All day long, Jiang Fuyue could feel the subtle, probing gazes from the others.
She acted as if nothing was wrong, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Whenever she had a moment, she would nudge Old Bai for more data.
Old Bai was nearly driven mad. “I just gave you a set, didn’t I?”
Jiang Fuyue: “Finished.”
“What… over 3,000 data points? In just half an hour?”
“Yeah, not that fast really. Once the dataset expands and the model gets optimized, the speed should double at least.” Jiang Fuyue was completely serious.
“Double?!”
“A conservative estimate.”
“…D*mn!”
Old Bai: “Are you really a high schooler?”
“Do you need to see my student ID?”
“…”
Jiang Fuyue: “When’s the next set coming?”
Old Bai: “Soon.”
“How soon exactly? I need a specific time.”
“…Forty… no, fifty minutes! I swear it’ll be ready!”
She frowned, clearly unimpressed with his efficiency, but still reluctantly agreed. “Fine.”
Old Bai looked utterly miserable as he buried himself back in his work.
Fifty minutes later—
Jiang Fuyue: “Send me the data.”
Old Bai froze, his hands trembling. “It’s… not done yet…”
Jiang Fuyue frowned, stood up, and walked behind him. “Let me see.”
“This involves the Marcht’s new research method. You need to integrate it with the Micro-Type II Separation Mechanism. It’s not widely used in China yet, you probably…”
Before he could finish the words “won’t understand”, the girl pointed a finger at the screen.
Jiang Fuyue: “Right here. The prerequisite condition is unstable. The hydraulic pressure is insufficient. There are unknown factors in the Artue equation’s preconditions, so you can’t directly plug in the values. You need to first use phyon to exclude variables before transforming the result.”
Old Bai had originally approached this with a “let’s see what you can really say” attitude, but by the time she finished, he had unconsciously straightened up like a stretched bowstring.
“How do you know all this?!”
Jiang Fuyue glanced at him. “Is there a problem?”
“This is cutting-edge research!” he emphasized every word.
“Even cutting-edge papers are still available through journal databases, aren’t they?”
What did he think she was doing during those few days in the library before joining the team?
“How can you understand this much just from reading papers? Even having read them doesn’t mean you’d know the detailed operational steps…” He himself had only mastered it after studying abroad.
The complexity was far beyond what mere reading could convey.
Jiang Fuyue: “Just because you can’t, doesn’t mean others can’t.”
Old Bai: “…” So arrogant! He was gonna cry!
“Hurry up and fix it. I want to see the data in ten minutes!”
Old Bai’s legs were shaking as he immediately followed her instructions to exclude variables using phyon. In under two minutes, the data began to flow in.
He quickly compiled it and sent it off.
Jiang Fuyue accepted it, imported it into her model, and launched data analysis on another computer.
One port for input, one for output.
Old Bai stared in stunned silence. No wonder she was so fast!
Jiang Fuyue checked her watch and said calmly, “Forty minutes. Next set. Can you manage it?”
Old Bai held his head and wailed.
Finally, the workday ended. When he left the lab, his vision was blurry, and his legs were jelly—he looked half-dead.
Old Jin and the others clicked their tongues—
“You don’t look right, man.”
“Looks like you’ve been, uh… overexerting yourself.”
“No way—you were watching yellow movies during work hours?!”
“Ahem! Got any links? Share some, long nights and all…”
Old Bai slumped on a bench, too tired to even argue. “If you’re my bro, get me a bottle of glucose.”
Seeing he wasn’t joking, with a pale face and dark circles under his eyes, the others quickly brought him food.
After downing a few chocolates and gulping glucose water, Old Bai’s color finally returned.
“Bro, you look like you got drained by a fox spirit.”
Old Bai licked his lips. “Not a fox spirit,” he said. “It’s Jiang Fuyue.”
“Huh? What did the little sister do?”
“You guys were all at the experiment station, you didn’t see… she’s terrifying, she balabala…”
Jiang Fuyue, having changed, exited the women’s locker room. Just as she passed the men’s, she heard her name.
She shrugged and didn’t stop.
Just outside the lab doors, she ran into Xie Dingyuan. Still in that perfectly neat suit—after a whole day, not a wrinkle in sight.
“All done?” he asked.
Jiang Fuyue nodded. “Mission accomplished.”
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Oh.”
She didn’t think much of it until she got into the car—he had come all the way from the office area just to pick her up?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Xie Dingyuan noticed her gaze. “Do I have something on my face?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I just made a new discovery.”
“About me?”
“Mm.”
“Can I know what it is?”
“No.”
“…”
Dead conversation.
Silence settled in the car.
Then Xie Dingyuan spoke again, “Are you settling in okay the past couple days?”
He wasn’t even a talkative person, but here he was, making small talk.
Driver Old Zhang glanced at him in the rearview mirror, then quickly looked away, pretending he saw nothing.
Jiang Fuyue: “It’s fine.”
“Are you keeping up with the pace?”
“Bai Yuchen’s a bit slow.”
Xie Dingyuan was stunned, then a faint smile reached his eyes.
He had meant she might struggle to keep up. But she just casually dragged someone else instead.
Jiang Fuyue frowned. “What are you smiling at?”
His smile deepened. “You’re amazing. If Old Bai is falling behind, it’s because he’s not trying hard enough. I think… that won’t happen anymore.”
True—after being pushed by her, he was now barely managing to meet deadlines.
“Have you heard of the catfish effect?”
Jiang Fuyue turned to him. “What are you trying to say?”
The catfish effect refers to introducing a predator—like a catfish—to stimulate sardines into action, increasing their survival.
Xie Dingyuan: “I thought you were a sardine. But now, I realize… you’re the catfish.”
He had intended to support her. But unexpectedly, she was the one driving the entire team forward.
Jiang Fuyue smirked. “Then you should be thanking me.”
What was supposed to be a joke, Xie Dingyuan nodded seriously. “I should.”
Jiang Fuyue: “?”
“I’ll treat you to dinner. How about it?” He seemed a little nervous.
That emotion was unfamiliar and sudden.
He’d never felt it facing Hanqing’s executives, or while presenting at global scientific summits, or even when receiving world-class honors.
But now—asking Jiang Fuyue if she’d eat with him—his heart was pounding, suspended in the air.
Jiang Fuyue: “Sure. What are we eating?”
And just like that—it landed gently.
A rise and fall no one else noticed.
He asked, “What do you feel like eating?”
“Hot pot okay?”
“Okay.”
Old Zhang nearly swerved the wheel.
Didn’t Ninth Master hate smoky, chaotic places like hot pot joints?
Let alone the choking steam—he always avoided them completely.
But just now, what did he say?
Okay?
Old Zhang took a deep breath, eyes on the road, silently chanting to himself: Steady… stay steady!
About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a hot pot place.
Black signboard, gold lettering, the characters for “Wanxiang Hot Pot” wild and flamboyant.
It was Jiang Fuyue’s first time seeing a shop sign written in wild cursive.
Too messy—bad for brand recognition. Most restaurants wouldn’t dare.
They got out, and the driver left.
Xie Dingyuan seemed unfamiliar with the place. He found a server a bit awkwardly, gave a name, and they were led to a private room with great enthusiasm.
Jiang Fuyue looked around curiously.
Just then, the server brought the menu. Xie Dingyuan flipped through it but didn’t order.
He seemed hesitant. “Um… how about you order?”
Jiang Fuyue didn’t think much of it and started checking items quickly.
“Do you eat Huanghou?” she asked.
No response.
She looked up—and saw the man across from her with an expression of slight… embarrassment.
Awkwardly, he said, “Um… what’s Huanghou?”
Jiang Fuyue: “?”
