Pure emotion error - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 Yellow Alert

The next morning, Yan Lu messaged Lin Yiqiao again, inviting him to his office for lunch.

It was Wednesday, and the administration department had ordered Thai food—pineapple fried rice, curry shrimp, durian pizza, and mango sago pudding.

A collective yellow alert was activated.

However, having learned from last week’s experience, Lin Yiqiao was prepared.

He told Yan Lu: [I’ve already ordered takeout.]

Yan Lu: [What did you order?]

Lin Yiqiao sent a screenshot of his order from the light food restaurant, along with a smug emoji.

The implication was that he had anticipated the chaos and successfully avoided it.

Then, close to noon, Lin Yiqiao received a call from the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, sir, all our steaks for today have been booked by a customer at the last minute. We really can’t make yours. Would you mind having a salad instead?”

His plans were disrupted again. Lin Yiqiao stared blankly at the computer screen, trying to keep his voice steady. “What salad?”

The person on the other end of the phone rattled off the menu: “Corn salad, mango salad, mashed potato salad.”

A string of highly sensitive, suggestive words.

Lin Yiqiao was silent for a few seconds. “…Anything else?”

The restaurant: “We also have egg rice.”

More suggestive…

“…Anything else?”

“No, sir. That’s all we have for today.”

“Then please cancel my order.”

“Okay, okay, I’m so sorry.”

After hanging up, Lin Yiqiao remained motionless for two minutes.

The feeling of being out of control made his right temple throb. He frowned, looking down at his phone, trying to find a suitable restaurant, but his brain was already overloaded: Which one is safe? Which one won’t cancel at the last minute? Which dish wouldn’t suddenly have soybeans, ginger slices, or an oddly colored sauce?

Just as he was stuck on the selection screen, a new message popped up on his internal communication software.

Yan Lu: [Takeout seems prone to mishaps. I ordered too much, can you help me?]

Yan Lu: [Image]

The image showed a takeout box with a familiar logo, the food’s colors were pleasing to the eye, and all of them were things Lin Yiqiao had eaten and found delicious.

Yan Lu sent another message: [If you don’t help, I’ll have to throw away what I can’t finish.]

Lin Yiqiao didn’t like wasting food, and she didn’t object to this solution.

Her furrowed brows suddenly relaxed, and Lin Yiqiao replied: [Okay.]

During the meal, Lin Yiqiao told Yan Lu about what happened at home the previous night.

Yan Lu listened quietly to his rambling, and only asked after he finished, “Did Lin Yimiao accept the job you offered her?”

Lin Yiqiao said, “She hasn’t submitted a written application to me yet.”

Yan Lu opened the lunchbox and handed it to Lin Yiqiao. “Are you upset about her, so you want to help her?”

“I’m not upset,” Lin Yiqiao took it, cradling it in both hands like a small animal. “I just thought of Sisyphus. I don’t want Lin Yimiao to be Sisyphus, so I want to help her.”

Yan Lu raised an eyebrow. “Sisyphus?”

“Lin Yimiao said she does the same thing every day at work.”

Yan Lu handed him chopsticks. “So you think she’s pushing a boulder uphill every day.”

Lin Yiqiao nodded, the tips of his chopsticks poking at the white rice. “I don’t want her to be like that.”

“However, I think she might not accept the job,” Yan Lu said.

Lin Yiqiao looked up, puzzled. “Why?”

The office door suddenly burst open, and Wang Hao rushed in. “Attorney Yan, I wanted to ask you about that…” He then noticed Lin Yiqiao was there, paused, and looked at Attorney Yan. “Eating? I’ll come back later.”

Attorney Yan put down his lunchbox and stood up. “It’s alright, go ahead.”

The two of them walked out of the office, talking as they went.

Lin Yiqiao didn’t want to finish eating and leave alone again, so she put down her chopsticks as well.

A few minutes later, Wang Hao returned, carrying a pineapple rice and a mango sago dessert. He glanced at Lin Yiqiao sitting by the French windows, strode over, and gestured with his chin. “Hey, help me move that chair over!”

Lin Yiqiao got up to move it.

Wang Hao sat down and casually said, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Lin Yiqiao also sat back down, placing her hands somewhat awkwardly on her knees, trying hard to avoid looking at Wang Hao and preventing the yellow food from entering her vision.

“Why aren’t you eating?” Wang Hao opened his food, and the aroma of curry and pineapple wafted over.

It was one of Lin Yiqiao’s least favorite smells—sticky, cloying, like a yellow filter that clouded the air in the entire office. He didn’t answer, leaning back in his chair as much as possible, curling himself up into a ball. His hands were clasped together on his knees, his knuckles white, his nails digging into the skin on the back of his hands.

Wang Hao’s chatterbox opened up like a disaster.

He chewed loudly, asking Lin Yiqiao between bites, “Were you and Yan Lu high school classmates?”

Lin Yiqiao felt a ringing in his ears, a crackling sound emanating from deep within his skull. He should have run away now, but he remained seated, eyes fixed on the floor, breathing shallowly. He tried to tell himself it was lunchtime, not danger, and he could hold on a little longer.

Lin Yiqiao focused his attention, ignoring the noise, and hummed in response.

Wang Hao continued, “You look so young, like you haven’t even graduated from university yet. You’re younger than Yan Lu, right?”

Lin Yiqiao’s brain was starting to feel oxygen-deprived, the light from the window becoming glaring. He answered sluggishly, “Yan Lu is seven months and six days older than me.”

“Which school did you graduate from? Did you study mechanical engineering?”

Lin Yiqiao felt increasingly uncomfortable, pressing tightly against the back of the chair, his spine like a taut string. He answered instinctively, “East China University of Science and Technology. Mechanical engineering.”

Wang Hao thought this kid was a bit silly, like a human machine, and quite amusing, so he teased him, “Are you dating anyone?”

“No,” Lin Yiqiao answered, his voice even lower than before.

Wang Hao asked again, “Then who do you think is the cutest in our company?”

Cute?

Lin Yiqiao froze.

He stared blankly ahead, his face expressionless, like a machine that had suddenly lost power.

The word “cute” was a vague command in his vocabulary.

It couldn’t be quantified, defined, or even logically broken down.

What is cute?

Does appearance carry more weight, or personality? Which personality parameters can be defined as “cute”? Is it “friendly” or “funny”? If it’s “funny,” then Wang Hao would count, but he’s currently creating noise that’s overloading the system…

Paradox, all paradoxes.

Lin Yiqiao felt countless error pop-ups flooding his brain, each flashing red and emitting sharp alarms.

His breathing became irregular, his chest felt constricted. Sweat surged up his back, and his fingertips went numb.

Yan Lu returned at that moment.

He immediately noticed Lin Yiqiao’s state—unfocused pupils, pale face, she looked like a sculpture whose soul had been ripped from its surface.

He asked Wang Hao, somewhat reproachfully, “What did you say to him?”

“Nothing much, we were chatting happily,” Wang Hao said innocently, holding a spoon. “I just asked him who was the cutest person in the company, and he…froze?”

“Cute?”

Yan Lu repeated the word, forcing himself to calm down.

What did his cognitive science teacher teach him again?

…When faced with a stress-induced mental block caused by cognitive overload, breaking the old cycle and providing a new logical anchor is the most effective intervention method…

He had seen Lin Yiqiao like this in high school, on the playground during breaks, equally quiet, equally stiff. Back then, he didn’t understand, thinking Lin Yiqiao was just…a little strange.

He even found that bewildered look cute.

Now he understood. That wasn’t cute, that was pain.

Unfortunately, this realization came seven years too late.

Over the years, every case study he learned, every paper he read, repeatedly dissected his past ignorance.

He took a deep breath, half-squatted down, bringing his gaze level with Lin Yiqiao’s, and used his body to block Wang Hao and the two boxes of yellow food.

His right hand gently covered Lin Yiqiao’s head, his voice extremely low, like a whisper, “Lin Yiqiao, don’t give up.”

Lin Yiqiao’s body trembled slightly, but her eyes remained vacant.

Then, Yan Lu carefully ran his fingers through Lin Yiqiao’s soft hair, his fingertips applying a soothing touch, slowly combing it.

“That last problem was a bug, we’ll ignore it.” He pressed his forehead closer to Lin Yiqiao’s, his voice even softer and slower. “Let’s try something else.”

He paused, then continued in that calm tone, “Imagine you’re an alien from a distant galaxy. You’re about to leave Earth. You can… take a human back… as a pet. And you can only choose from this company. So, who would you choose?”

Lin Yiqiao’s fine eyelashes trembled violently, his unfocused pupils beginning to refocus.

This clearly defined task rescued him from the chaos.

Identity: Alien.

Task: Choose a human.

Goal: As a pet.

Criteria: Reliable, quiet, predictable behavior, provides positive sensory input, pleasing appearance, and preferably intelligent enough to help him cope with the troubles encountered during interstellar travel.

The list of candidates raced through his mind, being eliminated one by one.

Wang Hao: Too talkative, too noisy, eliminated.

Song Xin: Unattractive appearance, eliminated.

Wen Wei: Unpredictable behavior, highly volatile emotions, eliminated.

Cai Dong: Dishonest and unreliable, eliminated.

…
The selection process was extremely quick, roughly the time it takes to hear Yan Lu’s breath.

Finally, only one optimal solution remained in the database, meeting all the criteria.

Lin Yiqiao’s unfocused pupils refocused, a hint of confusion in them, slowly landing on Yan Lu’s face, so close to hers.

His lips moved, his voice very soft, so soft it seemed to travel across an entire galaxy before slowly reaching Earth.

“I will choose you.”

Yan Lu didn’t speak, only smiled slightly, as if acquiescing, or perhaps accepting his answer.

His hand was still on Lin Yiqiao’s hair, the movement continuing.

Lin Yiqiao stared at him for a long time, the chaotic calculations in her mind finally quieting down.

The error pop-ups were closed, the alarm lights went out one by one, and the system returned to normal.

Lin Yiqiao was saved by another person for the first time during a period of cognitive overload.

——————–

In the previous chapter, Yan Lu retracted the message: [You’re celebrating too soon.]

Everyone’s guesses were funnier than that—chicken-belly cauliflower!