Close Enough To Pluck the Stars” (GL) - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Shu Qingchen asked urgently: “Liang Ke, what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, I’m doing great.”

Liang Ke thought the question was incredibly abrupt, but she didn’t dare show it. She did her best to hog the screen with her big head, preventing Shu Qingchen from discovering that she had snuck out to play while injured.

Of course, that was an impossible feat.

Fortunately, Shu Qingchen seemed to be in a rush. She only briefly asked which hospital was handling her dressing changes before hanging up.

Liang Ke caught a glimpse of shadows moving behind her—it looked like a conference hall. She suddenly remembered that today was the opening of a high-level forum at the Research Institute; scholars, experts, and graduate student representatives from various national research institutes and universities would be in attendance.

After the opening ceremony, as per tradition, two academicians would host the first session, followed by Zhang Zhang leading the heads of various labs in a welcoming address.

On the Intelligent Computing side, Old Man Hu was nowhere to be found. In his place was, naturally, Shu Qingchen. While the old hands were surprised, they welcomed the new face, and expectations for her speech were high—everyone hoped to hear some refreshing scientific insights.

…

Sister A stood to the side, listening anxiously. She only dared to breathe normally once she was sure the call had ended.

“What kind of leader is that? Checking up on you even when you’re on leave—is there no respect for human rights?” she complained.

“She’s just caring about me,” Liang Ke propped her chin in her hand and smiled.

Though she didn’t like others bad-mouthing Shu Qingchen, her own grievances were not to be trifled with.

The woman was beautiful, yes, but her management style was far too high-pressure. Her tone was cold enough to be suffocating. In ancient times, she would have been perfect for a job at the Ministry of Justice—faced with a criminal, she wouldn’t even need to use torture; one look and they’d confess everything.

“Wait, wait.” Liang Ke only had a surface wound; her basic judgment was still intact. She pointed to an unanswered video call invitation on the chat interface and asked Sister A, “What happened here?”

Sister A went blank. A drop of cold sweat slid down her forehead.

“We… we were playing too wildly just now. I must have pressed it by accident,” she stammered, looking at her own phone screen.

The truth was out.

Shu Qingchen was busy at the venue with various matters. After the speeches, there was a free exchange session for experts in communications, medical care, aerospace, and other fields. Time was precious, the opportunity rare, and the atmosphere was electric.

She had missed Sister A’s call. When she discovered it, her first thought was that something had happened to Liang Ke; otherwise, there was no reason for two people who had only recently met to contact each other so urgently.

Sister A said, “I’m sorry.”

Liang Ke said, “I’m going to kill you.”

After a snowball fight, Sister A eventually surrendered. Afraid that Liang Ke’s wound would reopen, she said, “Stop it! Even if I accidentally slowed down the development of AI in our motherland, it was a total fluke. The Big Shot will definitely find a way to make it up. Besides, I’m already miserable enough, drowning in the whirlpool of emotional problems.”

Hearing that last sentence, Liang Ke stopped her assault. She tucked her hands in her sleeves and asked, “What emotions? What whirlpool? Tell me everything.”

Sister A plopped down into the snow, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted to the sky: “Since ancient times, heaven never grants human wishes! Today, I have lost my beloved!”

“What? What happened to Sister B?” Liang Ke asked in a panic.

“Nothing happened to her,” Sister A said. “It’s her family. A life kidnapped by twisted family ties is always a tragedy. I understand her, I pity her, and I bless her.”

Liang Ke asked innocently, “Bless her with what?”

“I bless her to pursue seventeen or eighteen girlfriends in her next life, and have every single one of them abandon her, reject her, cheat on her, betray her at her most critical moment, and stay far away from her.”

“How is that a blessing? Those are clearly curses!” Liang Ke was aghast.

Sister A replied, “I am cursing her. My heartbreak is so tragic; I need to vent my resentment, bury, and perform a ritual for my departed love.”

Liang Ke was lost in the fog of this drama. Sister A told her it was no wonder she didn’t understand—the “Love-Burial Family” (the emo subculture) was a legendary group from her school days that had long since faded away, leaving only myths.

“Let’s put the mysterious organizations aside for a moment,” Liang Ke advised. “Let’s talk about the Spring Festival. Our tradition is to make New Year wishes during this ancient and sacred holiday. So, whether it’s a wish or a curse, don’t say it lightly. If it comes true, it won’t be good.”

Sister A thought about it and realized she was right. She immediately said, “Pah, pah, pah! Spring Festival Gods, take no notice of a child’s babbling! Don’t trouble yourselves with B’s future marriage prospects.” She then grabbed Liang Ke’s ear to pull her into the ritual.

Liang Ke shook her head away with dignity, stating solemnly: “Use your words, keep your hands to yourself.”

Sister A narrowed her eyes. “You’re acting weird today. You’re holding something back. Everything is abnormal… do you have a crush on someone?”

Liang Ke sucked in a breath of cold air, once again admiring the intuition of an arts student.

“It’s your leader, isn’t it?” Sister A tilted her head, testing the waters.

Liang Ke hesitated for a few seconds. Sister A immediately understood and nodded, her expression shifting from curiosity to pity. “I get it. ‘There is a beauty, whom I cannot forget.’ You live with a goddess day and night—it would be more of a problem if you didn’t catch feelings.”

“How would it be a problem?”

“It would mean there’s something wrong with you! Even I’m smitten, and I’ve only met her once.” Sister A looked at the sky with a dreamy expression.

Liang Ke looked at her with extreme vigilance.

“OK, OK! My heart moves, but my will stays firm. Sister B has already made my heart die. From now on, anyone who wants to fall in love can go ahead—I’m dedicating my entire life to music.”

Liang Ke muttered, “You better be.”

…

A few days later, the snow grew heavier. Liang Ke’s wound hadn’t fully healed, but she chose to go to work anyway. When you like someone, you have a desire to be near them; the “Calico” was no exception. However, she was being hampered by various subjective and objective factors, forced to keep her distance from Shu Qingchen. The direct consequence of this was that her irritability worsened.

Ye Tianze was the first in the workspace to notice Liang Ke was injured. He hung over the edge of the partition for a long time, first offering condolences, then passing on the gossip from the past two days, and finally delivering a finishing blow: “We’re facing a major structural adjustment at the start of the year. Wu Chuchu’s lab is merging into ours. She’s taking over your Team Leader title and will report directly to Dr. Shu.”

Liang Ke snapped her head up. Ye Tianze pressed his hands together in a mock prayer, adding more salt to the wound: “I’m not kidding. It’s for real. Supposedly, this was Dr. Shu’s idea, and Zhang Zhang agreed.” After he finished, he hurried off, claiming everyone above the rank of Team Leader had to go to the conference room—clearly, Shu Qingchen had called a meeting to relay instructions.

Liang Ke stared at the screen without moving. She numbly calculated a few bits of information gain and then stopped, her eyes drifting toward the conference room.

Shu Qingchen emerged from the meeting, surrounded by staff. She walked quickly, her face as expressionless as ever, even carrying a hint of coldness.

Liang Ke tried to look busy as she passed. The intern, Luo Han, happened to come over to ask a question.

“Senior Liang Ke, my program is throwing an error at this step, but I can’t find the problem,” Luo Han said.

Liang Ke stared at it without a word, but her mind was a total blank. Luo Han didn’t dare rush her; the two of them, one sitting and one standing, looked like ice sculptures.

“Data $y$ hasn’t had its format converted, and the solution formula for the decision tree is also wrong. Liang Ke, come with me for a moment.”

The Big Shot passing by had easily solved a mortal’s problem, but the mortal felt even more uncomfortable.