At exactly 7:00 PM, Lin Xiaoyang stood outside Chen Yuexi's dorm room door, feeling like a graduate student facing his thesis committee. He took a deep breath and knocked.
The door swung open to reveal Chen Yuexi, her face a complex tapestry of sorrow and excitement—like a writer forced to kill off her favorite character.
"You've come," she intoned dramatically. "Enter. It's time to face the new narrative reality."
The room had been arranged like a war room. A whiteboard was covered in complex relationship diagrams, annotated with multi-colored markers labeling "Protagonist," "Childhood Friend," and "Rivals." Tang Youyou sat in the center of the carpet, surrounded by a circle of crystals, performing some sort of cleansing ritual. Su Yuning was at the desk, inputting data rapidly into her tablet.
"So," Chen Yuexi closed the door and crossed her arms. "Confirmed? You and S.Q.H. are now... a merged dataset?"
Lin Xiaoyang nodded. "Yes."
Tang Youyou looked up, her eyes soft with a gentle sadness. "The universe's energy flow is never wrong. I always perceived your frequencies were complementary." She held up a piece of rose quartz. "This is for love. For your new connection. It will help maintain harmony."
Su Yuning swiveled in her chair, her expression as professional as if she were analyzing lab results. "I require parameter clarification. Will this 'relationship' status impact project efficiency? Do we need to re-allocate tasks? Will your interactions introduce new variables that disrupt team synergy?"
"No, no, and hopefully not," Lin Xiaoyang answered, point by point.
Chen Yuexi flopped onto her bed with a heavy sigh. "Well, as a professional storyteller, I must admit—it's a satisfying narrative turn. The classic childhood friend victory arc." She sighed again, even more theatrically. "Though I mourn the conclusion of my own character's arc, I respect the author's decision."
Lin Xiaoyang couldn't help but smile. "Yuexi, this isn't a novel. And you're not a supporting character."
"I know, I know," she waved a hand dismissively. "But in my internal theater, it's a poignant farewell. Don't worry, I'll find a new protagonist storyline."
Just then, Lin Xiaoyang's phone buzzed. A message from Shen Qinghe.
Qinghe: [7:06 PM] Team meeting emotional analysis forecast: Chen - Sad but Accepting (73%), Tang - Mystically Supportive (89%), Su - Logically Adjusting (94%). Intervention required?
He smiled and typed a reply.
Xiaoyang: Situation stable. Adapting to new protocol.
"Is it her?" Chen Yuexi asked keenly, perking up immediately. "She's remotely monitoring this meeting? That's next level! It's like having an omniscient cheat code!"
Even Su Yuning looked impressed. "Remote data collection. Efficient."
The next hour was spent with the team—now officially including Shen Qinghe, albeit remotely—discussing the project's next steps. Strangely, the atmosphere was lighter than Xiaoyang had anticipated. It was as if confirming his relationship with Qinghe had resolved a lingering uncertainty, allowing everyone to move forward.
Chen Yuexi even proposed they should all meet Shen Qinghe properly—"for narrative closure," as she put it.
In the days that followed, Lin Xiaoyang found himself navigating this "new normal."
His relationship with Shen Qinghe was a quiet, stable thing. They studied together, shared meals, took long walks where conversation was sparse but significant. It was a connection that didn't require constant maintenance, like a perfectly optimized piece of code that ran smoothly with minimal overhead.
Meanwhile, the EfficientHeart team found a new rhythm. Chen Yuexi was still dramatic, but no longer scripted romantic plots for him. Instead, she channeled all her creativity into the project, proposing a new "Emotional Journey Map" feature that framed the user's interaction with the app as a hero's journey.
Tang Youyou embraced her role as "spiritual consultant," often advising on the "energy flow" of the user interface and occasionally performing stress-relief rituals for the team—which, to everyone's surprise, actually helped.
And Su Yuning, after her initial data-gathering phase, seemed to have fully integrated Shen Qinghe into her world model. She occasionally consulted Qinghe on matters of algorithmic efficiency, and Qinghe, surprisingly, often provided unique insights, viewing problems from a completely different angle.
One afternoon, during a team meeting in the library, Shen Qinghe arrived, carrying a thick volume on literary theory. She sat quietly beside Xiaoyang, listening to a discussion about improving the matching algorithm.
"The problem is how we handle conflicting values," Su Yuning insisted. "If User A values 'Adventure' and User B values 'Security,' our algorithm flags them as incompatible. But real-life relationships are more nuanced."
"Precisely," Chen Yuexi chimed in. "It's the tension that creates the best stories! Opposites attract! It's a classic trope!"
"Or," Shen Qinghe said, her quiet voice cutting through the debate. She didn't wait for an invitation; she simply offered her data. "You could model it not as a binary compatible/incompatible, but as a potential for growth. A person who values 'Adventure' paired with someone who values 'Security' could result in a relationship where one learns to be more grounded, and the other learns to take healthy risks. The initial match score could be lower, but with a high 'Growth Potential' coefficient."
A stunned silence fell over the group.
"That's... brilliant," Chen Yuexi whispered. "It's the 'Enemies to Lovers' to 'Personal Growth' pipeline!"
Su Yuning's fingers were already flying across her keyboard. "Implementing a 'Growth Potential' variable would require a secondary, recursive analysis of complementary value pairs... The processing cost would increase by approximately 12%, but the potential for long-term user engagement is significant." She looked at Qinghe, a rare glint of pure, intellectual respect in her eyes. "Your input is valuable."
Xiaoyang watched the exchange, a warm sense of rightness settling over him. This was the new normal. Not a conflict, not a distraction, but a synthesis. His world wasn't being divided between his past and his present; the two were merging, creating something stronger and more interesting than either could be alone.
Later, as they walked back from the library, Qinghe noted, "The team's integration of my suggestion had a 98% efficiency rating. They are high-energy variables, but their processing power is formidable."
"They are," Xiaoyang agreed. "And so are you."
She accepted the statement as simple fact. "Acknowledged."
He realized then that his life was no longer about conserving energy. It was about channeling it—into his work, into his friendships, and into this quiet, profound connection with the human database who had, in her own unique way, just optimized his entire world.
The new normal wasn't just stable. It was, against all his old principles, better.