“The buildings here at school are all constructed to a uniform standard. There aren’t any classrooms with better soundproofing.”
Wang Bin’s good upbringing kept him from complaining right away. Instead, he dutifully explained, “If you want somewhere quiet, Junior Brother, you can pick the leftmost building. No teams have moved into the rooms on the first or second floors there—or even the one next door—yet.”
“Then we’ll take the leftmost one, second floor.”
Mo Xiangwen had blurted it out on instinct, but then he thought better of it and decided to be more democratic. He turned to the two sisters.
“Mengli, Mengyao, any preferences?”
“It doesn’t matter where,” Su Mengyao said.
Su Mengli nodded from the side, offering no objection.
The sisters were in complete agreement, utterly indifferent.
Once they had settled on it, Wang Bin promptly rummaged through his keychain and pulled out one key, handing it over.
“Since you’ve made your choice, here’s the key to Room 2209.” Wang Bin glanced at the three of them and waved a hand. “Your senior knows when to make himself scarce. Go ahead and check it out yourselves.”
What was that about “your senior knows when to make himself scarce”? The phrasing felt so off.
Still, with Senior Wang Bin gone, Mo Xiangwen could finally speak freely with Su Mengli and the others about certain things.
He shot a glance at Su Mengyao, who was working hard to keep up her poised image, and took the key.
This was for the best. Su Mengyao and the girls could relax now.
“Alright, we’ll take a look ourselves.”
“Then I’ll head back to the office.”
Wang Bin had just turned to go when something occurred to him.
“Oh, right, Junior Brother—if you’re not happy with the room, don’t rush to fill out the form and confirm. Just let me know, and I’ll switch it for you.”
“Once the form’s submitted, it’s tough to change.”
You could do that? This senior really was a decent guy.
“Senior, when it comes to watching anime, try waiting until the whole season’s out.”
Mo Xiangwen couldn’t help but remind him, especially since the senior had been so accommodating. “Beast Girl Zoo and Band Anime in particular.”
“?”
Senior Wang Bin departed, brimming with confusion.
The three of them ascended the narrow external staircase. It was barely wide enough for two people side by side, so for safety’s sake, they went up single file.
Once on the second floor, Mo Xiangwen took in the corner where the stairs met the doorway—perfect spot for a hanging orchid—and filed the idea away for later.
He unlocked the door with the key in hand, and a spacious room around eighty square meters appeared before them at a glance.
There was a small partitioned-off area he couldn’t see, but he figured that was the bathroom.
Truth be told, without having seen any other entrepreneurial spaces, Mo Xiangwen hadn’t really grasped what Senior Wang Bin meant by “big rooms” until now.
It hadn’t looked that large from outside, but stepping in revealed just how roomy it truly was.
Mo Xiangwen stepped inside, and Su Mengli and Su Mengyao hurried after him.
It was broad daylight, yet the room felt dim for some reason.
He flicked on the switch by the door, and light flooded the eighty-square-meter space.
The room was utterly barren, with nothing remarkable about it.
The walls and ceiling gleamed with fresh paint, spotlessly clean.
The floor was the only thing marring the scene, covered in dust thick enough to leave footprints with every step.
The sole touch of decoration was the curtains.
With the curtains drawn tight over the surrounding windows, no wonder the place had seemed so gloomy.
Looks like the senior hadn’t been exaggerating—these rooms really hadn’t been used.
“The first order of business is cleaning up all this dust,” Su Mengli said, her delicate brows furrowing.
Mo Xiangwen crossed to the window and threw open both the curtains and the panes. A breeze swept in alongside the sunlight.
“No rush. Sweeping the floor won’t take long. The real priority is buying what we need first.”
“Yeah, there aren’t even any tables or chairs,” Su Mengyao said, puzzled. “Do we have to apply for those? Are they distributed as needed?”
“There were probably some originally, but I bet other seniors and senior sisters needed them. The school must have let them take these after their applications went through.”
“I’ll go apply for some, then.”
“No, no need.”
Mo Xiangwen flashed them a mysterious smile. “This office is just for us. Of course we’re getting the good stuff—proper desks and chairs.”
“You mean…”
Su Mengyao caught on quick, her dark eyes sparkling with anticipation as she looked at him.
“Right. Esports desks and chairs, the works…”
Mo Xiangwen trailed off mid-sentence, as if struck by a sudden thought. He frowned.
Su Mengli and Su Mengyao saw his expression change and exchanged worried glances, wondering what was wrong.
“On second thought,” Mo Xiangwen mused, “maybe adjustable sofas would be more comfortable.”
“After all, we’re not just gaming—we’ll be working sometimes too. For everyone’s health, half-reclining might be better than sitting upright?”
“No objections here.”
Su Mengyao beamed and sidled up to him. She tugged his arm and, under his puzzled gaze, pointed to the center of the room.
Then, grinning ear to ear, she said, “I think we should push the desks together. That way, when we’re gaming, we can just speak up and everyone hears—no need to shout.”
Evidently not satisfied, she dragged his arm over to one side with unrestrained glee.
This spot was just left of the entrance, out of direct sight from the door, and it boasted a large windowless wall.
“With the desks together, we’ll free up even more space.”
Su Mengyao gave the floor by her feet a few light taps. “Here, we could fit a big sectional sofa.”
Then, her face alight with excitement, she pointed at the expansive blank wall. “And here—a massive flat-screen TV.”
“Ahem, that’s going too far.” Mo Xiangwen coughed, half-laughing as he reined in her daydreams. “This is still an entrepreneurial hub, remember? Teachers will come inspect…”
Su Mengyao’s face fell instantly. She pursed her lips and went silent, a far cry from her earlier bubbly enthusiasm.
At least Mo Xiangwen seemed to have some sense.
Su Mengli, who had been frozen in place beside them, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Esports chairs were pushing it, but at least they could be justified as ergonomic for long work sessions.
A giant flat-screen TV? That was beyond excessive—pure anarchy.
Su Mengli had just been about to praise him when she saw him pat his airheaded little sister’s shoulder.
“I think we should put a sectional along that wall too,” Mo Xiangwen said with a chuckle, “and a coffee table in the middle. It’ll look like a proper guest reception area.”
Su Mengyao nodded thoughtfully.
“As for monitors, those are out.”
Su Mengli’s spirits sank at his tone—she had a bad feeling.
“But a projection screen and projector? Totally fine. We can say it’s for brainstorming sessions, pitching ideas with PPTs, that sort of thing.”
Mo Xiangwen grinned at them. “What do you think?”
