Chapter 3: A Bit Clumsy?

“Mr. He, I...” Lu Qiuyi’s tongue tangled as she tried to struggle.

“Hm?” He Jingyue didn’t even look up, his voice trailing off with a subtle lift, carrying an unmistakable air of command.

All of Lu Qiuyi’s words caught in her throat. She had no doubt that if she uttered one more syllable, she would immediately be told to pack up and leave, and then face her father’s retribution.

“Yes, Mr. He,” Lu Qiuyi stumbled out hurriedly.

The heavy door closed silently behind her, sealing off the suffocating atmosphere inside the office and He Jingyue’s inscrutable gaze.

Almost at the instant the door shut, another concealed door on the side of the office slid open without a sound.

Two figures entered stealthily—it was He Jingyue’s core assistants, Su Nuo and Fu Yao, who had “coincidentally” been absent that morning.

Su Nuo was tall and poised, with a sharp, eagle-like gaze.

Fu Yao appeared more easygoing, but his face carried a grave seriousness at this moment.

The two stopped at the large desk in front of He Jingyue, standing opposite the seat Lu Qiuyi had just vacated, but did not sit down.

Su Nuo lowered her voice with obvious suspicion and caution: “Mr. He, is there something wrong with the Lu Qiuyi you suddenly promoted?”

Her eyes swept over the somewhat disorganized report on the desk that Lu Qiuyi had flipped through. “Her performance today is nothing like the Lu Qiuyi described in the files. Any competent assistant would have identified and highlighted the issues well in advance, not only discover them in your presence.”

Fu Yao nodded in agreement. “And Mr. He, the security system recorded her sneaking into the archives room a few nights ago. Though she didn’t stay long, no one should be there at that time.”

“The archives room?” Su Nuo frowned deeply. “What was she doing there?”

He Jingyue reclined calmly in his large chair, his expression unchanging.

He casually picked up a thin folder at the corner of the desk and flipped it open with his fingertips.

On the front page was Lu Qiuyi’s delicate yet slightly cold ID photo. Beneath it were her name and basic information. The following pages contained detailed records of her background, education, and performance evaluations since joining the company.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the name “Lu Qiuyi.” His slender fingers lightly tapped the smooth surface of the desk, producing a rhythmic sound.

“Perhaps,” he finally spoke, his voice flat and emotionless, “there are indeed many inconsistencies in her behavior.”

He paused briefly, as if choosing his words carefully.

“But it seems to be true—”

He raised his eyes and scanned the two trusted assistants before him, clearly articulating two words: “She’s a bit dumb.”

“Dumb?” Su Nuo repeated incredulously, her eyes wide behind gold-rimmed glasses. “Mr. He, that’s impossible! Our investigation is very clear: she is the Lu family’s carefully cultivated secret weapon. Lu Mingxuan personally selected her, and she was specially trained from childhood to approach you without leaving a trace—to probe the core secrets of the ‘Zhiyu’ project.”

Fu Yao scratched his head, looking puzzled. “Yeah, Mr. He. The Lu family went through so much trouble—why would they send someone dumb? That makes no sense! Unless it’s a new disguise strategy?”

He Jingyue didn’t answer immediately. He casually closed the file on Lu Qiuyi and tossed it to the corner of the desk, his gaze drifting toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window.

“Disguise?” He chuckled softly, the low sound echoing in the spacious office. “Can someone fake it this flawlessly?”

He recalled the almost tearful expression on Lu Qiuyi’s face at the end.

“Well, her acting skills are certainly top-notch.”

He withdrew his gaze and looked at Fu Yao, his tone returning to its usual cold, unquestionable authority: “Fu Yao.”

“Yes, Mr. He?”

“Tomorrow, find an excuse to test her,” He Jingyue said, lightly tapping the desk with his fingertips. “See if this so-called secret weapon sent by the Lu family is truly hiding something, or if she’s really just...”

He paused, as if the word was both novel and amusing to him:

“A bit dumb.”

At 2:20 in the afternoon, Lu Qiuyi arrived early at the conference room.

With a resolve to face whatever was coming, she followed closely behind He Jingyue, her head bowed in dejection.

Yet the moment she pushed open the conference room door, the scene before her froze her in surprise, even causing her to momentarily forget her anxiety and utter a low “Wow.”

This was nothing like she had imagined.

There was no oppressive, stifling atmosphere; no group of programmers frowning at screens in a way that made one pity their receding hairlines. Instead, the entire space was bright and transparent, filled with vitality and creative energy.

One wall was covered with a vast whiteboard plastered with colorful mind maps, messy yet inspired doodles, and sticky notes. The opposite wall was a huge floor-to-ceiling glass window offering an expansive view.

In the center of the room, a giant screen nearly spanning the entire wall was on. Instead of dull lines of code, it displayed dynamic data maps, evolving model diagrams, and even some visually artistic presentations—a blend of technology and artistry.

This was no solemn technical conference room; it was unmistakably a futuristic creative workshop.

He Jingyue glanced sideways at her, his look calm and unreadable. It instantly brought Lu Qiuyi back from her awe, compelling her to shut up obediently, focus inwardly, and make herself as small and unnoticed as possible.

The meeting was already warming up. Several key members of the “Zhiyu” core development team were gathered around the screen, engaged in lively discussion.

Seeing He Jingyue enter, the chatter quieted somewhat. The team leader, Xie Mingxiao, stepped forward to greet him. He appeared to be in his early thirties, dressed casually in a plaid shirt, with thick hair and bright eyes.

“Mr. He, you’re here,” Xie Mingxiao said in a loud, straightforward voice typical of technical folk. “We were just discussing the latest advances in multimodal fusion. We have a breakthrough idea for improving ‘Zhiyu’s’ understanding of the correlation between images and text.”

He Jingyue gave a slight nod, signaling him to continue.

Lu Qiuyi quickly found a seat in the corner, took a deep breath, solemnly opened a brand-new notebook, and picked up her pen, ready to fulfill her “note-taking” duty.

Xie Mingxiao turned to the large screen, pointing at the complex charts and snippets of code, speaking rapidly with infectious enthusiasm.

Lu Qiuyi’s pen hovered over the paper, her entire body frozen.

Xie Mingxiao’s mouth moved fluently in English.

Lu Qiuyi’s mouth opened and closed helplessly.

Although her finance major emphasized English and her CET-6 score was not low, she simply could not keep up with Xie Mingxiao’s lightning-fast speech, peppered with specialized AI terminology.