Stronger by Paying Salaries and I Have 1 Billion Employees

”Get the hell out of here! Stop bothering your mother.” Chen Guobin finally snapped, kicking Chen Yansen in the rear and shoving him aside.

He was genuinely afraid that if Chen Yansen said another word, his wife might just crawl out of her grave.

Chen Yansen dusted off his rear, not holding it against Chen Guobin. He tossed down a stack of Netherworld Coins and instructed his father, ”Burn some extra for Mom.”

Chen Guobin shot him a glare, then picked up the joss paper and Netherworld Coins and began burning them bundle by bundle. He muttered under his breath, ”Hui Zhen, my love, don’t listen to this kid’s nonsense. In this life, you’re the only one I’ll ever love.”

Hearing his father’s sappy declaration, Chen Yansen frowned and took several steps back.

He knew the subsequent routine by heart. ’In ten minutes, the old man will start to tear up. In thirty, he’ll be wailing. In an hour, he’ll dry his eyes and tell me it’s time to go home.’

It had been the same every time for more than a decade. He was tired of watching it.

Once he saw his father was in the zone, Chen Yansen turned, went back to the car, turned on the heat, and pulled out his phone to flirt with some girls.

”Brother Jensen, when are you coming over for dinner?” a text message popped up just then.

”In a few days,” Chen Yansen replied noncommittally before switching the screen back to WeChat.

The app had just launched, and he’d already dragged Meng Jie and Song Yuncheng over to it. He had no choice. Rebus had poured all his money into the R&D and production of the Xiaomi Mobile Phone, so Mi Chat was plagued with network errors, which seriously hampered his flirting experience.

’Although Zihao’s mom is a great cook,’ he thought, ’the moment I think of Prince Ziyuan, I lose all desire to go over and freeload a meal.’

An hour later, having vented all his emotions, Chen Guobin silently got into the passenger seat.

Chen Yansen dropped him off at the bookstore entrance, then turned the car around and drove over to the Dongjin Crossing Bridge.

From a distance, he could see Wang Zihao and his dad, bundled up in thick down jackets, sitting on small folding stools by the bank. They were holding fishing rods, their eyes fixed on the bobbers.

”Uncle Wang! Long time no see. You’re looking even more... prosperous.”

”Whoa! You’ve shot up again, kid. You’re almost half a head taller than Zihao now. Not bad,” Wang Zhanjun said, turning his head to praise him with a smile.