Transmigrated as the Domineering Scumbag Alpha Forced into Marriage by a Delicate Subordinate (GL) - Chapter 16

Qin Jue had never imagined that the chaotic atmosphere of a bar could spur inspiration, just as she never imagined someone could code amidst deafening rock music. Tang Yun’s index finger flew across her old computer, purchased years ago, and she was still crunching away even after Qin Jue ushered her into the car.

Qin Jue watched her coolly. As expected, Tang Yun staggered when she got out of the car at home.

Qin Jue quickly gripped Tang Yun’s shoulder, stopping her just before she could take a nasty fall. However, due to the unexpected momentum, Tang Yun completely tumbled toward her.

It looked like… throwing oneself into her arms.

“I thought you weren’t feeling dizzy,” Qin Jue chuckled.

Tang Yun quickly straightened up out of Qin Jue’s arms. She hadn’t felt it in the car because she was highly focused on her computer, but getting out of the car, the world spun. She took two steps back and steadied herself against the wall. Black shadows swam before her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m a little carsick,” Tang Yun explained.

Qin Jue let out a light laugh. Even though the driver drove very smoothly, Tang Yun dared to look at a computer while drinking alcohol in the car. It would be strange if she wasn’t carsick.

Back at Qin Jue’s apartment, Tang Yun placed her laptop on the desk. She squinted at it for a long time but still felt her vision was blurry. Putting on the glasses she dug out of her backpack didn’t seem to help much. The after-effects of carsickness hadn’t subsided, and the two sips of alcohol at the bar seemed to have gone to her head as well. Her mind was foggy, and she couldn’t remember how she fell asleep.

The next morning, Tang Yun woke up automatically before her alarm clock, thinking about the half-finished concept from last night. She lay in bed zoning out, and suddenly realized: it had been another day, and Qin Jue still hadn’t done anything to her.

For some reason, Tang Yun even felt a ridiculous sense of loss. She had mentally prepared herself again and again, believing that something was about to happen between her and Qin Jue, but until now, nothing had happened. It was as if all that psychological preparation had been for nothing.

This line of thought is wrong. Tang Yun suspected her brain was broken. To stop this overthinking, she simply got up, opened her laptop, and started working, attempting to fill her mind with work.

She had slight myopia. She used to wear glasses during class but not often otherwise. Now, the high-intensity, screen-facing lifestyle from morning until night was getting to her. Tang Yun grabbed her glasses and put them on again.

So, when Qin Jue woke up, she saw Tang Yun wearing a pair of very student-like plastic-rimmed glasses.

Qin Jue: “You… never mind.”

She was speechless.

Fortunately, she didn’t actually need to take this Secretary Tang to meet clients yet. When coding in the project department, what she wore didn’t matter. What if she wore a plaid shirt?

Qin Jue once again shared a car with Tang Yun to the company. Tang Yun got off the elevator on the 9th floor, while Qin Jue continued up to the 12th floor. As soon as Qin Jue sat down in her office, Jian Zhen knocked and entered to review the day’s schedule with her. After listening, Qin Jue noticed Jian Zhen was still standing there.

“Is there anything else?” Qin Jue asked.

“Do I need to accompany Secretary Tang for lunch again today?” Jian Zhen asked.

Qin Jue was momentarily stunned. It was just a lunch companion. Why did it sound so strange coming from Jian Zhen’s mouth?

“No need. Let her integrate into the group,” Qin Jue said.

“So you’re letting her grow on her own now?” Jian Zhen asked.

“Assistant Jian, are you in a very good mood today?” Qin Jue looked up and smiled.

Jian Zhen quickly fell silent and scurried away, although she thought her description was quite accurate.

9th floor, Xun Dao Project Team.

Tang Yun returned to her workstation and continued to push the morning’s progress. The bar music from last night had given her inspiration for designing the level. She scrapped all her previous progress and started over. The corner of her eye seemed to catch someone walking toward her workstation, but Tang Yun couldn’t spare the focus just yet.

“How’s it going, Secretary Tang? Can your idea be realized?” Lin Hao asked.

“It should be possible,” Tang Yun said.

Lin Hao’s original intention was to give Tang Yun an out. He knew how difficult game development was. Even if Tang Yun only worked on a small piece of content, for it to be complete, to integrate into the existing framework without causing malicious bugs—that was already far beyond the capabilities of a fresh graduate. But unexpectedly, Tang Yun didn’t seem to appreciate the help at all and even looked quite confident.

“There’s an internal departmental meeting next Monday. Several teams need to report their progress. If you can really make something, how about you present our team’s report?” Lin Hao asked.

He just didn’t believe Tang Yun wouldn’t back down now.

“Next Monday? That’s a bit tight, but it should be doable,” Tang Yun said.

Lin Hao: “…”

“Fine. You’re the best. Keep going,” Lin Hao was speechless and turned to leave.

After a few steps, Lin Hao came back and instructed Tang Yun: “No matter what state it’s in, send it to me for review by Friday night.”

He wouldn’t worry about an ordinary person, but Tang Yun was clearly a naive newcomer, and Lin Hao didn’t dare not keep an eye on her.

Time always flew by when focused. In the blink of an eye, it was lunchtime. Startled by the feeling of hunger, Tang Yun looked up and found that most of her colleagues in the office had already left. She quickly checked WeChat and found that Assistant Jian hadn’t invited her to lunch today.

Tang Yun quickly tidied up and went to the cafeteria alone. Eating without a companion felt a little bleak. She found a corner table and sat down. She had just taken two bites when someone came and sat opposite her.

“Can I sit here?” Xiao Jianming asked.

“Yes, please. Senior Xiao,” Tang Yun quickly pulled her tray back to make some room for Xiao Jianming.

“I just ran into Lin Hao in the hallway. He seems to have a bit of a problem with you,” Xiao Jianming leaned in and whispered to Tang Yun.

“Huh? What did he say?” Tang Yun was surprised, trying to recall. She didn’t feel like she had offended Lin Hao.

“He seemed to say you didn’t give him face and he’s waiting to see what you’ll present at the meeting,” Xiao Jianming smiled and shook his head. “Never mind, maybe I misheard. You’re a new hire. What does the meeting have to do with you? You’re just there to fill a seat.”

Tang Yun fell silent. She remembered the conversation from the morning and felt a little guilty: “He did say something about having me present the results at the meeting.”

Xiao Jianming frowned, disbelieving: “You agreed?”

Tang Yun nodded.

“Then can you guarantee no mistakes in such a short time?” Xiao Jianming asked.

“Well…” Tang Yun shook her head.

“Standing out attracts jealousy, and doing poorly makes you a joke. It’s not a good deal either way,” Xiao Jianming shook his head.

It was then that Tang Yun finally felt the tip of the iceberg of complex human relationships. She seemed to have boasted without knowing the depth of the water and now had no choice but to proceed cautiously.

“Senior, can you help me take a look?” Tang Yun asked.

Her current concept was to create a new dungeon for Xun Dao, one that didn’t require microtransactions or rely on numerical stats, by drawing inspiration from Metroidvania and combining platform jumping with Roguelike elements. The difficulty that had been racking Tang Yun’s brain was how to use this dungeon to effectively block some players and extend the game time without being so difficult that players would quit immediately, or the sense of achievement was disproportionate to the effort.

She had written similar independent small games before. The professor who supervised her project at the time bluntly told her that her work was too difficult. Few players now were willing to immerse themselves in figuring out a game’s mechanics. The delayed gratification of dying a hundred times on the way but finally breaking through was too much effort for too little reward. She needed to provide players with sufficient positive experience during the process.

This point suddenly became clear to her yesterday when she watched the men and women at the bar jumping and dancing excitedly to the beat.

“You… is this a rhythm game?” Xiao Jianming asked.

“It’s not exactly a rhythm game, but timing the moves correctly will make it much easier to clear. I also plan to enhance the impact feedback when you hit the beat, which both moderately lowers the difficulty and provides feedback during the process,” Tang Yun explained.

Xiao Jianming frowned deeply, then muttered to himself after a while: “Interesting.”

“Send it to me for a review once you finish,” Xiao Jianming said.

“Will do,” Tang Yun readily agreed.

After the lunch break, Tang Yun immediately rushed back to work. There were only a few days left until the meeting, and Lin Hao also required a review before Friday. Tang Yun began several exceptionally busy days. One evening at Qin Jue’s apartment, she suddenly received a voice call from Xiao Jianming, discussing a fatal issue with the dungeon framework.

The call lasted nearly two hours. Tang Yun talked until her throat was dry. When she came out of her room to get a drink of water, she saw Qin Jue sitting in the living room, which scared her so much she nearly dropped her cup.

“Who were you talking to for so long?” Qin Jue asked.

“A colleague,” Tang Yun said.

She wondered if the temperature had dropped at night; she felt a little cold and had goosebumps under Qin Jue’s gaze. Qin Jue’s look seemed to hold some kind of inscrutable meaning. Because she couldn’t understand it, Tang Yun didn’t know how to explain.

In the end, Qin Jue only said softly, “Get some rest early.”

Was she upset that Tang Yun had disturbed her rest? The apartment walls couldn’t be so thin, could they?

But there was no time to spare for Tang Yun. She rushed her work and finally showed Lin Hao the running code and the implementation before leaving work on Friday evening.

Lin Hao started with his arms crossed and an air of disdain, but by the end, he was unconsciously leaning forward, his eyes shining. Tang Yun hadn’t handed in a half-finished product. From Lin Hao’s perspective, there was no reason to stop Tang Yun from presenting this result at the meeting.

So, Lin Hao gathered the colleagues who were still in the office to test it. The group tinkered with it for half the night. Everything was fine, and Lin Hao was genuinely impressed.

“Sister Tang,” he changed his address decisively.

Lin Hao’s small team was generally young and loosely disciplined, but Lin Hao’s address of “Sister Tang” cemented Tang Yun’s status among them. By the time she left work that night, she inexplicably had a large group of followers.

“Sister Tang, it’s the weekend tomorrow. With you, we don’t have to worry about the report. Let’s go out for a drink tonight,” someone suggested.

“Shouldn’t Brother Hao be treating?” someone asked.

“Yeah, Brother Hao has money, Brother Hao treats,” the group egged him on.

Lin Hao clicked his tongue, wobbled to his feet, “Fine, Brother Hao has money, Brother Hao treats.”

Cheers erupted in the office.

“Joining us?” Lin Hao looked at Tang Yun.

“You absolutely have to come, let’s drain Brother Hao’s wallet,” someone answered for Tang Yun.

This was the first time Tang Yun had seen this group so enthusiastic. She had been in the team for a week, and there were still many people she hadn’t spoken to. This evening’s drinks were undoubtedly the best opportunity for her to open up the situation, but…

Tang Yun subconsciously glanced at her phone. The message interface was clean. It wasn’t yet the usual time for Qin Jue to leave work and go home.

“Let’s go, let’s go. I’m making reservations now,” Lin Hao urged.

“Alright then,” Tang Yun agreed, “but I might have to leave a little early.”

“No problem. If you need to go, just go,” Lin Hao readily agreed.

Tang Yun experienced being swept away by popular demand. The group headed noisily to a KTV near the company. Lin Hao ordered a table full of drinks, and in the blink of an eye, dozens of sad love songs were added to the playlist. Tang Yun sat on the edge of the private room near the door, constantly monitoring Qin Jue’s chat box on her phone.

The person who requested the love songs was terrible but loved to sing. Their caterwauling was ear-piercing. Even with the original track playing, it couldn’t mask their wildly off-key singing. To communicate with someone on the other side of the room, you had to use the microphone or simply shout.

Lin Hao quietly switched seats next to Tang Yun amidst the noise. Just one seat away, his voice could be completely drowned out by the singing.

He said, “I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s your relationship with our big boss?”