Back at the office, He Xiaoyuan opened a document to start writing his “12345 precautions for our office romance.”
Of course, he’d never actually done this before—he just thought, being coworkers and also superior-subordinate, they needed some rules.
He typed, using initials for each phrase, like Morse code, afraid anyone would see:
Title: LAZYSX (Love Attention Notes) — HXYFM (He Xiaoyuan’s Side)
1. PMDSHZJBNLH (Don’t blush when meeting)…
He muttered to himself: “Feels like underground work.”
Later, during tea break, he was busy and didn’t touch the coffee or cake on his desk.
Qin Chengfei, just back at his desk, placed his things down, grabbed coffee, and suddenly asked: “Hey, do you know ChatGPT?”
He Xiaoyuan typed two characters and turned his head: “I know.”
A chatbot.
It was a newly released chatbot program from an overseas company specializing in artificial intelligence. Unlike ordinary search engines, ChatGPT connected to massive datasets of human dialogue. It didn’t just know everything—it could also carry on nearly lifelike conversations, just like a real person.
After its release, the company saw monthly active users surpass one hundred million in a short time, making it the fastest-growing consumer application in history.
Not only that, but internet companies that invested in it also integrated their own search and related services with ChatGPT.
He Xiaoyuan asked casually, “What’s up?”
Qin Chengfei sat down across from him, sipping his coffee. “I was thinking… if overseas already has AI products like this, why haven’t we seen any moves here?”
“You thinking of making one?” He Xiaoyuan asked.
Qin Chengfei shook his head after a moment. “Too hard. Forget it.” He turned back to his workstation.
He Xiaoyuan didn’t really understand how difficult it was—he just didn’t know, especially the technical side. Qin Chengfei’s casual comment didn’t sink in deeply.
Evening, near the end of the workday. He Xiaoyuan glanced at the time, calculating how long he’d still have tasks, whether to grab dinner first or go straight to Yanlan Bay.
After thinking, he messaged Lu Chen: [I’ll probably be done around 8.]
Lu Chen: [Okay.]
Lu Chen: [Want me to wait for you at your place?]
He Xiaoyuan: [I’ll come to you.]
Lu Chen: [Okay.]
Putting down his phone, He Xiaoyuan scooted his chair and returned to work instead of eating, determined to finish early.
Before eight, he gently pushed the keyboard aside, shut down the monitor, and got up. Seeing the bottle of roses on the desk, he grabbed his jacket and headed out.
Yanlan Bay.
In the elevator, alone, He Xiaoyuan thought: Don’t tell me Lu Chen set up another “celebrating my single-to-taken status” banner… The thought alone made him chuckle and shake his head. Please, no.
When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, he was stunned again—just like the company’s 11th floor at lunch, the entire top floor was filled with flowers. Everywhere he looked: flowers, flowers, flowers.
A huge sea of blooms.
The cat climbing frame by the floor-to-ceiling windows even had pale roses tucked in. He He was on the cat perch, batting at the flowers with his paws.
Lu Chen came from the sofa direction: “Off work.”
He Xiaoyuan couldn’t help it—he shook his head in amazement and clapped.
Lu Chen smiled. “What’s up?”
He Xiaoyuan stayed silent, face full of admiration.
Lu Chen knew what he meant and replied casually: “Not a hassle. If you think of it, it can be done. Just costs a bit.”
He Xiaoyuan frowned slightly. “I don’t buy flowers, so I don’t know the market… but this many at once isn’t exactly ‘a little’ money, right?”
So many… the labor alone must be a lot.
Lu Chen anticipated the complaint, replying cleverly: “Charged to your card.”
He Xiaoyuan instantly relaxed, nodded approvingly: “Worth it. Perfect.”
Lu Chen smiled, took his hand, and turned him: “Have you eaten?”
He Xiaoyuan: “Not yet.”
Lu Chen: “Neither have I.”
He Xiaoyuan: “Why not?”
Lu Chen: “Waiting for you.”
He Xiaoyuan grinned.
At the table, he didn’t sit directly across from Lu Chen as usual but took a single seat beside him.
Lu Chen turned his head; He Xiaoyuan, biting his chopsticks, looked up obediently. “Can’t I sit here?”
Of course he could.
Lu Chen laughed: “You can even sit on my lap if you want.”
No seriousness, just playful teasing.
They happily ate, and He Xiaoyuan remembered Qin Chengfei mentioning ChatGPT that afternoon, so he brought it up with Lu Chen—not probing, just curiosity: “Has the company ever thought about making something like this? Overseas has it, and our team hasn’t done anything?”
Lu Chen casually joked: “That pressure falls on our competitors who do search engines.”
He Xiaoyuan, focused on his bowl, barely moving his chopsticks: “It must be really hard to make, right?”
Lu Chen offered him some food: “At least not easy. ChatGPT uses an English-language dataset. To make it here, you’d need to integrate Chinese datasets.”
He continued: “It’s not that no one has tried—someone has. But this isn’t a regular project. It’s not just a matter of wanting to do it.”
“Ten years ago, competitors in China already had ambitions in semantic search. They weren’t lacking ambition.”
He Xiaoyuan listened intently.
Lu Chen: “Back then, technical limitations hit a bottleneck. For years, neither search engines nor chatbots made significant breakthroughs. Later, AI shifted toward autonomous driving and VR. Experience in natural language processing, like handling large-scale models, gradually focused on recommendation systems instead.”
“Recommendation became the new hotspot, many products emerged. Sipu back then also leveraged this and quickly captured the market.”
He Xiaoyuan mentally noted: domestic developers had already been working on this. Now he understood how today’s recommendation systems came about.
Lu Chen offered him more food. He Xiaoyuan, eyes sparkling, looked up—attentive and focused—and Lu Chen continued: “But now that overseas has succeeded, naturally domestic teams will pick it up sooner or later.”
He Xiaoyuan: “Cheering on the competitors?”
Lu Chen smiled slightly, then added, “But I don’t really have faith in them. Do you know why?”
He Xiaoyuan looked puzzled. Why?
Lu Chen: “Domestic internet companies work on products and services. They build a product using technology, throw money at it to quickly occupy the market, and then it’s successful. Both the capital and the internet people are used to this model.”
He continued: “AI is different. AI is about technology. You can’t just make a service-based product quickly and dominate the market with money.”
He Xiaoyuan: “But technology also costs money to develop, right?”
At least capital isn’t useless here.
Lu Chen asked: “Do you know how much it costs to run one model?”
He Xiaoyuan genuinely had no idea.
Lu Chen: “One hundred million.”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
Good thing he hadn’t eaten, or he might have choked.
So expensive?
Lu Chen said calmly: “The upfront investment is massive. Microsoft invested hundreds of millions in ChatGPT in one go.”
“Which domestic VC, angel investor, or investment firm can spend that much?”
He Xiaoyuan quickly realized that only a handful of big companies, including Sipu, could afford that. His eyes widened.
Lu Chen: “I guess, if someone announced they’d do it, following recent trends, there’d be an investor leading with capital, then more capital joining in. Initial funds in the hundreds of millions, then valuation in the billions. Once the money is in, they’d hire a professional technical team.”
He Xiaoyuan was learning so much he couldn’t even form a question. He just listened, dumbstruck.
Finally, he asked: “Sipu isn’t doing it? No one on the project team mentioned it?”
Lu Chen: “A project worth hundreds of millions, with such technical challenges and uncertain returns—who would have the guts to propose it?” He paused, then smiled: “You want to propose it?”
Lu Chen: “If you want to, I’ll approve it right away and let you do it.”
It was the expression of a foolish emperor willing to give up a kingdom for his beloved.
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
He snapped out of his trance from listening to Lu Chen’s explanations, a little speechless. You want me to do what?
Lu Chen: “I can guide you.”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
Lu Chen: “Hm?”
His face was encouraging, clearly serious, not just words.
He Xiaoyuan was speechless. He didn’t swoon over the “foolish emperor” line but stayed rational. He asked: “Why not give me a personal stake too?”
Lu Chen didn’t hesitate: “Sure.”
“Sure” what?
He Xiaoyuan chided: “Eat first.”
Being realistic, no more floating ideas. He knew Lu Chen liked and favored him, so he could say things like this. And he also knew Lu Chen wasn’t just talking—if they really tried, they could probably pull it off.
He Xiaoyuan ate quietly, heart secretly sweet. He thought: some people really know how to leverage their position to benefit someone else—here, using company money and resources to support him. That thought made him even happier.
Lu Chen looked up calmly while eating: “Why are you smiling?”
He Xiaoyuan feigned innocence: “I’m not.”
Lu Chen smirked.
But he truly wasn’t just saying it. If the young man really wanted to do this, he’d personally guide him.
After finishing their meal and having tea, he asked again, confirming if He Xiaoyuan wanted to do it.
He Xiaoyuan, relaxed, gazing at the flowers: “Nah, I’m just chatting with you.”
Lu Chen, standing with his tea, watched him. He watched the boy, He watched the flowers.
“You can do it. If you have ideas, just go ahead. I’ll guide you.”
In the past, Lu Chen wouldn’t have said this to He Xiaoyuan.
First, it would’ve seemed inappropriate. Second, their relationship hadn’t reached that level. Third, the boy had self-respect that needed protecting.
Now? Most of those concerns were gone. Plus, Lu Chen’s emotions regarding their relationship were open—he especially wanted to do something for his boyfriend. Flowers weren’t enough; his actions alone weren’t enough, so guiding a project was better.
Lu Chen hoped He Xiaoyuan would say yes.
But He Xiaoyuan refused: “No.”
Describing himself: “I just learned to walk, and you’re asking me to fly a spaceship?”
Even having someone teach him wouldn’t work. Even if it’s his own boyfriend.
Then, thinking of something, he turned, eyes glinting, looking at Lu Chen.
Lu Chen: ?
He Xiaoyuan, still in his casual flower-gazing stance, hands behind his back, approached Lu Chen, scrutinizing him, and slowly said: “Mr. Lu…”
Lu Chen: “Calling me ‘Mr.’ makes it formal.”
He Xiaoyuan, still observing, asked: “You’re not one of those people who goes totally brain-dead in love, are you?”
Lu Chen: “…”
Lu Chen smiled, replying: “And if I am, so what?”
He Xiaoyuan pressed his lips and shook his head wisely: “That’s not good.”
Lu Chen waited. How so?
He Xiaoyuan: “We can’t both be love-struck fools, can we?”
Lu Chen laughed, stepped closer, chest almost touching his, gaze lowered: “I’m taking you on the project, so I’m the love-struck one. Why do you also have to be love-struck?”
He Xiaoyuan’s lips twitched. He didn’t dare say he’d spent the entire afternoon thinking about someone, endlessly checking his phone to see if that someone had messaged him.
Lu Chen tilted his head, guessing: “Don’t tell me you spent the afternoon slacking off at work, secretly thinking of me?”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
Lu Chen: “How many times did you check your phone?”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
He Xiaoyuan put on a tough, calm front: “I—I—didn’t.”
Lu Chen’s gaze shifted toward He Xiaoyuan’s ear: “Still saying you didn’t, and yet your ears are red.”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
Lu Chen lifted his hand, gently pinching the boy’s chin in an affectionate gesture and murmuring: “Lying.”
There was no reproach in his voice, only indulgent fondness.
He Xiaoyuan tried not to smile, but couldn’t help it—the corners of his mouth curved up.
Remembering something, he mumbled “oh right,” grabbed his phone, tapped a few times, flipped it around, and held it up toward Lu Chen.
Lu Chen took He Xiaoyuan’s hand holding the phone, looked down: Love Guidelines (Lu Chen Version): 1, 2, 3, 4…
Another one?
Lu Chen glanced at He Xiaoyuan.
Then at the screen, and read the first rule aloud: “1. No flowers on the project office desk.”
He Xiaoyuan explained: “Too conspicuous. People would gossip.”
Next, Lu Chen read rule 2: “2. No favoritism at work.”
He raised an eyebrow.
He Xiaoyuan said seriously: “Absolutely, absolutely no letting our relationship affect work in any way.”
Lu Chen said nothing, moving on to rule 3:
“3. Maintain distance in work situations, even when it’s just the two of us.”
After reading rule 3, Lu Chen finally said: “I understand you don’t want to be public for now.” At the company, gossip spreads quickly.
“But isn’t this a bit strict?”
He Xiaoyuan didn’t reply immediately, blinking, then said slowly: “Suppose we’re on the 11th floor now… later…”
Nothing more.
Lu Chen: “Hm?”
He Xiaoyuan: “Later,” his eyes flicked briefly, “later, you’ll kiss me there, right?”
Lu Chen raised an eyebrow, barely hesitating: “Of course.”
He Xiaoyuan: Well, that settles it.
Such a definite answer: “No way.”
Lu Chen looked at him, sliding his hand from holding He Xiaoyuan’s to resting on his shoulder, gently holding him: “But it won’t affect your work.”
He Xiaoyuan, very serious, like discussing a critical academic topic: “It’s not good. Lips will get red.”
Lu Chen’s voice dropped: “I’ll be gentle.”
He Xiaoyuan: “…”
Ah! So embarrassing! Who discusses these things face-to-face?
He Xiaoyuan decided to move on: “Continue reading.”
Lu Chen had already finished; he could skim quickly, grasping the gist: the little guy was worried about work being affected.
The rules meant keeping their relationship hidden at work, maintaining distance in public, essentially just focusing on work without letting personal feelings interfere.
Lu Chen agreed for now—not because he wanted to hide their relationship—but because he knew He Xiaoyuan was young and sensitive to gossip, and also valued his work.
Still, was rules 1–5 a little strict?
Lu Chen was about to discuss this when He Xiaoyuan put down the phone and looked straight at him: “Okay?”
To ask that…
Lu “Foolish Emperor” Chen nodded immediately, decisively: “Okay. Sure.”
Nothing else—whatever his boyfriend wanted, he’d give.
He Xiaoyuan smiled: “Alright, thanks.”
Lu Chen felt this agreement was worth it.
As an older man enjoying young love, he knew the value of giving a little to gain a little.
He asked He Xiaoyuan: “Since I agreed, will you agree to one thing too?”
He Xiaoyuan: “You say.”
Lu Chen looked into his eyes, voice soft: “Try not to resist my physical closeness.”
“And don’t worry, we’ll go step by step.”
He Xiaoyuan felt shy discussing this, but forced himself to appear calm and collected: “I’m not resisting.” He nodded: “Okay.”
He had agreed.
Lu Chen, receiving this affirmation, embraced He Xiaoyuan, one hand palm on the back of his head: “Our little Xiaoyuan cat is so good.”
He Xiaoyuan felt the closeness, the warmth, the intimacy, silently thinking: Being in love feels too good.
This project was worth it.