Late night, Teacher's Apartment 0418.
Fresh from the shower, Song Yuncheng lay on her side on the sofa, her gaze fixed on Chen Yansen's bedroom door. The events of the past few months played like a film reel in her mind.
"Chen Yansen, are you asleep?" she suddenly called out.
"Asleep," came his lazy voice through the door crack.
"I want to know… are you training me so hard because my abilities meet your standard, or… is there another reason?" Her words faltered slightly.
"Half and half," he replied without hesitation.
"Then… what's the other half?" A rosy hue bloomed across her fair cheeks.
In the dark living room, her breath hitched. The silence grew heavier, pressing in around her.
"Little girl, don't ask questions already holding the answer in your heart." From behind the door, Chen Yansen's chuckle was light and teasing.
"Can't you just… be a decent person?" Her face burned hotter, her mind flooded with uninvited images of all the times he'd taken advantage of her.
"What's in it for me, being decent?" he shot back.
Song Yuncheng fell silent. As the minutes stretched, drowsiness washed over her. Her eyelids grew leaden until, finally, her head lolled to the side, and she sank into deep sleep.
Chen Yansen waited… and waited. No response. He sat up in bed, frustrated. She starts the conversation and then just falls asleep?
Pushing his door open, he stepped into the moonlit living room. There she was—eyes shut tight, breathing deep, one long, slender leg exposed from under her clothes. Her lips were slightly pursed, glistening in the faint light.
Mwah—
He knelt down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
You owe me, he thought.
…
…
Knock knock knock—! Knock knock knock—!
The next morning, a relentless pounding dragged Song Yuncheng from sleep. Groggy, she rubbed her eyes and stumbled toward the door, hand outstretched—before reality slammed back into her.
This wasn't her dorm. This was Chen Yansen's apartment.
Her hand froze mid-air. Who was outside?
Holding her breath, she peered through the peephole.
Meng Jie.
Panic iced her veins. If Meng Jie saw her here now, no explanation in the world would suffice.
"Who is it?!" Chen Yansen's sleepy voice called out from his room as he shuffled into the living room in slippers.
"Chen Yansen! I brought you breakfast!" Meng Jie's cheerful reply rang out.
Hearing her, Chen Yansen showed no alarm and moved to open the door.
"Don't!" Song Yuncheng lunged, grabbing his wrist, shaking her head frantically, her whisper desperate. Are you insane?!
"We didn't do anything. What are you afraid of?" he whispered back, rolling his eyes.
"I'll… I'll hide in your room!"
"No good. She'll definitely go in there. The bathroom. Go." He quickly assessed their limited options.
No time to argue. Song Yuncheng snatched up her clothes and shoes and bolted for the bathroom.
Creeak—
The front door swung open.
"A new beef noodle place just opened in Canteen #3. Not sure if it's the real deal. I got you some soup dumplings too." Meng Jie walked in, holding a food container.
"Oh? I'll have to try it." Chen Yansen smiled, inhaling the aroma.
"You look like you just rolled out of bed. Go wash up!" Meng Jie set the food down and nudged him toward the bathroom.
"You eat first. Just save me half." Worried she might yank the bathroom door open, he gently guided her back toward the sofa.
He walked to the bathroom door and tried the knob.
It didn't budge.
Locked. From the inside. That idiot!
"What's wrong? Door stuck?" Meng Jie started to get up.
"It's fine, just a bit stiff." Chen Yansen raised his voice slightly, hoping the person inside would hear. He applied more force.
Click.
The door gave way. He slipped inside in a flash and shut it behind him.
"Get her to leave! Hurry!" Song Yuncheng was pressed against the wall, frantic. If Meng Jie found her, even the truth wouldn't save her.
"Relax. I'll eat and take her to the teaching building. Then you can slip out," he murmured, his voice low.
Perhaps from her frantic dash, Song Yuncheng's old white t-shirt was twisted, the stretched neckline slipping sideways to reveal a pale, graceful curve.
"Mhm," she nodded, then noticed he hadn't moved. Her eyes followed his gaze downward.
"Stop looking!" she hissed, hastily yanking her collar straight, her expression that of an angry kitten.
"Chen Yansen, the soundproofing here isn't great. I think I can hear a girl talking?" Meng Jie's voice, laced with curiosity, filtered in from the living room.
"Must be the thin floorboards," Chen Yansen replied offhandedly, his arm snaking around Song Yuncheng's waist.
"Huh. Didn't expect the teacher apartments to be so poorly built." Meng Jie seemed to accept the explanation.
"Chen Yansen, let me go!" Song Yuncheng squirmed, trying to break free, unaware her struggles were only stoking a different kind of fire in him.
He lowered his head, his lips brushing the delicate line of her jaw, pulling her tighter against him.
Song Yuncheng didn't dare make a sound, letting him have his way until a pair of warm, large hands began to wander upward from her abdomen. She jolted back to her senses and desperately grabbed his wrist.
"Senior… you smell so good," his whisper was a hot breeze against her ear.
"I'll tell Meng Jie!" she threatened in a fierce whisper.
"Go ahead." To her horror, he actually reached for the doorknob.
"Are you crazy?!" She threw herself against the door to stop him.
"One kiss, and I won't open it." He pointed to his own lips, the offer wicked.
"Open it then! I don't believe you'd dare!" She glared, refusing to yield.
Creeak—
Before she could blink, he pulled the door open a full foot. With a gasp, she scrambled to hide behind it.
"Hmm, this lock really is stiff. Need to oil it later." Chen Yansen stood blocking the doorway, pretending to examine the frame while speaking to Meng Jie.
"Forget the door! Hurry up and wash your face. The noodles are getting cold!" Meng Jie urged.
Chen Yansen gave a slight nod and closed the door again, turning back to the trapped girl.
"Well? Or should I open it for real next time?"
"Please… stop bullying me…" Song Yuncheng clutched her crumpled clothes, shrinking against the door, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, a picture of pitiful pleading.
For a split second, Chen Yansen's heart wavered. He reached out to brush a tear from her eyelash. Am I being too harsh?
… Tch. Since when am I a nice guy?
The moment of softness vanished. He snorted, turned to the sink, and finally began brushing his teeth.
Inside Song Yuncheng's mind, a war raged:
"Quit! This job is a nightmare. That scoundrel boss Chen Yansen is worse than any exploitative foreman!"
"But you like him, don't you? Tall, handsome, silver-tongued, a money-making genius. Being with him, you'd want for nothing."
"Song Yuncheng, wake up! He's a scumbag! His girlfriend is right outside the door!"
"So what if a guy that handsome and successful has other admirers…?"
Standing on the cold tiles, she felt torn in two. Quit? Or endure his bullying?
Her gaze grew vacant. She stood there, motionless, unaware of when Chen Yansen finished and left.
It was the chill creeping up from her bare feet that finally snapped her back. Peeking through the door crack, she confirmed the living room was empty.
She tiptoed out, legs like jelly, and collapsed onto the sofa the moment she was clear.
…
…
Second Floor, Entrepreneurship Park.
Chen Yansen sat at his desk, facing Zhang Wenbo, Xiang Pengfei, Zhuang Rui, Hu Yun, and Meng Xibo.
"The Metersbonwe brand group event on the 28th is our make-or-break moment. It's what will lift FoxTao above every other e-commerce guide out there. Let me be clear: anyone who drops the ball loses three months of bonuses." His tone left no room for error.
"Don't worry, Brother Sen!" The team answered in unison.
"Bobo, Yifeng will send over the Q&A SOP from Metersbonwe's Taobato store customer service this afternoon. You're in charge of training. Even though 90% of the sales pressure is on their front line, some users will still come to us with questions about fabric, down specifications, fill power—you need to know more than they do. Understood?" Chen Yansen's eyes landed on Meng Xibo.
"Got it!"
"Hu Yun, data tracking and order monitoring—can't afford a single mistake. But I've always trusted you on this." Chen Yansen gave Hu Yun's shoulder an approving pat.
"Brother Sen, I'll have the brand group event page prototype for you this afternoon. Still fine-tuning the layout and recommendation logic," Zhuang Rui reported.
"Streamline the user path. Get them from the homepage to the event page in as few clicks as possible. We're going all-in on this. Oh, and one more thing—add a direct link to the event page on the pop-up window's close button."
Add a hyperlink… to the close button?
Zhuang Rui stared, dumbfounded. It was a ruthless, ingenious move he'd never have dreamed of.
This is… utterly shameless.
The team exchanged glances, silently stunned by their boss's audacity.
"What are you all staring at? Get to work! When the time comes, we'll pick two down jackets and hoodies for a 90% commission rebate. At those prices, you think users will care about a tricky close button?" Chen Yansen waved them off impatiently.
A Metersbonwe hoodie, list price 159 yuan. After a 143.1 yuan rebate: 15.9 yuan.
A lightweight down jacket, list price 299 yuan. After a 269.1 yuan rebate: 29.9 yuan.
In the cutthroat e-commerce landscape of the future, such deals might be commonplace. But in 2010? Prices like these were enough to drive the market mad.
It was all about perceived value. The customer paid 299 yuan, so in their mind, the jacket was worth 299 yuan. Getting it for 29.9 yuan didn't feel like a cheap buy—it felt like stealing a masterpiece.
It wasn't until 10:30 AM that Song Yuncheng finally appeared at the office. Clutching a single sheet of paper, she walked slowly to Chen Yansen's desk and placed it before him.
Thud.
Resignation Letter.
"Resigning? Thought it through?" Chen Yansen picked it up, arched a brow, his voice calm.
Song Yuncheng remained silent, only giving a slight nod.
Riiip—
Without even reading it, Chen Yansen tore the letter in half, then into quarters, and tossed the scraps into the trash. "Zhuang Rui is doing another version of the brand group page. Coordinate with him. I want the final plan before you clock out."
"Chen Yansen, I…" Her voice was hoarse.
"Want a salary deduction?" He narrowed his eyes, a faint, threatening smile on his lips.
Song Yuncheng met his gaze, held it for a long moment, then finally sighed in defeat. Picking up her laptop, she walked toward Zhuang Rui's station.
At that same moment, at Metersbonwe's headquarters warehouse, Chen Xu and Zhang Yifeng stood amidst a sea of boxes piled mountain-high. The dates on the labels stared back at them—some of this inventory was produced as far back as 2007.
Now they understood. Now they knew exactly why Chen Yansen had the audacity to demand a 70% commission rate.
The answer was buried here, in this vast, silent hoard of forgotten goods—billions in inventory.