Transmigrated as the Domineering Scumbag Alpha Forced into Marriage by a Delicate Subordinate (GL) - Chapter 25

At the apartment, Tang Yun quickly rushed into her room, grabbed her laptop, and sat on the floor. Her fingers flew as she skillfully opened the folder. Qin Jue pulled a chair up behind her and leaned over to see what Tang Yun was trying to verify.

“Xiao Jianming’s technique is quite mature, so I always found it strange why he processed things so complexly here, even writing a huge loop that must execute when it could clearly be simplified,” Tang Yun said, debugging the code. She found the section she had marked, rapidly scanned all the code, then logged into her WeChat account. She scrolled the contact list to the bottom and tapped on a pink, two-dimensional avatar with the online name “fw” (meaning “useless/waste”).

“Did you write an extremely bloated, huge loop when you competed back then?” Tang Yun asked.

“This person is a friend I met during the competition that year. She has a lot of crazy ideas, but her fundamentals aren’t great,” Tang Yun explained to Qin Jue.

The year Tang Yun competed, the judges allegedly fought fiercely over who should win the first prize—her or this ‘fw’—and ‘fw’ ultimately lost due to excessively long loading times. After the competition, all participants’ code was open-sourced. Tang Yun studied them all with a learning mindset and finally found a major issue with ‘fw’s operating framework. She tried to optimize it, spending half a month to help ‘fw’ avoid a loop that ran millions of times.

‘fw’ replied: “Ah, yes, that’s right.”

“Take a look at this. Is this what you wrote?” Tang Yun screenshotted a segment of Xiao Jianming’s code and sent it.

Half a minute later, ‘fw’ sent a 60-second voice message directly.

Without even needing to open it, Tang Yun guessed it was full of expletives.

When ‘fw’ finally calmed down, she asked Tang Yun, “Where did you find this?”

“Chopping up my stuff and merging it into some rubbish? What kind of level is this to copy my code?” ‘fw’ asked.

‘fw’ chose that screen name witnessed by Tang Yun because, compared to Tang Yun, her code could indeed be called garbage.

“Can you be sure it’s yours? Maybe someone else is just as useless as you,” Tang Yun cautiously sought confirmation.

“It’s definitely my writing,” ‘fw’ said.

She sent Tang Yun a screenshot, circling a few variable names. Tang Yun truly couldn’t discern the naming convention of these variables. Everyone’s coding style was different—some liked English abbreviations, others insisted on Pinyin—but this hodgepodge genuinely confused Tang Yun. After ‘fw’ circled them, a lightbulb went off in Tang Yun’s mind, and she suddenly understood ‘fw’s thought process.

“Look at this cs2, js3. You know I pulled an all-nighter for that whole project, right? I picked them at random at the time—chushu (preliminary) 2, juesai (final) 3.”

“This was dug out of my competition work. He didn’t even bother to change it,” ‘fw’ said.

Tang Yun burst out laughing, her eyes aching and stinging.

“Yeah, he didn’t even bother to change it,” Tang Yun said.

“Does this count as ironclad evidence?” Tang Yun asked Qin Jue.

Directly misappropriated, even copying someone else’s flaws. Qin Jue didn’t know what would count as ironclad evidence if this didn’t.

“Well done,” Qin Jue patted Tang Yun’s shoulder.

She made a call to Jian Zhen, demanding that an internal investigation be launched immediately. Xiao Jianming thought copying a student’s work would be seamless and that he could righteously act as a porter, having gone undetected for years. Now, CEO Qin planned to settle all scores with him.

“Also,” Qin Jue paced to the balcony, opened the window, and took a deep breath, a faint curve on her lips, “We can check the leaders he passed through and the juniors he mentored on his way up.”

“Understood. I will go to HR to retrieve the relevant files immediately,” Jian Zhen said.

“No need for the trouble. Don’t you already have the list?” Qin Jue said.

Jian Zhen paused, suddenly realizing Qin Jue’s intention: she wanted to follow the vine to the melon, catching one Xiao Jianming and pulling out an entire line leading to Guan Li.

“I understand, CEO Qin,” Jian Zhen said seriously.

Before, Jian Zhen had to rack her brain to hint at Guan Li without being too explicit, and she felt heartbroken watching Qin Jue drift through her days. But now, Qin Jue had suddenly changed, subtly setting up the situation, and seemingly taking down half of Guan Li’s carefully managed empire while chatting and laughing. Jian Zhen couldn’t help but straighten her back, even though the person on the other end of the phone couldn’t see it.

“Good. Push it forward as quickly as possible,” Qin Jue instructed.

Hanging up the phone, Qin Jue lazily closed her eyes, tilting her head back to enjoy the afternoon sun. The warm light on her face felt comfortable. She turned casually, leaning against the windowsill, and opened her eyes to see Tang Yun looking at her.

“Hmm? What are you looking at? Do I have a flower on my face?” Qin Jue, in a good mood, couldn’t help but tease her.

“The chessboard is flipped. Can I go back to work now?” Tang Yun asked.

“Yes. In the next day or two,” Qin Jue said.

“In a rush?” Qin Jue teased.

From Tang Yun’s perspective, the sunlight seemed to frame Qin Jue. She seemed perpetually elegant and composed, whether watching Tang Yun being besieged in the conference room or seeing Tang Yun find evidence against Xiao Jianming. It was as if everything was under her control, and she only needed to watch the pieces struggle and leap from afar.

“CEO Qin, can I ask you a question?” Tang Yun looked serious.

Qin Jue fell into a long, drawn-out silence. Tang Yun’s expression gave her a premonition that the next question would not be easy to answer.

“Ask,” Qin Jue said.

The dust was about to settle.

Tang Yun had experienced the sudden plummet from heaven to hell, and she had completed her desperate counterattack with an all-nighter. She had knocked on Qin Jue’s door late that night, determined to offer herself, and Qin Jue had given her comfort and guidance. She had just returned with Qin Jue from a bustling street stall, and because of Tang Yun’s joke, cheap food that someone like Qin Jue should never touch was now sitting on the living room coffee table.

Tang Yun’s blood was boiling, yet her mind was crystal clear. She had flipped someone else’s chessboard as Qin Jue wished, and the path beneath her feet was finally visible. So, she was finally qualified to turn and ask the chess master behind her.

“CEO Qin, was this all planned by you?” Tang Yun asked.

Qin Jue lapsed into silence, a prolonged one.

Tang Yun’s gaze was direct and honest, reflecting Qin Jue’s entire scheme. Qin Jue quietly averted her eyes, lowering her gaze and giving a wry smile.

The little one figured it out after all.

“Yes,” Qin Jue admitted frankly.

The wind picked up, swirling the curtains piled in the corner, making a noisy whooshing sound. Qin Jue lifted her hand to tuck the stray hairs behind her ear. Her steady voice fell amidst the restless wind. Though she was close, her words sounded distant.

“I knew Guan Li would cause you trouble, and I wanted him to cause you trouble. It made it easier for me to lure the snake out of its hole,” Qin Jue said.

She didn’t know what specific method Guan Li would use, or what kind of blow Tang Yun would suffer. While Tang Yun’s distress was foreseeable, she hadn’t cared at the time, nor did she know she would feel such guilt toward Tang Yun afterward.

Now, the junior had come to hold her accountable.

“Host, are you going to apologize to Tang Yun? I feel a trend, so I must remind you to mind your persona,” the System said.

According to the original host’s persona, the correct path would have been for Tang Yun to humbly and tearfully satisfy all of CEO Qin’s demands when she offered herself that night. Qin Jue had already acted like a gentleman; if she were to apologize to Tang Yun now, she wouldn’t pass the System’s check.

However, Qin Jue herself had no intention of apologizing for this.

All this was hindsight. Had she known earlier, she might have chosen a more complicated way to clip Guan Li’s wings and avoid involving Tang Yun, but since she hadn’t made that choice, there was no need to display her cheap guilt to the victim afterward.

Qin Jue smiled as she looked up, waiting for Tang Yun to lash out. She thought Tang Yun might argue with her and was prepared to be exploited by the girl.

However, Tang Yun remained silent.

“What else do you want to ask? Are you going to ask ‘why’?” Qin Jue asked.

Tang Yun wanted to ask what Qin Jue would have done if she had failed, and if Qin Jue’s plan had included a contingency for her.

But Tang Yun finally shook her head and whispered, “I think I have no more questions.”

She was Qin Jue’s chess piece. This realization didn’t surprise Tang Yun at all. She had merely been bait for CEO Qin to lure the snake out of its hole. With the contract, CEO Qin could have been much worse.

Tang Yun just had a poor memory, always tending to forget her own status.

“CEO Qin, next time you need me to do something, can you just tell me directly? I will definitely cooperate,” Tang Yun said.

“Oh, if you’re worried my acting isn’t good enough and might mess things up, you don’t have to tell me,” Tang Yun added.

She was so well-behaved and mild-mannered, as if she didn’t know the meaning of the word “wronged.”

Qin Jue felt a tightness in her chest, but Tang Yun’s attitude was impeccable. She didn’t know where her emotion stemmed from and could only blame the sudden change in the weather.

“Fine, I’ll tell you next time,” Qin Jue said.

Though she knew in her heart, there wouldn’t be a next time.

Qin Jue left Tang Yun’s room and opened every window in the apartment. The cross-breeze whistled through, and a moment later, raindrops started pattering down.

Qin Jue stared blankly at the rain curtain.

“Should I close the windows? The rainwater might splash in later,” Tang Yun asked.

Qin Jue had just opened the windows. Did this girl have to contradict her?

The atmosphere made Qin Jue feel suffocated. She was terrible at handling such fragile, trembling emotions. Qin Jue simply walked out, went downstairs, started the car, and drove straight to the company. The familiar environment of the office would calm her down.

CEO Qin’s sudden arrival at the company in the pouring rain in the middle of the afternoon was enough to make certain people feel guilty. Xiao Jianming’s right eyelid twitched when he received a request for detailed materials from a project years ago. He secretly messaged Guan Li for advice. Guan Li told him to stall, but within half an hour of stalling, successive urgent emails flooded his inbox.

Qin Jue sat in her office, listening to Jian Zhen’s report. With the evidence provided by Tang Yun, the internal investigation team immediately obtained the open-source code of the past winners of that niche competition. With no investment or sponsorship, very few students had the capacity to push their work to market. Most of the code was buried in the vast ocean of data, becoming merely a conversational memory in their lives, nothing more.

The original creators were unaware that others were treating their work as a free resource library, continuously injecting fresh blood, making it an inexhaustible source for latecomers.

“How does CEO Qin plan to handle these people?” Jian Zhen asked.

“The code is open-source; they haven’t violated any copyright laws,” Jian Zhen reminded her.

“Law is only the moral minimum. The line between referencing and plagiarism is blurry, but the greatest driving force for our company’s survival is creativity. This behavior is a destructive blow to innovation. Bad money drives out good, and only mediocrity will remain,” Qin Jue said.

“This is a massive management loophole. We have been kept in the dark for years, wondering why we could create games that wowed a generation a decade ago, but now we can only fiddle with a few values. The technical director must be held accountable,” Qin Jue said.

Jian Zhen’s fingertips felt cold. Qin Jue was escalating the severity of the issue to a management loophole—this was a direct challenge to Guan Li.

“As for the typical employees caught in this internal investigation, counsel them to resign,” Qin Jue said.

Jian Zhen’s pen just finished recording the last word in her notebook when a flash of thunder and lightning struck outside, adding a discordant ink blot next to the beautiful running script.

Jian Zhen looked up, waiting for Qin Jue’s next instruction, and noticed Qin Jue’s expression was quite grim. Jian Zhen quickly scanned what was written in her notebook. She tried asking, “The glasses you previously ordered have arrived. Would you like to take a look?”

Qin Jue’s expression eased. “Bring them over.”

Jian Zhen felt a sense of relief and immediately turned to retrieve the item. She hadn’t expected Qin Jue to care so much about this small item; she had thought Qin Jue would just leave it entirely to her and never ask about it again.

Jian Zhen brought over a delicate small box. Inside, a pair of thin metal-framed glasses lay on suede fabric. Qin Jue took them and examined them. The frames shimmered between her fingers. The perfect weight and the name “Tang Yun” subtly engraved on the inside of the frame satisfied Qin Jue greatly. She placed the glasses back into the box exactly as they were, smilingly nodding at Jian Zhen.

Very refined, very fitting for Tang Yun’s demeanor.

“The casual suit and formal gown you instructed me to order have also arrived. Should I arrange for them to be delivered to the apartment?” Jian Zhen continued to ask.

“Send them over. Someone is at home,” Qin Jue said.

Jian Zhen noted it all down. Those clothes weren’t Qin Jue’s size, so it was obvious who they were for.

“Will Secretary Tang return to the project department upon her reinstatement?” Jian Zhen asked directly.

Qin Jue paused, pondered for two seconds, and said, “Keep her with you for now.”

OK, that meant keeping her under CEO Qin’s nose. Jian Zhen believed she fully understood.

She confirmed again that CEO Qin’s expression had returned to normal, and the internal investigation had been arranged. Jian Zhen could finally return to her work, but just as she opened the door to leave, Qin Jue stopped her again.

“Um… check one more person for me,” Qin Jue said. Her tone was not very firm.

“Who?” Jian Zhen asked.

“Tang Yun. Go and do a background check on her at her school,” Qin Jue said.

Jian Zhen was slightly surprised.

“Usually, HR would verify academic qualifications or call the previous employer for a background check when a new employee joins, but Secretary Tang came through a fast track. Does she need to go through the full process now?” Jian Zhen asked.

“No,” Qin Jue shook her head. “No need for all that trouble. Just… help me get a copy of her transcript, her awards, and the projects she participated in.”

“I’m just a little curious. I want to know more about her,” Qin Jue said.

She genuinely knew nothing about Tang Yun. Who would have thought that this quiet girl had such high professional standards? Qin Yao’s award was a big deal announced to the whole family, but Qin Jue turned around and found out Tang Yun had won awards too, and with an air of “a true hero doesn’t boast of past glories.” The original host seemed to have found a treasure. She didn’t care about it, but Qin Jue was quite interested in learning more.

Jian Zhen accepted the task and left to set it in motion. Qin Jue sat in the office waiting for the rain to stop. Tang Yun’s glasses case was on her desk, and her gaze kept drifting towards it. When the rain finally cleared, Qin Jue left the office right at closing time, not a minute later, with the glasses case in her hand.

The air washed by the rain was incredibly fresh, and the sunset glowed beautifully in the sky. Qin Jue ordered hotpot takeout, estimating it would arrive just as she got home.

Driving through the bustling city, she took the elevator straight to the top floor. Qin Jue swiped open the apartment door and saw Tang Yun, who was holding a cold multi-grain jianbing and heading to the kitchen to heat it up.

“Oh, I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I thought I’d reheat the leftover jianbing for dinner. Well… I’ll order takeout now,” Tang Yun stammered.

“I already ordered,” Qin Jue said.

Tang Yun nodded obediently. “Was the company very busy?” Tang Yun asked.

“No,” Qin Jue paused, then corrected herself, “It’s still pretty busy.” She needed a universal excuse for her sudden loss of composure that afternoon, and “busy with work” was the best one.

The apartment was dry and clean. No mud splashes from the downpour had reached the windowsills. Tang Yun had closed the windows in time, not letting Qin Jue’s impulsiveness create a mess.

That’s good.

Qin Jue took off her coat and hung it on the rack by the door. She took the glasses case from her pocket and cleared her throat, telling Tang Yun in a very casual tone:

“Did you lose your glasses? I happened to bring you a new pair.”

Even though that goofy plastic-framed pair was currently sitting in Qin Jue’s office drawer.

Tang Yun looked extremely surprised, her mouth involuntarily slightly open. “But mine have a prescription.”

Qin Jue: “…Try them on.”

Tang Yun took the glasses from Qin Jue’s hand. Her eyes lit up as she opened the box. She put them on, looked around, and said to Qin Jue in surprise, “The prescription is perfect.”

Qin Jue couldn’t help but smile.

The doorbell rang. Qin Jue’s takeout had arrived—a pot, the broth base, and a large assortment of ingredients. The delivery person even brought a small cart. Tang Yun nimbly placed the items on the dining table, then went to the kitchen to get bowls and plates for two.

Qin Jue didn’t often eat such elaborate meals at home. The dining table in the apartment wasn’t very large. The huge hotpot spread made things slightly cramped. She and Tang Yun sat across from each other, listening to the pot bubbling. White, hot steam rose between the two of them.

It was spicy, fragrant, and tasted excellent. After a cold rain shower, it was the perfect time for something warm.

The high-quality lenses didn’t fog up, but Tang Yun clearly didn’t realize this. She habitually took off the glasses and placed them beside her. Her gaze swept over the tiny engraving on the inside of the temple arm.

It seemed to be her name.

So, Qin Jue had them custom-made for her.

Tang Yun’s heart fluttered. She remembered the clothes she had signed for that afternoon, which all seemed quite expensive. She wondered if this counted as some kind of gesture of goodwill, or merely the standard treatment that CEO Qin gave to those she “kept.”

“CEO Qin, you’ve bought me so many things. Do you have a new task for me?” Tang Yun asked, rubbing the cool metal frames.

Qin Jue’s hand, holding a piece of tripe, paused. The tripe slipped from the chopsticks and disappeared into the rolling, thick broth after a few seconds of floating.

“Nothing much. They’re for you to use when you go back to work tomorrow,” Qin Jue said.