Hu Yongfan passed over a water bottle, his expression a mix of awe and curiosity. "Seriously, man, what's your max squat?"
"Haven't tested it. Just seeing what this can do." Chen Yansen took the bottle, gave the cap a habitual twist-check for tampering, and drank deeply.
"Want a spot?"
"I'm good."
Chen Yansen moved to the bench press. Without fanfare, he loaded the bar to 120kg. Hu Yongfan winced and instinctively moved behind the bench, hands poised.
Lying back, Chen Yansen gripped the bar. He took a second to feel the weight, then with a low, controlled grunt, pressed it up in a smooth, steady motion before racking it with a solid clang.
"More weight?" Hu Yongfan asked, his voice tight. Hitting 100kg had been his own hard-won milestone after years.
"140kg. Should be fine." Chen Yansen said it like he was commenting on the weather, snapping the safety clips into place.
With Hu Yongfan's hands shadowing the bar, Chen Yansen took a focused breath. Muscle corded in his arms and chest. A slight tremor ran through his arms—not from failure, but from fine-tuning the leverage. Once found, the 140kg ascended in a determined arc before being racked.
Chen Yansen sat up, lungs burning, a pleasant fatigue buzzing in his limbs.
"Dude, you could teach. Let's swap numbers, hit the gym together," Hu Yongfan said, genuine respect in his tone.
"Maybe another time." The refusal was polite but absolute. His path to strength wasn't found here. He had a better system.
"I'm telling you, I'm straight!" Hu Yongfan protested, misreading the dismissal.
"Never doubted it," Chen Yansen replied, his face a masterpiece of sincere belief. The best way to handle a complicated situation was often simple agreement.
A girl in a striped sweater weaved through the onlookers. "Hey, can I get your number?"
"Sorry. Don't really use socials." He offered a neutral smile and walked out. Cute, gentle vibe—exactly the kind that held zero appeal for him. His preferences were particular and well-defined.
"No socials? What a lame brush-off!" Du Yaoyao, the front-desk clerk who'd snapped his picture, muttered, watching him go. Annoyance flared, though she couldn't say why.
System Physique: 1.67. And this is the result? Chen Yansen thought, energy thrumming under his skin. Time to scale the operation. Fast.
Startup Park. Interview Room.
Chen Yansen plowed through resumes. He bulk-hired ten more part-time support staff, then refocused.
The door opened. Du Yaoyao walked in, folder in hand, and stopped cold. "You?"
"Problem?" Chen Yansen leaned back, a trace of amusement at the corner of his mouth. The campus suddenly felt very small.
"You're the Chen Yansen? That… makes sense." The name was legend, the face a mystery. The guy with the legendary "skip-class" pass from the dean himself.
"The interview?" He tapped the desk lightly.
She snapped to. "Du Yaoyao. Literature major, '07. Applying for the content editor role. Proficient in copywriting, editing, and…"
"3,000 a month. Take it? Start tomorrow at nine." He cut to the chase. The job was procedural—uploading product info after ops review. Raw intelligence mattered less than diligence.
"Can… can you certify it for internship credit? And provide the standard insurance?"
"We're a real company," he said, a flat look in his eyes.
"Right! Thank you, Mr. Chen!" Her demeanor had completed its shift from gym casual to professional.
He saw three more editor candidates—all competent, personable—hired them on the spot, then added two operations roles. FoxTao 2.0's blueprint was solid: Core Rebates, Super Deals, Bargain Zone, and Search Cashback. He wouldn't repeat the mistake of abandoning the low-end market. That demand never vanished; he'd simply capture all of it.
By the time the last candidate left, the sky outside was indigo. Back in Room 206, Song Yuncheng was on the phone, surrounded by notepads scrawled with lists of e-commerce sites—Mengbasha, Zouxiu, Jiatianxia—each annotated with diligent progress notes.
When someone's motivated, they really go for it, he noted with a silent chuckle, leaving her to it.
The winter wind cut like a knife. Students huddled in puffers and scarves. Chen Yansen, in a single long-sleeve, felt only a mild chill. His enhanced body was its own ecosystem.
Meng Jie was waiting by the dorm. She spotted him, hooked her arm through his, and steered him toward the gate.
"What's the agenda?"
"Drinks. Conversation. Flirting. Possibly kissing you." She grinned, eyes bright. Direct. Uncomplicated. A refreshing change from more delicate sensibilities.
"Your treat?"
"My treat!" she declared, chin up.
"Then I'm ordering the good stuff." He laughed, his arm naturally settling over her shoulders. The foot-plus height difference was comical.
At a popular chicken hotpot place, they stumbled upon a group just sitting down—Tang Zhenzhe, Su Meiling, and a few unfamiliar faces.
"Brother Sen! Over here! Join us!" Tang Zhenzhe waved, beaming.
Chen Yansen glanced at Meng Jie.
"More the merrier," she agreed instantly.
He leaned close to her ear. "Order more dishes. Get the bill. I'll settle with you after." She nodded and headed to the register.
"So, the tomboy type, huh?" Tang Zhenzhe whispered conspiratorially once Chen Yansen sat down.
"Careful. She's got a violent streak. Might introduce a bottle to your head," Chen Yansen warned, only half-joking.
The meal was raucous. Meng Jie kept pace with the beers, while Su Meiling nursed a juice, her gaze thoughtful. She watched their easy back-and-forth, a vague frustration settling in her chest. Maybe he likes them… bold? But I don't even like beer.
Later, on the path skirting Pearl Lake, the group splintered into the cold night.
Meng Jie didn't release Chen Yansen's hand. Instead of turning toward the dorms, she guided him decisively off the path, toward the dense, leafless thicket of trees that bordered the water.
She pulled him into the shadow of the branches.
Chen Yansen raised an eyebrow. Well. This is a role reversal.