Qiu Yingying is reborn and bound to a learning system.

Love is probably like this: I've always been fine on my own, but when you came along, I felt even better.

When Meng Yanchen hung up Guo Kun's overseas call, the coolness of the keyboard still lingered on his fingertips. The unexpected situation at the overseas branch had kept him up all night, and he had barely managed to finalize a solution just before dawn.

He leaned back in his chair, pinching his brow and gently pressing his temples with his fingertips—a person who maintains a regular schedule year-round will occasionally develop faint dark circles under their eyes after staying up all night.

My phone screen lit up briefly. It was a post Qiu Yingying had made on her WeChat Moments in the early hours of the morning. It was a picture of a computer screen with densely packed editing marks in a document, accompanied by just three words: "I can't take it anymore."

He didn't reply, got up, grabbed a coat, and headed out. His assistant, who had just arrived at the company, saw him leaving and quickly followed: "Mr. Meng, there's a business department meeting at 9:00 AM. Have the department head handle it, and report back to me afterwards."

Meng Yanchen didn't stop walking. His voice was hoarse from staying up all night, but it was still steady. He drove to a breakfast shop and bought soy milk, fried dough sticks, congee with preserved egg and lean pork, boiled eggs, and pickled vegetables.

[Who understands? Every time the author eats breakfast, there's a preference: there must be enough time, and there must be soup, dry food, vegetables, and boiled eggs. Eating slowly is truly blissful.]

He ate at expensive restaurants a lot, and also ate a lot of food cooked by his housekeeper. Occasionally he would cook for himself, but he used to feel that food was tasteless and dull, like a robot. He didn't know where all his negative thoughts came from. He couldn't enjoy his own vitality and was always crawling in the shadows.

He'd been eating at small restaurants a lot lately, and he could actually smell the wok hei (the smoky aroma imparted by a hot wok) in the food. He realized he was no longer the cold, aloof CEO Meng; he was now himself, like a living, breathing person.

Qiu Yingying had been working overtime on a project late into the night and didn't want to go home. She was alone in the office, so she took out a blanket and pillow from her system space and made a makeshift bed there. Instead of going home, she rested briefly. A while later, her phone rang, waking her up. It was Meng Yanchen. "Qiu Yingying, are you free? Come downstairs. I'm downstairs at your company." His tone was devoid of emotion, yet it carried an undeniable certainty that left no room for refusal.

She rubbed her eyes and ran downstairs, where she saw his car parked under the streetlight. The window rolled down, and he handed her a warm paper bag: "Just bought it, it's still warm."

Qiu Yingying paused, her fingertips touching his hand as she took it; it was icy cold. Looking at the dark circles under his eyes, she asked, "You weren't asleep either?" "Yeah, something came up at the company, and I just happened to see you working overtime too," he nodded, starting the car.

"Go upstairs and eat, then take a nap. Don't push yourself." The car didn't linger, turning a corner and disappearing from the intersection. She carried the still-steaming breakfast upstairs, took a bite of the fried dough stick, and the savory flavor spread. Suddenly, she remembered casually mentioning to him last time that this breakfast stall's fried dough sticks were her favorite, best enjoyed with freshly ground soy milk. Qiu Yingying sent him a WeChat message: "Breakfast is delicious. Get some rest too. Thank you."

They were genuinely busy. Meng Yanchen, managing such a large company as Guokun, spent more time on airplanes than in the office; sometimes a single phone call would send him on a business trip for half a month. After Qiu Yingying was promoted to deputy project manager, she worked non-stop when there were projects, assisting the project manager in connecting with clients, refining plans, and following up on execution. She had to do everything herself, often so busy that she didn't even have time to drink water, spending most of her time drinking coffee. Their meetings and encounters depended entirely on "fate," mostly spontaneous and without deliberate invitations.

The project finished on Thursday noon, and after searching through all the food delivery apps, I couldn't find anything I wanted to eat. I was about to go out for lunch when Meng Yanchen called: "I'm doing some business near your company. Want to grab something to eat together?"

When she came downstairs, he had just parked his car on the side of the road. He was still wearing his suit, his tie was half-loose, and his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing a simple watch on his wrist, giving off a rare sense of urgency. "What do you want to eat?" she asked.

"I don't know, you decide," he said honestly, his tone lacking the strategic brilliance of a businessman and instead more casual and relaxed. "I had just finished working when I saw your message, and I was thinking you probably hadn't eaten properly."

Finally, the two turned into a small noodle shop in an alley and ordered two bowls of beef noodles. Qiu Yingying ate too quickly and choked a little. He silently handed her a tissue and then put some beef from his bowl into hers: "Eat slowly, no one will take it from you."

Meng Yanchen is indeed a man of few words. People who don't know him well always feel that he is aloof and unapproachable. After all, in Guokun's conference room, he is always concise and has an intimidating aura.

But Qiu Yingying gradually discovered that he just didn't like to talk nonsense. When he chatted with her, he always responded to every sentence with genuine seriousness.

She complained that the client kept revising the proposal, and that she and the project manager had stayed up all night revising it three times, but it still hadn't been approved. She said, "I really wanted to throw the proposal in his face." He wasn't good at sweet talk, and just said calmly, "If you really can't take it anymore, just tell me. I know a few friends who work as engineers, and they might be able to help you coordinate—but don't actually throw the proposal in your face. It's not good for your career. The deputy project manager's reputation is very important."

She talked animatedly about the short video marketing course she'd been taking recently, and he listened attentively. After she finished, he added, "This idea is quite novel, but you need to be careful about customer acceptance when implementing it, since Google ultimately serves the market. I have a post-marketing analysis from Guokun's previous new product promotion, which mentioned similar issues. I'll send it to you later; it might give you a better basis for making suggestions to the team."

Qiu Yingying had grown accustomed to his presence and his unassuming companionship. Knowing that Meng Yanchen had a weak stomach and couldn't eat too much spicy food, she would sometimes stew some stomach-soothing yam and pork rib porridge in a thermos and hand it to him when he came to the vicinity on business: "I made this on the spur of the moment, have a taste, it might not suit your palate." He would take the thermos and eat it all carefully, and the next time they met, he would bring her a box of her favorite strawberries.

Once, Meng Yanchen went on a business trip to another city and encountered a rainstorm. His flight was canceled, and he was stranded for three days. During those three days, he would call her every night. He didn't have any long conversations; he would just say "Have a good day" and listen to her talk about some trivial things at work.

He hadn't officially confessed his feelings yet, and they hadn't officially defined their relationship. Meng Yanchen was used to expressing everything through actions; he was a restrained person, accustomed to deep thought, and he always felt that the emotions that welled up in his mouth weren't quite at the right time.

Qiu Yingying understood. She could hear the concern in his hoarse voice after staying up all night, feel the care in the warm breakfast he handed her, and sense the respect in his responsive conversation.

Life went on slowly in this busy yet steady rhythm. After finishing Guo Kun's urgent matters, Meng Yanchen would immediately send her a message saying "All done"; when Qiu Yingying was exhausted from working overtime, seeing his message would make her feel at ease.

They each strive hard in their own fields. His position in Guokun becomes increasingly secure, and she is also steadily moving towards the goal of becoming a project manager. Yet, they have quietly taken up an irreplaceable place in each other's lives.