Chapter 41

June morning. Sunlight poured through the windows, and bathed the hallway outside the lab in gold.
Du Ruo stood at the lab door, hand on the handle but not pushing it open.
Everything that needed saying had been said.
Be open about it, she thought. No point hiding, no point running away. That’s not living.
She took a steadying breath, about to go in,
“What are you doing?” Someone appeared behind her, pushed open the door, and glanced back, eyebrow up. “Still half asleep?”
Du Ruo caught Jing Ming’s eye and shook her head immediately. “I’m woke.”
“Meeting time.” He said, already striding farther down the hall.
She glanced at his retreating figure. He seemed normal, as though nothing had happened last night. The only change was that hint of arrogance missing from his voice and face.
Fine by her.
Pretend it never happened.
Teammates, project partners, whatever. Didn’t matter.
She snapped back to work-mode, grabbed her notebook, and went to the meeting.
There wasn’t much agenda, just planning and info-sharing for the upcoming race in Shenzhen. Jing Ming handed out team assignments and dismissed everyone.
With work in front of them, neither had time, or the heart, for anything else. She felt the same.
Letting that night fade into the background was just what she needed.
It was already early June; in a month, summer break would arrive, along with the global Global Intercollegiate Autonomous Racing Championship.
This was Prime’s big chance to showcase their autonomous driving project.
The track was easier than city streets, so they didn’t need the team’s most advanced tech. But regardless, all of Prime was fired up, no one slacked off.
They’d poured everything into this project for over a year, now it was finally time to see results. Everyone was eager to prove themselves, to win. After all, these were all born geniuses, with sky-high ambition, who wanted their work to be second-best?
Jing Ming and Du Ruo were both serious to a fault, maybe that’s why, without discussing it, they’d settled into a careful, almost seamless truce. They could discuss work, solve problems, debate ideas, but never, not once, mention anything outside the lab.
Sticking strictly to business, they actually seemed to get along better; Du Ruo even found, when talking with him, she could meet his gaze without flinching.
Every now and then, after a conversation ended and they turned away, both wondered if this was some kind of progress, a tiny reconciliation. But neither lingered on it. They let it pass.
Bigger things to focus on, prepping for the competition mattered most.
For most of the next three weeks, Du Ruo spent every moment outside of classes holed up in the lab, the factory, or the industrial park.
She’d snagged the map of the qualifying track from the organizers early on. Now her focus was sharpening the car’s “eyes”, making sure it could clearly “see” the track lines, curves, rivals, and obstacles.
For her and Li Wei, that wasn’t too daunting.
Whether it was track edges, a gleaming car body, or the bright red obstacles, all of it could be tuned for the sensors to recognize. That was firmly in Prime’s wheelhouse.
Days blurred by, the heat climbing, summer growing thicker and greener.
By mid-June, when Prime gathered again, Du Ruo unrolled her detailed proposal: “Four LIDAR sensors on each corner, plus one on the roof, five total. Five HD cameras. Fifteen ultrasonic sensors, on the roof, the body, and underneath. Gyroscope, accelerometer, optical speed sensor… That’s the basic plan.”
Jing Ming twirled his pen, listened to her explanation, and asked, “Any problems?”
Du Ruo shook her head. “Nope.” She added, “Our lab’s current tech already meets the criteria for autonomous racing.”
“So your team’s got it easy lately, huh?” Jing Ming teased. “Let’s make things a bit more interesting for you.”
Du Ruo shrugged, accepting his challenge. “Fine. You’re the boss, you call the shots.”
The pen stopped mid-spin in Jing Ming’s hand. The way she’d just called him “boss”, soft, easy, almost playful,
He gave her a quick up-and-down glance.
Right now, she was sitting across from him, eyes clear and self-assured, meeting his gaze head-on.
He said, “Lighten the car. Lose at least two kilograms.”
Du Ruo glanced down, thinking it over. That meant she’d need to simplify the design. She looked up. “Deal.”
He tapped the pen absently on the table, but didn’t linger on her face, looking instead at Zhu Tao and the others. “Can we hit 350 kilometers per hour?”
Zhu Tao replied with a booming laugh, “Don’t worry about it.”
Jing Ming nodded at He Wang. “I want the AI’s brain doing at least 190 trillion calculations per second.”
He Wang’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s what I’m talking about! Thanks for keeping the standards high, boss. Who wants to mess with some boring, half-hearted toy, anyway?”
Jing Ming couldn’t help but chuckle, scanning the team, each face burning with confidence and resolve. “I don’t care how good the competition is. We give it everything we’ve got, start the build in two weeks. Any objections?”
“Nope!” The boys all yelled in unison, slapping the table with such enthusiasm that the papers jumped and fluttered across the surface.
Du Ruo hid a smile behind her lips.
“Meeting adjourned.” Jing Ming stood, then paused, as if remembering something. “Oh, one more thing.”
“Make sure the body, exterior, and paint job all look killer. I’m not hauling some prehistoric heap to the competition.”
Laughter exploded around the room.
But as Du Ruo reviewed the blueprints, she suddenly spotted something. “Wait, why is there a seat in here?”
Normally, for simplicity’s sake, the cockpit gets chopped in an autonomous car; AI replaces the driver’s seat altogether.
Jing Ming glanced over his shoulder, entirely serious. “Because we want to take it for a spin ourselves.”
Du Ruo: “...”
“Is this your idea of a joke?” She looked around at Li Wei, He Wang, and the others, silently pleading. “Anyone else want to talk sense into him?”
The others just shrugged. “Honestly, we want to drive it, too.”
Du Ruo: “...”
What kind of team had she ended up joining?
Du Ruo took the blueprints to Professor Liang Wenbang to get his thoughts.
“I’ve already given my advice, he just won’t listen. I can’t talk him out of it, either.” Professor Liang shook his head and sighed. “Adding a seat is just reckless. Jing Ming’s a good kid, but too wild, too stubborn. He sees every ceiling as something to break. With a personality like that, he’s bound to crash and burn someday.”
Du Ruo asked, “Does adding a seat make things more dangerous?”
“Of course. Adding that space only ups the bar for technical precision. If the tech’s up to scratch, then sure, knock yourselves out. Otherwise, you’ll run into the trouble you’re worried about.”
Du Ruo frowned, thinking it over, then quickly shook off the concern. “I think it’ll be fine. Our Prime team is kind of unstoppable.”
Professor Liang blinked, then gave her a gentle, amused smile. “Sounds to me like you’re already one of them. Or, well, like attracts like.”
Du Ruo blinked, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“People say Prime’s full of wildcards, cocky, audacious rebels, just like your captain. Give it time, you’ll be just like them.”
Du Ruo froze. It was the first time she’d heard herself described as cocky or reckless.
But thinking about it... maybe that wasn’t so bad after all.
In the days that followed, the whole team threw themselves into the grind.
Du Ruo bounced between the library and the lab, hunting down books, papers, and tutorials, racking her brain for ways to shave every gram off the sensor system, often working through midnight, night after night.
She already worked her heart out, but she realized everyone else was pushing even harder. Burning the midnight oil was just standard practice. Usually, when the whole building was dark and silent in the middle of the night, Prime’s lab would still glow with bright lights.
Everyone hustled without complaint, no sighs, no whining. If anything, they all pushed themselves harder for the team.
Nobody outworked Jing Ming.
More than once, she’d hit her own limit with exhaustion, and he’d still be there, glued to his laptop. She only found out from the others that Jing Ming was always the last one to leave the lab.
It was around this time she realized, yeah, he was smart, IQ off the charts, but he also hustled harder than anyone she’d ever met.
One night, past midnight, He Wang, Wan Zi’ang, and the rest stretched and got ready to head back to the dorms.
“Du Ruo, still not leaving?”
“Just a few more minutes.” She was tired, but wanted to finish this task before heading out.
“Don’t stay too late.”
“I hear you.”
She worked a little longer.
One by one, everyone packed up and left. With her head down and focus tunneled in, she worked until her vision started to blur, finally, she decided to call it a night.
Looking up, she realized the big, bright lab was almost empty, except for Jing Ming, still hunched over his computer.
She gathered her stuff to leave. But after a moment’s hesitation, she turned back, “Hey, it’s one in the morning! Aren’t you heading back?”
No answer.
Jing Ming didn’t even look up, fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes glued to the screen, completely absorbed.
She knew he was locked in, barely aware of anything else, but she still slung her backpack on, paused to call out, “I’m leaving. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
She’d just left the workstation when, as if he suddenly sensed something, he slowly tore his eyes from the monitor, staring into space for a second or two before glancing her way. “Wait up. I’ll walk with you.”
Du Ruo stopped. “Huh?”
The sound of the computer powering off echoed softly.
He stood, rubbing his eyes with one hand, stretching with the other, grabbed his backpack, fished his keys from his pocket. “C’mon, let’s go.”
The elevator doors slid shut. He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed, either resting or thinking, she couldn’t tell. After a moment, he suddenly opened his eyes, looked down at her, and asked, “You hungry?”
Du Ruo looked up, startled. “Huh?”
Du Ruo had no idea there was a late-night congee shop behind the international dorms on campus.
The tiny place was spotless and neat. It was so small they had to set up extra tables outside, extending beneath a wall tangled with morning glories.
It was late June.
The air inside was stifling, so they picked a spot outdoors under the grapevines, the wooden table and stools squeezed right up to the trellis. Lining the edge was a row of tiny potted plants, sunflowers, pothos, baby daisies...
Above the vines, the inky blue summer sky stretched overhead, studded with silver stars. Du Ruo could pick out the Big Dipper without trying.
Jing Ming placed their order. Once the waiter had left, he looked at her.
He watched her for a good while before asking, “What are you looking at?”
“Stars,” Du Ruo said, lowering her gaze to meet his across the table.
It had been over twenty days since that night.
The past few weeks had been a non-stop rush for both of them, so this was the first moment they’d had to simply sit together outside of “work mode.”
Du Ruo fiddled with her fingers, glanced up at the sky, and said quietly, “The stars in Beijing are always so few. Back in the mountains, there were so many, they covered the sky, like someone spilled gold dust on black paper.”
Jing Ming looked up as well. “City air sucks. There’s a little place in New Zealand, Lake Tekapo, it’s got a night sky just like that, exactly what you’re describing.”
“You’ve been?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his nose, turned his head, and yawned for real, he was exhausted.
“You must be dead tired. We should’ve just gone straight to bed instead of coming here.” Du Ruo observed.
Jing Ming yawned again, eyes a little misty as he glanced at her, not saying a word.
Du Ruo pressed her lips together, ducking down to scratch her ankle.
“Mosquitoes?” He leaned over to peek under the table.
“Probably just tiny bugs.” She asked, “You’ve traveled a lot?”
Jing Ming motioned to the waiter for some mosquito coils, answering, “Whenever I get the chance, I like to explore new places.”
She played with the tassel on the tablecloth, musing, “I always thought you were just a big partier. Didn’t expect you to be one of the hardest workers here.”
Jing Ming didn’t address that directly, just smiled, “Guess you had me pegged all wrong.”
Du Ruo was stubborn as ever. “Only partly.”
He let out a low chuckle, but he didn’t bother to explain himself. He really was spent, not much left to say tonight.
The waiter brought over two bowls of plain rice congee and a few plates of snacks: shredded kelp, pickled greens, smashed cucumbers, and boiled peanuts.
Jing Ming rubbed his eyes, straightened in his chair, and started mixing side dishes into his congee. “Think you can handle the grind at Prime? It’s intense.”
“It’s doable.” She nodded, rubbing her sleepy eyes. “You really go all in, huh.”
“I love this stuff. How could I not?”
“It shows. You really care about robotics.” Anyone who could put this much heart and grit into one thing, had to love it deep down.
“Been obsessed since I was a kid.”
As she nibbled on seaweed, curiosity got the better of Du Ruo, he was a prodigy, after all. “What started it?”
He thought for a moment.
“I think I was about three. My dad took me to the U.S., visiting one of his professor friends. In his house, there was this toy car, super flashy, zipping around the room. I was mesmerized, so of course... I took it apart.” He sounded faint, almost weary, but every word was serious. “I had to see what was inside. Why did it move? Turn? Light up and honk? Once I opened it up, I was even more amazed, tiny metal parts, wires, little circuits, all perfectly organized, lined up like tiny soldiers. Some people called it art. I thought it was alive, doing everything its creator had built it for, just the way it was supposed to.”
Du Ruo listened as he spoke, a little dazed. She knew exactly how that felt.
She gazed at him in silence, but their eyes said it all, understanding, shared without a word.
"Didn't your dad scold you for destroying someone else's car?"
"Nope. That professor actually liked me, a lot. Taught me plenty, too." He didn't linger on his own story. "What about you?"
She was lifting a spoonful of plain porridge to her lips, her answer muffled: "Hm?"
"Why did you choose sensor control as your major?"
She lifted her head, honest as always: "Honestly, before college, I had no clue what this major even was. My teacher just said it was easy to get a job with it."
"And now?"
"Now I love it."
"Why?"
"There was this one moment..." She thought for a second. "I was working on a sensor in the lab. Before that, I studied extra hard, put everything I had into it. When I finished, it was so tiny, sitting in my palm."
She held up her hand for scale. He didn't blink, watching her little face glow white in the night. Her eyes sparkled like stars,
"I tapped its head, and it lit up! Right then, I felt like, everything you put in gets answered. Whatever you give, it'll give back. It won't let you down." She exhaled softly, moved. "That's why they're called sensors. They're all about connection, real resonance. I just love that name."
His lips curved in the barest of smiles. No wonder someone like her would mourn the loss of a failed robot.
Different roads, same destination.
He took a sip of porridge and asked, "So before college, any hobbies? Stuff you were into, growing up."
"Not sure I'd call them hobbies..." She covered her face, turned away, stifled a yawn, then added, "But I can mix up fertilizer and pesticides, grow vegetables and chickens. I can also climb trees."
Jing Ming went blank for a beat, then burst into laughter, almost choking in the process. It was a genuine laugh, and he couldn't stop. Leaning on his forehead, shoulders shaking, he laughed himself wide awake.
"What are you laughing at? It's true," Du Ruo insisted. "You and I grew up in totally different worlds. I barely got to see anything new."
He shook his head, still laughing. "I'm not saying it's not true, actually sounds kind of fun."
"Not fun at all. Exhausting and dull." She rubbed her eyes. "Oh, wait, if we're counting, I guess singing mountain songs was a hobby. Long walks in the mountains were so boring, I’d just sing into the valleys and listen to the echo bounce around. It sounded beautiful."
He perked up, eyes bright, intent on her. "Sing something for me."
"No way. Back home, we only sing mountain songs for… sweethearts."
The instant she said it, the air picked up a charge, just a little off-kilter.
He stared straight at her, gaze deep and steady, carrying a heat and weight all his own, but only for a moment, before he deliberately looked away. Like nothing had happened.
She didn't say anything more, just ducked her head and scooped another spoonful of porridge into her mouth.
Night deepened, still and windless.
But the heat, the restless buzz, lingered on.