Urban System in America
Chapter 174 - 173: Planting Seeds

Chapter 174: Chapter 173: Planting Seeds

And just like that—between quiet banter and subtle chaos, wide-eyed panic and suspicious smoothie explosions—time marched on.

The cafeteria buzz softened as trays emptied, fries dwindled, and drinks were drained. Somewhere overhead, the class bell finally rang, cutting through the chatter like a polite sword.

Rex stretched with a lazy yawn, grabbing his half-finished milkshake and standing up. "Time to return to the dungeon," he murmured, dusting off imaginary crumbs from his sleeves.

Elara quietly rose beside him, clutching her tray like a shield, still pink around the ears. She looked like someone who had barely survived a mild hurricane and was still deciding if it had really happened.

Students started filing out, some still chewing, others fumbling with water bottles and phones. But many passed by Rex with quick words:

"Thanks again, man!"

"Appreciate the lunch!"

"You’re a legend, Rex!"

Rex just smiled, nodding casually, his usual laid-back charm turned up to casual maximum.

Beside him, Elara blinked at each thank-you like it was a foreign language.

Her social battery almost maxing out.

He had paid for the entire class’s lunch. Twice. Once through ordering, and again when people kept adding desserts like they were auditioning for a food competition.

But he didn’t mind.

Because he had his reasons.

Some people probably thought he was crazy.

Spending that much money on lunch? Feeding the entire class? It had started off as a joke—sure. But the moment he saw everyone’s eyes light up at the offer, Rex knew he was going to follow through.

So, yeah. Rex treated everyone today, not because he was feeling generous, or wanted to play hero. But because he wanted to plant seeds

In simple terms, this was an investment.

Relationships.

Connections.

Impressions.

That’s what this place was really about.

They might look like ordinary students. Chatty. Loud. Obnoxiously confident. Overdressed. Underdressed. Totally average at a glance.

But this was no ordinary place.

This was UCLA. it might not carry the mythical prestige of Harvard or the ultra-nerd aura of MIT, but don’t let the ranking lists fool you. And here? Everyone was either rich, powerful, or brilliant. There was no in-between. No "just passing through" types. You had to earn your seat at this table—or inherit it.

This university had alumni worth billions. Celebrities, CEOs, actors, heirs, heirs-to-be, and straight-up monsters in human skin who could turn a spreadsheet into a fortune.

The person sitting next to you wasn’t "just" a classmate.

Nope.

That average-looking guy with messy hair and knock-off sneakers? His family probably owned a national food distribution chain.

That quiet girl who giggled every time he crossed paths with her? Granddaughter of a senator, with connections stretching from Washington D.C. to international diplomacy circles. The kind who could make a scandal disappear with a phone call.

with connections stretching from Washington D.C. to international diplomacy circles.

Even that goofy guy who never stopped talking? His mom? A former Olympic medalist and now a sports mogul.

That quiet kid in the corner who wore oversized hoodies year-round? Rumored to be a coding prodigy, already working with some big firms.

And that was just the business course.

In other departments—film, acting, law—there were literal celebrity kids. Famous last names. Future billionaires. People whose faces already showed up on gossip blogs and film trailers. Even a couple of lowkey actual celebrities whose schedules were too packed with shoots to even show up most days. People still marked them as presents.

Networking here wasn’t optional—it was survival..

He had no delusions about being on their level yet. But he had a system now. He had time. And more importantly—he had a plan.

Build genuine but strategic relationships.

Not fake friendships. Not butt-kissing. Just being the guy people remembered, liked, and respected enough to answer his call when it mattered.

And kindness was the easiest investment. People remember who fed them when they were hungry.

They’d remember that one day, Rex chuckled to himself.

That’s just how elite universities work.

They don’t put it in the brochures, but it’s the unspoken truth.

Even if just one of them remembered this moment, where Rex had smiled and said, "Hey, order whatever you want. It’s on me."

... it could turn into something.

A favor.

An opening.

A lifeline.

And what did it cost him?

A few thousand bucks?

Chump change in the long run.

A low-risk, high-return play.

If he had to spend a few thousand to create even the smallest ripple in these still waters, he’d do it again. A thousand times over.

After all, this world wasn’t just about working hard.

It was about working smart.

So yeah, knowing people here... could only do good. No harm at all.

After all, the main focus of this university wasn’t studying.

No matter what the admission brochures said, textbooks were optional. Networking? That was the real syllabus. Everything else—lectures, midterms, GPA—was just background music.

"Social capital" was the true currency here.

Getting to know the right people, building the right image, being remembered for the right moment—that’s what shaped futures. What opened doors.

And Rex?

He had no intention of being one of those nameless faces who just floated through the four years.

Not this time.

....

By the time Rex stepped into the sun-drenched lecture hall, the food coma had started to kick in, like a sleepy blanket.

The massive glass windows let in warm California sunlight, and the hum of casual pre-class chatter buzzed around him. Students shuffled into their usual spots with the languid grace of people who knew they didn’t need to try too hard. After all, they were already in

Rex casually made his way toward his usual seat near the center row, nodding absently at a few classmates who greeted him on the way. Some were warm. Others were testing the waters. Either way, he welcomed it.

He slouched into his seat, arm resting across the back of the chair beside him and glanced toward the front of the class just as the door swung open.

(End of Chapter)

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