Close Enough To Pluck the Stars” (GL) - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Ye Tianze and Luo Han both looked at Liang Ke with sympathetic eyes. The latter opened her mouth to speak but ultimately said nothing; she sighed and trotted after Shu Qingchen into her office.

This room was originally shared by Old Hu and another Professor Wang. Hu Yizhi had been in seclusion for a long time, and Professor Wang was a dual-appointment expert who was rarely seen, so only Shu Qingchen, the “true deity,” remained to preside here.

After entering, Shu Qingchen did not sit down. She stood by the desk and gestured for Liang Ke to close the door. Since she didn’t sit, Liang Ke naturally didn’t dare to either.

They stood facing each other. Although they were similar in height—with Liang Ke actually having a slight advantage—the gap in their aura was palpable.

The “Calico Cat” was feeling extremely conflicted. The first thing that happened in the New Year was a demotion; fine, let it be a demotion, but her immediate superior had been replaced by Wu Chuchu, someone she had been at odds with for ten thousand years.

The only reason she hadn’t pursued the matter of Wu Chuchu hitting her was out of a soft heart; it didn’t mean she was willing to work with a colleague like that. From now on, going to work would feel like going to an execution—the thought made her heart ache.

“Look up,” Shu Qingchen said.

Her daydreaming interrupted, Liang Ke quickly looked up at the Big Boss. She couldn’t help but think this woman was truly beautiful. When she wasn’t angry, her eyes were like lake water; her long hair was as black as ink, and every gesture was confident and elegant.

“Don’t look at me. Look at the projection.”

“Oh, right, okay!”

The Calico Cat swallowed her pride.

Looking at the screen, she saw the academic report document she had worked so hard to complete.

Shu Qingchen had expressed dissatisfaction with all previous versions. Liang Ke felt that mere editing was pointless, so she had completely scrapped everything and started over.

This time, Liang Ke had put in immense effort. During her recovery days, she had worked day and night, nearly draining her brain dry just to give Shu Qingchen something shocking.

Whether this was more for the sake of her pride or some other reason, only she knew.

Liang Ke looked at her work and then at Shu Qingchen, her eyes full of triumph. Her long eyelashes fluttered, each one seemingly asking: How about it? Impressive, right?

“There are quite a few problems,” Shu Qingchen began, her gaze turning stern.

Liang Ke felt choked. She had a sinking feeling that things were about to go south.

The following process was indeed a tragedy. Shu Qingchen didn’t beat around the bush; she went straight to the point and began questioning the technical details mentioned in the document.

Each question was concise and hit the mark. There were no wasted words, yet even so, the session lasted over an hour. Liang Ke had to put in a Herculean effort just to get each PPT slide turned.

The devil is right beside me, she thought.

When she interviewed for the Institute years ago, she had been fortunate enough to be questioned by four full-time professors, including Hu Yizhi. It had been just like this—analytical and meticulous. The difference was that the Q&A had been much faster back then; Shu Qingchen, whether intentionally or not, gave her very limited time for thinking and calculation.

By the time they reached the final summary, Liang Ke was mentally exhausted. Shu Qingchen remained expressionless, her speaking speed unchanged.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” she said. “Do you have anything to ask me?”

Liang Ke looked at her wistfully, taking several deep breaths. She wanted to ask if they had some personal grievance, but she didn’t dare. After thinking for a moment, she asked: “Why Wu Chuchu?”

“Because she is competent,” Shu Qingchen replied.

Liang Ke nodded defiantly and said, “Fine.”

She regretted it the moment she said it. She could tell from the change in Shu Qingchen’s expression that the woman would not tolerate such a passive-aggressive attitude.

Shu Qingchen made a gesture indicating the conversation was over and she was free to leave, then sat back down at her desk.

Liang Ke didn’t want to leave just like that. Regardless of anything, she couldn’t let Shu Qingchen think she was the kind of selfish person who defied leadership just because her interests were damaged. She didn’t approve of Wu Chuchu’s way of doing things, and for the sake of her brothers and sisters in the workspace being able to focus on their jobs, she had to fight for herself.

“Dr. Shu, I want to know exactly what was wrong with my previous work.”

Liang Ke refused to leave. Shu Qingchen, clearly having expected this, said: “You are very imaginative and active in your work, but your flaw is that your enthusiasm is excessive.”

Hearing the first two compliments, Liang Ke felt a bit happy. She pulled up a chair and sat by Shu Qingchen’s desk, propping her elbows on the surface. “How so?”

“Many colleagues like working with you because you are soft-hearted and have no boundaries regarding responsibility. No matter who it is, you want to help when they encounter a problem,” Shu Qingchen said. “Ye Tianze said that interns come and go every year; some stay, some leave full of resentment, but their common trait is that they miss you the most, forever grateful for the help you gave them when they were isolated and helpless.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. It’s just what I should do.” Liang Ke grew shy, looking down and rubbing her sleeve. She thought the Big Boss was indeed observant for listing all her good deeds.

“However, this also has drawbacks. You have used your charisma to unintentionally form your own small clique. A group of people calling each other brothers and sisters gradually blurs the line between public and private. Responsibility becomes muddled, and the team as a whole becomes inefficient and slow to react.”

“Well…” Liang Ke stopped smiling. She wanted to say that while Shu Qingchen was right, they weren’t inefficient; they worked themselves to death all year round, never idle for a moment.

“I know you feel tired,” Shu Qingchen said. “But it’s a matter of methodology. You can’t always do everything yourself. You must give the research and technical staff under you the opportunity to face difficulties independently.”

Liang Ke understood. She had actually vaguely felt that she used to be like a “research nanny.” For the interns under her, some benefited, while others were limited. Luo Han was an example; she wasn’t even in the same group, but Liang Ke’s general inability to refuse a request for help made Luo Han unsure of how to interact with the seniors in her own group. Tension was inevitable, and it wasn’t impossible that this had even triggered academic bullying.

By the time Liang Ke went back, she had missed the lunch hour. Fortunately, Ye Tianze had grabbed a meal for her; she just had to heat it in the microwave.

After being “tortured” by the Big Boss for half the day, her brain was burning. Ignoring the biting wind, she took her lunchbox to the rooftop to eat.

Opening the lid, steam rose from the food—it was Ye Tianze’s favorite: tomato and egg over rice.

Years ago, when he first ate it in the second-floor cafeteria, he thought it was a gift from heaven and insisted Liang Ke try it. After eating, Liang Ke had given her senior a look of pity. That weekend, she invited Old Hu and Ye Tianze to her home and personally cooked a feast of frying, stir-frying, steaming, and braising. Since then, rumors circulated in the “underworld” that she was a graduate of the New Oriental Culinary School, and that chip design and development were just her hobbies.

A teacher and a senior who were like family; a lab that was like home.

Liang Ke gazed out at the city view against the wind, eating her lunch outdoors in winter with total disregard for her health. Her fingers were frozen red, her movements mechanical and stiff, until a hand reached out from the side and pressed down on her wrist.

“Go back inside to eat. It’s bad for your stomach.”

Hearing that voice, Liang Ke only felt a chill down her neck. She turned to look at Wu Chuchu, her eyes filled with confusion, helplessness, and a silent question: What are you doing here?