Pure emotion error - Chapter 5

Chapter 5  I Promise

Lin Yiqiao exclaimed “Ah!” and belatedly realized that she was almost pressed against Yan Lu.

His ears burned, and he hurriedly moved back a little, creating a small distance between himself and Yan Lu, muttering in annoyance, “…I’m sorry.”

Yan Lu seemed oblivious to his embarrassment, his gaze still calmly fixed on the report, as if he hadn’t just said, “Thermoelectric noise can be amplified dozens of times in actual systems, far exceeding the amplitude of EEG signals.”

“…I knew it,” Lin Yiqiao said, somewhat dejectedly, “I was too naive.”

“It’s not like there’s no way,” Yan Lu said, leaning back lazily into the sofa, his arms naturally stretching out and resting on the backrest, “Try adding an electrostatic shielding layer.”

“Yes, that’s why I need your data…” Lin Yiqiao’s words trailed off as he suddenly looked up in confusion, blinking at Yan Lu: “Huh? Didn’t you say…you don’t understand this?”

“Team Leader Cai mentioned it once.” Yan Lu withdrew his arm, looking down at the report in his hand, saying nothing more.

His gaze swept over the charts and suddenly stopped. In the upper right corner of the charts, there was a string of blurry date numbers. Although blurry, it was still recognizable as being from three months ago.

Yan Lu recognized the chart’s format; it was exported from the bionic motion lab’s testing system, and the time in the upper right corner was the test date.

—The test results for this material came out three months ago?

But Lin Yiqiao had only been at the company for a little over two weeks.

Yan Lu calmly flipped through a few more pages and saw the same time on several other charts.

So Cai Dong already knew the results.

Cai Dong had watched Lin Yiqiao work on this plan for two weeks, watching him model, test, and verify, and then, just as Lin Yiqiao was about to finish, he “coincidentally” pointed out the problem.

Yan Lu never doubted Cai Dong’s authority in the field. If he had considered this material and then abandoned it, it meant that the material’s inherent defects were insurmountable.

Understanding this, Yan Lu’s heart sank.

This wasn’t a technical issue; it was a matter of personal relationships.

This was aimed at Lin Yiqiao. And very likely, at him as well. He had faced immense pressure to bring Lin Yiqiao in.

Yan Lu’s fingers slowly tightened, gripping the paper.

Was it just Cai Dong, or was the entire mechanical team ostracizing Lin Yiqiao?

Should he tell him? Tell him… he was being targeted, that what he was doing was a dead end from the start.

Lin Yiqiao was like a straight line; could he understand the complexities of human nature? Would he… be very sad?

Yan Lu took a deep breath and handed the report back to Lin Yiqiao.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Yiqiao reached out to take it.

Yan Lu didn’t let go, leaning closer to him, the distance between them shrinking back to just as before. His long, slender fingers touched the blurred date on the paper, and he whispered, “Look here.”

His voice was very close, his breath almost brushing against Lin Yiqiao’s ear. Lin Yiqiao followed his finger, his eyes still filled with confusion.

“There’s a date, see it?” Yan Lu’s gaze fell on Lin Yiqiao’s slightly furrowed brows.

Lin Yiqiao brought the report closer, straining to make out the numbers, and finally saw them. He said, “I see it.”

“This is the test date,” Yan Lu’s voice was low and slow, as if afraid of disturbing him, “three months ago.”

Lin Yiqiao still didn’t understand: “And then?”

“You proposed this plan in the last two weeks, right?” Yan Lu asked patiently.

“Yes.” Lin Yiqiao nodded, even more confused.

Yan Lu looked at him, piecing together the broken chain of logic for him, word by word: “It means that Team Leader Cai knew about the problem with the materials long before he told you.”

“He knew the plan wouldn’t work,” Yan Lu’s tone was calm, as if simply stating a fact, “but he still watched you and spent two weeks on it.”

Lin Yiqiao’s eyes blinked slowly, as if trying to process this information.

After a moment, he turned his head, staring blankly at Yan Lu, his expression shifting from confusion to astonishment: “I see… So, Team Leader Cai knew all along that the materials were problematic?”

“Yes,” Yan Lu replied gently, “Judging from the dates, that’s the case.”

Lin Yiqiao’s brows furrowed, and he looked down at the report again, his finger tracing the date forcefully, as if trying to erase it.

“Could it be… that it’s using someone else’s data?” he asked softly, clinging to his last hope.

“No,” Yan Lu told him confidently, “I recognize the format of the charts; it’s from our own lab.”

“But… why?” Lin Yiqiao’s voice held a childlike grievance and confusion, “If they knew all along, why didn’t they tell me? I’ve done hundreds of simulations these past two weeks… haven’t they all been wasted?”

He was getting anxious, the report in his hand crumpling in his hand.

“Lin Yiqiao,” Yan Lu reached out and took the crumpled report from his hand, then touched his arm with his warm fingertips. “I can’t answer why for him. People’s minds are complicated; sometimes they even do things that harm others and themselves because of personal likes and dislikes.”

Lin Yiqiao paused, then slowly said, “Oh. Wen Wei said Team Leader Cai doesn’t like me, so it’s true.”

“You can’t make everyone like you,” Yan Lu said, “but I like you.”

“I know,” Lin Yiqiao said, his head lowered, his voice muffled, “Wen Wei also said that you insisted on hiring me.”

Yan Lu was silent for a moment, then comforted him, “Even if the materials are unusable, your work these past two weeks, your abilities, are still valuable.”

Lin Yiqiao said, “The mechanical team doesn’t actually need me, that’s why he dared to let me waste his time. Because I’m redundant.”

This was Lin Yiqiao’s logic. Lin Yiqiao’s logic was that there must be a logic behind everything people do.

“Your thinking is wrong.” Yan Lu looked at him and said, word by word, “The mechanical team needs you, the project needs you, and I need you. Your professional skills are what we need most. I hope you remember that.”

Lin Yiqiao’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

“People’s motivations aren’t always rational,” Yan Lu tried to explain the darker aspects of human nature in a way Lin Yiqiao could understand. “Sometimes, it might be for a… very personal, even malicious, sense of satisfaction.”

“Yan Lu,” Lin Yiqiao said, “you’re saying things I don’t understand again.”

Yan Lu gave up and asked a more direct question: “Cai Dong lied to you, are you sad?”

“No,” Lin Yiqiao said, “He just didn’t tell me, but he reminded me later.”

Yan Lu asked again, “Then he doesn’t like you, are you heartbroken?”

This time Lin Yiqiao paused, then said somewhat blankly, “…I thought he liked me.”

Yan Lu raised an eyebrow: “Why would you think that?”

Lin Yiqiao then repeated Cai Dong’s words from the first day when he praised him as an “expert.”

Yan Lu frowned after listening. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

Lin Yiqiao was confused. “But he said I’m a genius, and that everyone should learn from me. Doesn’t that mean he likes me?”

Yan Lu sighed inwardly. Lin Yiqiao wouldn’t understand the sarcasm in Cai Dong’s near-sixty-year-old industry authority praising a young woman in her twenties.

But he didn’t intend to explain. Perhaps one day, Lin Yiqiao would truly become the well-deserved “expert” Cai Dong spoke of.

Yan Lu only pointed out another layer: “When he said ‘he’s different from us,’ that sentence separates you from others, pushing you to the opposite side. Do you understand?”

Lin Yiqiao shook her head blankly.

“The first half is about drawing a line. The second half is about labeling,” Yan Lu explained patiently. “It’s about making it impossible for you to stand with them.”

Lin Yiqiao thought for a moment and sorted out the logic:

1. Being different from them creates a clear boundary.

2. The “genius” label isolates her.

This seems to be the same logic as when people called her a “freak.”

“I understand,” Lin Yiqiao said. “I’ll know next time.”

“So, you’re sad that Cai Dong doesn’t like you?” Yan Lu asked again.

“No,” Lin Yiqiao said, “because he didn’t hit me, didn’t insult me, didn’t break my things, and didn’t throw my backpack in the toilet. If he had done that, I would have been sad.”

Lin Yiqiao first met Yan Lu when he went to the toilet to retrieve his backpack.

Yan Lu remained silent for a long time, then took a deep breath. “No one will do those things to you anymore.”

“Mm,” Lin Yiqiao said, a little happy, because he had figured out a difficult problem. He looked at Yan Lu, his eyes wide, and said, “Yan Lu, you’re so smart, you know everything.”

Yan Lu asked, “Has no one told you this all these years?”

Lin Yiqiao said, “No.”

The dishes had long been served, and Lin Yiqiao was very hungry. He reached for his chopsticks. “Let’s eat.”

Yan Lu, however, grabbed his hand, holding it in his warm, dry palm.

“Lin Yiqiao, from today onwards, if anyone says anything you’re unsure about, you should ask me first, understand?”

Lin Yiqiao was probably taken aback by Yan Lu’s sudden gesture. He froze, stunned for several seconds, before showing a surprised expression and nervously trying to pull his hand back.

“Lin Yiqiao,” Yan Lu released his hand, calling his name again, his voice low.

Lin Yiqiao recalled a similar experience he and Yan Lu had gone through before—not a bad memory.

Yan Lu’s hands were warm, his palms large enough to completely envelop Lin Yiqiao’s, making him feel safe.

He gently curled his fingers and whispered, “…I understand.”

Yan Lu opened his palm to him: “Can you promise me?”

Lin Yiqiao looked at his palm.

A promise meant that every time from now on, he would ask Yan Lu first.

When he was fifteen, Yan Lu had also made him promise. Yan Lu had told him, “If anyone bullies you again, you must tell me immediately. You promise.”

Fifteen-year-old Lin Yiqiao held Yan Lu’s hand, and after that, he was never bullied again.

Twenty-five-year-old Lin Yiqiao cautiously extended a finger, gently placing it in Yan Lu’s palm, and said, “I promise.”