BugKiller's version 0.2 had been polished for over a week.
After Su Niannian asked several developer friends to test it, she gave him a list of nineteen pieces of feedback. He had fixed seven and a half of them. Halfway through fixing the eighth, he decided the approach was wrong and scrapped it to start over. Even today, he was still one final touch away from finishing.
Gu Siyue emailed to say that the copyright registration was being processed and the trademark search was moving forward in parallel. "BugKiller" had not been registered yet.
Monday morning, April 6.
Han Luyi sat before his computer with his phone on a voice call, discussing the direction for the new version's iteration with Su Niannian. The weather outside was nice. Someone was walking a dog in the residential compound, and the scent of scallion pancakes drifted up from somewhere downstairs.
"We need to improve the accuracy," Su Niannian's voice came through the phone. "The perceived false-positive rate is around seven or eight percent right now. Users still think there's too much noise. It has to drop below five before it can truly enter their workflow."
"I know. Users can mark individual false positives as ignored; I've already added that. But getting it below five would mean training at least another model version, and the cost is a bit high—"
The doorbell rang.
Han Luyi glanced toward the door. "Someone's at the door. Hold on a second."
He got up and opened it. It was a courier holding an EMS envelope. The moment the door opened, he handed over the electronic signature pad.
After Han Luyi signed for it and took the envelope, the courier was already ringing the neighbor's doorbell.
Han Luyi closed the door and returned to his computer desk.
Sender: Legal Department, Dingsheng Digital Technology Group Co., Ltd.
Recipient: Han Luyi
His finger tore along the seal.
There was one document, one page, with Prosperity Group's logo printed at the top. Its title read—
Reminder Letter Regarding Non-Compete Obligations
The content was brief: Mr. Han Luyi, your separation agreement signed in February 2026 includes a non-compete clause with a term of twelve months, covering "artificial intelligence, code review, software development tools, and related fields." If you have engaged in business activities within the restricted fields above, please cease immediately and contact our Legal Department to discuss a resolution.
The wording was quite polite, but the words "cease immediately" weighed heavier than the last.
Attached was a copy of his separation agreement. The paragraph containing the non-compete clause had been highlighted in yellow. A glaring streak of yellow on white paper.
Han Luyi stared at that fluorescent patch for two seconds.
He had skimmed it when he signed. Zhang Wei had said, "It's standard procedure. They won't actually enforce it," so he had simply flipped past it.
Then he thought of something.
Copyright registration was public information. Anyone could search the National Copyright Administration's system.
The registration had barely gone through when the warning letter arrived.
The timing was too perfect.
Han Luyi opened Sight.
A translucent layer of data rose over the paper reminder letter. Characters flowed for two seconds, then stabilized. Beyond the main text, an additional line of information appeared:
[Document initiation chain: Chen Bowen (recommendation) → Legal Department compliance specialist Zhou Yang (execution) → Approver: Wang Zhiyuan (VP)]
So this was not a routine legal department review.
Han Luyi closed Sight. His energy had 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 did not merely want to force him out.
"...Luyi? What's wrong?" Su Niannian's voice was still on the phone.
"Nian Nian, something came up. Let's talk later."
"Oh, okay—"
He sat back down, placing the reminder letter and the copy of his separation agreement side by side on the desk. Then he reread the highlighted passage—
"Within twelve months of leaving the company, Party B shall not engage in work related to the Company's principal business, including artificial intelligence, data analysis, software development tools, and related fields, including but not limited to independent business operations, employment by competitors, or the provision of consulting services to competitors."
Artificial intelligence. Software development tools.
Strictly speaking, BugKiller was crossing the line. But this was far 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 desk twice unconsciously.
His phone lit up. It was an unknown number.
"Hello, is this Mr. Han Luyi?" A professional-sounding woman spoke, every note of her smile embedded in her tone.
"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 position that I'd like to discuss with you briefly. Salary, bonus, and options—the total package is over 1.2 million a year. You'd lead a team of fifteen. The client is a top internet company. I can't conveniently name them, but you definitely know them."
"I have a non-compete agreement with Dingsheng. Would your client mind?"
"That's not a problem, Mr. Han. The client isn't really in the same industry as your previous employer, and their legal team handles cases like this all the time. Shall I send you the JD for a look?"
Han Luyi leaned back in his chair.
His gaze settled on the reminder letter on the desk.
1.2 million. Dingsheng had paid him 650,000—nearly double. He could become a director at a major tech company, with the company's legal team handling the non-compete issue. Unlike now, trying to start a business alone, where one letter from the other side could nail him to the wall.
One letter told him he was not allowed to do it.
One call told him he did not have to do it.
The irony was that 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 placed his phone on the desk, its screen right beside the reminder letter. One glowed, the other did not, laid side by side.
A friend request popped up on WeChat. He accepted it, and the other party immediately sent over a PDF.
Han Luyi opened it and gave it a quick look. The tech stack was familiar, the team size was suitable, and the core KPI was recommendation system optimization—more or less what he had done at Dingsheng, just with a different shell and a different title. He mentally calculated what the salary and options would amount to over three years. It was no small sum.
His finger hovered over the screen for two seconds.
He bookmarked it, then replied, "Thank you."
He opened his computer.
Su Niannian's v0.1 closed-beta feedback summary from half an hour ago. Nineteen user comments, each marked with a priority level and a suggested solution.
He scrolled down several screens.
"7) The false-positive rate needs to fall below 5% before it can enter the workflow. It currently feels like around 8%. Recommend adding an 'Ignore' feature and recording user ignore patterns for iteration."
"14) The CLI interface is enough for now, but a VS Code plugin is essential. Could we do 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 use it occasionally.'"
He stared at it for a while.
The reminder letter still lay open on the desk. He had neither put it away nor looked at it again.
Then he opened WeChat and scrolled through his contacts.
[Legal Counsel—Lawyer Gu].
When he had saved that contact name, he had been thinking of helping Lin Wanqing with her lawsuit.
Yet he was the first one to make use of it.
"Lawyer Gu, are you available? I have something urgent."
A voice call came through. On the other end, there was the sound of papers being turned.
"Talk."
"Dingsheng Legal sent me a reminder letter about my non-compete agreement. I received it this morning."
Silence lasted three seconds. Han Luyi thought the signal was bad and was just about to repeat himself when Gu Siyue spoke.
"Bring your separation agreement over." Gu Siyue said, "We'll talk in person."
The call ended.
Han Luyi looked at his phone screen. The call had lasted forty-seven seconds.
He sat there, dazed for a moment.
Outside, the dog walker had made a second lap. The reminder letter lay quietly on the desk, the highlighted passage gleaming faintly in the afternoon light.
Han Luyi gathered up the documents and got up to change clothes.
Before you continue