Chapter 2: This Is Not a Dream

The next morning, early dawn.

The morning light, soft as silk, gently filtered through the window panes, casting a delicate golden glow that bathed everything in warmth and laziness.

Suddenly, a harsh "Hello Moto" ringtone abruptly shattered the tranquility.

Curled up in his blanket, Wang Can frowned, drowsy, fumbling around under the covers several times before finally grasping the old Motorola V3.

"Hello? Who's this?"

"Good morning, boss. This is Mapit Microfinance Company. Interested in a loan?"

The voice was crisp and pleasant, carrying the sweet energy unique to a young girl.

"Yes," Wang Can replied, his voice still thick with sleep and lingering intoxication.

"How much do you need?"

"Five million."

"Do you have any collateral?"

"A building."

"Boss, where’s the building located?"

The girl's voice suddenly rose, her enthusiasm noticeably increasing.

Wang Can closed his eyes, a faint smile curling his lips. "Yan Anmen City Tower."

After he spoke, a long silence fell over the line, as if even breathing had stopped.

After quite a while, the girl’s voice returned, slightly trembling.

"Who... who exactly are you?"

"I'm the successor of GCZY."

"Beep—"

The call went dead.

"Now that's dedication—starting work at 7:30 sharp."

Wang Can glanced at the flashing time on the screen, tossed the phone aside, turned over, and pulled the blanket over himself, intending to catch a few more winks.

But barely a minute had passed before the familiar "Hello Moto" rang out again, sudden and intrusive.

"Hello?"

Wang Can, utterly resigned, flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear.

A soft, husky voice floated from the receiver.

"Hello, Mr. Wang. I’m Xia—"

Hearing "Mr. Wang," Wang Can snapped the phone shut with a sharp click, flinging it heavily onto the pillow, curling back into the still-warm blanket.

Unfortunately, after two rounds of phone bombardment, his sleep was completely destroyed. Though his eyes were closed, his mind became increasingly alert.

Suddenly throwing off the covers, Wang Can rubbed his cheeks hard with both hands.

"Why is the loan company targeting me? Did Old Wang go out borrowing money?"

At the mention of borrowing, his brow furrowed involuntarily as if he had forgotten something important.

"Last night… Old Wang seemed to say—"

"Knock… knock… knock…"

A loud knocking came from outside the door.

"Damn, what’s going on so early in the morning?"

Interrupted in his thoughts, Wang Can grumbled as he scrambled to gather clothes scattered on the floor.

At this hour, the usual couple, Wang Tianming and Ai Wanping, had already left for work; only he was left to answer the door.

Slipping on his worn, yellowed slippers, Wang Can staggered toward the door.

"Who is it?"

He asked while instinctively unlocking the door.

Though this was an old district, security was quite good. Visitors were mostly a few debt-collecting relatives, mostly amicable and familiar faces.

Besides, they were all talented—each possessing unique insights on policies and practical matters, and many had artistic skills.

Guitar playing, singing, cooking—they had taught Wang Can a few tricks as well.

Without these formidable relatives, he would have doubted where Old Wang had gotten all that borrowed money.

But the moment the door swung fully open, Wang Can’s sleepy eyes snapped wide open.

A whispered curse twisted in his throat but he swallowed it back.

A beauty!

A beauty in black stockings!

Standing outside was a young woman in her early twenties, tall and slender, clad in a meticulously tailored office suit. The fabric was stretched tight over her full curves, and her long, shapely legs were encased in sheer black stockings that shimmered with a delicate sheen.

Above that was a perfectly shaped oval face, with features so exquisitely sculpted they seemed carved.

The only flaw was a small teardrop mole beneath her left eye, which only added to her ethereal charm.

"Who are you looking for?"

Wang Can guessed she had probably knocked on the wrong door but couldn’t help but gaze unabashedly.

A 9-out-of-10 beauty like this was rare—why not take a good look?

The woman noticed his leering eyes, furrowed her delicate brows, lifted her phone, and glanced between the screen and Wang Can.

After confirming something, she said, "I’m here for you."

"Me?"

Wang Can instinctively opened his mouth and pointed at himself with his right index finger.

He hadn’t even washed up yet; his hair was a tangled mess, and combined with his gesture, he looked somewhat comical.

The stunning woman replied, "Yes."

"Old Deng owes new debt again?"

That was Wang Can’s first thought.

He had seen the familiar debt-collecting relatives before, but none this beautiful.

Wang Can glanced behind her to check for any burly men, and, seeing none, felt slightly relieved.

The woman introduced herself: "My name is Xia Kewei. I called you earlier, but you hung up. Mr. Wang sent me. I’m your secretary and financial officer."

A call? Mr. Wang? My secretary and financial officer?

The second call this morning did mention a "Xia"…

But what was this about a Mr. Wang and a secretary?

In a flash, Wang Can recalled what Wang Tianming had said before he blacked out the night before.

"Sorry for hiding this from you all these years, but our family isn’t actually in debt. Your father is a billionaire."

Wang Can’s heart tightened. Tentatively, he asked, "The Mr. Wang you mentioned—is that Wang Tianming?"

Xia Kewei nodded lightly, lips parted slightly. "Yes, he’s the chairman of Sen Guan Group, Wang Tianming."

Her voice was soft but struck Wang Can like a hammer.

Sen Guan Group was founded the very year Wang Can was born, and had since grown rapidly, becoming Bin City’s foremost commercial real estate developer within twenty years, and a multidimensional conglomerate spanning malls, culture, finance, and tourism.

The group held considerable influence nationwide.

If Wang Tianming really was chairman, his worth wasn’t just billions—he’d probably rank mid-to-high on the 2012 China Rich List.

Thinking about the middle-aged man yesterday, at home in a wrinkled tank top and baggy shorts, holding a wine glass in one hand and gnawing on half a cucumber with relish…

Wang Can scoffed, finding it utterly ridiculous.

"Come on, if he really was chairman of Sen Guan Group, then I’d be Emperor Qin Shi Huang."

As if anticipating Wang Can’s skepticism, Xia calmly pulled a silver tablet from her bag, swiping the screen with slender fingers before handing it over.

On the screen, detailed information about Sen Guan Group’s board of directors appeared, with Wang Tianming’s photo prominently displayed as chairman.

Below was a video thumbnail, seemingly surveillance footage from a conference room. Wang Can immediately tapped it.

In the video, Wang Tianming sat upright in a sharp dark suit at the head of a spacious conference table, eyes sharp as a hawk scanning the attendees.

The room was utterly silent except for the tapping of his fingers on the table.

"Bang!"

Wang Can threw the tablet back to Xia, slammed the door shut with a muffled thud.

Taking a deep breath, he slapped his flushed cheeks hard.

Then, almost whipping the door open again with a gust of wind.

Outside stood the captivating Xia Kewei, unchanged.

This was no dream.

After a silence, anger was the first emotion to rise in Wang Can rather than joy.

"Where the hell is that old Deng? Where’s he hiding? He lied to me for eighteen years, saying we were poor!"

"And that 7,000 yuan I earned working during the holidays? He even lied and said he used it to repay debts yesterday!"