Close Enough To Pluck the Stars” (GL) - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It was a dark night with a high wind, the kind of night when fate itself seemed uncooperative. Liang Ke was still working overtime in the laboratory.

The lab’s technological upgrade had reached a critical bottleneck phase. Fighting on until late every night had become routine for her, and hunger was inevitable—so she quietly stole an ear of corn her mentor had been heating in the microwave.

“Waaah… waaah…”
Hu Yizhi wept like an old man, retreating into his office and sobbing as he hammered at the keyboard. On the computer screen, the few lines of a resignation letter were typed and deleted over and over again.

“There, there,” Professor Wang said, pressing down on Hu’s hand and advising him patiently. “Old Hu, don’t make a scene. Endure it for now, and peace will follow.”

“Endure?” Hu’s eyes grew even more resentful. “It’s not like I haven’t endured before. Does constant compromise really solve anything?”

“Of course it does.”

“How exactly does it solve anything?”

“At present, three of our key technologies are stuck at development bottlenecks. The road ahead is extremely difficult,” Professor Wang said worriedly. “I’ve entrusted the physical design and simulation validation processes to Liang Ke. She’s carrying a heavy burden right now. You need to understand sacrifice and prioritization.”

At the mention of this, Hu Yizhi beat his chest even harder.

“Liang Ke is my student—I know she’s talented,” he said, accepting a tissue from Professor Wang and crushing it in his fist in frustration. “But her heart is never fully on research. She’s obsessed with all sorts of crooked side paths. Lately she seems addicted to some kind of dance arcade game.”

“Wasn’t it called Taiko no Tatsujin?” Professor Wang asked.

“That’s old news. That was before she became obsessed with cardboard crafting.”

Professor Wang’s expression darkened. “Heh. Speaking of video games, I took my grandson to Shenxi City last Saturday and happened to run into Liang Ke.”

“Oh?” Hu Yizhi looked up excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “Then please tell me in detail—how exactly did Liang Ke corrupt your grandparent–grandchild duo?”

“Don’t get smug,” Professor Wang said grimly, turning his head away. “It was because Liang Ke is so good at the basketball arcade machine. My useless little grandson saw her and immediately became infatuated. He insisted on sticking to her—moving stools for her, running errands, buying ice cream—serving her faithfully like a lackey.”

“Wait, something’s not right,” Hu said, spotting a flaw.

“What’s not right?”

“Liang Ke is broke. She was late three times this month, and all her bonus money was docked by administration. How could she afford arcade games?”

“So that’s it!” Professor Wang slapped the table and stood up, suddenly enlightened. “That day my grandson kept pestering me for more allowance. Turns out it all turned into game tokens and snacks for the two of them. Ah, my poor little stash of savings…”

“Heh, don’t be mad. Kids are always fascinated by ‘big kids’ like that. They worship them like gods. Once your grandson grows up a bit, he’ll be able to expose Liang Ke’s devilish nature on his own. No need for us to intervene,” Hu Yizhi said, feeling much better. He closed the document, crossed his legs, and took a sip of tea.

At that moment, there was a knock on the wooden door of Hu’s office. A “big kid” with slightly yellowish short hair poked half her body inside. Her clear eyes narrowed slightly as she smiled—sweetly, yet with a hint of mischief.

Although she had long since left campus life and entered the workforce, the special nature of her working environment meant Liang Ke still retained the youth and vitality of her student days—or, as Old Hu would put it, a rebellious and unruly air. Her thick, messy short hair bore no resemblance to softness. The disciplinary director had once been furious about her hair color, making three home visits before finally meeting Liang Ke’s grandmother—only to confirm that the chaotic yellow hair was not a rebellious dye job, but a natural anomaly.

“Liang Ke frequently represents our school in competitions. Her personal image reflects our school’s discipline and ethos,” the director had said worriedly to her grandmother. “We hope you can help us think of a solution.”

Her grandmother, a retired university lecturer with the title of associate professor, was strict, rigorous, and scientific in her approach. After seeing the director off, she personally drove to the suburbs to buy chickens and taught herself various cooking methods: clear soup, braised, kung pao, spicy.

“Chicken soup again?” young Liang Ke asked, biting her spoon.

“It’s to supplement nutrition and improve hair quality,” her grandmother said kindly. “There are rumors in the courtyard that I abuse children—I won’t take that blame!”

Thus, from middle school through high school, Liang Ke ate chicken for six straight years. Although her hair color remained inexplicably miraculous, her battle of wits with her grandmother played a positive role in her intellectual development—progressing from total defeat, to negotiating terms, to briefly gaining the upper hand, and finally, unexpectedly, losing completely.

Because she fell in love with eating chicken.

According to the owner of the farm her grandmother frequented: “All our chickens have been bought by you. If you’re not raising a weasel, then you must be raising a tabby cat.”

Liang Ke once asked her grandmother what the difference was between a weasel and a polecat. Her grandmother replied that there was no difference—they were both nicknames for her. Liang Ke was so shocked that she cried all the way home shouting, “I’m a tabby! I’m a tabby! I’m a tabby!”

This little tabby cat grew taller and taller. Her eyes gradually shed their childish innocence and became sharp and lively. Her thin lips always carried a smile; her nose bridge was high but not perfectly straight, with a slight curve beneath the eyes, giving her a hint of wildness beneath her bright, sunny aura. The moment she entered the research institute, she left grown women and men alike utterly captivated.

In short, at first glance she resembled a pear tree in full bloom; upon closer inspection, a vertically standing tabby cat.

Liang Ke’s grandmother, a firm believer in Marxist materialism, often said: “No matter what—may some immortal hurry up and take her away.”

Professor Hu Yizhi of X Research Institute deeply agreed. At this moment, seeing Liang Ke enter, he and his colleague immediately switched to delighted expressions.

“You’ve been very busy lately, haven’t you?” Hu said gently. “Make sure to get more rest.”

Professor Wang was extremely displeased by this evasive approach. Clearing his throat, he cut in: “The institute has assigned you an important task. Listen carefully while your teacher explains.”

Hu looked utterly shocked. Professor Wang grabbed his briefcase and left, saying it was time to pick up his grandson from school.

“It’s winter vacation—what school?” Hu muttered disdainfully. Then he turned back to Liang Ke’s puzzled gaze. “Heh, let me explain slowly.”

In order to introduce fresh research talent and promote exchange between academic institutions, the institute leadership had conducted several rounds of careful discussion and finalized a comprehensive talent-recruitment strategy.

Hu’s laboratory was the first to be affected—it was assigned a new expert.

Shu Qingchen, female, Han ethnicity. She had never participated in any entrance examinations, advancing entirely through recommendation. She studied under a founding professor at University A and had recently emerged as a rising star in her field. Despite her young age, she had already achieved remarkable results, winning multiple international academic awards. She had drawn widespread attention in the industry years ago, and today, X Research Institute had finally secured this rare talent. The entire institute attached great importance to her arrival.

It was also decided that one young researcher under Hu would be selected as the new expert’s personal assistant. The director personally named Liang Ke, though Hu was somewhat reluctant.

He told the director, “I’m worried the new expert may be arrogant because of her talent, and Liang Ke is… well, quite skilled at causing trouble. I’m afraid they won’t get along.”

Director Zhang—whose surname was Zhang—was not particularly old. He was acting director, previously a deputy, now suffering severe hair loss and relying on a wig.

Director Zhang shook his thick wig and waved his hand with a laugh. “Don’t refuse. Liang Ke is the most suitable choice.”

“Why?”

“Why else? Among your students, only Ye Tianze and Liang Ke stand out. Ye Tianze is too honest and dull, and he’s several years older than Dr. Shu. If he were the assistant, it would make our institute look lacking in talent. Liang Ke, on the other hand, can at least help us save face.”

Hu had some protective instincts—but not much. He figured that since no immortal was coming to take her away, he might as well let this girl named Shu Qingchen give it a try.

So he conveyed the institute’s decision to Liang Ke, picked up his briefcase, and left as well—saying he had scheduled a gastroscopy at the hospital and wouldn’t accompany her to receive the expert. Before leaving, he reminded her to be careful on the road and to treat the new expert with utmost kindness, affection, and tolerance.