Always Home

What does it usually feel like to get an opportunity?

Plum blossoms bloom through bitter cold, soaring ambitions eventually bear fruit, and perseverance is always rewarded.

But for Jing Qichi, there was only one word—fast.

Too fast. So fast he couldn’t react, faster than the speed of light.

After all, this opportunity wasn’t obtained through “usual” means either.

He met a man on the train, unexpectedly helped him with a minor favor, and coincidentally mentioned a project he’d been obsessing over. Then the man asked—want to come check out our place?

It wasn’t until he stepped out of that gleaming high-rise in the CBD that Jing Qichi belatedly realized he’d just finished an interview.

He hadn’t prepared at all—wearing jeans and canvas shoes, with only his phone and about a hundred yuan in change in his pocket. Even his train ticket to Beijing had been bought that morning.

Jiang Sen’s “check out” had been automatically interpreted by him as maybe picking up some odd job during the holiday to earn pocket money. So much so that when they reached the building, he naively remarked—renting a place here must be expensive, huh?

One unit? Hah. Half the building was theirs.

Jiang Sen didn’t explain either, just took him around—first the exhibition hall, then the office area. Every desk had at least two screens, some people wore suits while others had cotton vests over T-shirts. Machines outnumbered people at a glance—though robots counted as machines too.

At the end of the hallway was the lounge, where a middle-aged man who looked older than Jiang Sen sat with coffee. Seeing them approach, he put down his phone. “Xiao Jing, right? We’ve all heard about your heroic fight against the armed robber.”

An armed robber… who stole a computer on the train with a switchblade?

“Just kidding.” Jiang Sen laughed beside him, then asked, “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Water’s fine.” Jing Qichi’s thought at the time was that he was here for work—no need to make them spend money.

They began chatting with him—how old he was, where he was from, how he got here—like a lucky grand prize winner being interviewed by a host, formal yet playful. Then the conversation shifted to his school, major, past projects, focusing especially on the intelligent targeting project he’d poured half a year into. They asked: “What’s your criteria for data image selection? How do you handle human annotation discrepancies?” “Have you researched anti-spam algorithms for text data?” “What considerations underlie your current model, and what are the experimental results?” “Where do you think the system architecture could improve?” Every question hit the mark.

Even with advisors, even after digesting countless foreign papers, even with guidance from seniors in his college’s medical and telecom programs, even pulling all-nighters in the computer lab—this wasn’t something he, nor their little team, could have accomplished.

Jing Qichi knew this better than anyone.

“I…” He shook his head. “I can’t answer your questions.”

The sum total of his knowledge, intellect, and ability wasn’t enough to address even one of the questions casually thrown his way.

An immense, swelling sense of defeat washed over him.

“Qi Chi,” Jiang Sen patted his shoulder. “It’s normal. Because what you’re trying to do—or just starting to explore—is a technology, a new industry, an uncharted frontier humanity needs to conquer.”"And," another person chimed in, "we're working on it too, though obviously progressing much faster."

Jing Qichi frowned as he sized them up.

"Alright?" Jiang Sen raised an eyebrow at his colleague. "Picked him up along the way."

"Not bad, though his academic credentials are a bit lacking," the man chuckled. "If you want him in your team, you'll have to sort it out with HR yourself."

Being looked down upon for his education was a first in his life.

Well, except for Song Cong—he barely counted as human.

Jiang Sen patted his knees and stood up. "Let me introduce you properly. My boss, Dr. Gong Naliang." Seeing Jing Qichi's blank expression, he pressed down on the back of his head for good measure. "Call him Dr. Gong."

"Dr... Dr. Gong," the rookie parroted awkwardly.

Gong Naliang grabbed his phone. "You two handle the rest. Wrap it up and get to the meeting."

"Well," Jiang Sen scratched his head, "we've covered most of it. Send me your resume later. Given your situation, I'll need to brief HR."

Jing Qichi snapped back to reality. "What... what is this place?"

"Didn't you see the logo at the entrance?" Jiang Sen smirked. "Huandao's AI lab."

Huandao Tech—the company with the longest queues at campus recruitment fairs, a thriving giant known for its excellent salaries and reputation.

Jing Qichi had another question. "What about my situation?"

"Nothing major," Jiang Sen waved it off. "I was thinking of putting you in my Medical AI team, but all full-time members there have master's or doctoral degrees. As for you..."

He wasn't wrong. Being dumped here, his credentials were indeed a bit lacking.

Seeing the other man about to leave, Jing Qichi hurriedly asked one last question. "Actually, I have a classmate too—my bunkmate..."

Jiang Sen didn’t grant another exception. As he put it, "Rules can only be bent once; more than that spoils order." But he was efficient—Qiu Yang sent his resume to HR the next day, and on the third day, he and his mother took a train from their hometown in the northeast for the interview. After touring the Forbidden City, Temple of Heaven, and the Great Wall, Qiu’s mother left alone, while Qiu Yang joined as an intern in another backend development team under Jiang Sen.

By then, Jing Qichi had already started his onboarding training. Jiang Sen—or rather, this unexpected job opportunity—left him no breathing room. The lab bore no festive decorations, no lanterns, not a whiff of New Year's atmosphere. Screens, keyboards, data, calculations—it felt like an isolated island, its inhabitants huddled together with only the glowing ideal of breaking out shining faintly.

A glorious and fervent ideal.

With no time to find an apartment, he’d been staying at a budget hotel near the company. Qiu Yang was supposed to start after the New Year, but they figured they should secure a place before the holidays, so he stayed to handle the rental search. It should have been the most leisurely time of the year, but the two were busy as spinning tops, leaving early and returning late. Jing’s Mother, Huan'er, and Song Cong all called during this time, but each conversation was cut short—Jing Qichi hadn’t fully grasped the training materials, and his colleagues’ tasks remained unfinished. Pressured yet driven, he knew his loved ones would understand.

On Lunar New Year’s Eve, Qiu Yang signed the rental contract and took the 8 p.m. train back home. With his computer still running programs, Jing Qichi only had time to see him off at the hotel lobby. While waiting for the car, he asked Qiu Yang, "I got you this internship. Do you feel shortchanged?"Having shared bunk beds for three and a half years, eaten and played together, and even taken nearly identical elective courses, Jing Qichi had always been straightforward with Qiu Yang.

The truth was, Qiu Yang had better grades and was renowned in their department as a tech enthusiast. Logically, their current positions should have been reversed.

"Feeling hard done by? The pay gap is huge," Qiu Yang said with a laugh. "How about you chip in more for rent from now on?"

"Dream on."

"Seriously, not at all." Qiu Yang gazed at the stream of cars passing by before looking up at the vast, imposing city around them. "Luck is such a mysterious thing. Actually, I’ve been pretty lucky—missing campus recruitment but still landing an interview thanks to your referral. As for you..." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I can’t think of any explanation other than a stroke of sheer luck."

Jing Qichi snorted. "I’m not that bad, okay?"

"You’re not bad, but not exceptional enough to warrant a special admission either." Qiu Yang clicked his tongue. "Be honest—did your ancestors’ graves suddenly start smoking?"

The car arrived. Qiu Yang said, "See you after the New Year," and stepped in. Jing Qichi waved as the car pulled away.

Yes, it was like randomly matching into a game dungeon, encountering a bug where the boss was asleep, and clearing it without even lifting a finger.

How did this happen?

All the way back to his room, Jing Qichi pondered this question, retracing his steps from today all the way back to the day he returned home for winter break. When he opened his door, it suddenly dawned on him.

Huan’er.

If she hadn’t returned a week late, if she hadn’t bought that train ticket, if she hadn’t casually struck up a conversation with someone, they would never have met Jiang Sen, let alone gotten to know him. And if she hadn’t suddenly asked about that post Qiu Yang shared, Jiang Sen wouldn’t have known about his major or the medical project he’d been dreaming of.

All these coincidences seemed more like Chen Huan’er unknowingly sharing a part of her luck with him, making him a beneficiary of her fortune.

And this luck, Jing Qichi thought, might truly have been something Huan’er had fought for with her life.

The only misfortune she had ever faced was at birth—a brutal, overwhelming ordeal that could have erased Chen Huan’er from existence in an instant. But because she endured it, everything afterward had been smooth sailing, making her the one everyone saw as perpetually blessed.

Yet no one but her knew the sheer tenacity, resilience, and unyielding vitality it took to fight against such a cruel and senseless beginning. She had never stopped fighting.

There were still many things to do, but at this moment, Jing Qichi desperately wanted to hear her voice.

Even just a single word would suffice.

The call connected quickly. "Are you coming back or not?" she asked, skipping all unnecessary pleasantries, her tone even slightly impatient.

But Jing Qichi—he knew he was smiling from the depths of his heart.

How could he not be happy? Chen Huan’er was waiting for him to come home.

"Tomorrow," Jing Qichi said, struggling to contain his joy. "But not until evening."

"New Year’s Eve evening?" Huan’er grumbled. "What kind of lousy company is this?"

She added, "We’re heading back to Sishui tomorrow afternoon. My mom’s on duty until the fourth day of the New Year, so I guess we’ll have to meet after that."

At most, four days.If there was any hesitation before taking the job, it was the thought that he and Huan'er would be separated for a long time—not something he dwelled on deliberately, but the idea naturally settled in his mind. The reason for his decision was extremely simple—the position was excellent, the opportunity rare, and only by standing on his own feet first could he give her a better future.

Jing Qichi thought about the future, a very, very distant future.

Standing at the crossroads of what lay ahead, he had to choose which path to take.

"After the New Year..."

"Qi Chi, I need to take a call from Du Man. Let's talk in person." Huan'er hung up in a hurry.

What he had actually wanted to ask was whether she could come to Beijing after the New Year—whether to visit or just for fun, because four days was far too short.

Setting down his phone, Jing Qichi returned to his computer.

On this night, as the New Year approached and families everywhere gathered in reunion, he was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong sense of parting.