Lawyer's Letter

BugKiller's version 0.2 had been polished for over a week.

After Su Niannian found several developer friends to test it, she gave him nineteen pieces of feedback. He had fixed seven and a half of them. Halfway through the eighth, he decided the approach was wrong, scrapped it, and started over. Even now, he was still short of the finishing touches.

Gu Siyue had emailed to say the copyright registration was in process, and the trademark search was moving forward at the same time. "BugKiller" had not been registered yet.

Monday morning, April 6.

Han Luyi sat before his computer, his phone on a voice call as he discussed the new version's iteration direction with Su Niannian. The weather outside was nice. Someone was walking a dog in the residential complex, and the scent of scallion pancakes drifted up from somewhere downstairs.

"The accuracy needs to improve some more," Su Niannian's voice came through the phone. "Right now, the perceived false-positive rate is around seven or eight percent. Users still feel there's too much noise. It has to drop below five before it can really enter their workflow."

"I know. Individual false positives can be marked as ignored—I've already added that. But to really bring it below five, I'll need to train another version at minimum. The cost's a bit high—"

The doorbell rang.

Han Luyi glanced toward the door. "Someone's at the door. Hang on a second."

He got up and opened it. It was a courier, holding an EMS envelope. The moment the door opened, the electronic signature pad was handed over.

He signed for it and took the envelope. The courier was already ringing the next door's bell.

Han Luyi shut the door and returned to his desk.

Sender: Legal Department, Dingsheng Digital Technology Group Co., Ltd.

Recipient: Han Luyi

His fingers tore open the seal.

There was one document, one page, with Prosperity Group's logo printed at the top and a title beneath it—

Reminder Letter Regarding Non-Compete Obligations

The contents were brief: This was to remind Mr. Han Luyi that the separation agreement he had signed in February 2026 contained a non-compete clause, valid for twelve months and covering "artificial intelligence, code review, software development tools, and related fields." If he had already engaged in business activities within the restricted fields above, he was requested to cease immediately and contact the company's Legal Department to discuss a resolution.

The wording was quite polite, but the words "cease immediately" weighed heavier with every character.

Attached was a copy of his separation agreement. The paragraph containing the non-compete clause had been marked with a yellow highlighter. A glaring streak of yellow across white paper.

Han Luyi stared at that fluorescent patch for two seconds.

He had skimmed it when signing. Zhang Wei had said, "Standard procedure. They won't actually enforce it," so he had turned the page.

Then he thought of something.

Copyright registrations were public information. Anyone could search the National Copyright Administration's system.

The registration had barely been completed when the warning letter arrived.

The timing was too perfect.

Han Luyi opened Sight.

A translucent layer of data surfaced over the letter. Characters streamed across it for two seconds before settling, and a line of information appeared beyond the document's text:

[Document initiation chain: Chen Bowen (recommendation) → Zhou Yang, Legal Department compliance specialist (execution) → Approver: Wang Zhiyuan (VP)]

So this was not a routine check by the Legal Department.

Han Luyi closed Sight. His energy dropped by 12 points—not much. There was not much to scan on a single sheet of paper. But the information on it was enough. Chen Bowen was not satisfied with merely forcing him out.

"...Luyi? What happened?" Su Niannian's voice was still coming through the phone.

"Niannian, something came up. Let's talk later."

"Oh, okay—"

He sat back down and placed the reminder letter and the copy of the separation agreement side by side on the desk, then reread the highlighted paragraph—

"Within twelve months after Party B's resignation, Party B shall not engage in work related to the Company's principal business in the fields of artificial intelligence, data analysis, software development tools, and related areas, including but not limited to independent business operations, employment by competitors, or providing consulting services to competitors."

Artificial intelligence. Software development tools.

Strictly speaking, BugKiller was skirting the line, but this was too unfair.

Something Gu Siyue had once said surfaced in his mind. "What HR says doesn't count. Only what's written in black and white counts."

His fingers tapped the desktop twice without thinking.

His phone lit up. It was an unfamiliar number.

"Hello, may I ask if this is Mr. Han Luyi?" The woman's voice had the polished tone of a professional, with even her smile embedded in her intonation.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Han! I'm Linda from Sharp Talent Headhunting. Sorry to disturb you. I have an opportunity for an algorithm director role that I'd like to briefly discuss with you. Salary, bonus, and options—the total package is over 1.2 million. The team has fifteen people. The client is a leading internet company. I can't conveniently name them, but you definitely know them."

"I have a non-compete agreement with Prosperity Group. Would your client mind?"

"It's not a problem, Mr. Han. The client and your former employer aren't really in the same industry. Their legal department handles situations like this all the time. Shall I send you the JD to take a look?"

Han Luyi leaned back in his chair.

His gaze fell on the reminder letter on the desk.

1.2 million. Prosperity Group had paid him 650,000—nearly double. He could become a director at a major company, and their legal department would handle the non-compete issue. Unlike starting a business alone now, where a single letter from the other side could nail him to the wall.

One letter told him he was not allowed to do it.

One phone call told him he did not have to do it.

Ironically, only fifteen minutes separated the two.

"Send it to me," he said.

"Of course! I'll add you on WeChat!"

After hanging up, Han Luyi set his phone on the desk, its screen right beside the reminder letter. One glowed, the other did not, lying side by side.

A WeChat friend request popped up. He accepted it, and the other party immediately sent over a PDF.

Han Luyi opened it and skimmed it. The tech stack was familiar, the team size was suitable, and the core KPI was recommendation system optimization—more or less the same work he had done at Prosperity Group, just with a different shell and a different title. Salary plus options; he did the math on what he could take home in three years. It was no small sum.

His finger paused over the screen for two seconds.

He saved it, then replied, "Thank you."

He opened his computer.

There was the v0.1 beta feedback summary Su Niannian had sent half an hour ago. Nineteen user comments, each marked with a priority and suggested solution.

He scrolled down several screens.

"7) The false-positive rate needs to drop below 5% before it can enter the workflow. It currently feels like roughly 8%. Suggest adding an 'ignore' feature and recording users' ignore patterns for iteration."

"14) The CLI interface is sufficient, but the VS Code plugin is a must-have. Can we make it in v0.3?"

She had added another note to item 14: "I asked five people about this. Four said, 'If there's a plugin, I'll use it every day. Without one, I'll only use it occasionally.'"

He stared at it for a while.

The reminder letter still lay open on the desk. He did not put it away, nor did he look at it again.

Then he opened WeChat and scrolled through his contacts.

[Legal Counsel—Attorney Gu].

When he had saved that note before, he had been thinking of helping Lin Wanqing with her lawsuit.

Yet he was the first one to need it.

"Attorney Gu, are you available? I have something urgent."

A voice call came through. He could hear papers being shuffled on the other end.

"Talk."

"Prosperity Group's legal department sent me a non-compete reminder letter. I received it this morning."

There was silence for three seconds. Han Luyi thought the signal was bad and was about to repeat himself when Gu Siyue spoke.

"Bring your separation agreement and come over," Gu Siyue said. "We'll talk in person."

The call ended.

Han Luyi looked at his phone screen. Call duration: forty-seven seconds.

He sat there blankly for a while.

Outside the window, the dog walker had begun a second lap. The reminder letter lay quietly on the desk, the highlighted paragraph glimmering faintly in the afternoon light.

Han Luyi gathered the documents and got up to change clothes.