[Conference Room A, Lin Group HQ — September 17, 4:31 PM]
Lin Weiwei's posture shifted. She didn't stand — but she straightened in her seat with an authority that reorganized the room's attention around her.
"The Imperial Federation Treaty is fourteen centuries of hardware restrictions." Her voice carried a clarity that filled the conference room without effort. "'Novel architectural paradigms' — that's hardware language. That means bans on improvements in chip fabrication and circuit designs."
She paused.
"Meanwhile, software limitations were mentioned a few times and mostly in passing with very vague terminology."
Lin Qingwan leaned forward. A small motion — but unmistakable. Her smile stayed fixed, her eyes brightening.
She's going for the same angle. Treaty loopholes.
That's it, Weiwei, don't let her get the upper hand! Show your Big Sister-in-law all that you've got, Lin Feng's first-first girlfriend.
Hehehe!
Lin Weiwei continued, her gaze sweeping the room.
"When the treaty was written, everyone assumed that if you can't advance hardware, software advancement is pointless. Why optimize code when the machine it runs on can never improve?"
The assumption hung in the air. Exposed.
"A few tested that assumption. In fourteen hundred years, a few tried to seriously optimize software within existing hardware constraints. And all of them achieved only marginal results."
Her eyes found Xiao Yue. Held. Then moved to Lin Qingwan.
"But what if I can do better? I'm proposing that we actually exploit this loophole and build new and improved software applications based on chips built by the Lin Group."
Across the table, Xiao Yue's eyes narrowed by a fraction.
The late afternoon light slanted lower through the glass walls now, casting long amber bands across the conference table. The city beyond had begun its slow shift toward evening — office towers catching the last direct sun, shadows climbing their eastern faces.
"Current smartphones can't install applications. Everyone knows this. It's treated as hardware limitation — 240-nanometer processors can't handle dynamic software loads. Install too many applications, the system becomes unstable. So manufacturers lock devices. Fixed software only."
She raised one hand. Palm up.
"But imagine a restaurant with fifty tables. Current approach — the manager seats customers randomly. When a chair starts wobbling, customers still sit there until it collapses completely. Once the chair breaks, we then get an angry customer and then the bad reviews."
Her hand turned.
"My approach however is like this — we add a manager who watches every table. When a chair starts getting wobbly? Stop seating people there. Route customers to good tables only. The wobbly chair never collapses. Nobody complains."
She brought her hand down.
"But here's where it gets interesting. This manager doesn't just follow a checklist. It actually learns."
She let the word land.
"I'm proposing a small, dedicated learning algorithm — compact enough to run on existing 240-nanometer processors without consuming meaningful resources. A tiny calculation engine with one purpose: monitor hardware health and make routing decisions."
She turned to Lin Qingwan.
"Previous attempts at software optimization used static rules. If a component drops below a threshold, reroute it. It's rather simplistic and rigid." She held up one finger. "And that's exactly why they only achieved marginal results. Degradation isn't uniform. Different components fail differently under different conditions. Static rules can't keep up."
Her voice sharpened.
"My algorithm learns the patterns. It observes how each processor section degrades under specific workloads, builds a profile, and adapts its routing decisions based on what it actually sees — not what some engineer assumed in advance."
Lin Qingwan's steepled fingers separated. Her smile hadn't changed, but her posture had. The playful big sister was gone. The president was listening.
Oh My God, Weiwei… I didn't know you've been hiding all of this.
I have never seen anything like this before, no, I bet no one has thought like this before, yet this girl is here, describing something that's never been built before on Blue Star.
That's good Weiwei! Keep this up!
"But we don't train it on the device." Lin Weiwei raised one hand — a stop gesture. "That would eat processing power. The algorithm is too hungry when it's learning from scratch."
She paused. Deliberate.
"We train it first. In our labs. On our own hardware."
The emphasis landed.
"We take Lin Group processors. Stress them deliberately — run them through accelerated degradation cycles, simulate years of real-world use in weeks. The algorithm watches everything. Every failure pattern. Every degradation curve. Every thermal signature. It learns what dying hardware looks like before the hardware actually dies."
She lowered her hand.
"Once it's trained, we compress it. Strip it down to the essentials — only the knowledge it needs to make routing decisions. Then we export it onto the device's operating system."
In his corner, Lin Feng stared at Lin Weiwei, his brow furrowed — the look of a man struggling to follow.
What the hell? You can't install anything on your phones here?
Damnit I should look more closely at my phone later. This is a significant miscalculation on my part.
In the novel, Weiwei built something like this — years from now, after everything fell apart. After the Jiang Mei incident, her self-exile, the collapse of the Lin Family.
She went independent and started her own software business to help a Lin Feng who couldn't stop chasing an already-conquered Su Qingxue.
Lin Feng leaned forward. "How big is the exported version?"
The question came naturally. Genuine curiosity.
Lin Weiwei's expression flickered — brief warmth for her beloved Big Brother asking the right question.
"Tiny. Less than one percent of processor capacity. It just sits there in the firmware, monitoring and matching processor conditions based on what it learned."
Lin Weiwei paused for a moment to take a breath and continued. "It's like the difference between a student studying for an exam and a student taking the exam. The studying is expensive. The test-taking is cheap."
Good analogy. Really good.
"And here's the key." Her autumn-water eyes moved between Xiao Yue and Lin Qingwan. "Once it's on the device, it keeps learning. Slowly. Quietly. It catalogs every incident, compares it to a pre-existing knowledge library, and uses the fixes that are already encoded into that library."
"Every hour of real-world use gives it more data about that specific unit's behavior. The lab training gives it general knowledge. On-device learning gives it personalized knowledge."
She let the architecture settle.
"A freshly exported algorithm extends device lifespan by roughly fifteen times. After six months of on-device learning, that number approaches twenty."
Fifteen to twenty times.
The figure hit the room.
Xiao Yue's response was immediate. "That assumes the algorithm can accurately detect degradation patterns from lab-generated data." Cool. Precise. "Controlled stress testing doesn't replicate real-world conditions. Temperature variations, humidity, intermittent usage patterns — your lab data has gaps."
Real challenge. Delivered without hostility. The assessment of someone who understood the problem genuinely.
"Which is exactly why the on-device learning exists." Lin Weiwei met her gaze steadily. "Lab training covers eighty percent of degradation patterns. The remaining twenty percent? The algorithm learns from actual use. Each device becomes its own teacher over time."
She held Xiao Yue's gaze.
"And…"
Lin Weiwei paused, as if she were busy thinking whether to say something or not.
"And… AND there's a second advantage your challenge actually highlights, Miss Xiao."
The formality was deliberate. Cold. Professional.
"Better hardware protection means hardware lasts longer. Hardware that lasts longer gives the algorithm more time to learn. More learning time means better predictions. Better predictions mean even longer effective lifespan."
A pause. The implication hung in the air.
"Your ELEC improvements would make my software more effective. Not that I need them — my algorithm works on standard hardware. But with better shielding?" A fractional shrug. "The numbers improve."
She didn't say we complement each other. She didn't need to. Everyone in the room heard it anyway.
Xiao Yue's expression didn't change. But something shifted behind those dark eyes.
She just admitted my hardware helps her software. Grudgingly. Sideways. But she admitted it.
And she's right. Longer hardware life means longer learning windows.
Damn it.
Lin Qingwan's shoulders were trembling. Her hand rose to cover her mouth — higher than before, covering more — but her eyes above her fingers were bright. Alive.
They can't help themselves! Every single exchange reveals how much they need each other!
And look at them — both finding treaty loopholes. Both using analogies. Both brilliant.
They're mirrors of each other and they don't even realize it!
Brother, you absolute disaster of a man — you found TWO of them! Ahahaha!
"And there's a competitive moat," Lin Weiwei continued, turning back to Lin Qingwan. "You need manufacturing facilities to generate training data. Competitors can't train the algorithm because they don't make their own hardware. They'd have to buy our devices just to start reverse-engineering the learning patterns — and by then, we're three generations ahead."
Lin Qingwan nodded slowly. The presidential assessment running behind that eternal smile.
In his corner, Lin Feng watched the room recalibrate around Lin Weiwei's proposal.
A learning algorithm. Trained in-house, exported lightweight, keeps improving on-device.
On Earth we'd call that edge computing with transfer learning. Here? It's never been conceived.
And she just casually mentioned that Xiao Yue's hardware makes it better. Without admitting she needs it.
These two are going to tear each other apart while accidentally building something incredible together.
------------------
Lin Weiwei pressed forward without breaking stride.
"Second proposal addresses fundamental processor limitations."
She held up both hands. One closed in a fist. One open, fingers spread.
"Current approach — build one incredibly powerful processor. Like hiring one incredibly strong person to move a mountain." She raised the fist. "That's expensive, difficult and very limited in terms of function."
The open hand came forward.
"My approach. One hundred normal processors working together. Each one moves a small piece. Together, they move the mountain. It's cheaper. More flexible. And if one worker gets tired?" She curled one finger down. "The others pick up the slack."
She turned to Lin Qingwan.
"Miss Xiao optimizes individual processors brilliantly." The acknowledgment was deliberate — giving credit while setting up the surpass. "But each processor still has fundamental limits. I bypass those limits entirely. Connect hundreds of weak processors through software coordination. The software divides tasks, routes work, coordinates results."
"Hundreds of weak processors managed together become functionally equivalent to a supercomputer. Using simple, cheap components."
Lin Feng shifted in his chair. "Uhmm… What about heat? That many processors running at once..."
"That's where Proposal One connects." Lin Weiwei's answer came readily. "The learning algorithm doesn't just monitor degradation — it monitors thermal load too. No single processor runs at maximum sustained capacity. The system routes heavy tasks to cooler sections automatically."
Xiao Yue spoke. Measured. Technical.
"That requires precise load balancing across distributed systems. Network latency alone could eliminate any performance gains. And synchronization overhead — coordinating hundreds of processors isn't free."
Real problems. Delivered without hostility. The assessment of someone who genuinely understood the challenge.
Lin Weiwei met it directly.
"That is all solvable with proper architecture design. My architecture accounts for every one of those constraints." She held Xiao Yue's gaze. "I've modeled the synchronization overhead. The net performance gain after coordination costs is still over eight hundred percent."
Eight hundred percent.
Xiao Yue held her gaze back. Composure untouched.
If her models are accurate, that's transformative.
She's not bluffing at all.
From his corner, Lin Feng caught Xiao Yue's profile — the stillness of her composure, the analytical focus in her dark eyes. Even under direct challenge, she looked like someone taking notes rather than someone under attack. Something about that steadiness tightened his chest.
She's incredible. Both of them are.
But God, Xiao Yue — even now she's thinking three moves ahead instead of reacting.
Lin Qingwan watched them from the head of the table. Her composure was cracking again. Her eyes moving between both women — and in those silver depths, something had shifted beyond pure entertainment.
They are both brilliant. And both of them are finding the same approach independently.
Both are worthy.
She said nothing. Let them circle.
Patience, Qingwan. The card isn't ready yet.
But soon.
Lin Feng caught that shift in his big sister's expression. The smile was the same. The eyes were different. Something calculating had surfaced beneath the delight.
She's not just watching anymore. She's planning.
That look — I've seen it before. Right before she announced the engagement with Weiwei that nobody asked for.
Whatever she's cooking up is going to make everything worse.
For me specifically.
------------------
"My first two proposals enable something nobody's achieved before."
The echo was deliberate. Xiao Yue had structured her proposals as building blocks — each one layering on the last. Lin Weiwei was doing the same thing. As if she was mirroring her strategy.
"Smart resource management prevents applications from overloading degrading sections. Distributed computing spreads processing load across multiple chips." She let the technical foundation land. "Together, they unlock smartphones."
Lin Feng's spine went straight against the chair back.
Wait. She's going there.
App marketplace. She's proposing an app marketplace.
Like… this world doesn't even have an app marketplace?
The recognition was immediate. Instinctive. Not analysis but from memory.
Not long ago, he was standing in a convenience store at Shenyang three in the morning, scanning a QR code to pay for instant noodles. WeChat handling payments, messaging, transit cards, government services — an entire civilization running through one platform. Huawei building HarmonyOS because whoever controls the operating system controls everything.
I've lived in a world where this model swallowed entire economies.
Calm down Lin Feng, Calm down. Stay calm. Don't do anything unnecessary.
"We could sell devices that actually install applications." Lin Weiwei's words landed with the weight of revelation. "While every competitor out there is still selling locked devices."
She turned to Lin Qingwan.
"Right now, Lin Group is like a car manufacturer. You build excellent vehicles. But other companies provide the steering, navigation, entertainment systems. You make the car body — but you don't control the driving experience."
Her gaze sharpened.
"You sell a car once. The customer drives it for years. You earn money only at that initial sale. Nothing after."
Lin Qingwan's expression didn't shift.
"Lin Group manufactures excellent electronics. But other companies write firmware and operating systems that run on our hardware. If their software is bad —" Lin Weiwei paused. "Customers blame our hardware."
She listed the vulnerabilities. Systematic. Deliberate. Mirroring the way Xiao Yue had listed her four problems earlier — and everyone in the room felt the echo.
"User experience control — others decide how our hardware performs. One-time revenue — sell the device once, that's it. This is a competitive weakness — competitors use the same operating systems with no differentiation. Our hardware is dependent on whatever ecosystems exist outside."
Then the pivot.
"So, I propose a complete software platform designed specifically for Lin Group hardware. Not optimization software. A full operating system. The foundation that everything else runs on."
Outside, the sun had dropped lower. The amber light through the glass walls had deepened toward copper, long shadows stretching across the conference table like reaching fingers.
"Nobody's built this yet. Not because it's impossible." Her voice carried absolute conviction. "But because everyone assumed locked devices were inevitable. That 240-nanometer hardware simply couldn't support dynamic software loads."
She let the assumption sit. Exposed. Familiar — the same structural move Xiao Yue had made with the treaty wall.
"My first two proposals prove that assumption wrong. And that means first-mover advantage in a market that doesn't exist yet."
"This changes Lin Group from hardware manufacturer to platform provider."
Lin Feng spoke. Careful. Measured. Biting back the dozen things he actually wanted to say — monetize the ecosystem, build developer dependency, lock in switching costs — and finding the one safe question.
"So… what's the development timeline?"
"Complete OS from scratch. Firmware for every device category. Developer tools. Documentation." Lin Weiwei ticked them off. "Three to five years for full ecosystem. But basic functionality within eighteen months. But..."
Then she looked directly at Xiao Yue. The first deliberate, sustained eye contact between them since the hardware-software clash.
"Miss Xiao proposed vertical integration downward — to raw materials." Her voice was controlled. Respectful. Almost. "I propose vertical integration upward — to platform ecosystem."
"But if the Lin Group commits full resources and doesn't spend on some other venture, I can compress that to eight months for basic, one year for full."
A beat.
"She controls inputs. I control outputs." Lin Weiwei said, her gaze fixed on Xiao Yue, "But the Lin Group doesn't need Miss Xiao's hardware proposals to make this work."
Xiao Yue's dark eyes held Lin Weiwei's gaze. Unreadable on the surface. But beneath that composure, something was working.
This incest whore!
First she tries to say she needs my work and then she dismisses it!
But beneath the anger — inputs and outputs, the framing isn't wrong.
She cut the thought short. Cleanly. Like snipping a wire.
No. My proposals stand alone. They don't need her software.
"The revenue streams compound," Lin Weiwei continued, turning back to Lin Qingwan. "Operating system licensing to other manufacturers. Application marketplace — Lin Group takes a percentage of every software sale. Digital content platform. Developer tools licensing. Enterprise subscriptions. Network integration fees. Pre-installed software partnerships."
"Seven revenue streams. All recurring. All from a single platform investment."
Lin Qingwan sat back in her chair. Slowly. Her gaze moved from Lin Weiwei to Xiao Yue. Then to Lin Feng in his corner. Then back to the two women.
Her smile grew. Not wider — deeper. The entertainment crystallizing into something with edges. Purpose.
Perfect. Both of them are perfect for him.
Hardware controls the foundation. Software controls the experience. Together they'd build something nobody on Blue Star has ever seen.
Now... how do I make these two stubborn girls cooperate? Ehehehe!
"This assumes your software architecture can actually handle variable application loads." Lin Qingwan's voice shifted — testing now — both sharp and presidential. But her bright silver eyes betrayed everything her tone tried to conceal.
Lin Weiwei nodded. "That's what proposals one and two accomplish. Smart resource management handles degradation. Distributed computing handles load. The platform ecosystem is only possible because of the underlying architecture. They're not separate proposals — they're an integrated system."
Xiao Yue spoke. Calm. Precise.
"Platform control still requires hardware reliability. Your OS can't fix chips that fail under application stress."
Lin Weiwei held her gaze. The rivalry burning steady between them.
"Which is why my resource management routes around failing sections. And distributed processing spreads the load. Software compensates for hardware limitations."
Then — a pause. Her fingers curled against the mahogany surface. Something shifted behind her autumn-water eyes — a war between pride and honesty that played out in the space of a single breath.
"But yes." The words came slower. Grudging. As if admitting it once in her first proposal hadn't been painful enough. "Better hardware protection... extends how long devices can support applications."
She held Xiao Yue's gaze through the admission. Unflinching even as the concession cost her.
I just told this stalker bitch her work matters. Out loud. In front of Elder Sister.
But still, after all, that's true.
But that doesn't change anything. My proposals are still stronger. My vision is larger.
But her hardware... yes. It would help.
Damn it.
Across the table, Xiao Yue registered the concession. Her expression didn't change. But something in her posture eased — a fraction of tension releasing that only Lin Feng, watching from his angle, could have caught.
The observation tightened something in his chest. Not the technical admission — the vulnerability beneath it. Two women who'd rather die than show weakness, both quietly acknowledging they weren't complete alone.
She's beautiful when she's thinking. Both of them are. In completely different ways.
And they both just admitted they need each other. Without saying it. Without wanting to.
Neither woman spoke the obvious. The complementarity hung in the air — visible, undeniable, untouched. And instead of settling the tension, it made everything worse. Because needing each other meant sharing him. And that was the one equation neither woman would ever solve.
Lin Qingwan looked between them. Then at Lin Feng. Her silver eyes alive with dangerous possibility.
They both see it. They both know it.
And they'd rather burn the whole company down than admit it to each other.
Oh, this is going to be SO much fun to fix!
------------------
Silence settled over the conference room.
Lin Qingwan let it stretch. The amber light through the glass walls had gone deep — almost copper now, the last direct sun painting everything in rich, heavy gold. The city beyond had begun its retreat into shadow.
She looked at Lin Weiwei. Then at Xiao Yue. Then back.
Two exceptional presentations. World-class strategic thinking from both of them.
Hardware and software. Inputs and outputs. Treaty loopholes nobody else has touched.
Brother, you beautiful disaster — you actually found two girls whose value probably outweighs yours by magnitudes, and they're both still here head over heels over you. And they both showed up armed to the teeth!
Her smile held everything.
"Both presentations are exceptional." Her voice carried presidential weight. "The strategic complementarity is obvious. Hardware foundation. Software multiplication. Together, they'd create something this province — possibly this continent — no — possibly the entire world — has never seen before."
She leaned forward. Elbows on the mahogany. Fingers lacing together beneath her chin.
The playfulness drained from her expression. What remained was the woman who ran a corporation.
"However, before we discuss implementation timelines..."
Pause. Her bright eyes moved between them. Anticipatory.
"Can you two work together?"
She asked anyway.
Because she wanted to hear them say it.
"No."
Both of them answered simultaneously — instant and automatic.
Two voices. One word. Zero hesitation.
Lin Qingwan's smile didn't falter. It bloomed.
There it is. Ehehehe!
The masks came off.
"I don't see why collaboration is necessary." Xiao Yue's voice shed its warmth entirely. Cold. Analytical. "One comprehensive proposal set should be sufficient for implementation."
"I agree completely." Lin Weiwei's chin lifted. "There's no practical need for both."
They turned to face each other fully. No more sideways glances. No more professional courtesy. Direct confrontation across the table.
"Hardware optimization provides the foundation," Xiao Yue said. "Everything else is secondary."
"Software intelligence provides the multiplication." Lin Weiwei didn't blink. "Without it, your hardware sits there doing exactly what it's done for fourteen centuries. Nothing new."
"Without reliable hardware, your software has nothing to execute on."
"Without intelligent software, your hardware potential is wasted."
"My proposals stand alone."
"So do mine."
The exchanges came faster. Sharper. Voices climbing — not shouting, not yet, but the professional register was disintegrating with every sentence.
The air in the conference room thickened — heavy and electric. Two brilliant women who'd spent an hour proving their worth now locked in something that had nothing to do with business proposals and everything to do with the man sitting silently in the corner.
Lin Qingwan leaned back comfortably in her chair.
Her composure finally broke — not her smile, never her smile, but everything else. Her whole body was trembling with barely contained laughter. She pressed both hands flat against the table to steady herself, her silver hair quivering, her eyes squeezed half-shut with the effort of not howling.
Both brilliant! Both perfect! Both absolutely refusing to cooperate!
And dear baby brother in the corner watching his future wives tear each other apart over him!
Ahahaha! This is — this is too much — I can't —
Control yourself Qingwan, control yourself. Don't laugh out loud just yet. Wait till this meeting is over or till I take a flight to meet Aunty Wanrou back in the capital.
She drew a shuddering breath. Forced herself upright. The president reassembled herself over the wreckage of the delighted big sister.
Her eyes drifted to Lin Feng. Then back to the two women — still locked in escalating hostility, arguments sharpening toward something that conference rooms weren't designed to contain.
How am I supposed to make them work together?
A beat.
Well... I do have one card left to play.
And it's going to make everything so much worse before it gets better.
She lowered her hands from the table. The smile that emerged was different from every smile she'd worn today. Not amused. Not entertained. Not delighted.
Calculated.
"Ladies."
The word cut through the argument. Both women stopped and turned towards her.
Lin Qingwan's eyes glittered in the copper light.
"I have a proposal of my own."
The conference room held its breath. The two women stared at her — hostility suspended, instincts screaming that whatever came next would change everything.
In his corner, Lin Feng felt the temperature drop.
And Lin Qingwan's smile — that terrifying, beautiful, scheming smile — widened.
------------------
[End of Chapter]