The interview room on the second floor of the Entrepreneurship Park was quiet.
Li Bin, a junior, felt a pressure radiating from the freshman sitting across from him. It felt less like an interview and more like standing before a stern family patriarch or a high-level executive.
When Chen Yansen asked his question, Li Bin answered instinctively. "I'm… F3. At my spending rate, I should hit F4 in about six months."
Chen Yansen's expression turned odd.
FoxTao's user levels were no joke. F3 required 10,000 yuan in lifetime orders. F4 required over 100,000 yuan.
This Li Bin was clearly from money. Yet here he was, interviewing for a price-comparison editor gig paying 3,000 a month.
"The editor role has a low barrier to entry but high upside. Career path leads to Category Manager or UX Specialist. I need someone stable, long-term…" Chen Yansen's gaze swept over Li Bin's obviously expensive clothes, his tone measured.
"Brother Sen! As long as you don't fire me, I'll work at FoxTao for life!" Li Bin declared with the passionate, untested conviction of youth.
For life? Kids and their big promises.
"Report tomorrow. Welcome to the team." Chen Yansen stood, clapped Li Bin on the shoulder, and saw him out.
"Next."
As he sat back down, a familiar face walked in—the top campus SIM card salesman for Xucheng University, 2010 edition.
Li Hui adjusted his glasses with a slick smile. "Brother Sen. Long time."
"I know your skills. FoxTao sales is 90% grind, 10% street-smarts. You'll do fine. Adapt fast." Chen Yansen waved off the formalities and sent the offer letter directly.
Right now, FoxTao could probably close deals with a chatbot. Li Hui—sharp, experienced from his campus hustle, and morally flexible—was a natural fit. The only risk was him skimming off the top.
"Thank you, Brother Sen! I'll work hard to make you money!" Li Hui bowed, his demeanor polished, devoid of a student's awkwardness.
"Not my money. Your money." Chen Yansen's smile was thin. The offer was 3,000 base plus 3% of gross profit commission. Hit 300k in sales, it goes to 4%. Hit 500k, it's 5%.
Li Hui's grin widened. He left to get onboarded.
Students aren't enough, Chen Yansen thought, a plan crystallizing. Need to poach category ops people from JD.com, Yihaodian, Taobao. Or brand reps. Each one brings hundreds of merchant contacts. Hire ten, and FoxTao's supplier database grows by thousands overnight.
He made a mental note for Xu Dan to start headhunting. Pay enough, and people would come.
Room 0418. Noon.
The November payroll had hit. Salaries processed.
A cascade of notifications lit up his inner vision. In seconds, the System's Point Value ticked up to 18. FoxTao's labor cost last month: 180,000 RMB.
Not huge, but in 2010 Xucheng, paying an average of over 5,000 to thirty-plus employees was serious money.
"System." Chen Yansen's focus turned inward, his will sharpening. "Invest all points. Physique."
The command was silent, but the effect was violent.
A wave of bone-deep cold slammed into him. Then, a wisp of pristine white energy—like condensed arctic mist—drifted from nowhere into his brow.
Fusion.
It ignited inside him. A torrent of raw power erupted in his marrow, flooding his bloodstream, saturating every muscle fiber and sinew.
Gulp—gulp—gulp!
His heart became a war drum. Blood, supercharged, roared through his vessels. A sensation of dense, coiled might settled into his very frame.
When the storm passed, he grabbed a tape measure. Height: 186 cm. Unchanged.
Good. My frame's the limit. Keep boosting this, and in a few years I'd be a literal giant.
His Physique stat now read: 1.67. The system's scale marked '3' as the peak human limit. He was now over halfway to that theoretical pinnacle.
But what did 1.67 mean? Raw strength? Reaction speed? Endurance?
He needed a test.
Off-Campus Gym. Afternoon.
"Do you have a membership?" The receptionist looked up, her eyes lighting up at the tall, striking visitor.
"No."
"That's fine! Here's a week-long trial pass. Try us out!" She was overly eager, pushing the card into his hand.
"Thanks." He took it and swiped in.
Click.
A camera shutter sound. He turned.
The receptionist lowered her phone, grinning awkwardly. "Sorry! Wrong button… you believe me, right?"
Chen Yansen just nodded and walked into the gym, his mission singular. He had no time for this.
Inside, the equipment was dated but sufficient: treadmills, bikes, a bench press rack, free weights. Only a few people were around—one guy doing dumbbell flyes.
Chen Yansen went straight to the Olympic barbell. It was loaded: 20kg bar, 60kg on each side. Total: 140kg. Near the limit for an average man.
He bent, gripped, and lifted.
It came up smoothly. No strain.
Too light.
He added two more 20kg plates. 180kg.
He lifted again. His arm muscles tightened against his shirt fabric, but it was manageable.
The guy doing flyes dropped his dumbbells and wandered over, impressed. He watched Chen Yansen—dressed in a shirt, dress pants, and sneakers, no belt, no wraps—handle 180kg like it was warm-up weight.
"Damn, dude. Not even dressed for it?" he asked, helping add more plates.
"Didn't have time to change," Chen Yansen said, glancing at his own attire. He looked ridiculous.
"Add 40 more?" the guy, Hu Yongfan, suggested, eyeing Chen Yansen's lean frame under the shirt. 220kg would be a real test.
Chen Yansen answered by gripping the bar. 220kg. Five plates a side. The bar bowed.
He bent, braced, and pulled.
Pop! A button flew from his straining sleeve. Tendons stood out on his wrists like steel cables. Blood rushed to his face, tinting it crimson.
"Up!" he growled.
The weight left the ground. Clean.
Hu Yongfan stared, dumbfounded. The fitness scene in 2010 wasn't what it would become. Seeing a guy in a semi-formal outfit deadlift nearly 500 lbs raw was unheard of.
BANG! Chen Yansen dropped the bar, steam practically rising from his skin, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"Dude! You're from the sports academy?" Hu Yongfan blurted.
"School of Literature and Communication. Chen Yansen."
"You're kidding."
Hu Yongfan looked him up and down like he was a disguised superhero. Chen Yansen took a subtle step back. Gyms. Always attracting the wrong kind of attention.
"I'm straight, man, don't worry!" Hu Yongfan said hastily, making it worse.
"Are you adding more?" Hu Yongfan asked, shaking his head.
"Yeah. I've got a little left."
They loaded the bar to 260kg. A monstrous weight, edging into competitive territory.
"Here, use my belt and knees," Hu Yongfan insisted, handing over the gear. "Blow out your back now, and you're done for months."
Chen Yansen agreed. This was a test, not suicide.
By now, a small crowd had gathered—people from the treadmills, the bikes. The receptionist was openly filming.
Chen Yansen ignored them. He strapped in, gripped the bar with a mixed grip, and took a breath.
He pulled.
The heavily loaded bar groaned. It inched past his shins, past his knees. His back remained a rigid, perfect line. With a final surge of power that made every muscle in his torso stand out in stark relief, he locked out.
A stunned silence, then murmurs.
"Holy hell… he's under 90 kilos soaking wet…"
"That's inhuman."
"Best-dressed lifter in Xucheng, ever."
CLANG! He dropped the weight, breathing in great heaves, his entire body humming with power and fatigue. That was his current limit.
This system… is insane, he thought, exhilarated. 1.67 is this strong. What would 167 be like? Could punch a hole through a tank.
He clenched his fists, feeling the terrifying new potential thrumming within him. This was what a second chance was for.
End of Chapter