Zhōu Shíyì closed the window and went downstairs.
Yán Tínglín sipped iced coffee, staring at his computer screen.
Zhōu Shíyì sat in the chair opposite him and grabbed a bottle of water from the table, twisting it open.
Yán Tínglín snapped out of his daze and leaned back: “Try not to come to my office too often; it disrupts the feng shui.”
Zhōu Shíyì tilted his head slightly, took two sips, and slowly screwed the cap back on: “Seems like you have to try harder, or else you’ll end up like me—complaining every day.”
“Ha ha.”
Yán Tínglín lowered the music volume. “I know you’re feeling triumphant today. The battle with Shen Chi—you’ve used every move you could. What’s the next step?”
Zhōu Shíyì: “How do you know Shen Chi hasn’t used all his cards yet?”
“Ruichi still has new cars to release.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
This price war must be won.
He looked at Yán Tínglín: “Listening to this song, you’re thinking about how to break through physical space limits?”
Yán Tínglín took a sip: “Trade secret.”
Zhōu Shíyì: “Trade secret means—you haven’t figured it out yet, right?”
Yán Tínglín chuckled, pointing toward the door.
He needed to change the music; Zhōu Shíyì knew his playlist—he deliberately chose songs that would frustrate him and limit his eloquence when stuck.
Breaking through physical space limits required very high material standards.
Zhōu Shíyì said: “Tell me what materials you need, I’ll get them.”
After staying another half hour, he left the chip building and returned to the algorithm side.
Zhōng Yì was still in the same state as when he left.
Time seemed frozen there; more than an hour passed unnoticed.
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t disturb her and handled emails in the lounge outside.
Only when dusk fell and Zhōng Yì grew hungry did she look up from the screen.
【Why aren’t you here yet?】 She quickly typed.
Zhōu Shíyì: 【Why do you think I’m not here yet?】
Zhōng Yì was so tired her head barely moved; she took a sip of water to refresh.
【You’re already here, right?】
No reply.
Footsteps approached the door.
Zhōng Yì looked up.
At some unknown moment, the man had changed into a black shirt.
***
In the morning, when he left for the car launch, he wore a white shirt and dark suit.
Zhōu Shíyì pushed the handwritten “Jewelry Appraisal Certificate” toward her and extended his hand, signaling for the original certificate.
Zhōng Yì feigned ignorance and placed her hand in his.
Zhōu Shíyì smiled rarely, clasped her hand: “Give me the appraisal certificate.”
Zhōng Yì pointed to her canvas bag, indicating he should get it himself.
The bag was on the sofa; Zhōu Shíyì walked over, bent down, and opened it.
Just as he grabbed it and straightened up, Zhōng Yì wrapped her arms around him from behind.
“When you ordered the ring, was it to reconcile and marry me?”
“Yeah.”
Zhōng Yì clasped her hands around his waist and buried her face in his back: “After we separated, I kept thinking about you.”
Zhōu Shíyì turned, unable to see her: “If you kept thinking about me, why act so distant now?”
“No distance.”
“Then maybe you forgot what you were like in front of me.”
Zhōng Yì could never forget.
“Does my handwriting really not look like mine?”
She changed the subject.
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t answer directly: “I’ll write it for you.”
Zhōng Yì let go of him, took a fountain pen from the pen holder, and handed it over.
Zhōu Shíyì rewrote the characters just below her handwriting, adding the words “Wife, keep” as well.
The contrast made Zhōng Yì notice the difference—the spirit and form were both unlike hers.
Zhōu Shíyì closed the pen cap: “Going to the cafeteria or heading home?”
Zhōng Yì had confidently told Níng Quē earlier she didn’t need to leave early to rest, but now she felt exhausted.
She shut down her computer: “Going home to catch up on sleep.”
Because of the Zhijia Damo model and the Kun Series launch, neither of them had been sleeping well recently.
On the way home, Zhōng Yì looked out at the road signs, then suddenly turned to him.
“I don’t need navigation to get home anymore.”
Zhōu Shíyì said nothing and offered his hand.
Zhōng Yì held it, tracing his prominent knuckles, thinking, How can a man’s hand be this sexy?
Zhōu Shíyì’s phone vibrated. Jì Fánxīng had finally replied.
That afternoon, he had asked her to help connect Shao An Wu Zao to Zhōng Yì.
Jì Fánxīng: 【I’ll try, but don’t know if he’s willing. I’m nothing special to him. Shao Jin An is, how to put it, a man who annoyed me, briefly smoked for two months, then quit. You can imagine his personality.】
Zhōu Shíyì was surprised: 【You stopped talking to him because of his smoking?】
Jì Fánxīng: 【Yeah.】
She didn’t elaborate but asked: 【How about you? Have you quit completely?】
Zhōu Shíyì: 【Yes.】
Since Zhōng Yì moved into the marital home, he hadn’t smoked.
Jì Fánxīng: 【Sometimes I still crave a cigarette, but I resist.】
Zhōu Shíyì: 【I thought you two were just ordinary friends. You don’t need to contact him anymore; I’ll find someone else to connect you.】
Jì Fánxīng: 【No worries. I’ve already messaged him, probably testing now, hasn’t replied yet.】
Ending the chat, Zhōu Shíyì glanced over and saw Zhōng Yì had fallen asleep in her chair.
Yet, she still tightly held his hand.
He remembered the day they got their marriage certificate.
She fell asleep in the car, and upon waking, grabbed his arm tightly.
To this day, he didn’t know what nightmare had shaken her.
Zhōng Yì slept until they got home.
Having eaten two pieces of cake that afternoon, she wasn’t that hungry and skipped dinner.
After washing up, she collapsed onto the bed.
With Kuncheng’s comeback in the market, her heart finally settled.
But with her heart at ease, she felt utterly exhausted.
Zhōu Shíyì didn’t work overtime tonight; after showering, he turned off the bedroom light.
Zhōng Yì rested her head on his pillow, drowsy and nearly asleep when he pulled her into his embrace.
It was the earliest they had ever gone to sleep—lights out before 9:30 PM.
Zhōu Shíyì asked the person in his arms: “That day when we registered, what nightmare did you have? Can you tell me now?”
Zhōng Yì was slightly startled; she hadn’t expected him to remember such a small detail.
“I dreamed you were leaving. I didn’t want you to go, but I woke up before I could raise my hand.”
Luckily, when she woke, he was beside her.
Zhōu Shíyì bent down and kissed her lips.
Zhōng Yì grabbed the belt of his robe and kissed him back.
Originally, he only intended to kiss her once to comfort her, but somehow, feelings stirred.
Zhōu Shíyì was about to roll her under him when his body suddenly stiffened, and his Adam’s apple moved.
That night of the wedding, she had unconsciously clenched his arm.
Tonight, she held it actively.
Zhōu Shíyì looked down at her, and Zhōng Yì didn’t shy away from his gaze.
Unable to resist his deep eyes, after barely two minutes of eye contact and with her heartbeat in chaos, she nestled into his arms.
But she still held on, not letting go.
Zhōu Shíyì only kissed her soft hair, not going further.
His palm burned.
Zhōng Yì’s hand was already sweaty.
“I have no strength left tonight.”
Zhōu Shíyì suddenly chuckled: “I know.”
He took her hand and stopped her from holding tight: “Sleep now.”
Zhōng Yì leaned against his chest, closing her eyes: “When the project ends, I want a child.”
Zhōu Shíyì’s voice was hoarse: “Okay.”
Zhōng Yì didn’t know when she fell asleep; she awoke the next morning.
After ten hours of sleep, she finally felt restored.
Arriving at the company, Níng Quē notified her there was a meeting at 10 AM—a discussion with the chip team.
They had agreed beforehand that the other side would attend their weekly meeting once a week; this wasn’t even the second week.
Zhōng Yì worried: “Is there an emergency?”
“No idea. Yán Tínglín notified me, just said not to be late.”
Zhōng Yì’s biggest fear was the chip design software being blocked; even someone as powerful as Yán Tínglín would be helpless.
Before 10, the algorithm team was all present; the chip team arrived gradually.
Táng Nuòyún followed her boss closely.
She’d heard from colleagues that the boss’s office light was on all night—he must not have slept.
Today’s meeting, he brought two cans of iced coffee.
She didn’t dare ask if he had insider information about the design software being blocked.
When everyone was assembled, Yán Tínglín cut straight to the point: “About reserving 20% programmable area,” he said, looking at Zhōng Yì, “it’s possible.”
The chip team was stunned, incredulous at their boss.
Táng Nuòyún felt she needed those two cans of iced coffee even more now.
Zhōng Yì was also surprised; until now, she had no hope of reserving that much.
She confirmed: “You really can reserve 20%?”
Yán Tínglín nodded:
“Yes.”
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