"So, you constantly feel like someone is watching you? That no matter what you do, their eyes are always on you?" the psychologist asked.
Qiu Yu nodded.
The psychologist maintained a gentle expression and spoke in a warm, pleasant voice: "May I ask what you do for a living, Ms. Qiu?"
"Of course. I'm a journalist."
"And your husband?"
"He's a… well, a scientist. He works in biotechnology," Qiu Yu hesitated slightly. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what his field of research is."
"How is your relationship?"
Qiu Yu considered for a moment. "Neither of us are very emotional people. Before we got together, we agreed that work comes first, feelings second."
The psychologist nodded. "I see. Since no stalker has been found and there have been no threatening letters, and your life and work haven't been significantly affected so far, we might consider this to be a case of the spotlight effect."
"Most people experience this at some point — the sensation that others are watching and scrutinizing their every move, magnifying personal flaws. But in reality, even celebrities aren't constantly observed. You're likely just under a lot of stress lately, which may have triggered the illusion."
Qiu Yu found his explanation reasonable.
She had indeed been under immense pressure.
She was following a serial murder case — all the victims were high-ranking executives in biotechnology firms. After each murder, the killer would post updates online, causing a major public outcry.
To uncover the connections between the victims, Qiu Yu had been buried in case files day and night. It wasn't surprising that hallucinations were setting in.
Just yesterday, her editor pulled the plug on the story.
It was then that she'd first felt that eerie chill — like being watched by a predator.
She raked a hand through her hair and accepted the explanation. "You're right. In our line of work, it's easy to overestimate our own visibility."
The psychologist remained composed throughout, his tone soft and measured:
"I'm only offering a possible explanation. But do stay vigilant in real life. If you ever confirm someone's following you, report it to the police immediately."
Qiu Yu thanked him and got up to leave.
Perhaps it was because she'd mentioned Chen Ceibai during the session, but her mind wandered back to how they got married.
In a sense, Chen Ceibai was the most intelligent, most composed, most rational person she had ever met.
He grew up in a slum cobbled together from garbage, plastic, and corrugated metal. Orphaned early on, he relied solely on his extraordinary intellect to climb into one of the world's top universities. Before even completing his undergraduate degree, he was recruited as a researcher by a leading biotech firm.
For an ordinary person, that kind of social leap was nearly impossible.
There were plenty of intelligent people in the world, but Qiu Yu had only seen one who managed to break through class boundaries like that — Chen Ceibai.
Their meeting was pure coincidence.
At the time, Qiu Yu was working on a campus interview, asking students: "Would you accept being matched with a partner by an algorithm in the future?"
The so-called "algorithm" referred to an AI that processed integrated datasets to pair individuals with extremely high compatibility — based on genetics, orientation, personality, family background, hobbies, values, even physical condition.
Left to chance, human relationships rarely achieved such a precise match. The algorithm aimed to eliminate trial-and-error and make marriage more efficient.
After each interview, students would take a compatibility test with Qiu Yu — a fun little bonus.
No one took it seriously.
But when Qiu Yu's compatibility scores with everyone she tested reached above 80%, people were genuinely stunned.
Students started teasing:
"No wonder Xiao Qiu is so popular — she's everyone's perfect match!"
"I scored 85% with Qiu Yu. If the algorithm really decides marriages one day, that means I'm her future husband!"
"Dream on."
"Wait, isn't this algorithm supposed to factor in orientation? Why's my match with her still 82%?" a girl with blue hair threw her arm around Qiu Yu and kissed her cheek. "I don't care. Qiu Yu is my wife now!"
Qiu Yu's eyes curved into a smile.
She had a unique kind of beauty. People rarely focused on the details of her features. Their first impression was always the same — sweet, lively, inherently likable.
But it wasn't a sweetness that sought to please. It was something more wild, instinctual — like the innocence a feline shows right before sinking its teeth into a prey's throat.
The teasing suddenly quieted.
Everyone had spotted someone walking toward them — Chen Ceibai.
At the time, he hadn't yet received the biotech job offer. Just an absurdly smart scholarship kid from a poor background.
Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, his features were cool and refined. He glanced at them expressionlessly, his gaze utterly detached.
Even though he stood far outside their circle, his eyes held a condescension that placed him above them all — as if he were observing a group of two-dimensional insects.
Chen Ceibai looked down on them.
That was Qiu Yu's first thought.
Before she could collect herself, someone dragged him over, half-joking, half-taunting, forcing him to join the interview.
Of course, no one intended to match Chen Ceibai with Qiu Yu.
Half the campus had a crush on her. Chen Ceibai — the nobody from nowhere — wasn't worthy.
Qiu Yu stood by, watching as they mocked him.
Scenes like this were all too common in university.
In a world run on social Darwinism, college was no safe haven. Its simplicity and hierarchy only made bullying more blatant and direct.
Qiu Yu's parents were executives at a monopolistic firm in Scandinavia — even in that cutthroat environment, things seemed gentler.
By unwritten rule, she shouldn't have interfered. After all, this wasn't traditional bullying — it was a soft trial before entering society.
If Chen Ceibai couldn't survive this, the real world would chew him up and spit him out.
But she didn't like watching this kind of thing.
Not in front of her.
Just as she was about to step in, Chen Ceibai spoke first — his voice cool and low, with a raspy magnetism that made one's ears tingle:
"I want to test with her."
He turned his head. His gaze landed on Qiu Yu.
The crowd fell silent.
Then came an uproar.
"You think you're worthy of testing with Qiu Yu?"
"Seriously?!"
"Don't even think about it!"
One guy sneered, "Just because she scores above 80% with everyone else, you think it'll be the same with you? Dream on. You'll never be good enough for her."
Chen Ceibai's face remained impassive. His tone was cold:
"I'll test with her. Only her."
The atmosphere froze.
Qiu Yu, wanting to end the situation quickly, stepped forward with a professional smile. "Chen, I'll take the test with you."
Her agreement silenced the crowd, though the contempt in their eyes didn't fade.
They let go of Chen Ceibai, brushing their hands like they'd touched something dirty.
He stood straight, adjusted his wrinkled shirt, and walked to the testing station.
Even though it was just a concept interview, the students were from elite backgrounds. The testing machine they'd built was almost on par with commercial-grade products.
Each person had to place a palm into the scanner. The AI would read their palm vein patterns, temporarily construct a shared dataset, and calculate compatibility.
Thanks to biotech sponsorship, the device could access a high-grade database — making the results far more accurate than average.
If connected to more corporate data, it could be commercially viable.
Without looking at her, Chen Ceibai placed his hand inside.
Qiu Yu followed, just a beat slower.
Moments later, the silver machine emitted a burst of holographic blue networks — dozens of interconnected nodes representing compatibility categories.
The first metric: genetic match.
In midair, two nucleotide chains were digitally cut and sequenced, their segments aligned and analyzed.
Seconds passed. Then came the result:
99.99%.
Someone gasped. "No way!"
With 3 billion base pairs and infinite variables, such a score was impossible — unless this was a paternity test, not a romantic compatibility analysis.
And yet, it didn't stop there.
Sexual orientation: 100%.
Personality: 100%.
Family background: 100%.
Hobbies, values, physical fitness… every category showed 100%.
The final compatibility score: 100%.
Silence.
No one could speak.
The result shattered every assumption.
Qiu Yu removed her hand and looked up at Chen Ceibai.
He was studying her, too.
Their eyes met.
No spark. No reaction.
Chen Ceibai had taken the test purely as a rebuttal.
He had zero interest in her.
That realization stung.
She had seen him immersed in his research — lab coat on, eyes sharp and cold, exuding a kind of predatory intensity.
Now, his gaze on her was disinterested — like she was barely there.
Even with 100% compatibility, he dismissed her completely.
He despised people like her.
Chen Ceibai removed his glasses, took out a cloth, and wiped the fog from being jostled around. He said calmly:
"Can I leave now?"
Qiu Yu had only meant to help him out — let him walk away with some dignity. But when she saw that stark coldness in his eyes, her instincts rebelled.
"Wait." She stopped him.
Chen Ceibai turned back, faintly puzzled.
She took a step forward.
He was still wiping his glasses.
Without them, his sharp eyes seemed even more focused — yet oddly unfocused, like no matter how close she stood, he wouldn't really see her.
That distant look… made her lose control.
She smiled — bright and defiant — stepped in close, tangled her fingers in his hair, and gripped the back of his head.
And in a chorus of shocked gasps, she kissed him.
Up close, his eyes were even colder — the chilling clarity of a cold-blooded creature.
She didn't know why, but under his frigid stare, her ears tingled with a static charge, like electricity crawling under her skin.
Chen Ce Bai's brows furrowed slightly, as if he wanted to retreat.
Qiu Yu tightened her grip, and with a touch of force from her tongue, parted his lips and teeth—her tongue lightly tangling with his.
The entire kiss lasted less than five seconds.
Abruptly, Qiu Yu released the hand clutching the back of his head, stepped back, and gave a sweet, innocent smile:
"Sorry, I just wanted to see what it feels like to kiss someone with a 100% compatibility rate."
Chen Ce Bai shot her a glance but said nothing.
Over ten seconds later, he put away the cloth he'd used to clean his glasses, put on his thin-rimmed frames, his Adam's apple shifting ever so slightly, and finally said,
"Nothing special."
The atmosphere grew heavy, tension brewing beneath the surface.
As children of corporate executives, many of the students around them had received some combat training. Several already looked like they were about to rush in and beat Chen Ce Bai up to defend Qiu Yu.
Qiu Yu stepped in, saying:
"Yeah, not that great. Let him go. I was the one who kissed him first—technically, I'm in the wrong."
Chen Ce Bai turned and walked away without hesitation.
Qiu Yu soothed her furious classmates while casually casting a glance his way.
He didn't look back. His figure, as he left, was cold and solitary.
As if he genuinely believed that kiss had been dull, meaningless.
After that, she and Chen Ce Bai had no further interaction.
Until he rose to fame as the most renowned researcher in biotechnology, leading a team that successfully developed a drug to block degenerative nerve disorders caused by overuse of neural implants.
The drug flawlessly addressed the neurological issues brought on by excessive usage of bio-chips.
For a time, Chen Ce Bai became the most highly regarded researcher in the biotech industry and one of the fastest-rising employees in the company.
Qiu Yu's parents tried everything to arrange a meeting between her and Chen Ce Bai, hoping she could build a relationship with this top scientist—or better yet, marry him.
Qiu Yu thought that was utterly absurd. Unless Chen Ce Bai had amnesia, he would never marry her.
Back in university, her admirers had openly mocked him in front of her. Who knew how much worse they were behind the scenes? Let alone the pressure and exclusion he must have faced.
Qiu Yu had expected Chen Ce Bai to walk away the moment he saw her. But to her surprise, he remained composed, calmly taking a seat in front of her.
"Miss Qiu," he greeted.
Qiu Yu nodded. "Mr. Chen… long time no see."
But Chen Ce Bai wasn't interested in small talk.
"Your parents want me to marry you," he said.
Qiu Yu felt her face flush. Her parents had told him that directly? How embarrassing. She should've told them everything that had happened back in school.
What she didn't expect was his next line:
"Would you be willing?"
Qiu Yu's head snapped up. "What?"
Chen Ce Bai replied in a steady tone:
"I remember our compatibility rate was 100%. Though that was just a student project, it accessed the biotech database. I believe the results were valid and accurate. What do you think, Miss Qiu?"
Due to the real-time translation capabilities of neural implants, most people had stopped studying foreign languages seriously, and few could still speak standard Mandarin without an accent.
But Chen Ce Bai's pronunciation was precise and fluent, each word articulated with clarity. His voice was deep and resonant, his intonation steady and refined—free from any odd regional inflection. It left a favorable impression.
Yet it was delivered with absolute calmness—no hint of infatuation or emotion.
Just like back then, when their eyes had met.
Now, he was discussing marriage with the same rationality as if analyzing an experimental result.
Qiu Yu frowned slightly, but quickly eased her expression and answered:
"Of course I'm willing. But let me make something clear: to me, marriage is more of a partnership than a culmination of love. There are many couples in love, but few who can truly collaborate and grow together. In my view, cooperation outweighs affection. That's my philosophy. I wonder if you can accept that, Mr. Chen?"
Chen Ce Bai paused for a moment—then unexpectedly chuckled.
"That's how I see marriage, too."
It was the first time he had smiled in front of her.
Chen Ce Bai's features were sharp and striking—deep-set eyes, a prominent nose, a clearly defined jawline. By today's standards, his appearance could be described as evolutionarily exceptional.
Yet despite his aggressive looks, when he smiled at her, there was no sense of attack.
She wasn't his prey.
He had neither a desire to hunt her, nor to conquer.
And that, once again, gave Qiu Yu a faint feeling of unease.
Still, she adjusted her emotions quickly, pushing that discomfort aside.
Marriage as a partnership—when your partner isn't romantically interested in you—that's actually the ideal scenario. It meant she could focus entirely on work.
In this world, emotions are the cheapest commodity.
To survive and thrive, one must work—relentlessly.
Maybe it was psychological, but after they married, their compatibility indeed felt extremely high.
In three years, they never once had an argument or a serious disagreement.
After work, she'd head to her study to write up interview scripts for the next day; he would recline on the couch, silver light flickering in his eyes as he remotely guided other researchers through their experiments.
In certain other aspects, their compatibility was even stronger.
Though usually cool and composed, he could suddenly become rough and forceful when provoked—nearly brutal.
Also, oddly enough, his body temperature was always low—cold, even—which strangely suited her preferences.
Three years passed in the blink of an eye. Qiu Yu no longer cared about his emotional distance.
They worked well together. Injecting sticky romance into their bond would only disrupt their rhythm.
She was more troubled by a failed interview—and that persistent, unsettling sense of being watched.
Was it just her imagination? Or was someone really spying on her from the shadows?
At that moment, Qiu Yu received a message:
[Xiao Qiu, are you free tonight?]