The Cayenne was parked at the south gate of the school.

Pei Qian prepared to open the car door and get out.

Xin Hailu, in the driver’s seat, extended a slender jade-like hand holding a small card case.

“As you previously instructed, I’ve rented a two-bedroom apartment near the school for you. Inside are the access card and keys.”

Pei Qian didn’t take it immediately, instead observing the system’s reaction.

Hmm, the system didn’t say it wasn’t allowed, so it must be allowed!

Buying clothes and renting an apartment seemed unrelated to company business, but they involved the boss’s image.

The purchased clothes couldn’t just be piled up in the dormitory, could they?

If future work required overtime or business trips, what if the dormitory lights were out and students weren’t allowed to leave at midnight?

So, renting an apartment was perfectly reasonable!

Besides, the rent wasn’t expensive. If he had bought suits worth tens of thousands, how much could renting an apartment cost?

It was 2009, and in Handong, the rent for a high-end, fully furnished two-bedroom apartment in an upscale neighborhood would be less than 2,000 yuan at most.

Unlike ten years later, when even an old, dilapidated one-bedroom in the capital would cost seven or eight thousand.

Since the system didn’t indicate it wasn’t allowed, Pei Qian felt no psychological burden and reached out to take the card case.

Flipping through it briefly, he found keys, an access card, and a small slip of paper with Xin Hailu’s elegant handwriting showing the apartment’s address.

The residential complex was not far from the school’s south gate, just a few dozen meters away.

“Well then, rest well. The newly purchased clothes will be delivered to your residence in the next few days.”

The Cayenne drove away.

Pei Qian felt good.

The system hadn’t forbidden these actions—it was still being fair to him!

He swiped the access card and entered the upscale residential complex near the school.

During his school days, Pei Qian had only seen it from a distance, never having gone inside.

Following the address on the note, Pei Qian found his two-bedroom apartment.

Upon opening the door, Pei Qian was a bit shocked.

Though labeled a two-bedroom, it was practically the size of a three-bedroom, visibly measuring around 130-140 square meters.

All furniture was complete.

Even bed sheets, quilts, toiletries, and so on had been prepared.

It was truly ready for immediate occupancy.

One didn’t even need to bring anything to move in.

Pei Qian sat down on the sofa, his backside unwilling to move again.

Compared to this place, the dormitory was like a birdcage!

No, a birdcage would be more spacious! And cooler!

After lounging comfortably on the sofa in a “Ge You slouch” for a while, Pei Qian revitalized himself, ready to start on the real work.

He couldn’t just enjoy himself and forget his duties—he needed to have dreams!

He hadn’t lost all the money yet!

Pei Qian summoned the system to check the current financial status.

【Wealth Conversion System】

【Host: Pei Qian】

【Profit conversion ratio 100:1, Loss conversion ratio 1:1】

【System funds: 271,145.5 (↓228,854.5)】

【Personal assets: 1,957.6】

The first week’s income was over 500,000, the second week’s was over 700,000, and the third week’s hadn’t arrived yet, but it was estimated to be around 700,000-800,000.

Looking at this, Pei Qian’s estimate of a monthly turnover of 5 million was quite accurate, though slightly underestimated.

Renting office space had immediately spent over 700,000, with an additional 300,000+ to be spent each month thereafter.

The procurement of office supplies amounted to about 800,000, which hadn’t been spent yet. Pei Qian planned to spend it at lightning speed as soon as next week’s income arrived.

As for expenses like buying clothes, renting cars, renting apartments, and so on, which totaled over 100,000, Pei Qian even felt they were negligible.

There were still system funds left, but measured against the original 500,000 standard, this already counted as a loss of over 200,000!

The results were encouraging!

Of course, there was still work to be done.

The office space had been rented, but employees needed to be hired. Otherwise, leaving such a large office space idle would be considered a violation and would result in a warning by the system.

“Let me think about what kind of people to recruit.”

“Those who are too excellent certainly won’t work, as they’d affect my plans.”

“Those who are too incompetent won’t work either, as the game still needs to be made, otherwise the system’s requirements can’t be met.”

“Hmm… this is a technical job, I need to plan carefully.”

The more Pei Qian thought about it, the more challenging it seemed.

But for the sake of his present and future happiness, the more challenging a task was, the more he wanted to attempt it.

After much consideration, Pei Qian first confirmed one thing.

Namely, employees couldn’t just be recruited online; he needed to dig for them himself!

Posting recruitment information online would only attract “people who believed they could meet the job requirements.”

Some people, Pei Qian might be interested in, would disqualify themselves and not dare to come for an interview.

In other words, the lower limit wasn’t low enough.

Recruitment information posted online would need to be written properly.

Pei Qian couldn’t openly write “seeking slackers” in the job description; the system would certainly warn him.

Having only one “trusted aide” like Ma Yang wasn’t quite enough.

Where could he find more talents like Ma Yang?

After pondering back and forth, Pei Qian suddenly thought of someone.

If he could persuade this person to join, great things could be accomplished!

…

After checking three internet cafes near the school, Pei Qian finally found the person he was looking for.

This individual was somewhat homeless, but generally speaking, if he wasn’t in one internet cafe, he was in another; if not in an internet cafe, he was on his way to one.

Perhaps feeling tired of staying in the same internet cafe for too long, this person would occasionally change environments, staying in other cafes for ten days to half a month.

This remarkable person was called Bao Xu, and people in the internet cafes liked to call him “Bao Su” (roughly meaning “Stays Overnight Bao”).

The term “liver king” (referring to someone who plays games for extremely long periods) would only become popular in the next few years.

But given Bao Xu’s performance, calling him a “liver king” would be underestimating him.

He should be called “super liver king”!

At present, Bao Xu is not yet well-known to many.

But soon, his name would spread throughout the school, becoming known to all.

Two of his deeds were widely circulated.

The first was that during his freshman year, from late winter through early spring until summer, he stayed in internet cafes every day, continuously grinding games.

When the hot summer arrived, while others wore shorts and short sleeves, he still wore sweaters and long underwear, with his coat draped over the back of his chair.

This was because he had never returned to his dormitory, let alone had time to change clothes.

When tired, he would recline his chair halfway and take a nap.

After waking, he would go to the bathroom to wash his face, then continue grinding.

And so, he ignored the changing of the four seasons.

After this incident, he was known as “Long Underwear Bro.”

The second incident occurred in his sophomore year when, due to failing too many courses, he was asked to leave the school.

After leaving, he continued to hang around internet cafes.

His family couldn’t contact him and even thought he had died.

Bao Xu sustained himself by boosting accounts, grinding levels, and selling equipment, living in internet cafes for two to three years.

That’s the kind of remarkable person he was.

Of course, in the eyes of ordinary people, he was just a late-stage internet addict who needed electric shock therapy.

But Pei Qian could see his shining points.

Such a person was a true hardcore gamer.

He was intimately familiar with most games on the market and could answer questions about many detailed settings within them.

Recruiting such a hardcore gamer as an employee was reasonable, wasn’t it?

Of course, the premise was to get him to improve his hygiene.

Moreover, Pei Qian valued another of his traits: he was good at playing games but didn’t understand design!

This type of person was very prone to going astray.

To make a simple comparison, if someone wanted to become a good chef, they would certainly need to be able to taste the quality of food.

But conversely, if someone could taste the quality of food and had very strict taste standards, would they necessarily become a good chef?

The answer was often negative.

The more overly picky someone was about food, the harder it would be for them to become a good chef.

There was a balance point here; too much was as bad as too little.

Creating games indeed required passion and love for games, but too much wasn’t good either.

Being overly passionate about games often made it difficult to maintain sufficient rationality and objectivity, and it was easy to mistake one’s understanding of games for that of most ordinary players.

So, Pei Qian felt that Bao Xu was someone who met his requirements.

On one hand, he was a fanatical game enthusiast and a gaming master, so recruiting him as an employee and giving him a higher salary wouldn’t be considered a violation by the system.

On the other hand, he wouldn’t be too skilled in design, and there was a high probability he would get stuck in a rut and mess things up.

Look, what a perfect employee!

However, Pei Qian wasn’t quite sure if he could persuade him.

After all, this was a person who, two years later, would lead his family to believe he had died.

It was hard to imagine what kind of event would make him leave an internet cafe.