When Will My Childhood Sweetheart Marry Me?-Chapter 258: Spiritual Life

Jiang Shuyao did not attend the event herself, but when she heard her mother mention the situation at the bidding event, the unhidden admiration and pride in her eyes suggested that that guy must have made the right move.

Especially the reaction from Yunteng, it was really beyond her expectations.

Previously, the best scenario she had envisioned was that Yunteng would collaborate with Xi Yao due to her mother’s inadvertent encouragement, but unexpectedly, they took the initiative to approach Pei Yan just after the demonstration ended.

"What exactly is the cooperation model, do we need to move to Yunteng’s offices? When should we go over?"

Jiang Shuyao appeared quite excited, having been on the lookout for two whole years, with no significant moves from HT. Now with Yunteng’s involvement, she felt revived.

Seeing her so thrilled she was practically dancing, Pei Yan couldn’t help but chuckle, "Princess, your hands are truly capable of anything."

Both wielding a paintbrush and tapping on a keyboard.

He had found himself a real treasure.

"It’s only because I’ve been idle for too long," Jiang Shuyao complained with indignation. "Since leaving the base, I’ve felt like a useless person. You wouldn’t allow me to take an internship, and there were no projects to work on. Last year, I got by on classes and painting. After waiting all this time, can you blame me for being excited?"

She snorted through her nose, "You’re just busy with your own affairs, never caring for my mental well-being, always thinking about yourself—"

"Mental well-being, in what way?" Pei Yan interrupted with a mischievous smile.

"It’s not what you think. I don’t want to talk about it, figure it out yourself," Jiang Shuyao said, blushing as she glared at him and then huffily went into the bathroom with her clothes.

Her sudden change of mood caught Pei Yan off guard, and the next second, he was plunged into deep reflection.

During his entire senior year, Pei Yan had been mostly at Zhizhen, not only to show Lu Chen, but he was genuinely learning about company operations efficiently and diligently.

Old Pei had advised him that whether he wanted to take over Zhizhen in the future or start his own business, passion and lines of code alone were far from enough to support a company’s development.

He fully understood his father’s intentions and had accepted them readily.

As a result, during that period, Jiang Xubai became utterly convinced that Pei Yan would not keep the promise made two years before, and in a fit of pique, joined the workforce with the other interns, mistakenly ending up at Xinyuan.

Naturally, he also ignored the princess’s feelings.

He had opposed her internship because he worried about her health; the IT companies outside would only exploit her mercilessly, especially an intern who hadn’t even received her diploma—essentially just cheap labor.

After all, she would be the boss’s wife after graduation; his cherished princess had no need to take orders from others.

There’s a saying about a kind of cold that parents think you are suffering from.

In truth, the same applies to boyfriends. Pei Yan thought he was doing what was best for Jiang Shuyao, yet he had no idea how anxious she was feeling.

Moreover, in those days, he often left early and returned late, and there were several times he had come home to find her asleep on the sofa, having waited for him.

Fortunately, during those dull days, she had her paintbrushes for company.

Last year must have been the most productive for Jiang Shuyao in terms of her artwork; without a separate room for a studio in the apartment, she’d set up her easel on the living room balcony, often immersing herself in her work for the whole day.

Pei Yan had seen all this, and he had even thought Jiang Shuyao enjoyed that kind of life.

Only today had he realized that he couldn’t continue to mistake his princess with the eyes of an artist.

The sound of running water from the bathroom gradually faded, and a new email from Yunteng’s development department popped up on the lower right corner of the computer.

It was a project schedule personally sent from Zeng Zhifei’s work email. Pei Yan opened it, his gaze circling around before settling on the column listing the number of front-end developers.

After a moment of contemplation, he ultimately moved the mouse and filled in Jiang Shuyao’s name.

The next day, in the president’s office at Xinyuan, the atmosphere was tense.

When the secretary entered with coffee, a young man she did not recognize was reporting to someone, unclear about what was being said.

As she set down the coffee and was about to leave, she heard the president command in a calm voice, "Call Jiang Xu from the development department."

President Lu had always been cordial, and although decisive in business, she had never seen him look so grim and intimidating.

The secretary figured something was definitely up, unsure how it related to a low-level employee in the development department.

Recently, there was a noticeable sense of urgency permeating from the top management.

The senior managers seemed skittish, their days a torture.

Especially the development department, which had suddenly received orders to complete all projects by month’s end.

Considering that work which should take two months now had to be finished in half the time, it was practically a death sentence.

The development department was a hive of complaints, and many people couldn’t handle the stress after a week of battle, with resignation letters piling up like a small mountain in the supervisor’s office in just a few days.

Among these resignation letters was one from Jiang Xu.

However, his reason for leaving was not the workload, but the ’corporate culture’ at Xinyuan that one could not bear to witness.

Since joining the company, out of the three game development projects he was involved with, two were simply copying templates, and the third, although a Xinyuan original, was far from the success of the others in terms of innovation and market appeal.

Half a year of hard experience had taught even someone as naïve as Jiang Xu something about the industry’s unwritten rules and ways to make money.

On the surface, Xinyuan’s annual financial reports looked impressive, but in essence, they had virtually no high-quality products of their own.

This was worlds apart from the Xinyuan he had initially come to understand and had even shattered his expectations.

After submitting his resignation, Jiang Xu did not feel much loss; instead, he felt relieved.

While waiting for the approval result, the technical director came to his desk with a puzzled face and tapped his desk, "President Lu wants to see you, as soon as possible."

Xinyuan didn’t generally hire interns. This Jiang Xu was the first to be exceptionally hired by the president due to his excellent qualifications.

Unexpectedly, not only did this individual feel no gratitude, but he also attempted to desert just when the company needed him the most, disregarding President Lu’s appreciation of talent.

Besides the interview on the first day, throughout the entire half-year, Jiang Xu had barely any sightings of President Lu.

He was clueless as to why the president wanted to see him so suddenly. Surely it wasn’t to retain him after hearing about his resignation?

Ha.

He wasn’t a national treasure, what value was there to keep him?

Jiang Xu chuckled self-deprecatingly and knocked on the door to the president’s office.

"Come in."

The voice that rang out was identical to the one from the programming competition in the Capital three years before, not very distinctive, but the echo it raised was resonant to the ear.