In a tranquil teahouse surrounded by incense and zither melodies, the ancient wooden doors creaked open, revealing pavilions, covered walkways, rock gardens, and bamboo groves.
Peter walked in, looking around with curious eyes and exclaiming in awe from time to time.
Xu Kaiqing asked, “I heard you’ve read Dream of the Red Chamber?”
Peter replied, “Of course.”
“Then do you know Liu Laolao?” Xu deliberately emphasized the Chinese words “Liu Laolao.”
Peter’s gaze flickered. “O-of course.”
“You’re actually quite like her.”
“Huh?”
“Big, brawny—and the way you walked into the teahouse was exactly like how she entered the Grand View Garden.”
Peter understood “big” and “brawny,” but “Grand View Garden”? Not important.
He raised his arms and flexed his biceps on the spot: “Yes! I am like Liu Laolao!”
Jiang Fuyue couldn’t hold it in: “Pfft—”
Peter looked puzzled and asked Xu quietly, “Why is Chou laughing?”
Xu Kaiqing: “Maybe because she just saw a big dumb ox.”
Peter: “?” Ox? Where?
The trio stopped in front of a wooden door with a sign hanging in the middle that read “Feng Ya Ju” in elegant calligraphy.
Jiang Fuyue pushed open the door and stepped in.
Xu Kaiqing and Peter followed close behind.
The faint aroma of tea drifted through the air. At a table not far away, someone was already seated, calmly boiling water and making tea.
Jiang Fuyue said, “Let me introduce—”
“No need,” Xu waved it off. “From the Northwest Research Institute, Professor Ming Yu.”
Ming Yu nodded, “Professor Xu.” He then turned to Peter and greeted him in English, “Good to see you again, Professor Drucker.”
Peter immediately opened his arms warmly: “Oh, Ming! Didn’t expect to run into you here.”
All three were top minds in the field of physics, leaders in their respective specializations—so it wasn’t strange that they knew one another.
For example, Xu Kaiqing and Ming Yu had met at a medal-awarding ceremony where they both received honors and stood together on stage.
Later, Xu led a group of PhD students on a visit to the Northwest Research Institute.
The presenter that day had been none other than Ming Yu!
Through these encounters, they became quite familiar with each other.
They often exchanged emails to discuss cross-disciplinary technical problems.
As for Peter and Ming Yu, it was even simpler. Two years ago, at a thermonuclear physics symposium hosted in California, they’d both given presentations—only to discover afterward that they were seated next to each other.
Ming Yu then spent three months doing experimental training at USC, during which Peter provided him with both daily conveniences and academic inspiration.
Even after Ming Yu returned to China, the two remained in contact.
Jiang Fuyue: “Since everyone knows each other, that makes things easier. Old Xu, that experimental bottleneck you mentioned…”
In the elegant tea room, though it was a four-person conversation, the atmosphere and effect were like a grand symposium with thousands in attendance.
Knowledge collided and sparked. Thoughts interwove and ignited.
Inevitably, the S-SA intranet’s KoPai (Science Snapshot) platform came up.
Only then did Ming Yu realize that Jiang Fuyue was actually the mysterious founder—“I Send My Sorrowful Heart”!
“I Send My Sorrowful Heart to the Bright Moon…”
The clue had been there all along, obvious even. But no one had dared to make that leap. Or even think in that direction.
While discussing a highly technical question, Jiang Fuyue realized none of the three men specialized in that specific area.
So she logged into the intranet and, using her founder-level permissions, searched for papers and scholars in the relevant field.
Because KoPai hosted the nation’s top scientists, they frequently used the internal forums for academic discussion.
These posts, however, were time-sensitive. After a set period, they’d automatically lock and become hidden. Within six months, admins could still view them—but after that, only the founder could access them.
And when the founder logs in—it can’t be done anonymously.
So, as soon as Jiang Fuyue went online…
A field of blooming purple irises lit up across the homepage.
That dazzling flash of purple stunned everyone.
——
At Hanqing BioTech, inside the DNA Building, in a certain lab.
Xie Dingyuan stared at the desktop image of blooming purple irises, pupils shrinking as he immediately began typing.
His long fingers flew across the keyboard, faster and faster…
Code appeared on-screen, and a progress bar began to load.
While waiting, Xie calculated the timing and made a phone call to Shen Wenzhao in the imperial capital.
At that moment, Shen was helping a PhD student revise a dissertation proposal. Just as he was explaining a crucial point, his phone rang unexpectedly.
He declined the call in his pocket and kept talking.
But just seconds later—it rang again.
“Professor Shen, maybe you should take the call?”
Shen Wenzhao nodded, sensing something urgent. He reached for his phone while saying to the student, “Let’s stop here for today. Make the changes we discussed, and come see me tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay.”
The student left. Shen Wenzhao glanced at the caller ID—and his heart skipped a beat.
Ah Yuan wouldn’t call twice for no reason.
Could it be…
He picked up: “Ah Yuan, is something wrong?”
“Mm. Two minutes ago, the purple irises bloomed again.”
Shen straightened in his seat, eyes glowing. “Check the founder’s avatar—is it lit or dim?”
“Lit.”
“That means I Send My Sorrowful Heart is online! And Xu left the capital today…”
Xie Dingyuan: “You mean—?”
“He’s definitely gone to meet I Send My Sorrowful Heart! I knew he was sneaking around behind my back!”
“Ah Yuan, didn’t you say last time that once the founder’s account logs in, you can use hacking to track their IP?”
“Yeah. I’ve already started. But the intranet has been stable for decades thanks to its powerful firewalls. To track an IP, I’ll have to break through several of them. I’ll need some time.”
“Alright. I’ll wait for your update.”
“Got it.” Xie Dingyuan ended the call and returned to typing.
His eyes fixed on the screen, gleaming with determination.
——
In the tea room.
Using keyword searches, Jiang Fuyue found the relevant scholars and, by analyzing their forum posts, finally solved the technical problem.
Just as she was about to log out of the founder account, a sudden alarm blared from her laptop.
A massive red exclamation mark appeared on-screen.
Xu Kaiqing: “What’s going on? Why is the system sounding an alarm?”
Peter: “What’s happening? Xu, aren’t you an admin? Why is this happening?”
Xu Kaiqing: “I’ve never seen this either. Don’t ask me.”
Ming Yu scanned the blue text under the exclamation mark: “It’s the firewall?”
Jiang Fuyue nodded solemnly.
“Someone tried to use my login to breach the firewall. They triggered the alarm at the second level.”
“What do we do now?”
Jiang Fuyue placed her hands on the keyboard, typing swiftly: “The enemy’s at the door—obviously, we fight back!”
Her final words landed like a gavel.
Xu Kaiqing clenched his fist: “Yeah—let’s give him a good beating!”
Peter whistled in awe: “Cool!”
Ming Yu asked, “Need help?”
Jiang Fuyue: “Not for now.”
Five minutes later—
The code disappeared. The screen turned black. A progress bar appeared and began slowly loading.
“What’s that?”
Jiang Fuyue: “Whoever tried to breach my firewall—I want to know who they are. Once the bar finishes loading, the tracking virus will be implanted. If they break through the second firewall, they’ll be infected, and their IP and personal info will be exposed. Just wait.”
——
In the lab—
Xie Dingyuan had finally cracked the second firewall, barely had time to feel pleased when his system pinged—virus alert.
His expression sharpened. While trying to break the third firewall, he also launched an antivirus program.
But the other party had clearly come prepared—the virus was complex, layered with nested threats. A single wrong move, and not only would the virus remain, but it might trigger another one, crashing the entire system.
Whoever this founder was—not only a top-tier scientist, but clearly an elite hacker as well.
Somehow, Xie suddenly thought of Jiang Fuyue…
She too had exceptional scientific talent—and was brilliant at computer modeling.
With her skills, she could absolutely write a virus like this. No—maybe even better.
Suddenly—
The host computer started making erratic beeping sounds.
Xie Dingyuan’s face changed slightly. No time to let his mind wander now.
He had a battle to win.
