News of Huandao AILab’s establishment spread far and wide, and on this same day, Jing Qichu arrived as planned.
After class, Huan’er ran downstairs, and through the bustling crowd and glass doors of the teaching building’s first-floor hall, she saw him several meters away—wearing dark ankle-length pants and a white T-shirt, one hand holding his jacket and the other in his pocket, no different from the other boys waiting for their girlfriends after class. Jing Qichu located her after some searching, then broke into a grin.
Sometimes, there must be such a moment when you feel life has given you all its good fortune.
Generously, selflessly, with vibrant expectation.
Just like now—the person you love falls into your sight, and even though steps move slowly, even though surroundings are noisy and bustling, even though there’s still some distance, you just know you can surely walk steadily to his side.
No, Huan’er couldn’t wait, so she ran—saying “excuse me” and “sorry” along the way, she sprinted forward with the intensity of a sports meet dash, then regardless of surrounding gazes, jumped directly onto him, “You’re so amazing!”
During the just-ended break, she had watched, like everyone else, that promotional video that covered the entire internet—waking up at seven, washing her face, brushing her teeth, cycling to the company, buying coffee and bread downstairs to take up, dense code filling the computer screen. During lunch break, a voiceover asked, “Youngest in the group, less experienced than others, is the pressure great?”
“Very. So much that I often can’t sleep, sometimes even get up at midnight to work on the computer.”
“What were you thinking then?”
“Nothing much, just trying my best to do the work at hand well.”
“Why did you choose this field?”
The protagonist smiled at the camera and asked in return, “Have you ever wanted to do something for the people around you?”
Furrowed brows in discussion meetings, typing then deleting and rewriting lines of code, seriously conversing with colleagues who came by. Cycling back to his rental apartment as lights came on, takeout, shower, sitting back at the computer with wet hair, supporting his chin in thought for a while, the protagonist suddenly covered the camera, “Stop filming, I need to message my girlfriend.”
The screen darkened, then displayed a line of text—To every passionate you.
Jing Qichu’s day was condensed into a two-and-a-half-minute video.
There wasn’t anything special about it, just like any young person working hard at their post in this vast city, passing through ordinary, busy, uneventful days from sunrise to sunset.
Jing Qichu hugged her and laughed, “Get down first.”
“No.” Huan’er hung onto him, holding even tighter.
“I’ll be staying for a few days, we can’t just eat or drink and become specimens, can we?”
Hearing this, Huan’er said “That’s unnecessary” and nimbly jumped down, landing steadily.
Only then did Jing Qichu squint his eyes to examine her, “What’s going on?”
Classmates coming out of the teaching building greeted them, “Huan’er finally got to see the real person?” They smiled at Jing Qichu, “We all saw your company’s promotional video, it was well done.”
Another person added, “And openly showing off your relationship, you’re something.”
Jing Qichu quietly took Huan’er’s hand, responding somewhat embarrassedly, “I didn’t know they would include that in the edit.”
Huan’er nestled against his shoulder like a little bird.
“Let’s go, let’s go.” The classmates made exaggerated expressions of disdain, “How can you two keep torturing us like this, from online to offline.”
They all knew the difficulties of long-distance relationships; not disturbing them was the best way to show their blessings.
When the surroundings quieted down, Huan’er asked, “How did that last line pass review?”
Jing Qichu shook his head, “I only saw the final cut when it was released today. They filmed for almost a day, and I was so annoyed by the end that I said I needed to message you. I guess Sir Jiang and Gong Bo must have seen it beforehand, and if they thought it was fine, then it was fine.”
Huan’er giggled, “Maybe it makes the employees seem more real. It’s good, showing you’re taken saves others from pining after you.”
Jing Qichu pinched her face with one hand, “Oh, so you’re only this forward now that I’m famous.”
Huan’er nodded repeatedly like a chick pecking at rice, “I’m afraid of losing you!”
Jing Qichu froze for a moment, then turned his head and quickly kissed her puffy lips.
“Foul play!” Huan’er glared at him.
Someone looked their way, and she shyly hid behind him, muttering softly, “What are you doing when we might run into my classmates?”
Always bold at home and fearless among familiar faces since childhood, she hadn’t improved much growing up—still obedient and timid around strangers and in unfamiliar environments.
Jing Qichu naturally understood this trait of hers, secretly smiling as he took her hand again, “Let’s go eat.”
Just now, he suddenly became certain of something.
This thing was very important, seeming to have been decided long ago yet still hanging in suspense.
Death of loved ones, shattered dreams, changing direction, and chasing forward—at every crucial point in Jing Qichu’s life, even those dark and hopeless moments, Chen Huan’er had stayed by his side as a companion. Starting as friends, Qichu occasionally wondered if, in Huan’er’s heart, he was still that friend—someone to encourage each other and support each other along the way.
This thought left him confused and at a loss, making him nervous and timid.
He loved her, as a grown man loves a woman, having strong physical urges when kissing, thinking about saving his salary to buy a house when working overtime, secretly yearning for such a life forever when hearing children’s laughter passing by kindergartens—he was certain this was how he loved Huan’er.
Qiu Yang often teased him, saying he had a face that young girls adored and a heart that mothers-in-law would approve of.
Yes, those thoughts might not be romantic enough, but they were solid and profound.
Huan’er said I’m afraid of losing you.
Her expression, tone, body language, everything everything was conveying one signal—you are to me as I am to you.
No one knew how happy Jing Qichu was right now.
They went to the hotpot restaurant beside the school, queued for a long time before getting in, and during the meal met a group of senior students from the Computer Science department. Everyone chatted, drank, and caught up, the meal lasting two hours. After leaving the restaurant, they walked around the school to digest, and after Jing Qichu’s third reminder that “we should head back or the dormitory will close,” Huan’er asked, “Where are you staying?”
He casually pointed to a nearby hotel, “I dropped off my luggage there in the afternoon, don’t worry.”
Huan’er started talking about other things, but after walking a bit further and seeing time was really running out, Jing Qichu put his arm around her shoulders and walked toward the Pharmacy department dormitory, “Hurry up, any later and you’ll have to stay with me.”