Chapter 55: Copy (6)
55 – Copy (6)
If it were anyone else, Lin Xun would definitely have asked what they were getting in the car for.
But Dong Jun’s words were brief and forceful, almost like a command. Without thinking, he obediently opened the car door, sat in the passenger seat, and quietly held Zhi Zhen like a statue.
Dong Jun turned the steering wheel left, and the car made a U-turn toward the entrance of the residential complex.
Zhi Zhen: “Meow.”
It poked its head out from Lin Xun’s arms, reaching a paw toward Dong Jun. Dong Jun rubbed its head with one hand.
Zhi Zhen nuzzled against Dong Jun’s hand, glanced at him, then turned to look at Lin Xun. Finally, the half of its body that had already stretched out retreated back into Lin Xun’s arms.
Dong Jun: “It really likes you.”
Lin Xun: “I think it knows you’re driving.”
Dong Jun gave a faint “Mm” in response. At the same time, he smoothly maneuvered the car around a turn, his movements fluid and effortless. The interior remained steady, with almost no sensation of acceleration or deceleration—it felt like the most perfect autonomous driving.
Lin Xun: “What are we going to do?”
Dong Jun: “Galaxy, for a meeting.”
Lin Xun: “…Oh.”
He didn’t understand Dong Jun’s intention, but since he was already in the car, it didn’t matter.
Dong Jun didn’t speak further, and Lin Xun, afraid of disturbing his driving, didn’t initiate conversation either.
The car was so steady it felt like they were driving in place. Lin Xun began to feel a bit drowsy—he had slept at 2 a.m. last night and woken up at 8 a.m., which wasn’t exactly too little sleep, but it seemed like most of his energy had been drained by dreaming, leaving him feeling somewhat fatigued.
Dong Jun seemed to notice this.
Dong Jun: “Didn’t sleep well?”
“A little,” Lin Xun replied. “But it’s fine.”
He added, “Your driving is just too smooth.”
“Is that so?” Dong Jun glanced at him. “Go to bed earlier from now on.”
Lin Xun felt a twinge of guilt.
Dong Jun’s glance had seemed casual, yet it also felt like he knew something.
He told himself that Dong Jun couldn’t possibly know—after all, he had pretended to be asleep and hadn’t replied to Dong Jun’s message at midnight, only responding at eight in the morning.
He said, “I’ll go to bed early.”
Dong Jun didn’t respond. The car window slid down automatically. It wasn’t yet summer, and today was overcast, so a cool breeze drifted in, making Lin Xun feel much more comfortable.
The next moment, the Bentley suddenly accelerated!
On the city roads, traffic flowed in an orderly manner, but Dong Jun’s car seemed to have an exceptionally high—and inevitably so—authority level.
Actions that would normally trigger the driving system’s alarms produced no warnings. Instead, the other vehicles on the road parted like schools of fish, making ample space for their car. Once they passed, the traffic seamlessly returned to its normal order.
At this speed, it was indeed a bit fast, giving a slight sense of being out of control—something Lin Xun hadn’t experienced in a long time.
He said, “That’s cool.”
Then added, “So… you can drive freely like this?”
“You could say that,” Dong Jun replied. “Do you like it?”
“I did in college. I used to go out with my roommates often back then,” Lin Xun said. “But after the Galaxy system was widely implemented, there were far fewer opportunities.”
“You haven’t driven in a long time,” Dong Jun remarked calmly. “If you like it, I can take you.”
Lin Xun: “You seem very skilled at it.”
A faint smile seemed to touch Dong Jun’s lips. “I tried a lot of things when I was younger.”
Lin Xun scratched Zhi Zhen’s chin and chuckled. “You’re still far from thirty.”
Dong Jun: “But your polite language makes me feel… time is passing quickly.”
Dong Jun’s voice was very pleasant.
Slightly low in timbre, it actually leaned towards a cool clarity, yet was tempered by a faint magnetic quality, like chilled wine.
But even with such a voice, Lin Xun could sense the questioning tone from Dong Jun.
Dong Jun was bringing up the matter of “you” and “you (formal)” again.
He hugged Zhi Zhen tightly, simply smiling to evade the issue.
But as he looked at Dong Jun, other thoughts crossed his mind.
Dong Jun had no program interface on him, while everyone else did.
Dong Jun’s cat sometimes didn’t have one either, but all cats did.
His cat could enter and exit the legendary, deadly demon realm rifts as if they were nothing, smoothly bringing him out when he was trapped inside.
He had been pondering this for a long time. All clues pointed to one fact: Dong Jun was a special person, different from everyone else.
Given this, it was impossible for him not to form a conjecture.
Perhaps Dong Jun was the Emperor Lord the cultivation world had been searching for all along.
At the same time, he wasn’t quite ready to accept it.
He had always felt that the world of cultivation and the mortal realm were disconnected.
Galaxy worked on the most cutting-edge applied technology, and Dong Jun could be said to be a man standing at the pinnacle of materialism—so if he were the Emperor Lord, tasked with eliminating demons, it felt contradictory no matter how he thought about it. And inviting Dong Jun to the fourth floor to pull out the Chixiao Longque Sword seemed too absurd and unrealistic; Dong Jun might suspect he had mental issues.
But now, the Chixiao Longque Sword wasn’t on the fourth floor of the residential complex but disguised as a game prop in an amusement park, which made the situation much more flexible.
He thought he had to trick Dong Jun into going there.
How to trick him?
Perhaps it was Dong Jun’s gentle and indulgent attitude that gave him inexplicable courage, or maybe the earlier topic about street racing had just enough room for extension. Lin Xun said, “I also like roller coasters, but I haven’t had the chance in a long time… None of my friends like them.”
—This was true. Wang Anquan swore he would never ride a roller coaster, often saying, “You guys go, I’ll watch.”
Zhao Jiagou insisted it was a child’s game and he would never do something so embarrassing—in fact, his condition was much worse than Wang Anquan’s; he didn’t even need to get on the ride, just watching it made him nervous.
After speaking, he observed Dong Jun’s reaction.
Dong Jun raised a brow slightly. “Really want to go?”
Lin Xun: “Yes.”
Zhi Zhen: “Meow.”
Dong Jun looked at Zhi Zhen. “You can’t go.”
Zhi Zhen: “Meow…”
Lin Xun looked at Dong Jun.
Zhi Zhen couldn’t go.
Did that mean Dong Jun would go?
Then he heard Dong Jun say calmly, “I have no plans tomorrow. You decide the location.”
Lin Xun: “You’re so kind.”
As soon as he said it, he saw Dong Jun looking at him calmly.
Lin Xun: “You… you… you’re so kind.”
Dong Jun curved the corner of his lips slightly.
Lin Xun let out a soft sigh.
That Dong Jun agreed so easily to go with him was actually unexpected.
Being able to test whether Dong Jun was the Emperor Lord without leaving a trace was a good thing, but at the same time, he also felt that something was gradually heading in a dangerous direction.
The Galaxy Building soon came into view.
When getting out of the car, Lin Xun naturally couldn’t leave Zhi Zhen alone in the vehicle, and Dong Jun didn’t seem inclined to carry the cat either—so he continued holding Zhi Zhen, following Dong Jun into the building.
In the lobby and corridors, Galaxy employees glanced at him without exception.
Lin Xun felt those gazes and thought about the rumors that had been swirling online these past few days, thinking to himself that this would only further confirm them. In these people’s minds, Dong Jun bringing him along twice already equated to “Dong Jun frequently bringing his little lover to the company.”
There was nothing he could do about it. Holding Zhi Zhen, he followed Dong Jun into the elevator. Dong Jun pressed the button for the tenth floor—the conference area.
Their destination was a small twenty-person meeting room in the middle of the corridor. When Dong Jun pushed the door open, the room was almost full. At one end of the oval conference table, Ruan Zhi sat on the left side.
Lin Xun whispered, “Should I go in with you?”
Dong Jun replied, “You’ll find the topic interesting.”
So Lin Xun followed him in, still holding the cat.
He had no other choice regarding seating and took a seat beside Dong Jun, on the right side.
The others exchanged glances, and a few seemed to whisper among themselves—while doing so, they subtly glanced at Lin Xun.
Lin Xun remained calm. After all, he couldn’t control what others thought, especially since his outfit today was somewhat lively and not particularly formal—and he was holding Dong Jun’s cat.
Since Dong Jun had arrived, the meeting began.
—Actually, it couldn’t really be called a meeting; it was more like a discussion.
A man around thirty years old with a receding hairline wrote and drew on a smart whiteboard, explaining a large-scale algorithm.
Lin Xun recognized this person—his name was Jiang Yun, a core member of the Automated Driving System project. Lin Xun could also understand the algorithm—the system’s code was partially open-source, and he had studied it, even reading related papers recently.
What Jiang Yun was explaining was an improvement to the Automated Driving System.
—The system was indeed useful, but sometimes it was too rigid. Many people would falsely claim they were about to be late for work to trick the system, gaining higher priority to reach their destinations faster. They planned to make it more flexible and humanized while hoping to improve overall efficiency.
This wasn’t an easy task. Both the scheduling mechanism and the feedback mechanism required significant modifications, and it also placed extremely high demands on the system’s intelligence.
Of course, the team’s expertise was exceptionally high, and the proposed improvements could basically accomplish the task. However—it was still just a preliminary idea. Feasibility hadn’t been evaluated yet, and there were still some issues within the algorithm.
Moreover, Lin Xun felt that Dong Jun wasn’t entirely satisfied—he crossed his arms and focused on the whiteboard. Although he appeared to be his usual expressionless self, with his long brows relaxed, the muscles around his eyes were slightly tense, indicating he was scrutinizing the content on the whiteboard.
It wasn’t that Lin Xun was particularly skilled at reading expressions—he was just good at observing Dong Jun’s expressions. The “Little Flirt Group” had compiled all the video resources related to Dong Jun they could find online, and the devoted fans had conducted detailed analyses and explanations of Dong Jun’s micro-expressions and movements. Lin Xun had learned from their summaries, benefiting greatly.
After Jiang Yun finished speaking, the discussion segment began. Five people took turns speaking, offering insightful perspectives.
Lin Xun listened attentively—he was very focused—while scribbling on the white paper provided on the conference table. After several rounds of discussion, he had already filled the paper with dense notes and felt he had gained a lot.
However, Dong Jun’s demeanor had been somewhat subdued, which aligned with the rumors circulating—he was an extreme perfectionist, exceptionally demanding of his subordinates.
The discussion was nearing its end. Some issues had been resolved, while others remained unresolved, including some core problems.
This was the norm in the industry. The launch of a product required countless rounds of revision and refinement.
At that moment, Lin Xun glanced at Dong Jun.
Dong Jun looked back at him.
Lin Xun glanced at the papers in front of him.
Dong Jun gave a faint nod toward the whiteboard across the room.
Lin Xun then looked at the cat in his arms, Zhi Zhen.
Dong Jun turned toward him.
Lin Xun smiled, handed the cat to Dong Jun, and swept a glance toward the others in the room.
—Their expressions were gradually growing puzzled.
Lin Xun pursed his lips, picked up a whiteboard marker.
There were smart whiteboards at both ends of the conference room, and one was right behind him.
Lin Xun stood up. He wasn’t actually nervous.
He rose, took a few steps forward to the whiteboard, and faced the members in the conference room, meeting their scrutinizing gazes.
“I have an idea,” he said softly as he unscrewed the marker cap. “It might not be right.”