When Mo Xiangwen and his group arrived downstairs at the Entrepreneurship Incubation Base, he stared at the entrance and the first floor, which were more luxurious than an ordinary classroom. For a moment, he wondered if he’d come to the wrong place.
From his experience, a remote spot like this, where hardly any students bothered to show up, should have been some rundown setup—a wooden table, two chairs, three people, and lights too stingy to turn on more than a couple.
All he could do was sigh inwardly that H University was loaded, after all.
Most of the first floor inside the incubation base featured introductions to various teachers, along with case studies of successful seniors who’d started their own ventures.
Thanks to that, the office door and sign were impossible to miss.
He knocked on the office door. After hearing “Come in,” he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Of course, the others followed right behind him.
There were no teachers in the office—just a male senior and the Senior Sister, both wearing glasses, sitting ramrod straight behind the desk like they were at a formal interview, eyes fixed on the door.
The moment they saw it was just a group of students, they visibly relaxed, their postures slumping.
The senior glanced at the girls trailing behind Mo Xiangwen, a flash of admiration in his eyes.
One of them was even a white-haired girl in a sailor uniform, quietly tugging at that boy’s sleeve. The sight nearly made him green with envy.
He wondered which character she was cosplaying.
But these days, with a tigress at his side, even stealing another glance felt like a crime.
The senior composed himself and reined in his thoughts.
The Senior Sister, meanwhile, had been staring at him from the start. Seeing how he paused only briefly before looking away, she quietly resolved to reward him extra tonight—keep him too busy for wandering thoughts.
Of the two, the senior seemed to be the one in charge. He spoke first. “Here to submit a startup application?”
Though it sounded like a question, he seemed convinced that was exactly why they were there.
As he spoke, he pulled a form from the drawer and set it on the desk.
That’s when Mo Xiangwen noticed the senior’s phone case—it featured Vignette Gabriel, the fallen angel from Gabriel DropOut. He hadn’t expected someone with such a serious face to be into anime.
He picked up the form and skimmed it. Nothing fancy: startup direction, content, advantages, that sort of thing.
“Yeah, I’ve got the idea,” he said. “But right now, I’d like to consult first.”
It was his personal studio he wanted to set up, after all. The others didn’t know his plans, so he had to be the one asking.
“What would you like to know, junior?”
“Does the school have a minimum team size for startup applications?”
That was his biggest concern. If they required a team of ten or twenty, he was out of luck for now.
“There is, but considering how tough it is for college students to start businesses, they aren’t too strict about it.”
The senior adjusted his black-rimmed glasses and continued in a steady tone, “As long as it’s not a solo act and the project looks decent, even a small team of a few people can get approved at the teachers’ discretion.”
The senior spoke so earnestly, his words crisp and clear, almost like a radio announcer.
“What about solo?”
“It’s not impossible, but if you can do it solo from your dorm, why apply here?”
The senior eyed him suspiciously, then shook his head. “Most people who come here want an empty room for an office.”
“And if the office looks dead with hardly anyone around, it’s awkward to explain when teachers or school leaders drop by for inspections.”
Why apply? To slack off, obviously.
The empty room wasn’t a big deal for him, but that startup certificate? He wanted that.
Still, he needed to cozy up to this senior a bit—some things felt awkward to ask outright.
“Senior, is that phone case Gabriel?”
“Yeah, yeah—you know it?”
“How could I not? This season’s new anime. I binged the whole thing.” Mo Xiangwen grinned. “Just surprised to see a Gabriel case. First time.”
“Psh, what’s so special? My last one was from Beast Girl Zoo.” The senior shook his head. “This one’s fresh—switched it a few days ago.”
Uh, Beast Girl Zoo? Mo Xiangwen’s smile froze on his face.
The senior didn’t notice, plunging ahead eagerly. “So, have you seen Beast Girl Zoo?”
“Y-Yeah… seen it.”
“What’d you think? It’s overhyped as a ‘masterpiece,’ sure, but still pretty good, right?”
“Y-Yeah…” Mo Xiangwen stiffly changed the subject. “Oh, right—I’m Mo Xiangwen. Haven’t caught your name yet, Senior.”
“Oh? Wang Bin. Nice to meet you, Junior Mo.”
“Right, Senior Wang Bin—you mentioned inspections?”
“Yeah. School’s gotta make sure students aren’t just grabbing funds without actually starting a business. Even without funds, they still pay the utilities for this place.”
After a few more questions, their chat loosened up—no longer a consultation, more like hanging out.
“What if I don’t apply for a room?”
“Hmm, no precedent for that, I think.” Wang Bin frowned, pondering for a good while before saying uncertainly, “Student startups get a lot of perks. School’s not that lax on managing it yet.”
“Got it.” Mo Xiangwen thought for a moment, then asked, “Rooms are assigned based on applications?”
“Sort of—they allocate from similar types. Bigger rooms are stricter, though.”
Wang Bin pointed to the right. “Junior Mo, did you see those buildings with outdoor stairs when you came in?”
“Yeah.” Mo Xiangwen nodded, puzzled.
“That whole row belongs to our incubation base.” Wang Bin sighed. “All these buildings and rooms—usage under fifty percent.”
“So… you get the idea.”
He did. Wang Bin meant big rooms were easy to snag—just go for it.
But he had no use for a big room. It’d just draw unwanted teacher attention.
Nice guy, this senior. Hope he never touches band stuff again.
“Anyway, aside from game dev types, Elder Li’s pretty easygoing.”
Mo Xiangwen figured he’d gotten what he needed and was about to leave—submit later.
But Wang Bin’s mention of games made his heart sink. A bad feeling hit him. “Why?”
“Cause of past issues.” Wang Bin sighed. “Game projects take forever anyway. Tons of game studios from seniors—not one with results.”
“Several got caught by Elder Li, slacking off in offices under the startup guise, skipping classes.”
“Some were worse—graduated with nothing but empty new folders. Elder Li was so mad, blowing his beard and glaring. We didn’t dare talk to him for days.”
Talking about Elder Li’s anger, Wang Bin still looked a bit spooked.
Mo Xiangwen blinked guiltily. He hadn’t expected his path not only paved by seniors, but booby-trapped at the end.
“Elder Li even swore—if he approves another game plan, he’s… cough.”
Wang Bin shook his head, suddenly realizing they hadn’t touched on the actual project. “Oh, right—we’ve been chatting forever. What’re you planning, Junior?”
“Game studio.”
“Ah?”
