Chapter 7: Jian Zhaowen’s Algorithm of Heartbeats

“After seeing so much on dating apps, I don’t judge relationships based on infidelity or cheating anymore. The younger generation has changed—the rarest quality now is intelligence. If two people’s IQs and EQs don’t match, and their abilities diverge over time, they’ll eventually grow intolerant of each other—it’s inevitable.”

Yu Zhimei, having forgotten her charger, returned home during her lunch break and coincidentally ran into Shi Rui leaving the building. As they walked out of the compound, they talked about blind dates. Yu Zhimei asked: “Did you have fun meeting that boy last time?”

Shi Rui gave a bitter smile: “We haven’t been in touch since.”

Yu Zhimei didn’t know how to respond. Leaving abruptly might hurt Shi Rui’s pride. Shi Rui waved dismissively: “I’ll just keep going on blind dates. Eventually, I’ll meet someone who wants to marry me.”

“So… do you want to get married?”

“Everyone’s getting married. I’m 24 now, turning 25 soon. If I don’t marry soon, my relatives will laugh at me when I go home.”

After saying goodbye to Shi Rui, Yu Zhimei returned to the office. With her charger plugged in, a flood of work awaited her. Monkey King was still revising titles with his supervisor for an ad campaign targeting young car models—all the candidate titles were age-related. Watching the chat box scroll endlessly, Yu Zhimei couldn’t help but think of Shi Rui. Since they shared the same landlord, Yu Zhimei often kept in touch with her. Her own place had been renovated for better lighting and decor, while Shi Rui’s 203 was small, with sparse furniture and a cement floor. Once, while paying rent, Shi Rui mentioned her modest salary and how she stayed in Shanghai to save for her dowry—the more she saved, the more she could contribute to her future household after marriage. Yu Zhimei had praised her for being virtuous, and Shi Rui shyly accepted the compliment. But now, Jian Zhaowen’s words lingered in her mind: “We’re just doing what society expects.” For a moment, staring at her computer, Yu Zhimei felt a pang of resentment—for girls who wanted to marry, age seemed so pressing.

This week’s sharing session was hosted by Yu Zhimei. Fourteen people filled the room, and as she stood in front of the projector, two large characters were projected onto her face: “De-single.” Her presentation title was “Standing Out in Single-Car Content,” written in two lines, with “De-single” landing squarely on her face. Everyone secretly snapped photos, and from their expressions, Yu Zhimei guessed what was going on—it was all about being single.

“There are more and more media outlets covering cars these days. Ultra-rich people show off their garages, car enthusiasts hit the racetrack, and some buy cars just to review them. Our current focus is on Xing Ge’s vehicle knowledge and Q&A program, primarily helping mid-tier buyers choose new or used cars and teaching modifications. Monkey King and Xiaolong mainly handle ads, which aren’t directly tied to growing our fanbase. Since cars are becoming a necessity, it’s important to attract people who are curious but not experts—content that’s engaging without being overly technical. By telling stories, we can build loyalty. Once these viewers develop an interest in cars and modifications, our used car business will take off…”

Xiaolong rested his chin on his hand, looking troubled: “It’s good that we got in early and have a solid fanbase. But the kids coming up now are fierce—either hilarious or insanely rich. Recently, I saw a Weibo post with over ten thousand retweets showing off a McLaren P1, the only one in Beijing, revving its engine and popping flames in their private garage. Every rev was burning cash—how can we compete with that?”

“That’s why we need to attract new audiences. There are plenty of people who don’t care about cars yet but have potential.” Yu Zhimei glanced at Lily, who was busy examining her nails: “We need to tell interesting stories to draw in people willing to spend money and build loyalty. That’s how we monetize videos and secure ads.”

“Sister Mei, you make sense, but if we really act, Monkey King and Xiaojin will have to film two shows. How will we manage the schedule? And what about sudden trending topics?”

“Aren’t we lucky to have Lily? Fresh blood should jump right in.” It seemed Xing Zong genuinely adored Lily. But Lily covered her mouth with one hand and waved the other frantically: “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly! I’m just an intern…”

Xing Zong gestured toward Yu Zhimei: “Then it’s up to you to perform.”

“If necessary, I’ll perform too.”

“Do you have any acting experience?”

“Of course.” Yu Zhimei stood in front of the projector, the background a deep red: “I once had a cameo in a school play—I carried a kitchen knife and even had a line.”

“What was it?”

“You despicable wretch!”

The room erupted in laughter for a few seconds before falling silent in awkwardness. Xing Zong chuckled nervously: “Yu Zhimei, take a page from Lily’s book—be a little more modest. At this rate, you’ll never get married.”

On her way down in the elevator after work, Yu Zhimei bumped into Lily, who greeted her warmly, treating her like one of their own: “Sister Mei, you dress so well, and your hairstyle is stunning.”

“…Thanks.”

“I’ve heard you’re the queen of ads and the company’s cash cow—you can tell just by looking at your bag.”

“It’s just work.”

“How many years have you been working here, Sister Mei?”

“Just over a year.”

“You must have incredible patience. I’ve only been here a day, and I already feel suffocated by all the testosterone.”

Yu Zhimei couldn’t help but laugh: “You can ask the property management to turn on the air conditioning for ventilation.”

“No worries—it’s just the probation period. I’ll hang around for a bit and then leave.”

“Oh?”

“I got an offer from one of the Big Four firms—I won’t be staying at a small company like this. PwC is nearby, so I’m just here to get familiar with the area and learn more about the auto industry. The company is impressive—hidden in such a small office downtown yet bursting with energy. Everyone here is incredibly capable. Sister Mei, as a senior director and editor, is amazing too—I really admire you.”

Yu Zhimei was momentarily at a loss for words.

“Keep it a secret—I’m only saying this because I like you. I’m also afraid of making the wrong choice, so I’m checking out other industries before confirming my job offer. You can’t afford to be complacent. It gets harder to switch careers as you age—I get scared thinking about being 30 with no options. Sister Mei, you’re already a director with plenty of experience—you probably aren’t afraid anymore, right?”

Lily’s words sounded sincere, almost like a plea for advice, but Yu Zhimei didn’t know how to respond. Not long after, Lily made a mistake on a client’s quotation—missing a zero. By the time the client processed the paperwork and transferred payment, the error was discovered. Eight thousand versus eighty thousand—a difference equivalent to several months’ salaries. The finance team brought the bank transfer records to Lily, and the BD representative pulled Yu Zhimei aside: “Sister Mei, you’re close with this client, and you handled the content. Can you talk to them and replace the contract?”

“Isn’t Lily your subordinate?”

“The client knows you better. Besides, I’m BD—if I step in now to change things, it’ll look like I’m deliberately inflating prices. Help me out. You always say work is about helping others. I didn’t dare go straight to your boss—she’d report it to the CEO, and that would make things messy.”

In a small company with unclear structures, whoever cleans up the mess is often blamed. Somehow, Yu Zhimei ended up taking the fall for Lily’s mistake and was called into Xing Zong’s office for a talk. She initially dismissed it as a minor hiccup in her work routine. But on Lily’s last day, Xing Zong lamented in the management group chat: “What a pity—clients really liked her. She was too young to stay.”

Lily never mentioned her mistake, and only the BD rep and Yu Zhimei knew the full story. While buying coffee, Yu Zhimei happened to see Lily drive off in her Tiffany-blue TT coupe—light, elegant, and tasteful. To graduate and already drive your dream car, even customizing its paint job—Yu Zhimei couldn’t help but envy her. How could someone so young live life so freely while she herself was drowning in monthly debt, occasionally taking the blame for others’ mistakes without daring to challenge her boss? Yu Zhimei half-jokingly thought about writing a motivational book titled Reckless Living: From Start to Quit .

When she walked into Miaolin Dessert Shop, Jian Zhaowen was already seated inside. He greeted her: “You’re a regular here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

For some inexplicable reason, Yu Zhimei felt a surge of anger and sat at the bar. He Jie leaned in and whispered in her ear: “What a great guy! Handsome but not cloying, flirtatious but not sleazy. Is God sending you the perfect neighbor?”

Her irritation grew as Jian continued explaining his app to He Jie: “Just input your information, and the system will precisely match you with compatible people. What sets us apart from other apps is our algorithm. In short, we collect all available data from your phone—your purchasing habits, preferred music genres. This way, users don’t need to input their age; the system matches based on preferences and habits, directly targeting the age range and personality types they prefer. Eventually, we might integrate Lovedate content into other major apps and flood the market with ads. If they invest in our second round, we’ll officially be part of their ecosystem.”

“Wow, impressive. Too bad I’m married—I can’t use it. Why don’t we test it on you? Let’s see what type you like.”

“No need—I already know by heart: girls aged 25-27 who like electronic music and R&B, graduated from prestigious universities abroad, STEM majors, enjoy tennis and dancing, can’t drive, and love ‘missionary.’”

“Do you place a lot of importance on education and money?”

“Not at all. Education and money are often used as excuses or shields. ‘Matching social status’ is just a cliché to fool people who don’t know better. Besides, after seeing so much on dating apps, I don’t judge relationships based on infidelity or cheating anymore. The younger generation has changed—the rarest quality now is intelligence. If two people’s IQs and EQs don’t match, and their abilities diverge over time, they’ll eventually grow intolerant of each other—it’s inevitable. Of course, if there’s no morality or outright misconduct, that’s a different story—eliminate them immediately.”

He Jie locked eyes with Yu Zhimei: “Jian Zhaowen, do you think your algorithm is accurate?”

“Of course—it’s my own design, so I trust it.”

“What about Yu Zhimei? Could she be your type?”

“No way, absolutely not.” Jian Zhaowen winked teasingly at Yu Zhimei, trying to make her laugh: “She’s 28—not within the age range either.”

Yu Zhimei stood up abruptly: “You’re not my type either—even without the app, I know that. Goodbye.”

Before she could leave, Jian shot up, creating a breeze that ruffled He Jie’s bangs. He playfully blocked Yu Zhimei’s path, his arm half-straight, half-bent—ambiguous but not overtly provocative. It reminded her of college basketball courts where boys and girls teased each other, cracking jokes to irritate one another, their hearts racing at the slightest touch, testing whether the other liked them. Trapped in his arm, Yu Zhimei quickly lost her temper. She looked up at Jian mischievously and pinched his chin. Jian yelped: “I told you—you wouldn’t fit into the algorithm. The girls I like through my algorithm would never lay a hand on me…”

“Is that so?” Yu Zhimei reached out and chased his cheek: “Are the girls you like statues?”

As soon as she finished speaking, Yu Zhimei met He Jie’s gaze. He Jie, smiling slyly with her wineglass in hand, silently mouthed to her: “What are you waiting for? Start dating!”