Chapter 11: Curves Belong to God

After a hearty meal, the four boys from Dorm 404 strolled back to their room, arms slung over each other's shoulders.

Wang Can felt his head swimming and his eyelids heavy. Just as he was about to collapse into bed and sleep until the world ended, a thought struck him. He rolled over, pulled out his phone, and found Xia Kewei in his contacts.

Wang Can: "What are you doing?"

Xia Kewei must have been fiddling with her phone as well, as she replied the moment his message went through.

Xia Kewei: "What is it?"

Wang Can: "Help me prepare the registration materials for a company."

Xia Kewei: "Type, name."

Wang Can: "One limited company called 'Canxing Venture Capital,' and a sole proprietorship called... 'Hao Dada Chicken Cutlet,' I suppose."

Wang Can knew a bit about snacks like chicken cutlets; they were much simpler than other types of Chinese catering, making quality control easier to manage.

On the other end, Xia Kewei was curled up lazily on a sofa, wearing nothing but thin lace lingerie, her curves breathtakingly prominent. Had Wang Can been there, he surely would have remarked that such curves belonged to God.

When the characters "Hao Dada" (meaning "So Big") flashed onto her screen, Xia Kewei rolled her eyes dramatically.

"How incredibly vulgar."

She gave a soft huff, her slender fingers tapping a quick reply: "You want to go into investment? Then I must remind you that Mr. Wang does not allow you to use the connections of Sanguan Group."

The investment industry was indeed a top choice for many wealthy heirs starting their own businesses. Not only was the trade glamorous, but it also allowed them to leverage the networks their fathers had spent years building to secure high-quality projects that ordinary investors would break their necks trying to access.

However, Xia Kewei knew well that even the most elite investors couldn't guarantee that every deal would be a sure win. Behind those seemingly glorious mergers and acquisitions often lay hidden, long-term capital recovery periods. Sometimes a project would drag on for three to five years before the balance sheet finally turned from red to green.

Wang Can: "No, I have other uses for it."

Wang Can didn't explain further; it wasn't important right now. As for Old Wang forbidding him from using Sanguan's connections, he had already anticipated that. Wang Tianming had provided the 500 million in startup capital specifically to train him; if he used the Sanguan name, there would be no challenge at all.

Wang Can: "By the way, look online and see who is in charge of our school cafeteria and if there are any stalls up for sublease."

It took Xia Kewei two minutes to reply: "Understood."

Wang Can thought for a moment and edited another message to send.

"Pick me up tomorrow afternoon; I need to find some suppliers. Also, can you switch to a more low-profile car?"

The Mercedes S-Class from Sanguan was too flashy, and Wang Can still wanted to mingle with his classmates as an "ordinary person."

Xia Kewei: "That Mercedes was provided by Mr. Wang specifically for me to pick you up, but only for one day anyway."

"......"

At the first half of that sentence, Wang Can thought Old Wang was a good man who cared for his son after all. But seeing the second half... was he even human?

Wang Can: "Do you have a car then?"

Xia Kewei: "You can use my car, but the gas money will be deducted from your startup capital."

Wang Can: "Understood. But since it's all for work, it wouldn't be too much to ask for our lunch to be reimbursed as well, right?"

Xia Kewei: "I'll pick you up after I finish lunch."

Wang Can: "Is it really that serious? You're acting like it's your dowry."

Xia Kewei sent a smiley face.

...

The next day, before 8:00 AM, Wang Can was dragged from his sleep by a jarring, clattering noise.

He looked blearily toward the lower bunks to see his three roommates acting like they’d been injected with adrenaline. Zhang Bailan was turning his wardrobe upside down, holding up clothes to compare them against his body, while Chen Xiaobei was baring his teeth and shaving in front of the mirror. Most dramatic of all was Yang Shuang, who had nearly emptied a bottle of hair gel; the entire dorm was filled with a pungent chemical scent.

Wang Can croaked, "Didn't you say we weren't meeting until nine? Are you guys going on stage to receive awards or something?"

Yang Shuang held his pinky finger out, setting the last stubborn strand of his bangs, and didn't even look back as he explained:

"I just found out that the ratio of women to men in our class is three to one! Do you know what that means?"

"One couple and one pair of bros?" Wang Can raised an eyebrow.

"It's three women to one man."

Yang Shuang turned around and spat at him, "It means every guy in our class has three girls to choose from."

Wang Can rubbed his temples helplessly and gave a bitter smile: "No wonder you want to become a civil servant; you really are a true successor to the cause."

"Huh? What did I say wrong?"

"Have you never heard of the Matthew Effect?"

"Actually, I haven't. Explain."

"In layman's terms, money flows to those who don't lack it, and love flows to those who don't lack it. So, how could the girls possibly be distributed evenly?"

"Old Wang's got a point there."

Chen Xiaobei, having finished shaving, tossed his razor onto the table and boasted, "Even if I didn't dress up, there would still be plenty of girls who love me."

Yang Shuang froze upon hearing this. Then what was the point of him getting up early to get ready?

"Brother Bei, lend me an outfit. Let me try being a 'tall, rich, and handsome' guy for once." Zhang Bailan scratched his head, giving up on digging through his own pile of clothes.

"Take whatever you want from the closet," Chen Xiaobei said with a grand wave of his hand.

Then, Yang Shuang heard Wang Can yell, "You damn dog, take it easy! Save some for me!"

Chen Xiaobei, who had started spraying hair gel in the mirror, gave a contemptuous smile: "It's a waste to save any for you. Once I make my entrance later, those girls will realize you lot are nothing but background decoration."

Yang Shuang looked at the hair gel bottle in Chen Xiaobei's hand and found it strangely familiar. He looked back and realized his own bottle on his desk was gone.

Damn it, he'd been scammed!

"You audacious villain! How dare you disturb my inner peace!"

Yang Shuang climbed the ladder and unleashed a long-lost martial arts "Dragon Claw" move on the still-tucked-in Wang Can, aiming straight for his vitals.

"Ouch!"

Wang Can did a carp-leap out of bed, narrowly avoiding the lethal strike. "Shuang, you hit the wrong person! It was Chen Xiaobei who took your gel."

Chen Xiaobei, watching the chaos with amusement, immediately chimed in:

"Tsk, tsk, Old Wang, the way you called out 'Shuang, ah'... it didn't sound like you were calling his name, but rather that you were really enjoying it?"

As Wang Can dodged the follow-up attack, he snarled, "Dog Bei, I'll make sure you get to 'enjoy' it in a minute too."

Zhang Bailan, having picked out his clothes, leaned in: "Brother Bei, spray some on me too~"

"Damn it, leave some for me!"

Amidst the playful bickering, time slipped away.

The four men of Dorm 404 pushed open the door, refreshed and high-spirited, walking out shoulder-to-shoulder. They struck a flashy pose at the top of the stairwell, much like models on a runway.

The moment their eyes met, they burst into laughter.

"Bailan, your pose is so flamboyant."

"Look who's talking, Shuang, your butt is stuck out pretty high too."

"Hahaha, Old Wang, your pose is so weird, it looks so greasy."

"What do you know? This is a pose exclusive to high-quality men."

"......"

The deep blue sky was clear as crystal, and the sunlight carried the warmth of midsummer. A gentle breeze blew by, bringing the scent of grass and wildflowers. In the distance, a girl's skirt fluttered in the wind.

This morning was the first time since his rebirth that Wang Can had so truly felt the essence of "youth."

It was an indescribable feeling.

It was the breeze, the morning sun, the heartbeat, the irreplaceable.

And not just a young face, and two cold, hollow numbers.