Chapter Twenty-Two: The Computer Freezes

Zhao Chen’s cold, intimidating phone call was like a deep-sea bomb detonating at the bottom of Yu Ling’s seemingly calm life.

The immense shockwave tore open a grotesque fissure in the trust and reliance she had painstakingly built. The gentle, harmless husband wearing a small whale apron and smiling warmly clashed violently in her mind with the ruthless, commanding “friend” he had spoken of on the phone—two completely different images that left her restless and uneasy.

She began to instinctively avoid Zhao Chen’s gaze, her body stiffening for a moment whenever he approached. The once comforting embrace that allowed her to sink into peace now filled her with an indescribable fear and alienation.

Like a bird startled by an arrow, every slightest disturbance stirred a swarm of doubts within her. The brown sugar ginger tea he brewed reminded her of his cold, white-knuckled grip on the phone; the Hermès scarf he gave her, wrapped around her neck, felt like an invisible shackle; even his smooth, practiced movements when frying eggs in the kitchen took on an unsettling precision that seemed to command everything.

Life was shrouded beneath an invisible, icy veil. During the day at the office, she forced herself to focus fully on work, numbing her nerves with busyness. But once she returned to that home, luxurious in every detail yet a vast enigma, the heavy pressure and unplaceable fear clung to her like a shadow.

It was Friday afternoon, on the 17th floor of Genesis Tower.

The first phase summary report of the “Star Sea Project” was imminent. The entire project team was tense, stretched tight like a drawn bowstring. As the core lead, Yu Ling felt the weight of immense pressure.

Lin Wei’s demands were exacting; the report had to be data-rich, logically clear, and highlight key points. Yu Ling had stayed up for two nights, repeatedly revising and polishing, until she finally perfected the final PPT and a detailed analysis report over fifty pages long.

Now, less than an hour remained before the final rehearsal with Lin Wei. Yu Ling sat at her desk, conducting her last review. The PPT slid smoothly across the screen, exquisitely designed, with clear and intuitive charts. The analysis report was organized and coherent. She took a deep breath, clicked save, then habitually dragged the folder to a desktop file named “Star Sea Summary Final Version,” preparing to copy it onto a USB drive for backup.

At the very moment she dropped the file into the folder—

“Buzz—!”

A piercing, deathly wail erupted from inside the computer without warning! The screen abruptly went pitch black, completely extinguished! The keyboard and mouse indicator lights went out simultaneously! The steady hum of the case fans ceased entirely!

Dead silence!

Absolute dead silence!

The entire office seemed muted as if someone had pressed the mute button. Everyone looked up, startled by the sudden catastrophe.

Yu Ling froze in her seat, her mind blank for a full three seconds before she registered what had happened. She instinctively reached to press the power button—no response! Pressed again—still silence!

A cold chill shot from her feet to her crown! She snapped upright, hands trembling violently with fear and anger, fingertips icy cold! She frantically pounded the power button, unplugged and replugged the power cord, her frantic movements like a drowning person struggling for air.

“What’s wrong, Sister Ling?!” her neighbor Xiao Mei was frightened and rushed over.

“The computer… it just blacked out! It won’t turn on!” Yu Ling’s voice cracked with despair. “My files… the Star Sea summary… everything’s in there! I didn’t have time to back it up!”

Pointing at the pitch-black screen, a wave of panic, cold as ice, instantly engulfed her! Two sleepless nights of toil! The crucial report materials! Lin Wei’s harsh demands! The whole team’s expectations! All of it, with that ear-splitting noise and the dead silence on the screen... gone in an instant?!

“Don’t panic, don’t panic, Sister Ling! Try rebooting! Maybe it’s just a system bug!” Xiao Mei was flustered, hurriedly checking the power cables.

“I already tried! It’s useless! No response at all!” Yu Ling’s voice broke into sobs, her face pale as paper. Staring at the cold, lifeless screen, she felt her strength drain and darkness cloud her vision.

It’s over! Everything’s over! Forget the report, the materials are lost! She couldn’t even bear to imagine Lin Wei’s icy, unforgiving face!

The overwhelming blow, mixed with days of accumulated fear, grievance, and helplessness, burst through the dam Yu Ling had desperately held up. Tears surged uncontrollably, she bit her lip hard but couldn’t stop her body from trembling or the stifled sobs in her throat. Like a lost child standing on a cliff’s edge, she was utterly alone and helpless.

Colleagues gathered around, offering a chorus of suggestions, but no one could revive the cold machine. Despair, like icy vines, tightened around Yu Ling, nearly suffocating her.

Just as she teetered on the brink of collapse, her phone screen lit up. A message from Zhao Chen on WeChat.

[ZhaOC]: [Image: an elegantly plated Japanese bento in a delicate box]

[ZhaOC]: General Ling, how are the frontline conditions? Logistics (dinner) are prepared and expected to arrive at the command center in half an hour. Need fire support? [salute.jpg]

Looking at the whale avatar wearing an apron and smiling gently on the screen, and at the teasing “General Ling” and “fire support” in the message, Yu Ling’s tears flowed even harder. A complex swirl of emotions spilled forth—grievance, fear, helplessness, and a flicker of... a reliance she herself hadn’t noticed, like a drowning person clutching a lifeline.

Her fingers trembled as she almost thoughtlessly pressed the voice call button. The call connected instantly.

“Hello? Lingling?” Zhao Chen’s gentle voice came through the receiver, with a hint of subtle concern. “What’s wrong? Your voice…” He seemed to immediately detect the strangeness in Yu Ling’s tone.

“Zhao Chen...” Yu Ling’s voice broke with heavy sobs and despair, utterly unmasked now, fragmented and raw. “The computer... it suddenly crashed... black screen... won’t turn on... all the Star Sea summary materials... gone... everything...” Her words tumbled out incoherently, ending in uncontrollable weeping, swallowed by immense fear and helplessness.

Silence fell on the other end for two seconds. No probing questions, no empty consolation. Zhao Chen’s voice remained steady, yet carried a strange, reassuring clarity, like a warm hand piercing through frozen despair to firmly grasp hers:

“Don’t cry, Lingling.” His voice was low but clear, reaching Yu Ling’s chaotic mind. “Now, listen to me.”

Yu Ling bit her lip tightly, forcing back tears, clutching his words like a lifeline.

“First, where is the computer? In the office?”

“Mm...” Yu Ling sobbed and nodded.

“Second, is anyone around? Can I come over?”

“Yes... colleagues are here... it’s convenient...”

“Good. Stay where you are. Don’t touch anything, especially the power and cables. Wait for me.” Zhao Chen’s voice was resolute and commanding. “I’ll be there within twenty minutes.”

The call ended decisively, the busy tone buzzing.

Holding her phone, Yu Ling listened to the dial tone. The overwhelming despair and panic from moments ago strangely lifted, replaced by Zhao Chen’s calm, steady voice.

He said, “Wait for me.” Two simple words that acted like an anchor, giving her scattered thoughts a moment’s rest. She wiped her tears and hoarsely told the gathering colleagues, “My... my husband... he knows a bit about computers. He said he’ll come right away to take a look...”

Twenty minutes later, Zhao Chen appeared at the office entrance punctually. He wore a dark gray lightweight wool coat over a simple white shirt, standing tall with steady steps. In his hand, he carried no bento box, only a small, sleek black metal toolbox, unmarked and looking both light and sturdy.

His presence immediately drew every eye. The calm, commanding aura and the clearly professional case in his hand quieted the noisy office somewhat.

“Lingling.” Zhao Chen’s gaze locked onto Yu Ling first; he strode over swiftly. Seeing her swollen red eyes and pale face, his brow furrowed slightly, a flash of clear tenderness passing through his eyes.

But he said nothing more. Instead, he naturally reached out and gently wiped the tear tracks from her cheek with his fingertip. His touch was warm, carrying the familiar scent of cedarwood.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m here.” His voice was low and soothing, imbued with a reassuring strength. His focused, steadfast look seemed to say: if the sky falls, I will hold it up.

That simple gesture and quiet whisper washed away the last trace of Yu Ling’s unease. She nodded, pointing to her lifeless computer: “It’s this one...”