Mei Fang was quite satisfied with Chen Rui’s performance during the interview, though he found Chen Rui’s eagerness and enthusiasm a bit overwhelming.

Of course, the current Chen Rui wasn’t yet the overlord of the otaku empire, and Mei Fang had no idea what the real “Uncle” was like in his past life—whether his personality had shifted over time remained a mystery.

Compared to Mei Fang’s mild approach, Lin Youxi’s questioning was far more meticulous and rigorous.

She asked Chen Rui some fundamental technical questions, but his responses left her feeling that this man was unfathomably skilled. As a result, she abandoned Mei Fang’s initial instructions and instead posed some high-difficulty technical challenges. Yet, Chen Rui answered them effortlessly, without a moment’s hesitation.

Mei Fang and Lin Youxi had worked together for over a decade. Despite their youth, they were among the earliest pioneers in Unity and Golang, earning considerable respect in domestic programming circles.

In Mei Fang’s memory, few programmers could rival Lin Youxi in technical skill—at least, no one in their current company surpassed her. Yet, Chen Rui’s theoretical knowledge seemed on par with hers, and his practical skills might even exceed them.

Mei Yue, however, focused on a different angle. Steering clear of technical and managerial topics, she was more interested in the reason behind “Uncle’s” departure from his previous company.

“I won’t repeat the questions the boss and young miss already asked. It’s clear you excel in both technology and management. But if that’s the case, why did you part ways with your former partners at Hound Mobile?”

This was something Mei Fang had been curious about as well. In his past life, “Uncle” hadn’t been forced out—he had actively discovered Bilibili and staked everything on it. Now that Mei Fang had foresight, he wanted to understand the real reason.

“First, it was a difference in management philosophy. As a tech-oriented leader, I often clashed with non-technical partners over ideas that lacked feasibility.”

“Beyond that, I’m deeply passionate about otaku culture and see it as my life’s work. Even before Mr. Xun introduced us, I’d been following your progress. I want to elevate this niche, self-contained community into something mainstream in our country…”

Mei Fang nodded along, but he noticed Chen Rui’s eyes darting around nervously as he spoke, as if he were hiding something.

…Is he lying?

Just as Mei Fang pondered how to press further, Lin Youxi cut in:

“That can’t be the only reason.”

She shook her head. “Based on what we’ve learned, your departure from Hound Mobile had another cause.”

“Well… you’re right, but it’s a bit embarrassing to admit—”

“There’s no need for shame. If you’re this reserved, you’ll struggle to fit into our company culture. Don’t be afraid to share.”

Under Mei Fang’s encouragement, Chen Rui rubbed his face and confessed:

“Alright… the truth is, I was caught watching anime at work—with the volume on. And of all things, it was during a particularly… compromising scene. After that, female colleagues would deliberately avoid me. I couldn’t bear the shame, so I left.”

“…”

“…”

Mei Fang, Lin Youxi, and Mei Yue exchanged glances, barely suppressing their laughter. This was not the reason Mei Fang had expected.

“Well, at our company, you won’t be that unwelcome.”

“Sister Yue, we can assign him a private office later.”

Chen Rui brightened. “An office isn’t necessary, but… can I keep watching anime at work after joining C-Site?”

“Of course. Consider it part of the job.”

Though Chen Rui had framed it as a joke, Mei Fang couldn’t help but think—this version of “Uncle” is surprisingly pure…

Chen Rui was a junior associate of Xia Xun, who was Xia Yuan’s father. Calling him “Brother Rui” felt awkward, especially since Linxi Tech had a tradition of using nicknames. Thus, Chen Rui officially became C-Site’s “Uncle,” temporarily serving as a business consultant with promises of future executive roles to match his stature.

Right now, Mei Fang was too swamped to micromanage the company. Handing over too much power risked losing control of C-Site’s direction. Fortunately, “Uncle” showed no signs of ambition—in fact, he fully endorsed Mei Fang’s recent strategic decisions.

With Sister Yueyue overseeing operations and Uncle Xia Xun providing external backing, integrating “Uncle” Chen Rui into the company structure proved surprisingly smooth.

With the professional manager dilemma resolved, Mei Fang could finally loosen his grip on Linxi Tech’s day-to-day affairs, freeing him to focus on awaiting Coconut Studio’s next breakthrough. In his past life, “Uncle’s” B-site had become a graveyard for mobile games—its in-house development was lackluster, and aside from the explosive success of Fate/Grand Order, nearly every published title flopped, leaving the platform overly reliant on external capital.

But the current Mei Fang feared no such fate. His rebirth-granted expertise and industry experience positioned him to compensate for “Uncle’s” past shortcomings in gaming.

After concluding discussions with Chen Rui that evening, Mei Fang and Lin Youxi lingered at the office—she insisted on finalizing the code standardization guidelines, and he stayed to assist.

Since C-Site’s corporatization and commercialization, Lin Youxi rarely wrote code herself anymore. As CTO, her role now centered on shaping the company’s technical strategy: building shared software platforms, designing coding protocols, and similar high-level initiatives.

These efforts streamlined workflows, boosted efficiency, and—most crucially—liberated her from endless operational firefighting.

By the time they wrapped up, dusk had long since fallen. Mei Fang sprawled across the office sofa with a satisfied stretch just as Xia Yuan’s call arrived.

“A-Fang… are you and Youxi coming back for dinner?”

“Yeah, of course. We’re done here—heading back now.”

“Great! Can you make it in 30 minutes? I finished composing my new song and want to play it for you.”

“Really? That’s—”

Before he could finish, Lin Youxi suddenly straddled him, leaning toward the phone:

“Sorry Yuanyuan, we’ll need another half-hour. It’s been a long afternoon—I need to recharge first.”

“But… couldn’t you rest better at home?”

“The office ambiance hits different. Talk later.”

She ended the call, then tightened her embrace, pressing Mei Fang into the sofa.

“Hey… what was that about? Sounded weird.”

“Not weird at all,” she murmured, nuzzling his neck. “I just wanted more alone time with you.”

With a practiced motion, she pinned him down, bracing her hands against his chest with a sly smile. “Honestly… did you really think I bought this huge sofa for professional reasons?”

“Pfft—you’re something else.”

He cradled her waist, rolling them sideways until she lay nestled against him.

“We’re only resting, okay? Don’t keep Yuan waiting too long.”

“Mm. I know.”

Her lips brushed his ear as she whispered:

“Though… I do love seeing Yuan get jealous. She’s adorable when pouty.”

“…Okay, fair point.”

Lin Youxi soon dozed off atop him, but Mei Fang remained vigilant—texting Xia Yuan reassurances with one hand while carefully minimizing movement to avoid disturbing Youxi’s sleep.

Such were the tribulations of a three-way relationship: far from the carefree fantasy outsiders imagined. (Kids, don’t try this at home.)

That night, Youxi’s “sneaky advance” earned her a punishment—Xia Yuan banned her from sharing Mei Fang’s bed.

…At least until 3 AM, when she slithered back under the covers anyway.