He had neither the desire to hunt her nor the desire to conquer her
///
“So, you always feel that someone is watching you, no matter what you do, that person will see it?” the psychologist asked.
Qiu Yu nodded.
The psychologist’s expression was gentle, and his voice was pleasant: “I wonder if I may ask, what kind of work does Miss Qiu do?”
“Of course, I am a journalist.”
“And your husband?”
“He is a…” Qiu Yu was stunned for a moment, then said, “Uh, a scientist, working in Biotech.”
The psychologist asked, “You don’t understand your husband’s profession?”
Qiu Yu: “Mm, neither of us prioritizes emotions. Before we got together, we had already reached a consensus—work comes first, emotions second.”
The psychologist nodded in understanding: “I see. Well then, Miss Qiu, since you haven’t discovered any stalkers, haven’t received any harassment letters, and your work and life have not been significantly affected so far, we can tentatively consider this as a kind of ‘spotlight effect.’”
“Don’t worry. Many people experience this psychological effect… They always feel that others are paying attention to their every move, overly magnifying their own problems. In reality, even for celebrities, people can’t possibly be watching their words and actions all the time. You might have been under too much work pressure lately, which is why you are having this illusion.”
It was a reasonable explanation.
She had indeed been under a lot of stress recently.
She was following up on a serial murder case. The victims were all senior executives in Biotech. Each time the murderer killed someone, they would report the progress online, causing an extremely negative impact.
In order to find the connections between the victims, she had buried herself in case files from morning to night, repeatedly investigating the victims’ social relationships. It was normal to experience such hallucinations.
Just yesterday, her boss had called off the interview.
It was at that moment that she developed a shivering sensation, as if she had been locked onto by a predator.
Qiu Yu sighed and said good-naturedly, “You’re probably right. People in our profession do tend to overestimate their influence.”
The psychologist had known Qiu Yu for a long time and felt that this young woman was nothing like “the child of a corporate executive.” She had a gentle personality, stable emotions, and an unbelievably good temper. He had never seen her lose her temper or say anything harsh.
A girl like her usually had good interpersonal relationships.
It was possible that someone really was… secretly watching her.
The psychologist hesitated for a moment and said, “I am just offering a possibility. In real life, you still need to stay vigilant. If you are certain that you are being stalked, you must report it to the police immediately.”
Although it was a cliché statement, Qiu Yu still thanked him gently before getting up to leave.
Perhaps because the psychologist had mentioned Chen Cebai, she suddenly recalled the process of their marriage.
To some extent, Chen Cebai was the smartest, calmest, and most rational person she had ever met.
He grew up in a chaotic slum, lost his parents early on, yet, relying on an extraordinary level of intelligence, he was admitted to one of the world’s top universities. Before even finishing his undergraduate studies, he was recruited as a senior researcher in Biotech.
For ordinary people, this was almost impossible.
The world was not short of intelligent people, but those smart enough to achieve class transcendence—Qiu Yu had only ever seen one: Chen Cebai.
Their intersection was purely accidental.
At the time, she was working on a campus interview with the topic—“Would you accept having your future partner assigned by an algorithm?”
So-called “algorithm-based partner assignment” referred to AI analyzing two people’s genetics, sexual orientation, personality, family background, hobbies, values, and even physical fitness, then calculating the final compatibility rate.
If humans were to randomly search for a partner, it would be impossible to achieve such a precise compatibility rate.
In other words, algorithms could reduce the trial-and-error cost of finding a partner, making marriage precise and efficient.
For every person she interviewed, Qiu Yu would check their compatibility score.
It was a kind of hidden easter egg.
This was just a conceptual interview—no one took it seriously.
But when they discovered that Qiu Yu’s compatibility rate with everyone was over 80%, they were still shocked.
The students shoved each other, jeering:
“No wonder Sister Qiu is so popular… Her compatibility rate is this high with everyone. Isn’t this basically a universal heartthrob?”
“My compatibility with Sister Qiu Yu is actually 86%. If future partners were really assigned by algorithms, wouldn’t Sister Qiu Yu have to marry me?”
“In your dreams.”
“If the algorithm didn’t restrict sexual orientation, my compatibility with Sister Qiu Yu would probably reach 90%…” A blue-haired girl hugged Qiu Yu and smacked a kiss on her cheek. “Get lost, all of you. Sister Qiu Yu is my wife!”
Qiu Yu smiled gently without commenting.
Her appearance was very unique. Few people would focus on the refinement of any individual feature; most, upon seeing her for the first time, would simply feel—sweet, lively, and likable.
This sweetness was not the kind that aimed to please, but a natural, untamed kind of sweetness—like how feline predators would show an innocent, wide-eyed look just before biting through their prey’s throat.
At that moment, the noise of the crowd suddenly quieted.
They had seen Chen Cebai walking toward them.
At the time, Chen Cebai had not yet received the Biotech offer. He was merely an excessively intelligent impoverished student—the only impoverished student in the entire school.
He wore a white shirt and black pants, silver-rimmed glasses resting on his face. His features were cold and striking, his gaze completely devoid of emotion as he glanced at them, indifferently distant.
Though he was worlds apart from them, his gaze remained lofty and dismissive, as if looking down on a group of mosquitoes trapped in a two-dimensional world.
Chen Cebai looked down on them.
That was Qiu Yu’s first thought.
Such a gaze naturally angered the privileged and elite students surrounding her. By the time she came back to her senses, someone had already stepped forward, dragging and pulling Chen Cebai over, half-smiling yet half-mocking as they forcibly made him participate in the interview.
Of course, they weren’t trying to check Chen Cebai’s compatibility with Qiu Yu.
In this school, at least half the students admired Qiu Yu, if not all of them. And yet, Chen Cebai—just a lowly impoverished student—was he even worthy of standing next to her?
Qiu Yu stood to the side, watching as they ridiculed Chen Cebai at will, her brows slightly furrowing.
Scenes like this were common in the school.
When the whole world functioned as a grand social Darwinism experiment, schools were no longer sanctuaries. Because the environment was simple, the class distinctions were stark, and bullying became even more blatant and direct than in society.
Qiu Yu’s parents were executives of a monopolistic company in Northern Europe, where the environment was relatively mild but still filled with ruthless, terrifying competition.
By the unspoken rules of society, she should not interfere in this act of bullying—she and Chen Cebai belonged to different circles, and they would hardly meet again in the future. Recklessly stepping in would only make the bullying he faced later even more covert and brutal.
Moreover, if he couldn’t even endure an experiment of this level, after graduation, society would swallow him whole, leaving not even a scrap behind.
Qiu Yu lowered her eyelashes, wanting to turn and leave, but she really… disliked scenes like this.
At the very least, it shouldn’t happen right under her nose.
Just as she was about to speak to stop it, Chen Cebai spoke first. His voice was cool, carrying a slightly numbing magnetism and hoarseness:
“I want to take the test with her.”
Qiu Yu was stunned.
He turned his head, and the endpoint of his gaze was—her.
The noisy atmosphere suddenly fell silent.
Then, as if a stone had stirred a thousand waves, everyone erupted in anger:
“You think you’re worthy of testing with Qiu Yu?”
“You sure dare to dream!”
“Qiu Yu, don’t pay attention to him…”
A male student sneered and said, “Do you think just because Qiu Yu’s compatibility with others is over 80%, yours will be high too? Keep dreaming. You’ll never be worthy of Qiu Yu in your lifetime.”
Chen Cebai’s expression remained unchanged as he said coldly, “I will only test with her.”
The atmosphere was tense and deadlocked.
Qiu Yu wanted to end this matter quickly. She walked over, showing a polite and gentle smile:
“It’s fine, Chen, I’ll test with you.”
Seeing Qiu Yu say this, the people around her stopped talking, though their faces still carried mocking, contemptuous smiles.
The ones holding Chen Cebai snorted in amusement, released him, and patted their hands with a look of disdain.
Chen Cebai straightened up, smoothed the wrinkles on his collar that had been tugged, and walked toward the testing station.
Although this was just a conceptual interview, due to the group’s high level of knowledge and background, the final testing machine they developed was in no way inferior to the officially released products of major corporations.
The testing method was simple. Each test participant only needed to place their palm into the machine separately. The AI would automatically scan the palm vein patterns and, by temporarily constructing a database, perform a precise calculation of the compatibility rate.
Since the project had received sponsorship from a biotechnology company, it could directly connect to the company’s database, making the results significantly more accurate than similar products.
If they could access the databases of two other giant monopoly corporations, putting it into real-world use wouldn’t be out of the question.
Without looking at Qiu Yu, Chen Cebai directly placed his palm into the machine.
Qiu Yu’s movements were slightly slower than his.
The next moment, the silver-white machine ejected countless fluorescent blue straight lines, forming a three-dimensional network, with each connection point representing a compatibility criterion.
The first compatibility criterion—genetics.
Two pairs of DNA double helices floated mid-air, and a virtual pair of scissors—restriction enzymes—precisely cut them apart, forming their respective genetic fragments. The fragments were then meticulously pieced together like a puzzle, undergoing base sequence matching.
After a few dozen seconds, the compatibility result appeared.
—99.99%.
Someone gasped in disbelief and exclaimed, “…How… how is this possible…”