Chapter Fifty-Eight: Breaking the Illusion

She just didn’t know which class she’d be assigned to; she only hoped it would be an honors class.

Yu Qian’s grades were good, but she had never compared herself with elites from other schools, so she had no idea where she ranked in the province. There’s always someone better out there. She was well aware that she was far from being the only talented person—compared to some others, her aptitude was quite ordinary.

After the exam, she had planned to stay home for a few days to keep Zhou Jingchen, that big child starved for affection, company. But after just two days, Zhou Jingchen was called back to Hangzhou.

There was an issue with the game’s closed beta.

Players were being disconnected when passing levels, characters were phasing through objects, and there were bugs in the dungeons. The team had already done their best to fix most problems, but as for the phasing issue, they were at a loss.

He stubbornly lingered in the practice room, watching Yu Qian finish the new dance she’d learned from Su Daji, and only after getting another hug did Zhou Jingchen finally leave for Hangzhou, satisfied, with his luggage in tow.

After two years, he finally got a hug.

Even after returning to the company, Zhou Jingchen was still overjoyed.

The staff, who had expected to be scolded, couldn’t help but wonder if the cheerful young man before them was truly their boss Zhou.

Jia Le and Zhu Fan paid no mind to the boss’s expression; instead, they dragged chairs over to study Zhou Jingchen’s operations intently.

For them, the boss’s mood was far less important than their beloved “wives”—their programming code.

Learning more, making their “wives” more perfect, was far more significant than guessing their boss’s mood.

Zhou Jingchen understood the character phasing issue very well. In his previous life, many 3D games never managed to solve this problem. It was only a month before his death that a studio finally found a solution and introduced the technology into their own game.

Out of boredom, Zhou Jingchen had once browsed through the main program of that studio. Out of curiosity, he’d copied the code related to the phasing issue for his own study.

Building on that, he refined the code, making character movements more natural, and ensuring weapons, props, and clothing no longer moved stiffly like paper cutouts.

When developing the game at his company earlier, he’d completely forgotten about the phasing problem. If it hadn’t come up during this closed beta, it probably would’ve remained buried in his memory.

He typed slowly, allowing Jia Le and Zhu Fan to clearly observe each action.

Zhou Jingchen couldn’t stay at Yunzhou forever, and he certainly couldn’t be a programmer for life. To ensure the company’s future success, he had to pass on as much of his knowledge as possible to these two, nurturing them to become Yunzhou’s future technical pillars.

Yet, no matter how slowly he went, the relatively simple code was soon completed.

After integrating it into the main system and running tests to confirm there were no major issues, he handed it over to the programming department for further testing. “Jia Le, Zhu Fan, come with me to the office.”

Calling the still-pensive pair, Zhou Jingchen rubbed his wrist as they walked toward his office.

“If you have any questions, ask now.” Back in his office, Zhou Jingchen drank a glass of water before addressing the still-dazed duo.

Jia Le and Zhu Fan exchanged a glance, bowing their heads to recall the moments they hadn’t fully grasped, organizing their thoughts.

Zhou Jingchen didn’t rush them. It was 2007, and the domestic internet industry was still booming. Only a handful of people could match the world’s renowned tech geniuses.

Most, like Jia Le and Zhu Fan, were passionate learners striving to improve.

Even in his previous life, Zhou Jingchen’s skills were among the top echelon; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been recruited to research time travel with a group of senior professors.

Now, he valued these two—not only for Yunzhou’s sake, but for other reasons as well. He didn’t mind if they learned everything he knew.

Soon, both had organized their thoughts and voiced their questions, one after the other.

Zhou Jingchen set down his glass and began to explain to them in detail.