The principal, who had been storming about in a rage, felt his anger flare anew when he saw someone else walk in.
He looked up, voice irritable. "Now what?"
Before he could explode, the principal's expression froze, then twitched again.
The face before him looked oddly familiar; even though they had never met, he instantly recognized Wang Congcong.
Wasn't this the entertainment industry's Discipline Inspector, the son of the richest man, Principal Wang?
Wang Congcong glanced at the clear-acrylic nameplate on the desk: Chen Jin.
He greeted Chen Jin politely. "Principal Chen, good day—sorry to intrude. I'm Wang Congcong."
Before arriving, Wang Congcong had looked into Chen Jin's background.
Anyone who could helm Modu University had to be no ordinary figure.
Chen Jin had served four years in the army; after discharge he majored in finance and economics.
Not only was he a professor of financial research, he had repeatedly been elected vice-academician of the Finance Academy.
In the end the higher-ups directly appointed him president of the university.
Seeing Wang Congcong extend his hand first, Chen Jin collected himself and masked his surprise.
Though he had no idea why Wang Congcong had come, he stood and shook hands warmly. "Hello, hello—an honor to meet you. Please, have a seat."
Chen Jin hurriedly rose and ushered Wang Congcong toward the nearby guest sofa.
Then he flicked on the electric kettle.
Once seated, Wang Congcong cut to the chase. "Principal Chen, sorry to barge in. A business partner of mine is a freshman in finance this year. As you know, young entrepreneurs need room to maneuver. We're collaborating commercially; as for finance, starting a business is basically social practice, right?"
Hearing this, Chen Jin suddenly understood why he was here.
Such arrangements were hardly rare on campus.
Many big shots or celebrities practically never showed up for class.
They might attend only a handful of sessions the entire year.
Yet they still graduated without a hitch.
Their diplomas amounted to a win-win.
They boosted the university's profile, and the school gave them a gilt credential.
If the student Wang Congcong mentioned really was a promising entrepreneur, Chen Jin was happy to oblige.
To reach the presidency one needed more than scholarly heft.
Administrative and people skills were equally essential.
Still, Chen Jin didn't agree outright—he didn't even know who the student was.
If it were Wang Congcong himself, he would have said yes at once.
Setting aside Wang's business clout, his fame alone would rocket the university's reputation if he were an alumnus.
That would be a huge boon for recruiting.
He simply smiled and nodded.
Then, unhurried, he spooned tea leaves into the pot and poured in the boiled water.
When the ritual was done, he set the cup before Wang Congcong.
"Please, Mr. Wang, have some tea."
Wang Congcong knew Chen Jin was weighing his answer and wasn't in a rush; he lifted the cup and sipped.
He tasted the brew, then nodded appreciatively. "Principal Chen, your tea craft is superb—on par with my old man's."
When Wang mentioned Richest Man Wang, Chen Jin waved modestly. "How could I compare to Richest Man Wang? That illustrious entrepreneur has propelled China's economy; I deeply respect his contributions."
"My father started from a tiny firm," Wang said. "When he was young he was fearless and driven. Now he's old; the company's huge, but he's running out of steam. So I say: start young, Principal Chen—don't you agree?"
Chen Jin first voiced agreement. "Mr. Wang is right—business demands flexible hours and market sense, yet solid fundamentals are vital. Master the theory and risk assessment becomes far easier."
Exactly what Wang expected. He pressed on. "Well said—truly a principal. Schools teach theory, so my partner and I have decided to donate Ten Million Yuan to your university for instruction, so more students can learn in better conditions and later serve the economy."
Chen Jin showed no outward reaction to the figure.
Inside, waves surged.
Ten million for teaching? He could never secure that from above.
Yet the campus was starved for cash.
Repairs aside, just renovating lecture halls and dorms would cost a fortune.
Founded nearly a century ago, much of the infrastructure was decrepit.
Even basic dorm wiring was failing; many students couldn't install AC units.
Only a few new dorm blocks had modern circuits.
Every year he applied for funds.
But among Modu's many universities, big grants were hard to pry loose.
Year after year the money never came.
With ten million, those problems would vanish overnight.
Suppressing his excitement, Chen Jin said, "If only more entrepreneurs gave back like this. May I ask his name? As a model alumnus I'd like to thank him in person."
Wang Congcong knew the deal was basically sealed.
"His name is Jiang Cheng—keeps a low profile. He'll sponsor the donation personally. Send me the account details and I'll have the bank transfer it."