Chapter 405: Try Sucking Now

At night Linchuan University, fresh after rain, felt like mountains after a spring rain—with an autumnal chill settling in late.

Jiang Qin, viewed by Ye Ziqing as sober-minded, was curled up on the sofa in Room 207 with his soft and fragrant friend, absorbed in watching “Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf: Tiger Power” downloaded from a pirated site.

This IP is currently very popular in the anime market, its merchandise alone surpassing the value of the animation. Being the IP’s second blockbuster movie, its popularity was even higher than its box-office smashing predecessor, with viewership peaking before and after the New Year.

At this moment, the little rich girl was nestled in his arms, staring intently at the screen, her delicate, snowy feet perched on the edge of the coffee table, tips painted in freshly applied red nail polish.

You wouldn’t know it, but Feng Nanshu herself is a leggy, slim-waisted beauty of royal demeanor, enhanced further by this color.

More lively than the previous blue, it also carried a distinctively regal and aloof quality.

Halfway into the movie, Feng Nanshu shifted position, her beautiful eyes glancing towards Jiang Qin’s neck, her warm breath brushing his Adam’s apple.

She stealthily crept up, but before reaching him, Jiang Qin pressed her head back with his hand.

“No sucking,” Jiang Qin said with a cool detachment.

“I haven’t even sucked yet.”

“By the time you suck, wouldn’t it be too late?”

Feng Nanshu pouted and snuggled back into his embrace, a flicker of dissatisfaction like that of a little girl denied candy.

Jiang Qin glanced at her cheek, “Why do you always like to suck on me? Is my neck sweet?”

“You clearly like to suck on me too.”

As Feng Nanshu spoke, she glanced at her toes, wiggling them spiritedly.

Jiang Qin coughed, thinking he needed to find something else for her to suck on; otherwise, he was surely going to snap.

Old Cao had been out of it lately, probably from being sucked on too much by Ding Xue.

“Jiang Qin, the movie is over. Let’s watch the Year of the Rabbit one.”

Suddenly reaching out, Feng Nanshu pointed to the screen where Jiang Qin realized the movie had ended, the credits now rolling continuously.

The little rich girl was clever; she knew after the Year of the Tiger came the Year of the Rabbit — she could recite this zodiac sequence slickly.

Jiang Qin stood up to turn off the TV: “This movie is from ’09. The Rabbit year’s still in production. It’ll be out by the New Year.”

“Then watch the Year of the Ox—’Mighty Ox’.”

“Everything is ‘mighty’, huh? Careful, or you’ll be crying when ‘Mighty Ox’ really happens.”

Feng Nanshu: “?”

Jiang Qin, picking up his jacket: “Let’s go. I’ll show it to you some other time.”

Watching Jiang Qin get dressed, Feng Nanshu knew their fun time was ending, and she languidly moved from the sofa, arms outstretched for him to help her into her coat.

Ever since becoming addicted to Jiang Qin, the little rich girl hadn’t bought a single zippered outfit, favoring buttoned attire instead.

Moreover, the more buttons, the better, with her ideal garment being fully decked in them.

Last time, while shopping with Gao Wenhui on the commercial street, she spotted a double-breasted coat in a trendy boutique and couldn’t move on until she bought it.

As usual, Jiang Qin meticulously buttoned her up from top to bottom, always patient, even after over two years.

Leaving Room 207, Jiang Qin asked Feng Nanshu to lock the door, then strolled to the next door Room 208 to take a peek and found it darkened.

Since the nationwide plan for group purchasing began, Wei Lanlan, Tan Qing, and Su Nai had filed for school leave and with the recent increase in activities, Lu Xuemei had also headed to Shanghai, leaving Room 208 less lively than before.

Jiang Qin didn’t mind employees not working overtime but felt like a lonely old man, growing sadder the more he thought about it.

“Brother, I’m ready to go.”

Feng Nanshu had locked the door and waved at him.

He quickly caught up, slipping her hand into his pocket: “How did you feel watching ‘Tiger’s Might’? Want to go to an amusement park?”

The movie told a story of Tiger Taisui tearing down Goat Village to build a luxurious amusement park, simple for children’s viewing, yet the depicted carnival theme park was quite well portrayed.

Surprisingly, Feng Nanshu shook her head, refusing: “No, I don’t want to go to the amusement park.”

“You love the merry-go-round so much, yet you refuse an amusement park?”

“I’ve grown up. I don’t care for such childish things anymore,” Feng Nanshu asserted with her high-chilled attitude.

Jiang Qin let out an ‘Oh’: “Then I’ll go ride the merry-go-round tomorrow. Will you come?”

“When exactly?”

“…”

After escorting Feng Nanshu from the Entrepreneurship Base, Jiang Qin received a call from Gao Wenhui, inviting them for a late-night snack at one meal.

Having only consumed cellulose nitrate, phenol resin, ethyl acetate, ethanol, toluene, and dibutyl phthalate earlier that day, Jiang Qin felt a bit hungry and headed directly to one meal.

It was now half-past nine and the cafeteria was nearly empty, the contracted cafeteria had even turned off half the lights to save electricity, casting the place in dim shadows.

Fan Shuling was there too, cradling a test-prep book, apparently starting her preparations for graduate school.

This was the normal path for a university student, unlike Jiang Qin, who skipped classes to tinker with small business ventures, clearly an oddity.

“It’s so late, and there’s still food in the cafeteria?”

“It’s ordered from outside, delivered directly by group purchase, but we accidentally ordered too much—can’t finish it.”

Jiang Qin sat down and fed Feng Nanshu a slice of lotus root, watching her chew it like a rabbit, a radiant smile beaming across his face.

Feng Nanshu looked at him, puzzled about his laughter, suspecting a hidden motive, so she pushed his face away.

Gao Wenhui, who had just finished gnawing on a chicken foot, wiped her hands and spoke: “Jiang Qin, I received a call from a publisher. They want to publish my book.”

“Publish what, your nonsense documentary novel?”

“Yes, they said my storytelling is good and it’s likely to sell well.”

Jiang Qin chuckled inwardly, thinking, as if the academia would rule the world, let alone publish a book: “What did the publisher say?”

Gao Wenhui checked her message: “They told me to quickly write up to 200,000 words and then gather 30,000 yuan; wait half a year and it’ll be on the shelves.”

“They want you to pay? Sounds like a scam.”

“They said if I put up 30,000 yuan, we’d split the sales revenue 50-50, but they also offered me 100,000 yuan for an outright purchase. I think the first option sounds better.”

Jiang Qin eyed her: “You have 30,000 yuan?”

Gao Wenhui patted her pocket, her lips pursing boastfully: “After working at your tea shop for so long, don’t I deserve that much?”

“Damn, how much have you earned from me?”

“Sometimes when I say nice things, Nanshu even gives me an extra bonus.”

Hearing this, Feng Nanshu suddenly raised her face: “Bro, don’t believe Gao Wenhui’s nonsense.”

Jiang Qin waved it off, thinking it was all a mess: “Don’t rush the publishing. Your content is still too sparse; let me handle it later. Miaomiao also has a publishing contract, but it’s not time yet.”

“Okay then.”

“If you really want to publish later, definitely you’ll need to edit heavily. Don’t bother with writing anything below the neck.”

Gao Wenhui looked bewildered: “What do you mean, ‘don’t write anything below the neck’?”

“Figure it out yourself.”

Jiang Qin fed Feng Nanshu a chili, then swiftly grabbed a chicken leg and made his exit.

Still confused, Gao Wenhui turned to Feng Nanshu: “What does ‘don’t write anything below the neck’ mean?”

The little rich girl pondered for a moment then let her gaze drift downward, eventually resting on her own feet.

Back at the dorm, Cao Guangyu, Ren Ziqiang, and Zhou Chao were playing cards. Seeing Jiang Qin enter, Old Ren immediately got up to let him take over, then went off to call his beloved Linlin.

That’s university love for you—phone calls every night, absolutely sickening.

Old Cao also went through that phase, often hiding under his blankets talking all night to Ding Xue, using up all the free minutes on his campus card.

“With the Mid-Autumn Festival coming, Old Ren and I plan to take our significant others out. You coming, Old Jiang?”

“Is Old Zhou going?”

Zhou Chao threw down two queens: “I don’t have a partner, just going to be a third wheel.”

Jiang Qin glanced at him, slightly disdainful: “I don’t have a partner either. We can be single together. Why worry about them?”

“Aren’t you taking Feng Nanshu?”

“If we go, I guess I should. She’s kind of clingy.”

Zhou Chao twitched the corner of his mouth: “Third-wheeling is one thing, but Jiang, your friend’s food is way more intense than just regular dog food.”

Jiang Qin slapped his thigh, ignoring the jibe: “We’re all seniors now, not many Mid-Autumns left to spend together. If we’re going, let’s all go.”

“Then we might as well apply for the same grad program, get a dorm together.”

“You? Considering how much you mess around, you think you can actually make it into grad school?” Jiang Qin expressed incredulous surprise.

Cao Guangyu retorted with a sneer, unyielding: “Oh, right, I forgot, Old Jiang, you hardly ever attend class. Grad school’s probably out of your reach.”

“Hmm, probably can’t get in, so the school’s thinking about recommending me.”

“What the hell? Why?”

Jiang Qin grinned, showing his teeth: “Can’t help it. Brand value.”

Zhou Chao finished shuffling the cards and placed them on the table: “Jiang is now a celebrity at Linchuan University. Because of him, the admissions cut-off has even risen. A recommendation is very likely.”

At that moment, Cao Guangyu deeply felt the darkness of society.

Bloody hell, the classes Jiang Qin’s attended are fewer than his pretenses, yet here he is, the damn star student and on track for a recommendation—is there no justice in this world?