What Code Couldn't See

Su Niannian froze for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

"Small and mid-sized development teams. Big companies have their own code review systems and don't need external tools. But smaller teams don't have dedicated code review processes, so a lot of bugs only get discovered after launch."

The moment the conversation turned to products, she automatically slipped into work mode. After all, she was a seasoned product manager.

"So the core need isn't 'finding bugs,' but 'stopping bugs before launch'?"

"Exactly!" Su Niannian smacked the table, making the coffee wobble. "You got right to the point. It took me five pages of user profiles to explain that, and you summed it up in one sentence."

"I'm a user too. After five years of coding, what I fear most is not being able to spot my own bugs."

"Then what do you think is the biggest problem with current AI code review tools?"

Han Luyi thought for a moment. "Most tools can only perform static analysis. They look for logical issues in the code itself. But the bugs that really give teams headaches usually aren't syntax errors. They're mismatches between the code and the actual business. The logic may be fine, but once it's put into a real-world scenario, bugs appear. AI can't see that kind of thing."

Su Niannian set down her cup and leaned forward slightly. "Go on."

"For example, an e-commerce app's recommendation algorithm might have no flaws in its logic, but after launch, the recommendations turn out to be heavily biased toward expensive products, and retention among low-spending users plummets. That isn't a code bug. It's a mismatch between the code and user behavior. Existing AI tools can't analyze that, because they only look at the code, not the real-world feedback after the code runs."

As he spoke, something flashed through his mind.

A hazy idea, not yet fully formed.

What if... there were a tool that didn't just inspect code, but could detect the problems it might trigger in real-world situations?

Wasn't that exactly what his Vision did?

Of course, he couldn't turn his cheat ability into a product. But Vision's underlying logic—connecting code with reality—could absolutely be abstracted into a methodology and simulated with AI. It could never match Vision's precision, but even if it achieved ten percent of its effect, it would far surpass existing competitors.

Su Niannian's voice pulled him back.

"You're making me itch to do it." Su Niannian propped her chin on her hand and looked at him. "If you'd joined our team two months earlier, this project wouldn't have been snatched away."

"Half of every product manager's projects get snatched away. Don't take it to heart."

"You're comforting me? You got snatched even worse than I did."

"That's why I'm so enlightened now. Wisdom from someone who's been there."

Su Niannian laughed at that and stirred the latte art in her cup with a spoon. Sunlight softened her profile, turning the fine strands of hair in the light golden.

Old Zhou wiped glasses behind the counter. He glanced over from the corner of his eye, and the corner of his mouth lifted faintly.

"So are you really planning to keep taking freelance gigs?" Su Niannian asked.

"Not as a long-term plan." Han Luyi leaned back in his chair. "I'm thinking of making something of my own."

"What direction?"

"Not decided yet. I have a few ideas, but they're not mature."

"Tell me once you've figured it out. Maybe I can help." Su Niannian said it naturally. "I've worked in product for years, after all. I can still handle user research and requirements analysis."

"Sure. I'll come find you then."

He had genuinely meant it as a polite remark, but Su Niannian nodded seriously.

They chatted about other things for a while. She asked what book he was reading, and he said he'd recently been reading one about distributed systems. She said she was following a drama and asked whether he watched it. He said no. She said he was really boring.

It was four-thirty.

Su Niannian glanced at her phone. "I have a meeting at five and need to go back to prepare. I should get going."

"Okay." Han Luyi stood up. "I'll walk you to the subway station."

"No, no, it's only a few steps away." Su Niannian waved him off, picked up her bag, and stood.

The two of them walked to the entrance. Old Zhou called out from behind them, "Xiao Han, bring your friends next time and you'll get twenty percent off!"

Su Niannian turned back and waved at Old Zhou. "Thanks, boss!"

They pushed open the door and stepped outside. The evening sun was no longer so harsh, bathing the whole street in a warm yellow glow.

Su Niannian paused at the doorway.

"Luyi."

"Yeah?"

"Let's... keep in touch more often."

She was smiling as she said it, her tone light, as though it were just an offhand remark.

"Sure," Han Luyi said.

Su Niannian smiled at him, then turned and walked down the sidewalk. Her white canvas shoes stepped along the edge of the sunset's shadows, her pace neither hurried nor slow.

Han Luyi stood outside Bug Café and watched her for two seconds before turning back inside.

Old Zhou had already refilled his Americano and placed it at the seat where he had been sitting.

"Thanks, Zhou-ge."

"College classmate?" Old Zhou asked.

"Yeah."

"Nice."

Old Zhou said nothing more and lowered his head to continue wiping glasses.

Han Luyi sat down and took a sip of coffee.

It was bitter.

He took out his phone and opened his notes app.

On the blank page, he typed a few words:

"Code review tool, connecting code with real-world scenarios, BugKiller?"

Then he stared at that line for a while before adding another beneath it:

"First step: find a product manager."

When he finished, he laughed to himself. A face automatically surfaced in his mind—the one that had been sitting across from him just moments ago, stirring latte art with a spoon.

He put away his phone and leaned back in his chair.

The last trace of sunlight outside vanished behind the rooftop across the street. Old Zhou switched on the café's warm yellow lights, and the coffee machine hummed.

The vague idea in Han Luyi's mind had become far clearer than it had been two hours earlier.

All that remained was to get started.

He rested a while longer. Old Zhou quietly ground coffee beans behind the counter, and he was now the only customer left in the shop.

Han Luyi picked up his phone and habitually pulled down the notification bar.

A news alert sat at the very top.

[Flash Tech CEO Ding Ren responds publicly: The anonymous report is malicious defamation. A report has been filed with the police, and the source of the information will be pursued according to law.]

Han Luyi's finger stopped.

He tapped it open and skimmed it. The wording of the statement was meticulous—there was no direct response to a single instance of fabricated data. Instead, all its firepower was focused on "tracking down the anonymous whistleblower." At the end, it cited Article 246 of the Criminal Law: the crime of defamation.

Han Luyi almost laughed.

Filed a report with the police? The materials Gu Siyue had submitted to the cybercrime unit were three days ahead of this statement. Illegal cross-border data transfers, data flowing into overseas gray-market operations, infringement of citizens' personal information—Ding Ren himself was the one being investigated, yet now he was running to the police claiming that someone had "defamed" him. This wasn't filing a report. This was delivering himself straight to them.

But Ding Ren's target had never been the law. He was speaking to the two hundred million onlookers: I won't explain. I'll find someone.

Bluster. The fiercer he acted, the more panicked he was.

Han Luyi exited the news and opened Weibo to check the discussions related to Flash Tech.

Ding Ren's statement had already exploded with comments. Half were insults, but the other half of the discussion made him uneasy. People were genuinely starting to seriously guess who the anonymous whistleblower was.

Reverse Engineering Old Wang had posted another long thread.

Last time, his profile had concluded: "Backend/algorithm engineer at a major company, more than five years of experience." This time, in the comments under Ding Ren's statement, he pushed it a step further:

"The anonymous report describes Flash Tech's data pipeline architecture with extraordinary precision, and its breakdown of the technical details is both thorough and accessible. This means the author is either an insider at Flash Tech or possesses reverse-engineering capabilities far beyond the norm. Combined with the previous profile, if this person is not an insider, then they may be a well-known technical powerhouse in the industry."

The hottest comment under the post read:

"So either it's a mole or a genius. President Ding, are you sure you want to find them? If you do, can you afford to hire them?"

Han Luyi couldn't laugh.

"Reverse-engineering capabilities far beyond the norm." Old Wang had no idea how close he was to the truth.

He forwarded Ding Ren's statement link to Gu Siyue.

Three minutes later, Gu Siyue replied with two messages.

The first: "Be careful. A cornered dog may jump over the wall."

The second: "From now on, do not discuss Flash Tech on any platform or in any setting. Don't mention a single word."

Han Luyi replied with a single word: "Okay."

He drained the now-cold Americano in one gulp, then stood and slung his bag over his shoulder.

Old Zhou called out from behind the counter, "See you tomorrow, Xiao Han."

"See you tomorrow, Zhou-ge."

He pushed open the glass door and stepped outside. It was completely dark now. The orange streetlights stretched his shadow long behind him.

After taking two steps, Han Luyi pulled out his phone and looked at it again.

The top two documents in his notes app were titled BugKiller and "Don't Mention Flash Tech."

He locked the screen and quickened his pace.