Chapter 47: Double Crush

The waiting area of the pet hospital was packed with people, and Jian Zhaowen could feel the eyes of the girls around him. It was amusing—while young girls stole glances at him, as if he were the embodiment of their ideal romance, more experienced women focused on Zheng Ze, their phones in hand. Their pupils seemed to transform into radars, finely tuned to detect hormonal signals.

Jian Zhaowen’s house, aside from the attic, now had both first-floor living rooms fully occupied by computers. Four computer towers and six monitors were arranged on tables in two separate areas. The inner living room was used for research and algorithm development, while the outer one handled product operations and client work. As Jian reviewed the weekly report sent by the operations team, he realized his skills no longer matched the user base. He hadn’t anticipated such a strong demand for social interaction, nor that he’d gather five-digit user numbers so quickly. Despite the novelty of the dual login system, the refined user model, and precise matching algorithms, he had to admit that the product itself was mediocre. The interface was too simplistic, lacking the sophistication that a high-level product manager could bring. Without enough funds to buy server bandwidth or run advertisements, user growth remained insufficient to realize his envisioned features. At this rate, Day and Night would remain a small, niche app, soon forgotten by users.

Professional tasks required professional expertise. Design could be outsourced, and operations were nearly finalized. The most pressing need now was a top-tier product manager. Jian called a friend he’d met when he first arrived in Shanghai. This friend ran a live-streaming company and had secured angel funding. With charisma, he’d signed a popular streamer, gaining significant traction. Though they weren’t close, they shared similar values, and the friend recommended three candidates. Jian searched online: the first was a seasoned product manager who had steadily risen through the ranks. A safe choice, but uninspiring. Teaming up with Jian would make them formidable. The second was a rising star in social circles, five years younger but exceptionally sharp and beloved by the youth. The third was a well-known figure in the product world—a high-level product manager with three successful apps under her belt, all highly regarded in the industry. She was famously low-key, rarely seen in public, and notoriously difficult to reach.

Jian knew that partnerships without deep understanding would eventually crumble. But he had to try. After all, this was his third app, and the concept behind Day and Night wasn’t bad. Finding a partner simply required clear communication—no need to proclaim grand ambitions upfront, as overly lofty goals often lacked practical motivation. After much effort, he finally met with the first candidate. Jian was utterly deflated by the man’s overwhelming aura of a small-town entrepreneur—plaid shirt, khaki pants, unwashed hair. His ideas were clear, but his naivety and lack of romantic experience made him unsuitable for social products. The second candidate arrived on a balance scooter, wearing a black mask and sporting swollen double eyelids. His unconventional ideas hinted at a playboy persona, and Jian suspected he treated product management as a hobby, destined for entertainment fame instead. After these disappointing encounters, only Lei Zheng remained on his list.

Lei Zheng’s products had earned Jian’s loyalty as a user, and he’d heard whispers of his reputation. Lei was said to be deeply sentimental, in a long-term relationship, and had cashed out a few years ago to pursue a master’s degree abroad. Recently returned to China, he was elusive. After navigating multiple connections, Jian secured Lei’s WeChat and arranged to meet at a café. Having drunk enough coffee to last a lifetime, Jian drove to Shaoshan Road, circling for half an hour before finally snagging a roadside spot. In his frustration, he parked too aggressively, scraping the door of his Audi—a costly first blood. As he stepped out of the car, Jian thought grimly that today might not be the best day to discuss entrepreneurship.

The café was an elegant two-story building, its vintage decor framed by towering sycamore trees casting flirtatious shadows. Inside, it was silent except for soft jazz playing in the background, and even the air carried a modern, sophisticated vibe. Lei Zheng wore a collarless white shirt, a fitted khaki vest accentuating his physique, and a brown retro eight-panel cap atop his head. Clean-cut and wise, he exuded an effortless charm. Jian, ever the visual creature, was immediately smitten. Lei stood, shaking hands with Jian, a hint of cunning hidden behind his black-rimmed glasses: “Nice to meet you.”

The first impression was overwhelmingly positive, leaving Jian momentarily disoriented. As they perused the menu, Lei calmly remarked, “This café is partially mine. Order whatever you like. Don’t worry about the taste—the beans are personally selected by me. After all those dreadful coffees during business meetings, this will be refreshing.”

Marry-me vibes swirled in Jian’s mind, but he suppressed his admiration, clearing his throat loudly: “What do you think of Day and Night ?”

“Do you want the nice version or the honest one?”

“The truth.”

“The concept is good, but the product structure is a mess. There’s no clear path to profitability—it won’t last six months.”

It felt as though someone had struck a gong next to Jian’s ear, leaving him dazed: “What did you say?”

“I’m saying your product manager is terrible, and the algorithm is wasted. Who developed it?”

“Me.”

“And the product?”

“Me.”

“The design?”

“…Outsourced.”

“Oh, that explains why the interaction feels barely passable.”

Damn it. Jian was furious and ready to leave on the spot, but the coffee arriving before him couldn’t go to waste. He took a forceful sip, preparing to retort, only to find the flavor rich and aromatic. By the second sip, his anger had dissolved. Lei remained silent, flipping through Day and Night : “The users are good, and the concept is solid. It’s a shame.”

“Would you consider partnering with me?”

“No.”

“Give me a reason.”

“There’s too much to fix—it’s practically starting from scratch. Such a challenge would drain my energy, and I’ve just returned to Shanghai. I need some rest.”

“Don’t lie. If you really wanted to rest, you wouldn’t have agreed to meet with me. From zero to where it is now, I’ve personally designed every aspect of Day and Night . I may not know much about product management, but feel free to mock me. The algorithms were all coded by me—except for the open-source mechanism for reviewing explicit images. Everything else was modeled by me. You can say the product is bad, but you can’t say the algorithm isn’t good.”

“I never said it couldn’t be salvaged. Why are you getting so worked up?” Lei Zheng smiled, sliding a slice of red velvet cake toward Jian Zhaowen. “I’m just telling you not to rush. If the car isn’t ready before hitting the track, it’s bound to crash.”

The words sounded eerily like something Yu Zhimei would say. After calmly discussing the state of social apps for half an hour, Jian grew increasingly impressed by Lei Zheng’s depth. His tone almost bordered on desperation: “I’m determined to have you work on Day and Night with me. Trust me—you won’t find a more precise matching algorithm on the market unless someone builds a team and uses AI to compete with me.”

“Are you that certain?”

“No false promises with you.”

“Then let me ask you—why haven’t you sought angel funding?”

“I don’t want dilution. The more diluted, the less control I have.”

“And what about me? If we partner, I’d expect an equal split.”

“Not a problem at all. I like you.”

Lei Zheng chuckled, pulling out a fountain pen and jotting something in his notebook. “Understood. Give me some time to think. I’ll contact you later if I decide.”

Lei Zheng had garnered numerous reviews in the industry. On platforms like Zhihu and workplace apps, his name appeared in anonymous posts. Rumors claimed he was deeply sentimental, and those who collaborated with him often expressed hints of affection in their words. However, few knew about his private life. People saw him as exceptionally capable but perpetually unlucky in love—a trait that seemed to heighten his sensitivity to social software. Recently, many apps had approached him, but none received a positive response. Though their brief meeting left Jian feeling as though he’d had minor heart attacks several times, he was still relatively pleased. As long as he could convince Lei Zheng to join, he didn’t care about the process. Stuck at a red light, flicking through searches on Lei Zheng, Jian noticed the car behind flashing its lights. Suddenly, his Audi felt underpowered—it was overtaken by a red Honda Civic. Despite chasing through three traffic lights, Jian never caught sight of the other car’s rear bumper. He consoled himself: being crushed while injured was perhaps a good omen for successfully recruiting Lei Zheng.

Yet, for two consecutive weeks, Jian heard nothing from Lei Zheng.

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With spring’s arrival, Yu Zhimei’s top priority on weekends became taking Lulu for routine check-ups. Even weekends at the pet hospital required appointments. Sitting in the waiting area with a cat carrier, Yu Zhimei felt a cold can of Coke pressed against her cheek by Jian Zhaowen, who sat beside her, watching other cats in cages. Pointing to one particularly friendly-looking feline, Jian mused, “Look how affectionate that cat is. Why doesn’t Lulu cling to me? Maybe I should get another cat—they could keep each other company.”

“Jian Zhaowen, your logic is strange. We live next door, not together. How does that work?”

“Why don’t we seal our balconies and connect them with a door? That way, we can visit each other often.”

“Or better yet, seal off the entire third floor and turn it into a family home—how convenient for you.”

“I’ll go buy a sandwich. Wait for me.”

After nearly an hour of waiting, just as they were about to enter the examination room, someone tapped Yu Zhimei on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw a tall man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, carrying a cat carrier. Smiling warmly, he extended his hand: “Yu Zhimei? I’m Zheng Zeyan. I was in the same class as Zhang Yao back in university. Do you remember me?”

Hearing her ex-boyfriend’s name in real life—and in Shanghai—caught Yu Zhimei off guard. Zheng Zeyan had been part of the same basketball club as Zhang Yao, resembling Hanamichi Sakuragi from Slam Dunk . Back then, he was thin and looked unhealthy. Now, however, he appeared robust, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. His chest muscles strained against his sweater, making him nearly unrecognizable. Yu Zhimei struggled to reconcile this new image with her memories: “You’re here for your cat too?”

“Just a routine check-up.” Inside Zheng Zeyan’s carrier was a lively silver tabby, pawing at the air vents. In stark contrast, Lulu was sound asleep in her carrier. He prodded gently: “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes, alone in the new-style lane houses on Yonghua Road.” Yu Zhimei deliberately emphasized the word “alone,” hoping the intelligent would understand. Zheng Zeyan raised an eyebrow but responded with a smile: “What a coincidence—I live in an apartment on Mengzi Road nearby.”

Yu Zhimei knew exactly where that was—near her office, with average monthly rents exceeding 20,000 yuan. The complex even had a clubhouse and swimming pool, exuding opulence. Just then, Jian Zhaowen returned with a sandwich. As the nurse called Lulu’s name, Zheng Zeyan held Yu Zhimei back: “Let’s exchange contacts. We’re neighbors after all—let’s stay in touch.”

“How do you spell your name again?”

“Zheng Zeyan—Zhe for choice, Yan for performance.”

Yu Zhimei hesitated as she pulled out her phone. She wasn’t eager to reminisce about her university days, especially about Zhang Yao. With Jian standing nearby, alternating glances between her and Zheng Zeyan, Yu Zhimei grew uneasy. First Douyu, now Zheng Zeyan—even their mere appearance seemed poised to disrupt her life. While exchanging contacts, Jian stepped forward, extending his hand: “Nice to meet you. I’m Jian Zhaowen, Yu Zhimei’s neighbor. Since we’re all friends, let’s add each other on WeChat and include me in any gatherings.”

As they walked into the examination room with Lulu, Jian muttered under his breath: “Zheng Zeyan—what an over-the-top name. Look at those muscles straining against his clothes. They match his name perfectly.”

The pet hospital’s waiting hall was packed with people. Jian could feel the eyes of the girls around him. It was amusing—while young girls stole glances at him, as if he were the embodiment of their ideal romance, more experienced women focused on Zheng Zeyan, their phones in hand. Their pupils seemed to transform into radars, finely tuned to detect hormonal signals.

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P.S.: Although I’m running late, I’m still updating daily. Occasionally, it might be a bit late, but never past midnight~ A friend helped leave a five-star review yesterday—I’m deeply moved. Thank you all!

We’ve finally reached the spicy novel section of Segment Four. Please bear with the risqué jokes. If you enjoy The First Word , please feel free to add it to your bookshelf and vote for recommendations. Waiting for everyone to chat today!