Chapter 87: Embrace
But as soon as An Tong saw what the other person was typing on the split screen, her face instantly turned cold.
That was her code.
She realized that Shi Ye’s threats today were not empty words.
It was also clear to her now that the App intended to promote new streamers.
However, Shi Ye had violated the original spirit of their collaboration.
An Tong was displeased.
She was easygoing by nature, willing to let most things slide—even eighty thousand yuan meant little to her.
But her code was her bottom line.
She had written it live for her own reasons, and besides, ordinary coders could barely understand it, let alone use it at will.
Shi Ye should never have profited from her work, or worse, given it to another streamer as if it were theirs.
An Tong curled her fingers, lingered in the stream for a few minutes, then quietly closed the page.
She first sent [Masalat] an email address, asking him to send job details, salary, benefits, and responsibilities to her inbox.
After that, An Tong opened her wardrobe and fished out a palm-sized device from her suitcase.
She connected it to her computer, opened the DOC black backend window, and after three seconds of silence, began typing, launching an attack on the streaming App’s backend operations.
Meanwhile, next door at the Houhu villa, Cheng Feng was giggling at his phone, so much so that Ling Qi instinctively hugged the drowsing An An tightly in alarm.
What on earth had gotten into him?
Half an hour later, the hashtag #ProgrammerStreamingAppCrash shot to the top of the trending topics.
Far away in Hong Kong, employees of Gongzi Chuang Technology’s tech department were urgently recalled to the office, working overtime to hunt down the cause and vulnerabilities behind the system crash.
Shi Ye was at his wit’s end, suspecting the legendary coder was behind it all.
But reason told him that the kid looked too young to have such skills.
…
The next morning at ten, An Tong received a very formal email in her inbox.
It was an official job offer from a major tech company.
She glanced through it: the position was Senior Engineer in the AR group, with an annual salary of five million.
With such generous terms, she saw no reason to refuse.
Besides, joining a tech giant would give her the financial backing she needed; perhaps her code could finally realize its true potential.
An Tong simply listed her own terms for joining. Unsure whether the tech company would accept, she sent the email and calmly closed the page.
Not long after, she went to Ling Qi’s courtyard to pick up An An. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Did An An come here by herself?”
Ling Qi looked at the speechless pet and lied without a hint of guilt, “Yes.”
“Sorry to trouble you.” An Tong glanced down at the little one sitting on her shoe and smiled gently, “Next time, if I’m not around and it runs off again, just hand it to the housekeeper.”
Ling Qi tilted her head in confusion, “Which housekeeper?”
“Wasn’t there someone in the villa assigned to look after An An?” An Tong thought for a moment and added, “I haven’t met them either. I’ll ask Dr. Rong which one it is when he gets back tonight.”
Suddenly, Ling Qi understood—she herself was probably the “housekeeper” the boss had mentioned for An An.
…
Time flew by, and soon evening fell.
Rong Shen returned early. It wasn’t even six when the business car pulled up in front of the villa.
At that moment, An Tong was sitting in the living room, brushing An An’s fur.
The little one had grown quite a bit; where once she could scoop it up with one hand, now it almost reached her knee.
Hearing the sound, An Tong lifted her gaze, and a soft gleam lit her eyes.
She set An An down, stood, and walked to the foyer just as the man entered. “Dr. Rong, you’re home so early today?”
The title, tinged with formality, made Rong Shen frown slightly.
He set his coat on the cabinet by the door and teased with a smile, “Still calling me Dr. Rong?”
An Tong scratched her head, suddenly at a loss.
She’d never thought the title odd before, but saying it in front of him now felt out of place for their current relationship.
He walked to her side and, naturally, took her hand as they entered the living room.
An Tong glanced at his sharply defined profile and ventured, “Rong… Shen?”
Somehow, that felt even stranger.
Calling him by name seemed more distant than “Dr. Rong.”
He, too, arched his brows the instant he heard his name.
An Tong sighed softly, clutching Rong Shen’s fingertips, and tried again, “Then… Brother Jiu?”
She’d heard others call him that more than once. It was proper and should do.
Then the man sat her down, lightly pinched her cheek, and hinted with a meaningful smile, “If you call me Brother Jiu, aren’t you afraid people will think we’re related?”
Once, An Tong had mistaken Wen Wan and Rong Shen for relatives: “…”
She shot him a reproachful look. “Then what should I call you?”
“Anything’s fine.” Rong Shen gazed at her, noticing her first hint of playful irritation, and his heart stirred. He raised her hand and kissed it softly. “Brother Jiu or Rong Shen, either is fine—just not Dr. Rong.”
An Tong stared, dazed, at his gesture; a gentle, cool sensation spread across the back of her hand.
This was their first intimate contact beyond holding hands.
While her heart fluttered, a mortifying thought occurred to her.
She hadn’t washed her hands since brushing An An’s fur.
An Tong glanced at the little one still bouncing around the living room, then noticed its fur was only half-brushed: the front smooth, the back a mess.
She silently covered her face, unable to look.
Rong Shen followed her gaze, his smile deepening. “Why only brush half?”
“I was halfway through… then you came home.”
The implication: because of you, the little one ended up like this.
He easily caught her meaning, pinched her lightly, and chuckled, “Sounds like it’s my fault.”
An Tong pulled her hand back, dodging Rong Shen’s focused, burning gaze, and hurried into the guest bathroom.
When she returned, her palms still damp, she came back to his side and, with cool fingers, gripped his hand. “You’re home so early—are you done with work?”
He used to work late, hardly ever coming home at five or six.
“No matter how busy work gets, a few hours won’t make a difference.” Rong Shen leaned back on the sofa and with a slight tug, pulled An Tong to him so that, by inertia, she landed squarely in his arms.
He let go of her hand, wrapping his arm over her slender shoulders, patting her gently as if coaxing a child. “Don’t you want me home early?”
An Tong stiffened slightly against his side, his warm breath brushing her brow as he spoke.
He was holding her—more intimate than before, yet still unhurried, always controlling the distance to perfection.
(End of this chapter)