Here's the translated passage in English, adapted for a Western audience while preserving the original tone, pacing, and character names:
"So, you always feel like someone is watching you? No matter what you're doing, you feel like their eyes are on you?" the therapist asked.
Qiu Yu nodded.
The therapist's expression was gentle, and her voice soothing. "May I ask what you do for a living, Miss Qiu?"
"Of course. I'm a journalist."
"And your husband?"
"He's a… scientist. Works in biotechnology," Qiu Yu hesitated. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what his exact research area is."
"How is your relationship?"
Qiu Yu thought for a moment. "Neither of us are very sentimental people. We agreed early on—work comes first, emotions second."
The therapist nodded. "I see. Since there's been no sign of a stalker, no threatening messages, and your personal and professional life haven't been seriously impacted so far, we might consider the possibility of a spotlight effect."
"Most people experience this at some point. It's the feeling that others are watching and scrutinizing your every move. In reality, even celebrities aren't constantly under observation. You might just be under a lot of stress lately, which can trigger this kind of illusion."
Qiu Yu found the explanation convincing.
She really had been under enormous pressure lately.
She was following a serial murder case—every victim a senior executive in the biotech industry. After each murder, the killer would post their progress online, creating a massive public uproar.
To find connections between the victims, Qiu Yu had buried herself in case files day and night. Having hallucinations under this kind of strain wasn't surprising.
Just yesterday, her editor had shut the story down.
That was when she felt it—that sharp, primal sense of being hunted.
Qiu Yu raked a hand through her hair and accepted the therapist's theory. "You're right. In my line of work, it's easy to overestimate your own importance."
The therapist remained calm and professional. "I'm just offering one possibility. Still, it's important to stay vigilant. If you do ever confirm that someone is stalking you, report it immediately."
Qiu Yu thanked her and left the office.
Maybe it was because she had mentioned Chen Cebai, but as she walked, she found herself thinking back to how they ended up married.
In a way, Chen Cebai was the smartest, calmest, most rational person she had ever met.
He grew up in a slum built out of scrap metal and corrugated plastic. Orphaned at a young age, he made it into one of the most prestigious universities in the world purely on the strength of his mind. Before he even finished his undergraduate studies, he was recruited as a researcher by a major biotech firm.
For most people, that kind of upward leap was simply impossible.
There were many intelligent people in the world, but few so brilliant they could break the class barrier. Chen Cebai was the only one Qiu Yu had ever seen do it.
Their paths crossed completely by accident.
At the time, she was working on a campus feature—asking students how they felt about "algorithmic matchmaking."
The idea was this: AI would aggregate all available data—genetics, personality, values, family background, preferences, even physical fitness—to find the most compatible pairings.
Left to random chance, humans rarely found such a precise match. Algorithms eliminated the cost of trial and error, making marriage more "efficient."
After every interview, they'd do a little bonus test: letting the interviewee try the compatibility algorithm with Qiu Yu.
It was just for fun.
But when it turned out that Qiu Yu scored over 80% compatibility with every single person, people were shocked.
Classmates teased her:
"No wonder everyone likes Qiu Yu—she's genetically built to be a heartbreaker!"
"I got 85% with her. If we really start using algorithms for marriage, she's legally mine."
"In your dreams."
"Wait—this thing filters for sexual orientation, right? Then how do I have an 82% match with her?" a blue-haired girl asked, throwing her arm around Qiu Yu and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Don't care. Qiu Yu's my wife now!"
Qiu Yu's eyes curved with a soft smile.
Her beauty was unusual. People didn't notice the details of her features—what struck them first was a singular impression: sweet, vivid, utterly charming.
But it wasn't a cultivated sweetness. It was wild, instinctive—like a feline predator flashing a look of innocence before sinking its teeth into a throat.
The laughter faded.
Chen Cebai had entered the room.
Back then, he hadn't yet been offered the biotech position—just an over-intelligent scholarship kid in cheap clothes. White shirt, black pants, thin silver-rimmed glasses. His features were cold, handsome, detached.
He looked over the group with eyes so blank they might as well have been looking at insects trapped on a flat screen.
Qiu Yu's first thought was simple: He despises us.
Before she could process it, someone had dragged him forward and shoved him into the interview space, half-laughing, half-mocking.
They weren't planning to test his compatibility with Qiu Yu, of course.
Half the campus was in love with her. A scholarship kid like Chen Cebai had no business touching that machine.
Qiu Yu watched them mock him. Scenes like this weren't rare in school.
When the world functioned like a social Darwinist experiment, schools weren't sanctuaries—they were training grounds. The hierarchy was clear, and the cruelty sharper than in the real world.
Qiu Yu's parents were high-level executives at a Northern European monopoly. Even in their relatively civil world, competition was cutthroat.
By unspoken rule, she wasn't supposed to interfere.
This wasn't classic bullying—it was a trial run for society. If Chen Cebai couldn't handle this, he wouldn't survive the real world.
But Qiu Yu didn't like watching it.
At least not right in front of her.
She was just about to step in when Chen Cebai spoke, voice low, calm, and cutting like steel under velvet:
"I want to test with her."
He looked straight at her.
The room went dead silent.
Then chaos erupted.
"You think you're good enough for Qiu Yu?"
"Seriously?"
"She's way out of your league!"
A boy sneered, "Just because she got over 80% with everyone else doesn't mean you will. Face it—you'll never be good enough for her."
Chen Cebai didn't blink. "I'll test with her. And only her."
The tension thickened.
Qiu Yu just wanted to get it over with. She stepped forward with her usual interview smile. "Chen, right? Sure, let's do the test."
The crowd went quiet. Faces still full of contempt.
The machine they used wasn't a toy. With biotech sponsorship, it was almost on par with a corporate-grade product. It linked to a real database. All they had to do was place their palms on the scanner.
Chen Cebai didn't look at her. Just set his hand down.
Qiu Yu was a second slower.
A moment later, the machine activated—projecting a floating network of blue-lit data nodes. Each one represented a compatibility metric.
The first match: genetics.
DNA strands spun into view, snipped into segments, sequenced, and analyzed.
Then the result appeared.
99.99%.
Someone gasped, "No way. That's impossible."
With over 3 billion base pairs in human DNA, and all the variables of a living being, such compatibility shouldn't exist. Unless it was a paternity test—not a matchmaking one.
And then, it got weirder.
Sexual orientation: 100%.
Personality: 100%.
Background: 100%.
Values, preferences, physical condition—all 100%.
Final compatibility score: 100%.
The room fell into stunned silence.
Qiu Yu lifted her hand and looked up at him.
Chen Cebai looked back.
No spark. No recognition.
He had only done the test to prove a point.
He wasn't remotely interested in her.
Something inside Qiu Yu twisted.
She'd seen him immersed in his research before—lab coat on, eyes sharp and cold like a predator about to strike.
Now, his gaze on her was distant, indifferent. Like she was there—but not really.
Even with 100% compatibility, he dismissed her.
He took off his glasses, slowly cleaned the lenses, and asked, "Can I go now?"
Qiu Yu had originally wanted him gone. But that look in his eyes—
"Wait," she said.
He turned, a little confused.
She stepped closer.
Without his glasses, his eyes were even more piercing, but strangely unfocused—like no matter how sharp his vision, it would never rest on her.
That coldness made her lose control.
She smiled, bold and bright. Then reached up, buried her fingers in his hair, and yanked him down into a kiss.
Gasps all around.
Up close, his gaze was even more dispassionate. Cold-blooded. Inhuman. It made her ears tingle with something like danger.
He started to pull away.
She forced her tongue between his lips, just briefly brushing his.
Five seconds. No more.
She stepped back, innocent as ever. "Sorry. Just wanted to see what kissing someone with 100% compatibility felt like."
Chen Cebai glanced at her, said nothing.
Ten seconds later, he put his glasses back on, throat bobbing slightly. "Nothing special."
The tension thickened.
Some classmates looked ready to jump him.
Qiu Yu said, "Yeah, not that impressive. Let him go. I kissed him first, after all."
Chen Cebai walked away without looking back.
She watched him go—shoulders stiff, back straight, alone.
He meant what he said.
That kiss meant nothing to him.
They didn't speak again.
Until he became Biotech's most famous researcher, leading the team that developed a treatment for neural degeneration caused by chip overuse.
The drug revolutionized the field.
Suddenly, he was the company's most important researcher and its fastest-rising star.
Qiu Yu's parents arranged a meeting.
They wanted her to marry him.
Qiu Yu thought the idea ridiculous. If he remembered their college days, there was no way he'd agree.
Back then, even her admirers had humiliated him.
She expected him to leave the moment he saw her.
Instead, he sat down calmly and said, "Miss Qiu."
She nodded. "Mr. Chen… it's been a while."
He skipped the small talk. "Your parents want us to marry."
Her cheeks flushed. Her parents had actually said that to his face?
But then he asked, "Would you be willing?"
Qiu Yu looked up. "What?"
He said flatly, "I remember we had a 100% compatibility score. It was a student project, yes, but it used Biotech's database. I trust its analysis. Don't you?"
His Mandarin was clear, rich, and perfectly enunciated—rare in a world that relied on real-time translation chips and didn't bother with proper speech anymore.
But his voice held no emotion. Just perfect, detached logic.
Just like that day years ago, their eyes met again.
And once more, Chen Cebai spoke to her about marriage with the same rational tone one might use to discuss the results of an experiment.
Qiu Yu frowned slightly, then quickly relaxed and replied:
"Of course I'm willing. But let me be clear—marriage, to me, is more of a partnership than the culmination of love. There are plenty of couples who are in love, but very few who can truly collaborate as equals. In my view, cooperation is more important than affection in a marriage. That's my stance—I wonder if you can accept that, Mr. Chen?"
Chen Cebai paused for a moment, then let out a soft chuckle. "That's exactly how I see it too."
It was the first time he had ever smiled in front of her.
Chen Cebai's features were, in fact, strikingly aggressive—deep-set eyes, a high-bridged nose, a sharply defined jawline. By current standards, he had the look of someone evolution had treated generously.
And yet, when he smiled at her with that face—so inherently imposing—there was no trace of aggression in it.
She was not his prey.
He had no desire to hunt her, no impulse to conquer.
And that, somehow, made Qiu Yu feel uneasy all over again.
But she adjusted her emotions quickly and pushed the feeling away.
This was ideal, after all. In a partnership, disinterest was a blessing. It meant she could throw herself into her work without distraction.
In this world, emotions were the cheapest currency.
If you wanted to survive—truly thrive—work was the only answer. Relentless, uninterrupted work.
Perhaps it was all psychological, but after they got married, their compatibility really did seem extraordinary.
Three years had passed, and they'd never had a single fight. Not even a serious disagreement.
Every evening, they came home from work—Qiu Yu would go straight into her study, writing reports, preparing interviews. Chen Cebai would half-recline on the couch, silver light flickering in his eyes as he guided remote experiments with his research team.
In some areas, their compatibility was even more intense.
He always appeared indifferent, his expression unreadable—but under deliberate provocation from her, he would respond with sudden force, even roughness.
And for some unknown reason, his body temperature was always low—cool to the touch, almost icy—but strangely, that fit her tastes perfectly.
In the blink of an eye, three years had gone by. Qiu Yu no longer took issue with how emotionally distant Chen Cebai was.
They worked in sync. If anything, adding love into the equation would only disrupt their rhythm.
Whether or not Chen Cebai was attracted to her didn't concern her anymore.
What did trouble her was the failed interview she had worked so hard on—and that lingering, unsettling sense of being watched.
Was it all in her head?
Or was someone actually watching her from the shadows?
Just then, a message popped up on her phone:
[Xiao Qiu, are you free tonight?]