Chapter Nineteen

The clatter of typing echoed incessantly in the quiet, pink-hued bedroom. Su Xin stared in astonishment at the boy seated before the computer, his fingers flying across the keys, entering commands with confidence. At that moment, she finally realized that Xiao Qiang was nothing like the boastful person she had imagined. At least, when it came to computers, he wasn’t exaggerating.

Though Su Xin didn’t fully understand computers, she recognized the stream of DOS characters and professional jargon flashing across the screen. She had seen something similar last year, when her brother—an acclaimed student in the computer department of Huaxia University—had shown off his skills in front of her. Yet, Xiao Qiang’s speed and command of the keyboard far surpassed her brother’s.

Su Xin felt dizzy, unable to grasp exactly what I was doing. But she was certain I wasn’t just showing off my knowledge for her sake. She could see the seriousness and faint excitement on my face. I was utterly absorbed in the world of computer language, oblivious to Su Xin’s incredulous gaze from behind. With such a rare opportunity, I wasn’t about to let it slip by. I couldn’t visit Su Xin’s home often, but the chance to connect to the internet was precious. Seized by inspiration, I decided to create a piece of software right then and there. My mind raced, and I knew exactly what I wanted to develop.

In 1997, the internet was not yet widespread in Huaxia, but abroad, it had become essential for work and daily life. Computer operating systems were in a transitional phase, with Windows 95 and 97 overlapping. For most people, email was the primary use of the internet, but with the launch of Microsoft’s internet online services in 1995, over a million users were now connecting via MSN dial-up. MSN had become the hottest internet tool abroad in 1997, but at that time, it lacked the powerful features and instant messaging capabilities of MSN Messenger. Everything was still crude and rough. MSN was like that, and the Chinese chat software OICQ, modeled after ICQ in 1997, was even more so. I remembered that OICQ was just founded that year, and QQ would not appear until 1999. Although I missed the era when Microsoft created MSN in 1995, in 1997, I possessed all the knowledge of Earth up to 2010. In my memory, Microsoft launched the brand-new MSN 9.0 in 2009. If I could develop such dazzling, powerful MSN features for the 1997 system and repackage it as a new chat tool, wouldn’t Microsoft want to buy it from me? Once I had my first pot of gold and my own computer, who knew what else I could create—perhaps even an XP system to shock Microsoft. With the knowledge in my head, I could write MSN 9.0, and even versions 10.0 and 11.0. If Microsoft used my software, it would mean I held the keys to future development.

I grinned foolishly, my fingers flying, eager not to waste a single moment. Creating MSN was easy for me, but with the hardware and CPU speed of 1997, I couldn’t work as quickly as I wished, and my time at Su Xin’s house was limited to a few hours at most. After finishing the software, I would also need to secretly open a backdoor on Microsoft’s server via the internet, so I could obtain the private email address of someone powerful within the company. Otherwise, all my efforts would be in vain. With so much to handle suddenly, how could I not be anxious?

Seeing me so absorbed, Su Xin tiptoed out of the room, careful not to disturb me. As she closed the door and caught a glimpse of my back, a strange light flickered in her eyes—perhaps she had never seen me so focused before.

Exiting the room, Su Xin turned and saw her mother downstairs, tidying up teacups in the living room. She asked in surprise, “Mom, what’s going on? Did we have guests?”

Her mother looked up at her beloved daughter with a gentle smile. “Xin Xin, why did you leave your classmate alone in your room? Yes, Uncle Chu just visited. He’s in the study with your father now.”

“Uncle Chu?” Su Xin was startled and quickly asked, “Mom, did Tong Tong come with him?” Uncle Chu was none other than Chu Qitong’s father. If he brought Chu Qitong along and she ran into Xiao Qiang, she would surely find out that Su Xin was helping him!

Her mother gave her a puzzled look. “Qitong didn’t come. Your Uncle Chu said his daughter was supposed to, but suddenly decided to stay home and learn about computers instead. What’s wrong with you? Why do you seem so sneaky?”

“Who’s sneaking, Mom? Don’t say such things!” Su Xin’s cheeks flushed as she pouted, unhappy. “What mother talks about her daughter like that? You’re so bad.”

Her mother chuckled. “I was just teasing, but you really seemed nervous just now, like…” She glanced upstairs toward Su Xin’s room, as though she understood something. “Oh, I see. You brought a boy classmate home to study and were afraid Qitong might see and you’d be embarrassed, isn’t that right?”

“Mom, no way! I’m not afraid of Tong Tong seeing us.” Su Xin insisted, her lips tight, as she hurried downstairs to her mother’s side, standing firm. “Xiao Qiang and I are just classmates—anyone can see us, I’m not afraid!”

“Of course you’re classmates, what else could you be?” Her mother suddenly grabbed her hand. “Xin Xin, do you perhaps…”

“Mom! You’re being ridiculous, I’m not talking to you anymore!” Su Xin’s face was crimson. In truth, after rejecting Xiao Qiang earlier, she had felt uneasy. When she saw his pain, her heart ached along with his. Did she really like Xiao Qiang? That thought made her cheeks burn even hotter.

Her mother laughed. “Who are you not talking to? If you ignore Uncle Chu, he’ll be heartbroken…” Just then, a deep male voice sounded from the study. Su Xin shyly called out, “Uncle Chu.”

Soon, two middle-aged men emerged from the study, both of similar age. One was Su Xin’s father, Su Guohui, the Party Secretary of City C, and the other, dressed in a sharp suit and exuding charisma, was Chu Qitong’s father, Chu Zhengsheng, president of the largest company in City C, Imperial Group. The handsome, smiling man joked, “Haha, lucky me—Xin Xin still calls me Uncle Chu.”

Su Guohui shook his head in resignation, his face full of exasperation. “Look at you, old Chu—already in your fifties, yet still teasing my daughter. I really ought to speak to you; you don’t act like a father at all. No wonder your precious girl is spoiled rotten.”

“What’s wrong with joking? Would you rather I act like you, old Su, always with that stern face as if everyone owes you money?” Chu Zhengsheng shot his friend a look and laughed, “If you want to play the official, do it at city hall, not at home. Why so serious?”

“You…” Su Guohui was at a loss for words, forced to admit defeat. “Fine, you win. Who am I to argue—I need your help, after all. But let me be clear, the matter I just discussed with you must not be leaked—not to your daughter, not to your wife!”