Daily Intelligence: Forced to Save the Beautiful President at the Beginning

37: Chapter 37 We have connections, what are we afraid of!The Gu Group’s legal team... He had been in the investment circle for so long, how could he not know about the power of Gu Corporation?

Let alone him being just a middle manager, even the company president would have to weigh their options in front of Gu Corporation.

”Mr. Yang?” The lawyer recognized him, his tone indifferent. ”Regarding the matter of your sister, Yang Linlin, inciting others to commit a crime, the police may contact you later to understand the situation. Please cooperate.”

Yang Lei opened his mouth, but the words ”letter of forgiveness” that he wanted to say just wouldn’t come out.

He looked at Zhang Fan on the hospital bed and suddenly felt that this young man was unfathomable—to be able to have the Gu Group’s legal team personally step in, his background was definitely not simple.

As for the relationship between his wife and Zhang Fan, he wasn’t too suspicious.

He had been with Zhou Yurou for ten years and married for seven; no one knew what kind of person Zhou Yurou was better than him.

Besides, Zhang Fan was ten years younger than Zhou Yurou. How could he possibly be interested in his wife, who had been worn down to nothing but exhaustion by life?

”I... I just came to bring some soup.” He placed the thermos on the bedside table and walked out as if fleeing. ”Brother Zhang Fan, rest well and recover. I’ll head back first.”

Zhang Fan watched his fleeing back, feeling a bit bewildered.

Two days later, Zhang Fan insisted on being discharged from the hospital, ignoring the doctor’s advice.

There was no other way; his laptop’s performance was too poor, and the rendering speed was three times slower than the desktop in the office. If he didn’t go back, he might not finish in time.

In the following days, Zhang Fan welded himself to the computer.

The optimization of the Sok Engine was more complex than he had imagined. He only slept four or five hours a day, and his stomach churned from all the coffee, but he didn’t feel tired at all—every second the code jumped on the screen and the loading progress bar advanced, his sense of achievement grew.

To his surprise, Zhou Yurou came every day.

She usually arrived around eleven in the morning, carrying a thermos. Sometimes it was pork rib soup, sometimes vegetable porridge—all light food suitable for recovery.

She didn’t disturb Zhang Fan’s work; she just silently helped him clean the office, threw the empty coffee cans into the trash, and bought new drinks and snacks from the supermarket, placing them neatly on the corner of the desk.

”Sister Zhou, you don’t have to come every day,” Zhang Fan said while typing code.

”It’s fine, I’m just idle at home anyway.” Zhou Yurou placed the washed apple by his hand, her voice very soft. ”The doctor said you need to eat more fruit.”

There was still a faint bruise on her forehead, but she was much more energetic than a few days ago, and the light in her eyes was gradually returning.

”Yang Lei... he hasn’t caused you any more trouble, has he?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help but ask.

”No.” Zhou Yurou paused, a very faint smile curling at the corners of her lips. ”He’s been busy finding a lawyer for Linlin lately, so he hasn’t had time for me.”

Zhang Fan said ”Oh” and didn’t ask any more questions.

Zhang Fan looked at the jumping code on the screen and suddenly felt—this busy yet peaceful daily routine didn’t seem so bad.

In the office at the University Town Incubator, the sound of typing was like dense raindrops.

Zhang Fan stared at the code on the screen, his brows knitted together—the rendering module of the Sok Engine still couldn’t achieve the expected effect, and the loading progress bar was stuck at 89%, unmoving, like a thorn in his eye.

”Damn it, this broken engine!” He scratched his hair in frustration.

The project cycle for Digital Power was only one month, and his hospitalization had delayed him for three days; now, his progress was already behind.

It was indeed strenuous to carry it alone, but hey, we’ve got people on our side, what’s there to fear!

He took out his phone and dialed Gu Jingshen. From the receiver came the other party’s groggy, half-asleep voice: ”Who is it... disturbing my sleep so early in the morning...”

”Old Gu, SOS! Come help me out quickly!” Zhang Fan’s voice carried a hint of pleading. ”The project is about to fail. If you don’t come, both of our shares will go down the drain!”

”No time,” Gu Jingshen refused flatly. ”I was at a bar until the early hours last night, and my head is still splitting.”

”Damn, this studio of mine still has 40% of your shares!”

”Get lost, that’s my mom’s money; consider it her investment,” Gu Jingshen yawned. ”Besides, it’s hard to say if your crappy studio can even last through this month...”

”Just tell me if you’re coming or not!” Zhang Fan interrupted him mercilessly.

There was silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, then the sound of rustling clothes came through: ”Wait for me for an hour.”

Although he complained, Gu Jingshen still appeared at the studio on time that afternoon.

He was wearing a trendy hoodie and a baseball cap, carrying two iced coffees, which he placed on Zhang Fan’s desk: ”Here, Americano, to wake you up.”

”Thanks.” Zhang Fan took the coffee, his eyes lighting up. ”You really understand me.”

”No kidding, when you were pulling all-nighters to fix code back in college, didn’t you rely on this to stay alive?” Gu Jingshen pulled up a chair and sat down, glancing at the screen. ”Where are you stuck?”

Zhang Fan pointed to the code interface: ”Rendering optimization. The old Sok Engine has a hidden bug, and I can’t find the root cause.”

Gu Jingshen didn’t speak; he tapped on the keyboard a few times and brought up the background logs. He had studied game art in college; he wasn’t as proficient in code as Zhang Fan, but he knew the engine architecture inside out.

”Try turning off ray tracing and replace it with baked textures,” he pointed to a line of parameters. ”This engine eats VRAM; the mobile version can’t handle real-time calculation.”

Zhang Fan’s eyes lit up, and he immediately did as told. Compiling, running—the progress bar slowly climbed to 100%, and the graphics were impossibly smooth.

”Awesome, Old Gu!” Zhang Fan slapped him on the shoulder. ”How is your brain wired?”

”No kidding, don’t forget who trained you.” Gu Jingshen raised an eyebrow smugly and casually opened the game Zhang Fan had hidden in a folder. ”Work-life balance; let’s play a round before we continue.”

It must be said that after Gu Jingshen arrived, the studio’s efficiency was like it had been turbocharged. The two had a clear division of labor: Zhang Fan was responsible for the underlying code, while Gu Jingshen optimized the art resources. When they encountered problems, they would huddle together to discuss them, smoking cigarette after cigarette and downing cup after cup of coffee.

When tired, they would play a couple of games, roasting each other when they lost and high-fiving in celebration when they won—it was much more relaxed than when Zhang Fan was working alone.

Zhou Yurou came to deliver soup every afternoon, and there were more smiles on her face.

Gu Jingshen was a notorious ”player,” and he was first-class at coaxing women; he could always find topics to make her happy—praising her for brewing good soup, telling her she looked good today, and even remembering that she had mentioned liking gardenias last time, specifically picking one from the roadside and placing it in a mineral water bottle, setting it where she usually sat.

”Sister Zhou, with your skills, opening a soup shop would definitely be a hit.” Gu Jingshen drank the black-bone chicken soup and smacked his lips. ”It’s much better than those internet-famous shops outside.”

Zhou Yurou blushed from the praise and gave him a reproachful look: ”You’re just sweet-talking.”

Zhang Fan sat nearby typing code, listening to them laughing and joking, feeling a bit uneasy inside. He knew Gu Jingshen meant well and wanted to make Zhou Yurou happy, but seeing her smile at Gu Jingshen, he always felt a bit awkward, like drinking a cup of unsweetened coffee—bitter and astringent.

”Fan Zi, what are you spacing out for?” Gu Jingshen nudged him with his elbow. ”You’ve written the code wrong and don’t even know it.”

”Nothing...” Zhang Fan quickly snapped back, deleted the wrong statement, and cursed himself internally for his wild thoughts.