◎ Underestimated ◎

Xiao Tian had barely confirmed that Mr. Zhang had purchased a pirated copy when her pager went off.

She had an alphanumeric pager, and the message displayed informed her: the authorized distributor where Mr. Zhang had purchased his software had been mixing genuine and counterfeit products for sale.

Xiao Tian read the message on the pager and swore under her breath, then immediately went to find a phone to call back.

By the time Gu Qiao answered the call, she had already suppressed all traces of the rage she’d felt earlier. When she’d arrived at the distributor’s store, the owner hadn’t yet pulled the pirated software from the shelves — the counterfeit products were still brazenly displayed right alongside the genuine ones. She had spent every day fighting piracy, yet it had never occurred to her that someone would be selling pirated copies inside one of her own authorized stores. When Gu Qiao called the authorities, the owner had the audacity to insist that all of this inventory had come directly from Gu Qiao’s own stock.

Gu Qiao swallowed back the torrent of profanity rising in her throat. If no one else had been present, she might have seized the chair beside her and brought it down on the owner’s head. Facing the law enforcement officers, Gu Qiao calmly produced the records she had kept. Without the manufacturer’s centralized shipping system — where every item carried a serial number — she would have had no way to prove anything.

On the phone, Xiao Tian seemed entirely unaware of Gu Qiao’s fury, and was instead offering encouragement: “This isn’t just a crisis — it’s also an opportunity for us. Pirated copies are going to have a much harder time selling after this.” Though that said, with pirated copies harder to sell, genuine ones might not be much easier either. After an authorized distributor had been caught selling fakes, who would feel confident buying from any of them?

Xiao Tian was still young, and her mind had been a tangle of worries — but hearing Gu Qiao frame things this way, she immediately found herself seeing the bright side, and was once again filled with hope for the future of the chain stores.

Gu Qiao continued: “On our behalf, please thank Mr. Zhang — express our gratitude for helping us expose the distributor selling counterfeit goods. The distributor is currently being dealt with, and we will assist Mr. Zhang in pursuing further redress going forward. Beyond triple compensation equivalent to the software’s value, we’ll also send professional technicians to repair his computer. As for his future publications, we’ll commit to purchasing 1,000 copies for distribution. I’m in the process of contacting the press — tomorrow we’ll hold a public event to help consumers distinguish between genuine and pirated products, and please invite Mr. Zhang to come and speak about the harms of piracy.”

The mere mention of Mr. Zhang gave Xiao Tian a headache: “Store manager, I’m afraid 1,000 copies won’t be nearly enough. Can those 300,000 characters even be recovered? If they can’t, 1,000 copies will never satisfy him. The way he’s carrying on right now, it’s as though we’ve personally cheated him out of millions. It’s like he didn’t just lose a 300,000-character manuscript — he lost every hope he ever had.” She was a little dissatisfied with herself. There was so much to help Gu Qiao take care of — recalling the pirated copies, contacting the press, organizing tomorrow’s event — yet here she’d been explaining things to Mr. Zhang at length for this long, and he remained as steadfast as ever about his magnum opus.

Mr. Zhang’s reaction had also taken Gu Qiao somewhat by surprise. She had stopped by a bookshop specifically to pick up one of his published works, and seeing the first print run had been only 2,000 copies, she felt that offering to purchase 1,000 was more than fair.

Gu Qiao drew a slow breath: “Don’t worry — I’ll think of something.”

—

Qin Feng accepted the newspaper Luo Peiyin handed him. He had barely finished reading the headline before the text below caught his eye and drew him in, word by word, to the end.

He had just scanned the final line when he heard Luo Peiyin say: “I’ve booked you a flight to Shanghai in two and a half hours.”

“A flight to Shanghai in two and a half hours?” The remark came out of nowhere, giving him no time to prepare at all.

“Didn’t you need an opportunity to promote your antivirus software? The opportunity has arrived.”

“But…” The timeline was impossibly tight — though Luo Peiyin seemed even more invested in his company’s future than he was.

“Besides work-related items, you don’t need to prepare anything else. Winter clothes for Shanghai have already been arranged — as soon as you land, there will be clothing appropriate for the weather there waiting for you.”

Qin Feng looked up at Luo Peiyin. His own hoodie was indeed inappropriate for Shanghai’s winter, but that wasn’t remotely why he’d felt unprepared. He hadn’t even thought about that — yet the person in front of him had already thought of it on his behalf.

The newspaper had barely hit the stands, and this man had already… He had previously wondered how someone this young had risen to his position. Ability was certainly one factor, but not everyone could be this lucky. Now he thought he had his answer.

“I’d suggest that colleagues in your R&D department who don’t currently have active development assignments also come along to Shanghai.”

—

Gu Qiao had just ended her call with Xiao Tian when the phone rang again. She had been explaining and coordinating nonstop — her voice had taken on a slight rasp. It was Luo Peiyin calling.

“I’ve seen the papers. What do you need me to do?”

Luo Peiyin bypassed the contents of the newspaper article entirely and went straight to the point.

Perhaps the sprint of handling crises in seconds had drained her reserves — she heard his voice and didn’t respond for a good ten seconds.

“If you have time, could you check Tianhe for any premium retail spaces available for rent? This is exactly when leases change hands — wait too long and the best locations will be gone. If you find something suitable, I can wire the deposit over.” Gu Qiao was mildly surprised to find she could still smile at a time like this. “Distributors selling pirated and genuine copies side by side doesn’t just affect me — every other software manufacturer is probably terrified right now too. They’ll all be looking for more reliable retail channels, so naturally I should take this opportunity to open more locations in my genuine software chain.”

Gu Qiao spoke with complete ease, as though the crisis were nothing more than an excellent opportunity.

She was telling him indirectly not to worry too much. Luo Peiyin said nothing further, only: “What else?”

Having feelings for someone and not having feelings for them were two entirely different things. With feelings in place, she set him apart from everyone else — just as he did with her. But the way each of them expressed that distinction was completely different. Since they’d been together, his stance toward her was *I’m not afraid to be asked for help* — while she, making use of every resource available to her, was careful above all not to trouble him.

The mobile phone pressed against Gu Qiao’s cheek. She struggled to articulate a specific request, finding it nothing like her usual brisk and direct way of communicating with business partners.

She heard Luo Peiyin say to her: “If I ever face difficulties, you’ll be the first person I come to.”

Gu Qiao didn’t quite believe him: “Will you?” In her memory of him, that had never been his way.

If she were standing in front of him, he would catch her lips with his own and make her swallow those doubting words back down — but separated by a phone line, he said: “Of course. Between the two of us, the cost of communication is lower than with anyone else. Given our relationship, your being able to resolve difficulties is purely to my benefit — and naturally I should want to do things that benefit me. If you’re too foolish to have noticed that, then I’ve truly overestimated you all this time.”

Luo Peiyin continued: “There is one exception — if you’re planning to cut ties with me the moment you’ve achieved the success you’re after. In that case, I really should stand back and do nothing. Gu Qiao, surely you’re not that terrible a person.”

He had called her a “little rascal” many times after their breakup, but this was the first time those precise words had actually passed his lips.

For some reason, Gu Qiao felt that the way Luo Peiyin said “terrible” had a faintly gritted quality — lacking his usual composure.

Outside, a fine rain had begun to fall. Southern winters were nothing like the parched, dry cold of the north that cracked the skin. She had never told him this, but after their breakup, she had thought more than once of those dry winter days when he had taken her gloved hand and enclosed her whole fist in his own, warming them both until her palm grew damp with sweat. One pair of gloves, shared between two people — thoroughly economical.

Gu Qiao’s lips had barely parted to speak when she heard his voice through the phone: “Has the faulty disk been tested yet?”

This time, Gu Qiao didn’t hesitate: “The manufacturer’s technical team is already at the airport — they’ll arrive this afternoon. I’m also in the process of contacting a third-party testing agency.” Aside from this distributor caught mixing genuine and counterfeit stock, Gu Qiao only regretted she had just two hands and one mouth. Xiao Tian was tied up with Mr. Zhang and couldn’t be reached, while there was so much left to do. Regardless of how optimistically she chose to view it, a distributor selling pirated copies in her store was a crisis of consumer trust — and resolving it meant contacting the media to issue a clarification, managing the distributor’s compensation and after-sales obligations, organizing a public education event to help people distinguish genuine from pirated products.

“I’ve already reached out to the Computer Science Institute — they’ll conduct testing on the disks. Do you have someone who can take the disks over for testing? If not, I can arrange it.”

“I do.” Without waiting for Luo Peiyin to ask, Gu Qiao stated her need directly: “Do you know anyone in Shanghai who works in antivirus software? It’s not just Mr. Zhang from the papers whose computer needs to have the virus removed — this distributor sold more than one pirated copy. Beyond compensation, I want to collaborate with an antivirus software company to run a free computer check-up event.”

Gu Qiao didn’t see this as a one-sided request for help: “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. Software has always struggled to compete with anti-virus hardware cards — this is also an excellent promotional opportunity for an antivirus software company.” Someone else might have thought she was taking advantage while making it sound like a partnership, but she knew Luo Peiyin understood exactly what she was saying.

“Someone I know has a company based in Guangzhou — but he’ll be in Shanghai this afternoon.”

Gu Qiao’s surprise was nearly as great as when she’d heard his first words: “That wouldn’t be Qin Feng, would it?” She had in fact considered reaching out to Shen Zheng’s former employer, but had set the idea aside on the grounds that someone in Guangzhou was too far away to help in time.

“You know him?”

“I know of him — on my end, at least. Why would he suddenly come to Shanghai from Guangzhou?”

“Didn’t you say it yourself? This is also an opportunity for him to promote his antivirus software — he wouldn’t want to miss that. He lands at half past three this afternoon. We’re on the same flight.”

Gu Qiao naturally knew it couldn’t be such a coincidence. The efficiency with which this man operated made it seem as though he were the one facing the crisis himself.

Just before ending the call, she said suddenly: “Actually, after our breakup, there was a period when I had regrets. It was after I’d completely gotten through it all and started over. I regretted how I had underestimated myself — that I could ever have doubted whether I would make it through. From that point on, I knew that no matter what trouble I faced in business, I could get through it, and that things would keep getting better. My only regret was that when I was getting better and better, you weren’t by my side.”

Then she laughed: “Trust me — this trouble is just a minor interlude on the way to victory.”

This was the first time Gu Qiao had ever told him she’d had regrets. Even so, it didn’t stop Luo Peiyin from silently cursing her as a little rascal.

If she hadn’t made it through, she wouldn’t have regretted breaking up with him at all? But he wasn’t about to settle accounts with her over that right now — the reckoning could wait until after everything was resolved.

—