Chapter 30

The new proposal wasn’t something that could be completed in a day or two. With a heavy workload requiring coordination with Changyan, Song Wei found herself perpetually busy, barely finding time to catch her breath.

As a result, Chen Jubai hadn’t been able to leave his office for three straight days.

On the last day of their business trip to Shenzhen, after work wrapped up, Chu Qi invited everyone out to relax and have fun.

Song Wei didn’t join. Her proposal was nearing completion, and she was focused on meticulously preparing every detail, from data collection to case studies, as well as tackling technical challenges related to functionality development.

Dong Ruicheng, who was seated nearby, urged her, “Sister Wei, there’s no rush to finish tonight. We’re leaving tomorrow anyway. Why not take some time to unwind?”

Without looking up, Song Wei replied, “You guys go ahead. I just have a little bit left to finish, and I want to hand it directly to President Chen. By the way, is he going with you?”

“I don’t think so. President Chu said he’s just taking a few of us,” Dong Ruicheng answered.

Song Wei nodded and continued typing. Seeing her so focused, Dong Ruicheng hesitated and offered, “Sister Wei, maybe I’ll stay back and keep you company?”

Finally, Song Wei raised her head and chuckled. “Why? To get scolded alongside me?”

“No… I mean, I could help report anything you missed.”

“Don’t worry. President Chen isn’t going to eat me alive. Go have fun,” she reassured him.

Reluctantly, Dong Ruicheng left, turning back every few steps to glance at her, silently praying for her well-being.

He didn’t interact with Chen Jubai much, but he’d heard enough stories about his demanding standards. Word was that the tech team often bore the brunt of his criticisms. His cold demeanor only added to his intimidating presence.

Considering how Sister Wei had openly debated with him in front of so many people a few days ago, Dong Ruicheng could only imagine what kind of scene awaited her now.

Before stepping out of the office, Dong turned back and raised his fist. “Good luck, Sister Wei!”

Song Wei stifled a laugh. “Alright, I’ll do my best.”

Near the end of the workday, she completed her proposal and took it to Chen Jubai’s temporary office at Changyan.

“President Chen,” she greeted.

Chen Jubai looked up and gestured for her to come in.

Song Wei placed the documents on his desk and began her report. “Over the past few days, I’ve collected extensive data. There are numerous domestic and international cases of conflicts between patients and healthcare providers caused by AI in medicine. No matter how advanced our product becomes, it’s inevitable we’ll encounter similar issues. I’ve outlined several potential points of contention and proposed solutions to mitigate or improve them.”

“Before coming here, I discussed these features with Manager Shan. Implementing them shouldn’t be difficult. Please take a look.”

In the past few days, they had only crossed paths briefly during meals. Now, as Chen Jubai observed her closely, he noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the exhaustion in her expression. Her fatigue was palpable. Lowering his gaze, he reviewed her work carefully.

After going through the document page by page, he closed the folder. “What did Manager Fu say about this?”

“She was involved throughout the process.”

“Good. Coordinate with Shan Kaicheng for the remaining steps.”

“President Chen, could you review it again?” Song Wei pressed.

Chen Jubai walked over to her and replied in a low voice, “No need. It’s fine as it is.”

Though they were in a private office, it was close to the end of the workday, and people were bustling outside. Song Wei took two steps back and lowered her voice. “Chen Jubai…”

He replied seriously, “The proposal is thorough. Over the past few days, I’ve given it some thought. You’re right—creating ‘empathetic machines’ is a crucial aspect that sets us apart.”

Song Wei tilted her head to look at him. “Are you really setting aside your own views because of the proposal?”

He smiled. “What else would it be for?”

She understood his implication but didn’t want him to compromise because of their relationship. “I hope you genuinely acknowledge my perspective so we can improve the plan together—not just agree with whatever I say.”

Chen Jubai had reviewed her work thoroughly and wasn’t brushing her off. But he also knew that arguing with her now would mean he wouldn’t be able to leave his office that night. Softening his tone, he coaxed, “I’ll review it again later. Let’s go eat first. The others have already left.”

He took her hand.

Startled, Song Wei quickly glanced outside, confirmed no one was watching, and glared at him. “What are you doing!”

“Shall we eat alone?”

She sighed and nodded, adding, “I’ve decided I won’t work with you anymore. If there’s an issue, I’ll go to Shan Kaicheng or Chu Qi.”

Now she understood why Guangnian had a policy against workplace relationships. Romantic involvement between colleagues inevitably affected both work and emotions. Disputes could strain relationships, while compromises could impact work, creating a vicious cycle. It was almost impossible to balance perfectly.

After thinking it over, she realized it was necessary to maintain a certain distance from him. Work discussions should be centered on mutual improvement, and disagreements shouldn’t lead to emotional outbursts. After all, their roles were inherently different.

Chen Jubai thought for a moment and agreed. “Alright.”

Back in her office, Song Wei bid farewell to the Changyan colleagues, borrowed a mask from a neighboring coworker, and wore it to meet him downstairs.

After a hectic week, she finally had some time to explore the city.

Pulling out another mask from her bag, she handed it to him. “You should wear this too, just in case.”

“No one will recognize us. The others have already left,” he said.

“Better safe than sorry.” She motioned for him to lower his head. When he leaned down, she helped him put on the mask. “It’s fine at our company, but we’re on someone else’s turf now. A little discretion never hurts.”

“Alright.” He looked at her, watching as she gently and naturally carried out the small task.

Changyan’s office was in the city center, with a shopping mall just across the street. Not wanting to visit another generic mall, Song Wei asked, “Is there anything interesting to do around here?”

Chen Jubai wasn’t too familiar with the area, but he recalled some recommendations from Yu Shao during a previous visit. After surveying their surroundings and checking his phone, he said, “There’s a hill nearby. If we climb to the top, we can see Shenzhen’s night view.”

“Climbing?” Song Wei frowned.

“It’s not high. There’s also a night market at the base.”

The words “night market” caught her attention. “Alright, let’s go.”

Suddenly remembering something, he grabbed her hand. “Are you up for it?”

“Climbing’s fine. It’s just two days before we leave.”

The hill was about a kilometer away, located a couple of streets down. They decided to walk.

Shenzhen was a young city, unlike Nan’an, where the streets were often filled with an equal mix of elderly grocery shoppers and young professionals. Here, most passersby were young or middle-aged, briskly walking with headphones in their ears and eyes focused straight ahead.

The scene reminded Song Wei of her years in the capital. Back then, she had been one of them: waking up each morning, staring blankly for two minutes, then rushing to get ready and squeezing onto the subway. Once at work, she’d clock in and start her day.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were usually from the office cafeteria. On rare occasions, she’d order takeout when the cafeteria became too monotonous. She’d finish work around eight or nine at night, returning to her rental apartment with lifeless eyes, only to repeat the same routine the next day.

After returning to Nan’an, life underwent a profound change. Mornings could now start leisurely, with breakfast always ready on the table. Work no longer felt like a daily funeral march. Though overtime was occasional, it came without resentment. After work, dinner awaited, along with someone to talk to and share her day.

She felt alive again. The sight of snow could excite her, and a glowing evening sunset could make her pause. She even had time to “waste” playing with cats.

Looking back, Yang Yingqiu’s words weren’t entirely wrong—striving in big cities and living in smaller ones could both be fulfilling in their own ways. Comfort and stability were also a form of happiness.

Song Wei glanced sideways at him, the man focused on the road ahead, his expression intent.

She smiled faintly and reached for his hand.

Chen Jubai looked down briefly, then naturally held her hand in return. Holding hands had already become routine for them.

He continued navigating. “Turn right at the next light, and we’re there.”

“Mm,” Song Wei responded, then added, “Let’s visit the mall on our way back to pick up some gifts for Mom, Dad, and Xiaoyu.”

“Alright.”

Though it was still early, the snack street was already about 70–80% full.

“What do you want to eat?” Chen Jubai asked.

Song Wei scanned the area. “Let’s skip the main dishes—just some snacks.”

“Sure.”

Snack streets across the country seemed universally similar: grilled noodles, oysters, duck legs, chicken wings, stinky tofu, and hand-shaken lemon tea.

Song Wei went with the flow, buying a bit of everything that smelled appetizing.

Eventually, they found a seat in a small drink shop. She bit into a chicken wing, then immediately frowned in distaste. “It’s terrible…”

Chen Jubai took it and tried a bite himself. It wasn’t great—all flavoring and artificial seasonings. He pushed the grilled noodles toward her. “Try this instead.”

Song Wei took two bites. It was decent—better than the chicken wings. She sipped on the freshly served kumquat lemon tea and said, mouth full, “You don’t eat the wings. Try this instead.”

Chen Jubai touched the tea cup’s edge, ensuring it wasn’t too cold, before letting her continue.

She finished half of the grilled noodles and glanced around. “There’s a fruit stand over there. I’ll get some.”

Before she could stand, he pressed her back down. “I’ll go. You stay put.”

Fine. Song Wei obediently waited.

About ten minutes later, he returned, not only with a fruit platter but also with takoyaki and a bunch of skewers. Song Wei’s eyes lit up.

The fruit was a bit less than fresh, but the takoyaki was excellent—she ate three of the four balls herself.

By the end, she was patting her stomach with one hand and sipping lemon tea with the other, while the man across from her dutifully finished the leftovers.

Still dressed in his business suit from earlier, his composed and meticulous eating style seemed completely out of place against the chaotic background.

Song Wei teased him, “President Chen, is it good?”

Chen Jubai glanced at her but said nothing.

Song Wei added candidly, “Honestly, I thought you’d scoff at this place.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling. You seem like the aloof, untouchable type who doesn’t indulge in worldly pleasures.”

He looked at her again, his gaze calm. “You overestimate me.”

Setting down his chopsticks, he grabbed a napkin to wipe his hands. “I ate a lot of this kind of food for a long time. Back where I used to live, there was a small fried rice and noodle stall at the neighborhood entrance. I always ordered fried rice—it was six yuan a serving back then. I went there so often the owner knew me well and always added an extra half bowl of rice. That one serving could last me two meals.”

Song Wei was momentarily speechless, her throat tightening.

Chen Jubai took a sip from her drink, smiling faintly. “Food used to mean nothing more than filling my stomach. How could I afford to be picky?”

Listening to him, Song Wei better understood what he had said before—choosing entrepreneurship wasn’t primarily about “dreams” but more about survival and debt.

Her chest ached a little, but she kept her tone light. “Then we’re on the same page now—I’m not picky either.”

Chen Jubai glanced at her, his smile indulgent. Not picky, indeed—just demanding to be served well, or she wouldn’t eat.

Song Wei urged him, “Are you full yet? Hurry up. Let’s climb the mountain and walk off the food.”

“Alright.”

Song Wei wasn’t much into exercise. She knew her limits—she’d be out of breath climbing just a few flights of stairs. Standing at the base of the mountain, she declared, “I’ll go slow. You might as well wait for me at the top.”

He refused. “I’ll go with you.”

They ascended slowly. Song Wei managed fine at first, but after twenty-some steps, she was gasping, stopping to rest every couple of steps.

With spring now in full swing, the temperature in Shenzhen hovered around 20°C. Once they started moving, sweat quickly followed.

The lemon tea was long gone. Halfway up, Song Wei, both tired and thirsty, began to complain. “Didn’t you say this was a small mountain? Lies…”

Chen Jubai offered, “Want me to carry you?”

“No way! Only kids need carrying.”

After resting, Song Wei pushed on, grumbling all the way.

He stayed beside her, holding back laughter. “Maybe we should get a gym membership near home.”

“No.”

“Then how about a treadmill?”

“No.” Her clothes clung to her from sweat, and she glared at him in exasperation. “I’m never climbing a mountain again!”

Finally, after about twenty minutes, they reached the top. Chen Jubai went to buy water while she leaned against a stone pillar to rest.

The view from the summit was stunning, though—towering skyscrapers, radiant neon lights—it was a sight worth the effort.

He handed her the water bottle he had just opened, and Song Wei clutched it, sipping slowly like a squirrel drawing life from its source.

Chen Jubai pulled out a tissue from somewhere and wiped the sweat from her face.

Her temple hair was drenched, so he carefully dried it before tucking it behind her ears.

The intimacy made Song Wei slightly self-conscious, but she quickly reasoned it was no big deal—they were married after all. Compared to kissing, wiping sweat seemed trivial.

After finishing the water, she handed the bottle back to him. Without hesitation, he drank from the same spot she had.

Song Wei pouted playfully, “Why are you drinking my water?”

He merely smiled and leaned closer, planting a brief kiss on the corner of her lips before pulling away.

Just then, Song Wei noticed something was off. Turning her head, she saw Chu Qi and a group of colleagues—Zhu Qingfei, Dan Kaicheng, and Dong Ruicheng—standing not far away, staring at them in shock.

They all froze.

After several seconds, Dong Ruicheng pointed at the two of them, his mouth agape. “Manager Wei… President Chen… You two are…”

Finally, it dawned on Song Wei: busted.