Kevin Ding finally arrived at the Starbucks near UCLA, a place where he had once won the hearts of six female students.
The reason was simple: he knew the story behind the café.
"Did you know this place is part of Magic Johnson's business empire? See the number 32 jersey on the wall? Magic Johnson isn't just a legendary basketball player—he's also a brilliant entrepreneur…"
It was the usual opening line for Kevin.
But Snoopy clearly knew more than those naive girls.
"I know. I researched Magic Johnson's investments back in my freshman year. He's one of the few NBA players with financial foresight, highly skilled in asset management, and knows how to monetize his fame. Nearly all of his businesses are in California, with 73.4% concentrated in Southern California…"
Snoopy spoke with authority, as if he had known it all along.
Kevin was momentarily speechless. Deep down, he regretted not meeting Snoopy sooner. If only he had known this earlier, maybe his success rate at the café would have been 100 percent—the unforgettable Mexican girl, for instance!
Yet, as a journalist, Kevin quickly returned to his professional role.
"So… how do you know all this? Are you a die-hard Magic Johnson fan?"
"No," Snoopy replied. "I'm a sophomore at Anderson School of Business. I only studied Magic Johnson because last semester my professor assigned a project on celebrity investments. I picked Magic because I saw his signed basketball at my professor's house, the same as the one on the wall. I was playing to the professor's tastes… you know, sometimes you have to do things that make your professors happy so they'll sign your full scholarship recommendation."
He shrugged. "Although… that was just the beginning of my disaster."
"Disaster?" Kevin leaned in, intrigued.
"Because of that guy, I got a full scholarship." Snoopy gestured toward the Magic Johnson jersey on the wall, a trace of helplessness in his voice. "Then, I was assigned to the athletes' suite dorm. I met Russell, Kevin, and Darren—whom I didn't like at all."
Snoopy recounted his experiences this semester: being knocked over by a Hummer on Beverly Hills Avenue, endless arguments with Darren Collison, and his sudden growth spurt.
Of course, he didn't mention the meteor incident.
Ever since he confessed to his father at age five that he had a crush on the neighbor girl, and lost his best friend because of it, he had learned the value of keeping secrets.
"Anyway, ever since getting the full scholarship, nothing lucky has happened to me."
"God knows why I suddenly shot up to 1.93 meters. My father is only 1.72, my mother 1.63. Now I'm this tall, and I can't predict their reactions. I even worry my dad might drag me to get a paternity test. I love them dearly."
Snoopy's words were sincere, devoid of any humor.
"But you became a member of the basketball team and even started in your first game, a tremendous honor. And with that title, you can basically get any girl you want at parties." Kevin, as an upperclassman, knew more about these social dynamics than Snoopy.
That comment reminded Snoopy: the party was tonight.
He quickly stood up. "Mr. Reporter, I have to attend the party. If you don't mind, we can interview via MSN later."
"A party? Can I come with you? We can do the interview on the way."
Kevin's heart raced at the word party.
Snoopy agreed. The more people, the better.
Walking to the venue, they chatted freely. Snoopy confided nearly everything, including his conflicts with Darren Collison.
Kevin's excitement soared. Even if not all of it would be published, he vowed to write a story that would captivate readers—Snoopy's life was too interesting, too full of explosive moments.
The party was held at Los Angeles' renowned club Create, rented entirely by wealthy students.
Upon entering, the waiter immediately offered the most expensive champagne. Kevin, usually sticking to Blue Label at bars, felt a surge of prestige. "Students are getting richer and richer."
Snoopy shrugged. He didn't care for ostentation. If he were organizing, he would have chosen a BBQ, simple, communal, authentic.
Kevin spotted a new target in the packed dance floor: a radiant Mexican girl.
Snoopy shook his head, wondering about the reliability of this reporter. He moved to a quiet corner, ordered a fruit platter, and observed.
Around eight o'clock, a young man in hip-hop attire took the stage, delivering festive greetings and acknowledging VIP guests: minor actresses, business association members, and a somewhat famous singer.
Snoopy clapped politely, remaining rational.
"Dug, you're here," Xu Yalin said, holding a blonde, blue-eyed beauty—"this is Vivian, my girlfriend."
Snoopy shook her hand politely.
"Don't just eat fruit. Come meet some new friends: UCLA's top basketball forwards and the second-string quarterback of the football team. Know them, and women will come easy." Xu Yalin grinned.
Snoopy forced a smile, following reluctantly.
On stage, the hip-hop host shouted: "Next, let's welcome Justin Bieber!"
Cheers erupted; Female students screamed.
"Thank you for coming. I'm honored to serve you all tonight…"
"Now, I want to express my love to a beautiful lady. Jennifer, this song is for you!"
A spotlight fell on the central table.
Everyone looked.
Blonde hair, all eyes on her.
"Jennifer Lawrence!" Snoopy immediately recognized her.
She looked slightly helpless, unprepared for the sudden public declaration.
Then she heard a familiar voice: "Hey Jennifer, remember me? We met last summer at the airport…"
She turned, slightly surprised.
"You're… Snoopy?"
Snoopy laughed. "Yes, that's me!"
Jennifer finally relaxed, opening her arms for a hug.
"I'm so glad to see you here."
"Me too."
They seemed to forget one thing—they were now the center of attention.
The crowd waited for Jennifer's response to Justin, but she was hugging another tall, handsome man.
The story had taken an unexpected turn. Everyone wondered: who was this sudden intruder?