Until everyone finished eating, Yan Tinglin still couldn’t help but chuckle at Níng Quē’s words.
He had never heard of anyone bringing up Early Birth as an excuse in the workplace before.
Níng Quē ate a slice of fried ham and said, “Is it really that funny?”
Yan Tinglin rested his chin on his hand.
“How could it not be? It’s like when the teacher asks you a question in class and you don’t know the answer, so you say, ‘Teacher, I was born premature.’ Guess what the teacher’s next move would be?”
Níng Quē laughed, “I don’t know what the teacher would do next. I’m just giving you a self-persuasion excuse.”
“These past few years, that’s how I’ve convinced myself to keep my head down and not get into petty arguments with another premature baby.”
Yan Tinglin laughed again until Níng Quē told him to stop.
If he went on, his chest would start hurting from laughing too much.
“Keep that excuse for yourself—I don’t need to convince myself. I won’t keep my head down, but I will do everything to meet the chip demands she wants.”
He gestured toward Tang Nuoyun sitting next to him and said to Níng Quē, “She’s the youngest on our team, so cut her some slack in the future—I’m pretty protective.”
That wasn’t just empty talk. Some of the chip team members had returned from the Bay Area with Yan Tinglin, and their boss always defended them unconditionally in front of other teams and clients.
Níng Quē joked about herself, “No matter how protective you are, it can’t compare to me—I’ve been protecting her since she was still in her mother’s womb.”
“That’s putting pressure on me,” Yan Tinglin said.
Taking advantage of the light atmosphere before the morning meeting, Yan Tinglin turned to his subordinates. “Who else here was born premature? I’ll protect you even more.”
Everyone burst out laughing.
Someone chimed in, “Boss, I was three days early—does that count?”
Yan Tinglin laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “Go find somewhere cooler to hang out.”
Amidst the laughter, Níng Quē finished breakfast.
“You guys go ahead. I’ll buy Zhōng Yì a cup of soy milk.”
Yan Tinglin stood up, holding his meal card. “I’ll go get it.”
Today’s breakfast for the team was also on him.
Ten minutes later, Yan Tinglin returned with three cups of freshly made soy milk.
No one had left yet—they were waiting for him.
Stepping out of the cafeteria, the summer morning light was already somewhat dazzling, so he put on sunglasses.
Tang Nuoyun could tell their boss had something on his mind. It wasn’t that he was too amused to eat breakfast—he probably didn’t have much of an appetite, so she pretended not to eat as well.
“Boss, is there something difficult with the project advancement?” she slowed her pace, showing concern.
Yan Tinglin replied, “A bit tough, but not yet critical.” He explained further, “I had a video call with Zhōu Sùjìn last night. The situation is much more severe than when I first agreed to join Jinghe.”
“More key technologies have been blocked overseas, right?”
“Yes. It’s hard to break through in the short term.”
Currently, Kuncheng Semiconductor’s process level and yield rate were restricting chip performance, while Zhōng Yì needed chips that could meet ultra-large computing power demands.
Tang Nuoyun tried to comfort the boss, “Because you returned to China, they’re scared, so they’re trying to block you from the chip process side to limit your room for maneuver.”
Yan Tinglin smiled, “I’m not yet powerful enough to make them scared, but I like hearing that.”
Then he returned to the topic. “You don’t need to worry. I’m already thinking about solutions.”
Tang Nuoyun couldn’t help but worry. “We all ate the breakfast you bought, but you didn’t eat yourself.”
“I’m still on Bay Area hours, so I eat less at dinner.”
Tang Nuoyun thought: Is that even possible?
It was the first time she’d heard of jet lag not being adjusted, with breakfast and dinner reversed.
She looked again at the three cups of soy milk in his hand, wondering why he bought so many.
***
The answer came during the weekly meeting.
The three cups of freshly made soy milk were for Zhōng Yì, the boss himself, and Zhōu Shíyì.
Zhōu Shíyì attended his first weekly meeting as well.
He glanced at his cup of soy milk—who drinks soy milk in meetings?
Everyone else had water or coffee, but the three of them were special; the soy milk paper cups stood out.
Zhōng Yì stated, “I need to reserve 20% of the chip’s area for programmability.”
Tang Nuoyun couldn’t help but double-check, “How much?”
Zhōng Yì looked at her: “Twenty percent.”
As the chip architect, Tang Nuoyun firmly replied, “Impossible.”
Níng Quē glanced at his watch—only thirty-six minutes into the meeting, and a disagreement had already surfaced.
Tang Nuoyun explained further, “Kuncheng Semiconductor’s process constraints limit us all. If you insist on reserving 20%, chip efficiency will drop, making it even harder to meet your computing demands. Also—”
She projected her computer screen. “This is the unit chip cost budget from Mr. Zhou.”
Everyone turned to the screen.
Zhōu Shíyì also looked up—he had provided the data, but he remembered it by heart.
Tang Nuoyun said, “Reserving 20% would seriously exceed costs.”
However, she wasn’t sure if Zhōu Shíyì would adjust the cost ceiling for this. To be cautious, she looked at him and asked directly, “Mr. Zhou, can Kuncheng accept a cost increase?”
Would they be willing to bear the extra cost for the 20% reserved area Zhōng Yì requested?
Zhōu Shíyì answered bluntly, “We’re not considering an increase in unit cost.”
“Understood.”
Tang Nuoyun turned back to Zhōng Yì and said no more.
It wasn’t that the chip team was unwilling to reserve programmable areas—it was the constraints of the process and cost.
But Zhōng Yì insisted, “Model iterations are too fast. Without reserving programmable areas, how can we support new operators? Only by keeping up with our algorithms can your chips improve.”
All the chip team members:
The two sides reached an impasse.
Neither could persuade the other.
Fortunately, there was no outright shouting.
Yan Tinglin remained silent the whole time, just sipping his iced soy milk.
Zhōu Shíyì had long anticipated that the two teams would clash and was only there to observe, not to mediate; otherwise, the work wouldn’t progress smoothly.
Tang Nuoyun didn’t want to sacrifice chip efficiency, and he understood that.
Zhōng Yì wanted programmable chips to prepare for the large model’s future, which he also understood.
After Yan Tinglin finished his soy milk, he told Zhōng Yì, “I’ll address all the issues discussed today at the next weekly meeting.”
Zhōng Yì nodded. “Okay.”
“That’s it for today. Meeting adjourned.”
Yan Tinglin tossed the soy milk cup into the trash and took out his phone, leaving the meeting room first.
Níng Quē noticed that, like Zhōng Yì, Yan Tinglin brought nothing to meetings except himself.
The chip team followed their boss, curious about what kind of response Yan Tinglin would give Zhōng Yì.
Zhōng Yì returned to her office and gave herself twenty minutes to rest.
The increased restrictions on chip technology were unexpected but understandable.
No matter how difficult, she never considered giving up on programmable chips.
“Busy?” Zhōu Shíyì knocked on the office doorframe.
Zhōng Yì straightened up from her chair. “Not busy in these twenty minutes. Finished the call?”
“Yeah.”
Picio
After the meeting, he called Du.
Zhōu Shíyì sat opposite her desk and silently extended his hand.
Zhōng Yì smiled—it was a gesture born from worry that she might feel down, and knowing she preferred using hands, he was trying to cheer her with his own.
She didn’t take it. “This is work, not an argument with you.”
Zhōu Shíyì withdrew his hand and leaned back in his chair.
“Today it’s not about me and Yan Tinglin siding with Tang Nuoyun. It’s just reality.”
“I know.”
Zhōu Shíyì hadn’t told her about the video call with his cousin last night, wanting her to get one more good night’s sleep.
He knew today’s meeting wouldn’t go smoothly, so he came just to listen.
“Things happened suddenly, and no solution came overnight. But no matter how many problems there are, I’ll solve them.”
He promised her, and he would keep his word.
“One side’s effort isn’t enough,” Zhōng Yì said. “I’ll optimize the algorithms as much as possible.”
Zhōu Shíyì had to rush back to Kuncheng and didn’t have time to stay.
“Want me to walk you downstairs?”
She looked at the time on her computer. “Yes.”
She said she still had sixteen minutes left of her break, enough to send him off.
Zhōu Shíyì looked at her. “If you had three minutes left, would you not walk me?”
Zhōng Yì thought for a moment. “Maybe.”
Zhōu Shíyì said, “If you came to my office, no matter how busy, I’d walk you.”
His “walk” wasn’t just downstairs—it meant seeing her all the way to her destination.
They arrived downstairs where a car was waiting.
Before getting in, Zhōu Shíyì asked, “A hug?”
The bodyguard just opened the car door, but at those words, he stepped back several paces, turned away, and averted his face.
Zhōng Yì opened her arms and was immediately pulled into his embrace.
Zhōu Shíyì gently stroked her back. “I’ll come pick you up tonight.”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask my cousin for a temporary office? Did he say yes?”
“Yes, it’s in Yan Tinglin’s building. I’m moving there next week.”
Mín Tíng didn’t agree to set up an office for him in the algorithm building, saying he would interfere with Zhōng Yì’s work.
He called Mín Tíng: Aren’t you worried Yan Tinglin will interfere with my work?
Mín Tíng said: You have to learn to adapt to the environment at Jinghe.
His temporary office was directly above Yan Tinglin’s. If Yan Tinglin had the windows open, the sounds of laughter could clearly be heard upstairs.
Zhōu Shíyì released her. “No need to buy me soy milk anymore.”
Zhōng Yì smiled. “Okay.”
Watching the Meibach drive off, she stood still for a moment.
She wondered how Yan Tinglin would coordinate the disagreements.
She knew he would definitely compromise, but didn’t know how much.
Back at the office, dozens of messages awaited her in the work group chat.
Zhōng Yì scrolled up. Tang Nuoyun had posted a data analysis file and tagged her: 【Ms. Zhōng, take a look.】
She opened the file.
The analysis showed the cost increases involved if 20% programmable area was reserved as requested, plus the multimodal large model itself increased chip power consumption, adding hidden costs.
Tang Nuoyun posted this to show she wasn’t deliberately targeting Zhōng Yì at the meeting.
Her refusal had been too direct at the time, something Yan Tinglin had reminded her about after the meeting.
Afterward, Yan Tinglin told her, “If the algorithm team pushes too hard, I’m the first to say no. We try to be tactful—right?”
Tang Nuoyun nodded, “Later I felt I shouldn’t have been so blunt.”
In the heat of the argument, she had even forgotten Zhōng Yì’s identity, only seeing her as the head of algorithms.
She explained, “Maybe I’m just used to speaking that way. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Yan Tinglin said, “It’s fine. You can be as direct as you want with me.”
“When it comes to the algorithm team, if it really gets to a point where neither side can back down, I’ll be the one to negotiate with Zhōng Yì. You don’t have to be the front line.”
He handed her a can of iced coffee. “Let’s have lunch together. Bring your boyfriend too. I’ll treat you both.”
“Thanks, boss.”
“No need to thank me—thank Mín Tíng for topping up my meal card with so much money that I can never spend it all.”
Tang Nuoyun laughed.
After working together for just half a day, she understood why everyone on his team liked this boss so much.
Even when pointing out his subordinates’ flaws, he was so gentle and thoughtful.
【From now on, spend half a day a week learning with me.】
Yan Tinglin sent this message to Zhōng Yì.
Zhōng Yì had just finished reading Tang Nuoyun’s data analysis when Yan Tinglin’s chat box popped up.
She didn’t understand. 【Learn what?】
Yan Tinglin: 【Teach you how to design chips.】
Zhōng Yì:
【I don’t have that talent.】
Yan Tinglin: 【If you had the talent, I wouldn’t teach you—that would be taking my job away.】
He continued: 【No talent needed. Just get familiar with the system. I’ll also let Tang Nuoyun and the others experience how hard your algorithm work is.】
Zhōng Yì understood his intention: to foster mutual understanding between the algorithm and chip teams.
【Okay.】
【By the way, can you teach me how to reverse engineer chips?】
Yan Tinglin: 【You’re dreaming. Think of it this way: it’s like you just learned numbers one to ten but want to win a gold medal at the International Mathematical Olympiad.】
Zhōng Yì laughed. 【I actually am a gold medalist.】
Yan Tinglin: 【I heard you and your husband are both good at math.】
【I heard Mín Tíng helped you reverse engineer chips?】
Zhōng Yì: 【Yeah.】
Yan Tinglin: 【It wasn’t easy for him to get reverse engineering authorization. Then he and his team of more than a dozen worked on it for a long time. That’s true love for you and Zhōu Shíyì.】
He asked, “What day do you plan to come to learn? I’ll arrange the schedule.”
Zhōng Yì: 【Saturday afternoon.】
After the project launched, she could spare at most half a day for rest, and she would use that time to learn chip knowledge.
Yan Tinglin: 【Tell Zhōu Shíyì to come listen in the lab when he’s free too.】
Zhōng Yì thought Zhōu Shíyì would never go.
【You’re going to be a troublemaker for me.】
Yan Tinglin: 【Not at all. Despite disagreements, our ultimate goal is the same.】
Zhōng Yì set an alarm for Saturday noon to remind herself to be on time for chip team learning in the afternoon.
She didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch, asking Níng Quē to bring her a boxed meal.
She hit a tough problem when handling multi-sensor data fusion. There was a solution, but the chip team’s computing power couldn’t fully support it.
An entire afternoon passed without progress.
“Ms. Zhōng, get some good rest once you’re back.”
Her subordinate’s words brought her back to focus.
Zhōng Yì nodded. “You all don’t stay too late either.”
Only then did she have a chance to check her phone. Zhōu Shíyì had messaged her two hours ago: 【Temporary company meeting. Won’t be able to pick you up until around nine.】
Zhōng Yì checked the time again—already 7:20.
Scrolling through the news, she saw that Ruichi Motors planned their new car launch on June 12th—the same day as Kuncheng’s event.
Two car companies holding launches on the same day was unprecedented in the history of new energy vehicles.
Shěn Chí, emotionally unsettled on the day he got his marriage certificate, had moved Ruichi’s launch forward to compete directly with Kuncheng’s, like two drummers beating face-to-face.
No wonder Zhōu Shíyì called an emergency meeting.
Zhōng Yì closed her laptop, slung on her canvas bag, and left.
The white sports sedan left the campus but didn’t turn toward home. It headed in another direction straight for the city.
At this moment, Kuncheng Tower was brightly lit.
Zhōu Shíyì received a call from his father. Zhōu Yúnlián had just landed from a business trip and saw the news.
“Are you and Shěn Chí leaving no room to back down?”
“That’s good—makes the launch more exciting.”
At this moment, Zhōu Yúnlián knew there was no point in saying more, only reminding his son, “Don’t drag Kuncheng Motors down a road of no return!”
Zhōu Shíyì: “If it’s no return, so be it. I never planned to go back anyway.”
Zhōu Yúnlián opened his mouth but was too angry to speak for a while.
He hung up.
Zhōu Shíyì closed his files and stood, preparing to go to the conference room.
*Knock knock!*
“Come in.”
He thought it was Zhan Liang, but when he looked up, Zhōng Yì pushed the door open and stepped in.