When Will My Childhood Sweetheart Marry Me?-Chapter 178: Do the Opposite

She slowly walked to the adjacent workstation and surprisingly discovered that Old Man Jiang had fallen asleep reclining in his chair.

Steam was still rising from the tea in the thermos on his desk, indicating that he had just fallen asleep.

Originally prepared for an extensive discourse, Jiang Shuyao pondered for a moment, her gaze landing on the A4 paper and the signing pen in front of the printer.

In the early autumn of October, a chill was beginning to rise.

When Tan Qian entered the office, worried that the old professor might catch a cold, he gently nudged his shoulder to wake him.

Old Man Jiang woke up in a daze, glanced at the time on his wrist, hastily grabbed his coat, and stood up from his chair, "Oh dear, look at this... how did I end up asleep? I’ll get scolded when I get back. That youngster really drove me mad."

As a bona fide native of Rong City, fearing one’s wife is also not an exception, even for someone of Professor Jiang’s stature.

Tan Qian stood to the side chuckling, "Professor, no rush, I’ll accompany you."

It was just about time to leave work, and the two of them had the same route.

When Old Man Jiang reached for his thermos, he caught a glimpse of a piece of paper underneath. What first drew his attention, however, were the few lines of elegant, flowing semi-cursive script on it.

Everyone in the circle knew of Professor Jiang’s obsession with calligraphy. Calligraphy tools and paintings nearly filled every corner of his home study, and he himself had years of study devoted to semi-cursive script, capturing much of the essence of the masters.

"The strokes are light and delicate yet forceful. If one can write like this with a signing pen, their brush writing must also be quite good."

Old Man Jiang was full of admiration, completely disregarding the actual content on the paper.

Tan Qian, however, had read it from start to finish, a vaguely surprised delight crossing his eyes, "Who left this? It’s rather interesting."

With his comment, Old Man Jiang finally focused on the text before him.

—

To Master Jiang:

I am aware of your recent concerns regarding base management; here is a strategy for your consideration...

...

In just a few short sentences, each struck a crucial point.

After reading it, Old Man Jiang fell into silence that lasted nearly ten seconds. His thoughts spun around, and a steely brilliance burst from his eyes, "Contrary action might just work. I think it’s worth a try."

*

The next day, the department issued a notice regarding the recruitment of additional personnel for the base, which instantly caused a furor in the class group.

"Is this for real! No prerequisites, no restrictions—just sign up, and you’re in? Could there be such a good deal?"

"Yeah, what was the point of the previous assessments then? Are they just playing with us?"

With the news released, some were overjoyed while others were furious.

The furious ones were naturally those who had passed the various assessments to enter the base.

It felt like having prepared a full banquet only to find it sold for the price of a simple rice porridge with pickled vegetables—who could be okay with that?

But for most people, this unexpected windfall was too good and too tempting not to seize the opportunity.

On the first day, the number of registrants reached fifty; by the second day, it hit a hundred; and then the third day, the fourth day...

Not only the computer science department, but upon hearing that joining the project base could earn them easy credits, students from other departments also flocked in. Overnight, the once quiet base office turned into a bustling hub of activity each day, chaotic like a pot of porridge.

"When will this end? My head is going to explode."

Even though Jiang Xubai was usually more patient than most, the continuously surging numbers at the base still sent chills down his spine.

The registration was one thing, but the department had also inexplicably drawn up a basic training plan.

The original thirty members who passed the assessment were each tasked to develop ten sets of programming problems and to conduct regular training for the new members.

It was bearable with majors in the field, but with hundreds of participants including countless unqualified ones, teaching programming to those studying archaeology or photography was like playing the lute to a cow, a complete waste of time.

Finally, someone couldn’t restrain themselves any longer and came knocking.

In the office, Old Man Jiang sipped his goji berry tea with a smile, pointed to the chair beside him, "You’re blocking the light standing there, sit down and talk."

Pei Yan stood by the window, unmoving, and pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, placing it on the desk.

"I plan to quit the base, here is my application."

Yo.

Little bunny being pushed to the wall wants to jump over it.

Old Man Jiang put down his thermos, rearranged himself, and asked, "What’s the reason?"

Pei Yan, not glancing sideways, said indifferently, "The base has lost its original meaning, it holds no value for me."

Simple and straightforward, it strikes right at the heart.

Old Man Jiang wasn’t annoyed, he methodically opened a drawer and handed him a previous anonymous note.

"I don’t know who wrote this, but this person must know you incredibly well. She said you designed a small game where, no matter how well you play, even if you clear all levels, you end up losing."

"A game, for a player, is all about winning or losing, but for the developers behind it, how they control the win or loss is what truly reflects their value."

"Since you want to be a developer, you should grasp this rare opportunity. I’ll hold onto the application. Think it over and report directly to the base tomorrow." The old man paused, "If you can’t figure it out, then the person who wrote this letter wasted her effort."

Pei Yan’s clear gaze fell on the A4 paper in his hands, and the delicate handwriting appeared before his eyes.

The most familiar handwriting, ancient mixed with vernacular, unconventional yet still knowing how to hide itself.

He chuckled softly, folded the paper properly, and tucked it into his trouser pocket, preparing to leave.

Old Man Jiang asked from behind, "Who wrote it?"

Pei Yan, with a casual stride, responded, "Someone who understands me."

The old man was choked up.

During the evening self-study, an unusual extra figure appeared in the last row of the classroom.

He Shumiao rubbed her eyes, utterly shocked, "Am I seeing things? Your guy actually came to the study session."

As her words fell, Jiang Shuyao’s phone received a WeChat message simultaneously. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Come here."

The two words were brief, stern, and bossy.

Jiang Shuyao stared at her phone for a long while, replying irritably.

"Speak properly, don’t be cryptic."

"Are you coming or not?"

"No."

Two messages popped up in succession, then silence from the other end.

Until the bell rang for the end of class, everyone packed up and left the classroom. She lingered behind slowly, just about to turn around and find him at the back when suddenly the light above went off.

In the dark, someone approached with firm steps, and the next moment she felt a tightening around her waist, pinned against the door.

"Princess, going against the grain, how come you understand me so well, hmm?"

Disaster was unavoidable; Jiang Shuyao hadn’t expected this day to come so soon.

"Speak."

Pei Yan’s hand on her waist tightened.

Jiang Shuyao prepared her mental notes, looked up at him, and although she couldn’t see anything, she knew that the eyes hidden in the darkness were intensely fixed on her.

"Pei Yan."

She pursed her lips, "I didn’t intend to collaborate with outsiders to—"

"You think I’m upset about that?"

Pei Yan scoffed softly, "What’s sad is that you’d rather take these words to an old man but didn’t plan to say a word more to me."

The air paused for two seconds.

Jiang Shuyao opened her mouth, trying to soothe his feelings, but a thousand words ultimately condensed into three, "I’m sorry."