Chapter 353: Orange Z1 Self-Developed CPU Architecture Unveiled! Yeah, We Just Need a Cook!

In the evening of December, the cold wind bit sharply, and leaden clouds obscured the sun.

Chen Yansen sat on the sofa by the window, gazing at the building across the diagonal—No. 6—where Pianbei’s headquarters glowed with Christmas decorations pasted on its glass façade and a three-meter-tall Christmas tree stood at the entrance.

He knew full well these people weren’t celebrating Christmas—they were just looking for something to amuse themselves.

Although Pianbei didn’t mandate overtime, most employees still worked three extra hours on weekdays and sacrificed an entire weekend day for another six hours.

There was no choice: housing prices in 2012 were already rising, and young people faced unbearable pressure—they had to earn money for a home and save for a bride price; how else could they survive?

Thus, during holidays, the Administration Department organized events where everyone ate and drank, and occasionally drew prizes.

Additionally, the company’s annual travel fund had been cashed out and deposited directly into employees’ bank accounts.

The company didn’t mention it; the employees stayed silent; everyone treated the “travel fund” as extra compensation.

“Vrrrm—!”

The phone on the coffee table rang.

Chen Yansen reached out, and a 64GB Orange C3 landed in his hand—the caller ID read “Old Chen.”

“You’re about to get time off, right?” After answering, Old Chen asked hesitantly.

“Not yet,” Chen Yansen replied.

“How’ve you been lately?” Old Chen continued, his voice flat.

“Fine. How about you?” Chen Yansen smiled lightly.

His interactions with Old Chen were always like this—dry, dull, barely a few words before they both hung up in unspoken agreement.

“Everything’s fine. The county set up police inspector booths at bookstores and neighborhood entrances—now not even a fly dares buzz near me,” Old Chen said obliquely.

“By the way, I won’t be going home for the New Year.”

Chen Yansen suddenly said.

Agricultural and sideline products from Chunshen have sold over three billion yuan on Pianbei’s billion-yuan subsidy channel, driving employment for tens of thousands across the county.

Tang Lixin naturally didn’t dare slack off—he treated Chen Guobin with utmost care.

Otherwise, once Chen Guobin left Chunshen, who knew if Chen Yansen would still grant them traffic support?

“Not coming home?” Chen Guobin froze, frowning. “Where are you spending the New Year?”

“Xu City or Hu City—I bought a few apartments; I can go wherever I want.”

Chen Yansen spoke casually.

He paused, then added: “Are you coming?”

“Nah, I’ll stay home with your mom,” Brother Bin shook his head. Though angry, he knew Chen Yansen’s stubborn nature—advice was useless.

“Take my mom with you. Let her see her son’s new house,” Chen Yansen smiled.

Hearing this, Chen Guobin’s face lit up with interest. His son truly had made something of himself—if Hui Zhen were still alive, she’d surely have come to see his place.

“Send me the address later,” Chen Guobin said after a few seconds of thought.

“I’ll send my driver to pick you up,” Chen Yansen said.

“I’ll drive myself,” Chen Guobin refused.

“That old Golden Cup of yours? Everything but the horn rattles—don’t shake your mom to pieces. Fine, I’ll get you a new car—Mercedes, BMW, Rolls-Royce—pick one.”

Chen Yansen frowned, snapping back irritably.

“I don’t want it,” Chen Guobin said stiffly.

“It’s for my mom. You’re just the driver—get it?”

Chen Yansen scolded bluntly.

Old Chen’s temper was like a stubborn donkey—he needed a good kick; who did he get it from?

“BMW. Don’t buy anything too expensive—your mom liked them when she was young.”

After a long silence, Chen Guobin grumbled.

“I know. If you’ve got nothing better to do, find a wife. Otherwise, when you’re old, no one’ll care for you. I’m warning you now—when you’re too old, I’ll dump you in a nursing home and let you rot.”

Chen Yansen threatened.

“Bullshit! Do I need you to take care of me? Mind your own business!” Chen Guobin roared.

“Beep-beep-beep…” Chen Yansen immediately hung up, too lazy to listen to Old Chen’s rambling.

Then he sent a message to Ye Qiuping, telling her to come to his office.

Less than three minutes later, a soft “tap-tap-tap” came at the door.

“Come in,” Chen Yansen said softly.

Ye Qiuping pushed open the door, stepped in with tiny steps, and walked slowly toward Chen Zong.

A high-neck sweater clung tightly to her upper body, yet couldn’t hide her astonishing figure.

She tugged up her pant leg slightly, deliberately revealing a stretch of smooth, white lace stockings.

“Are you going back home for the New Year?” Chen Yansen asked.

“I don’t have a home,” Ye Qiuping said, lips downturned, forcing a faint smile as if heartbroken.

“Perfect. Come to my place for the New Year,” Chen Yansen declared immediately.

“To your place?” Ye Qiuping’s lips curled slightly—her delight was impossible to hide.

“Yeah, we’re short a cook. Don’t worry—I’ll pay you,” Chen Yansen said honestly.

A cook?

You want me to cook your New Year’s Eve dinner?

Chen Yansen, you bastard!

Ye Qiuping froze, then snapped back—her chest heaved with rage, her teeth clenched with a sharp grind.

“Not willing?” Chen Yansen asked.

“I’d be honored,” Ye Qiuping replied, her voice dripping with grievance.

“Good. Go ahead—make a menu first.”

Chen Yansen waved his hand, signaling she could leave.

“Here’s your lucky apple—wishing Chen Zong a peaceful, smooth 2013,” Ye Qiuping said listlessly, handing over a bright red apple.

“Thanks.”

Chen Yansen took the apple and grinned.

He enjoyed tormenting Ye Qiuping—every trick she’d played on him, he’d return tenfold.

Ye Qiuping turned and walked straight out of the office.

Soon, a faint smile appeared on her pale, exquisite face—at least he liked my cooking.

After a brief rest, Chen Yansen returned to his desk, switched the computer screen to an assembler window, and dove into designing the instruction set compiler.

As the year-end neared, all subsidiaries under Senlian Capital were busy compiling year-end reports.

Hundreds of kilometers away in Shencheng, Cao Dahua and Zuo Hongyu sat facing each other, sipping tea and chatting.

“Finally, I can go back to Xu City. Old Zuo, do you think this counts as returning home in glory?”

Cao Dahua, his belly round and protruding, grinned smugly.

His noticeably reduced waistline made it clear how much effort he’d poured into running the Orange Phone Factory over the past year.

Zuo Hongyu lifted his teacup and chuckled: “You’ve lost your title as mentor at Xu Academy—you probably can’t even get inside the campus now?”

“You think I spent all those years at Xu Academy for nothing? I just flash my face.”

Cao Dahua glanced at Zuo Hongyu dismissively.

After the Orange Phone Factory stabilized, he quit his Xu Academy job to avoid giving Tang Qingshan and Chen Yansen trouble.

“The Q1 and Q2 2013 production plans are ready. The 2012 data on capacity, cost, quality, and shipment volume won’t be accurate until after New Year’s Day.”

Zuo Hongyu smiled but didn’t respond, changing the subject instead.

“No problem—we’ve got time. It doesn’t start until next Friday.”

Cao Dahua grunted in agreement.

He never imagined his entire future path had been reshaped by a student.

The dream he’d failed to fulfill in youth had come true in his forties—Orange Phone’s annual shipments reached roughly 49 million units, 12 million more than Shanxing, firmly holding the top spot on sales charts.

His nickname in Shencheng’s digital circle had changed from “Puke Hua” to “Babai Hua.”

Though some mocked him behind his back for merely clinging to power and riding pure luck, Cao Dahua didn’t care.

After all, luck was part of ability!

Meanwhile, Xiao Jun of Gaode Maps, Zhang Yiming of ByteDance, Pei Yi of KuaiPao, Cheng Weixing of Kuaide Taxi, Hu Weiyi of Xingchi Technology, Qu Fang of Xingyin Technology, and others were all frantically preparing their year-end reports.

On the other side.

At six p.m., Chen Yansen left work, slid into the driver’s seat of an Aston Martin Rapide, and detoured to Ye Master’s house for sweet soup.

Actually, the sweet soup didn’t matter—he’d just bought Ye Qiuping two new Christmas-themed skins; after these two days, the mood would be gone.

…

…

The next morning, Chen Yansen drove to the tech park.

Then he took the elevator to the top-floor office.

No sooner had he sat down than Pei Yi called.

“Boss, Liang Changlin just reported in,” Pei Yi said, sounding surprised.

“Did Yaya Network and Dingdong Community sell? Did he find a buyer before even coming to Xu City?”

Chen Yansen said, slightly startled.

"I heard Yaya Network was sold to Xueersi, and Dingdong Community has shut down," Pei Yi replied.

"This style of operation is indeed swift and decisive. I’m handing the personnel over to you—how far the business can go depends entirely on your two’s coordination."

Chen Yansen casually instructed.

"Understood, Boss," Pei Yi responded promptly.

By combining fresh produce and the front warehouse model with KuaiPao riders’ instant delivery capability, KuaiPao can continuously expand its product categories and boost profitability.

Establish a business barrier against Meituan, Lashou, and Dazhong Dianping.

In short, the more diverse the platform’s product offerings, the broader the user base it can cover—this not only attracts more organic traffic but also increases user retention, loyalty, and order density, thereby lowering per-delivery costs.

"Let’s talk when we meet next week."

Chen Yansen cut to the chase.

Pei Yi immediately grasped the implication in Chen Yansen’s words, exchanged a few pleasantries, and ended the call.

Chen Yansen turned on his computer and wrapped up the final development work on the compiler.

Generally, companies like Intel and ARM first determine the intended use cases for an instruction set and its accompanying compiler—such as high-performance computing, mobile devices, embedded systems, AI acceleration, or IoT—before beginning development.

Different instruction sets have varying requirements for power consumption limits, chip area cost, and compatibility.

The instruction set Chen Yansen designed leans toward mobile and embedded applications, employing an ultra-simple parallel instruction structure to deliver extreme energy efficiency.

Because the reduced instruction set decreases the number of transistors in the processor core, the chip area is smaller, thus lowering mass production costs.

Ten minutes later, he typed a string of characters and named it "OrangeZ1," abbreviated as OZ1.

He let out a long breath, leaned back, and felt the strain of recent days—each day, activating the [Planck Clock] talent for just two or three seconds had nearly drained his spiritual energy.

A few days ago, Old Gao secretly slipped him a bottle of medicinal wine, insisting it was something excellent from the north, a powerful tonic!

Come on, does Boss Chen need tonics?

Chen Yansen refused on the spot.

"Mike, get Old Wu and come over."

Chen Yansen pulled up a chat box and sent a message to the chief designer of the Tiangong T100.

(End of Chapter)