catch up to this piece-of-shit Santana, did I waste two million on this car?”

Chen Yansen chuckled, easily overtaking again, maintaining his lead position and thoroughly irritating Meng Zhenguó.

“Dad, what are you doing? Can’t you just drive normally? Are you acting in Fast & Furious?”

Meng Jie pouted, playfully complaining as she saw her father still trying to overtake.

“????”

Meng Zhenguó opened his mouth, wanting to say: That kid started it! Why should I let him?

“Safety first,” Meng Jie tugged his sleeve.

“Sigh, if I’d known this would happen, I’d have fought with your mom for a second child—having a daughter is sweet, but she sides with the enemy every time.”

Meng Zhenguó sighed, helpless and defeated.

“No way! Dad, you’re just making things up!” Meng Jie quickly rebutted.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Sky Garden and followed the server’s directions up to the top floor.

Coincidentally, the restaurant’s private room was the same one previously occupied by Liu Muyan’s “former” fiancé—Chen Yansen didn’t care and pushed Meng Zhenguó into the main seat.

Chen Yansen and Meng Jie sat side by side.

Meng Zhenguó looked like he wanted to say something, but after glancing at his daughter’s expression, he held it back.

Chen Yansen signaled for the dishes to be served; soon, ten exquisite courses and two bottles of Maotai filled the table.

“Little Chen, this is too extravagant,” Meng Zhenguó frowned.

“When treating Uncle Meng to a meal, it must be done properly—we eat in the cafeteria every day at school.”

Chen Yansen’s words left Meng Zhenguó with no room to criticize.

“You can drink?” Meng Zhenguó asked again.

“I never drink, but I can drink with Uncle Meng,” Chen Yansen replied instantly, making Meng Zhenguó laugh in disbelief.

With Chen Yansen’s cunning, he could keep ten or eight mistresses and Meng Jie would never notice—his own daughter was too straightforward; she couldn’t possibly outwit someone as slippery as a wolverine.

“Then have a drink,” Meng Zhenguó said lightly.

He hadn’t wanted to drink, but suddenly remembered twenty years ago, when he first visited his in-laws’ home and got drunk on his first meal—he later learned his father-in-law was testing his drinking manners and character.

Back then, he’d scoffed—but today, for some reason, he inexplicably suggested having a drink.

Chen Yansen skillfully unwrapped the Maotai’s outer packaging and opened the bottle.

Never drinks?

Meng Zhenguó sneered inwardly—he’d been drinking for decades and had never seen anyone handle alcohol as smoothly as Chen Yansen.

“Uncle Meng, to you—for your help last time. I’ll drink mine, you go ahead.”

Chen Yansen raised his two-ounce cup, speaking sincerely; though Tang Qingshan had done the most behind the scenes, Meng Zhenguó had also pulled strings.

He owed him this favor.

“Little Chen, Meng Jie’s personality is blunt, boyish, and this is her first relationship—I don’t support it, but I won’t oppose it either. Please take good care of her,” Meng Zhenguó said seriously, giving earnest advice.

He just didn’t like Chen Yansen!

But his daughter liked him—he couldn’t bring himself to oppose it.

“Uncle Meng, this is my first relationship too.”

Chen Yansen drained his cup and spoke honestly.

Meng Zhenguó laughed—he was a man himself; he didn’t believe Chen Yansen’s nonsense for a second.

He wanted to get Chen Yansen drunk, so he bluntly said sipping from small cups wasn’t satisfying—they should switch to a shared decanter.

Chen Yansen wouldn’t back down—his physical constitution of 2.63 was nearly triple that of an average person; his alcohol metabolism was naturally excellent.

The two of them went back and forth, cup after cup.

Meng Jie grew anxious and interrupted: “Can’t you two eat something? Are you just going to drink?”

She worried for both her father and Chen Yansen.

They exchanged a glance, silently ate a bite, then raised their cups again in unison.

Meng Zhenguó couldn’t remember how many cups he’d drunk, but he still recalled clearly when his chopsticks fell three times.

He started babbling: “Little Chen, young people get carried away in love—make sure you take proper precautions.”

“...” Meng Jie, hearing this, blushed, buried her head, and covered her ears—she regretted letting Chen Yansen have dinner with her father.

“Don’t worry, Uncle, I bought the best,” Chen Yansen, slightly tipsy but still clear-headed, joked half-seriously.

Meng Jie, ears covered, didn’t hear him.

“Good, bring them,” Meng Zhenguó mumbled, raising his cup unconsciously—before he could lift it halfway, he collapsed face-first onto the table.

“Your dad’s asleep.”

Chen Yansen nudged Meng Jie and whispered.

“Huh? What now?” Meng Jie looked up, flustered.

Meng Zhenguó’s little scheme was obvious even to her—Chen Yansen, of course, knew perfectly well.

He’d planned to get Chen Yansen drunk, but ended up passing out himself.

“Book a room—let Uncle Meng rest first.”

Chen Yansen suggested.

“That’s the only option,” Meng Jie nodded.

They helped Meng Zhenguó to the guest room and laid him on the bed.

“Why don’t you stay here and sober up too?” Meng Jie pointed to the other bed inside the room.

“You’ll sober up with me?” Chen Yansen grinned mischievously and stepped forward to hug Meng Jie.

“My dad’s right here,” Meng Jie blushed, glancing at the snoring Meng Zhenguó and whispering a reminder.

“It’s fine, your dad’s asleep—he won’t disturb us.” Chen Yansen hugged Meng Jie and collapsed onto the soft bed together.

“Only kisses.” Meng Jie warned, grabbing Chen Yansen’s hand.

“I’ll just hold you—I won’t do anything improper,” Chen Yansen said seriously.

After more than ten minutes, Meng Jie struggled off the bed, frantically adjusting her clothes and shooting Chen Yansen a furious glare: “You broke your word.”

“I’m a businessman—I don’t even have morals. Why would you expect me to keep my word? Still, it’s small, but kind of cute.”

Chen Yansen gestured with his hand and smiled as he commented.

“Chen Yansen, you’re asking for death!” Meng Jie lunged back at him, straddling him and playfully hitting him.

…

…

Only when the sun dipped below the horizon did Meng Zhenguo slowly open his eyes.

Seeing this, Meng Jie quickly handed him a bottle of water: “Dad, don’t drink next time.”

“Xiao Jie, don’t talk to Uncle Meng like that. Uncle Meng, let’s keep drinking tonight,” Chen Yansen said with a smile from his chair.

Drink again?

Are you trying to drink me to death, you brat?

Meng Zhenguo shook his head repeatedly: “Drinking less is right. You too, Xiao Chen—you didn’t stop me at lunch.”

“Dad, Chen Yansen did try to stop you. You insisted on opening another bottle,” Meng Jie said, tilting her head, visibly exhausted.

“Oh, really?” Meng Zhenguo finally realized—he’d probably been drunk at lunch—and chuckled awkwardly.

“Alright, go back to school. I can see you two get along well—I’m relieved, your mom and I are.” Meng Zhenguo changed the subject.

The three chatted a while longer, then Chen Yansen stood to take his leave: “We won’t disturb your rest anymore.”

Saying that, he took Meng Jie’s hand and walked out.

“I’ll drive back,” Meng Jie said, reaching into Chen Yansen’s pocket, fumbling for a moment before pulling out a set of car keys.

“Fine,” Chen Yansen didn’t refuse. It had only been a few hours—the alcohol hadn’t worn off yet.

Meng Jie had gotten her driver’s license earlier than Chen Yansen, but she had little road experience; fortunately, it was the New Year holiday, they were heading to the countryside, and there were hardly any cars on the road.

When they got out of the car, Meng Jie’s palms were slick with sweat—this drive had been harder than she imagined.

Chen Yansen dropped Meng Jie off at her dormitory, then turned toward the Entrepreneurship Park. As he stepped onto the second floor, a middle-aged man in his forties, beaming with a smile, came forward to greet him.

“Mr. Chen, I’m Liao Wei from Yunsu Express. I apologize for showing up unannounced.” Liao Wei spoke deferentially, his posture humble—nothing like a billionaire.

His eyes gleamed with cunning; his round face was slightly chubby, with a faint resemblance to a heavier Deng Chao, his slicked-back hair glistening with oil.

Chen Yansen narrowed his eyes, studying Liao Wei. In an instant, he remembered those men from a few days ago—likely this man’s doing.

His expression darkened, and his demeanor turned cold.

(End of Chapter)