In the conference room of Samsung headquarters, the atmosphere was heavy with silence.
Executives from every major department of Samsung Electronics sat tensely, their eyes focused on Gao Zhendong at the head of the table, waiting for him to speak.
His expression was grim.
Ever since the Marching Ant Company launched their intelligent assistant, Xiaodie, Samsung's Bixby had seemed embarrassingly outdated. Yet they hadn't been too worried — Marching Ant's mobile phones hadn't left the Chinese market. Their main competition remained confined to domestic ground, and Samsung still dominated the international arena.
But things had taken a turn.
Apple's upgraded Siri had just hit the scene with full voice control capabilities — a real threat. And before that shock could settle, Marching Ant came crashing into the party, authorizing their multilingual intelligent assistant to five major smartphone companies.
If Apple was a single powerful warrior charging at them with a sword, then Marching Ant was a battalion with spears. This wasn't a threat. It was an assault.
Their market share in China was already shrinking, and now their dominance overseas was facing an onslaught from Chinese brands. Last year, Samsung's international share had actually grown — thanks to Apple lacking a decent smart assistant and Marching Ant staying out of global markets.
But Apple's Siri upgrade changed the game. And Marching Ant's move made it worse.
If Samsung didn't act, in two years, their phone business might follow Nokia into irrelevance.
"Li Renzhong," Gao Zhendong finally spoke, turning to the middle-aged man with curly hair beside him — head of Samsung's mobile software and services division and the brain behind Bixby. "How long would it take for Bixby to match Siri or Xiaodie in intelligence?"
Li Renzhong looked grim. "You mean on the same level as Siri post-upgrade or Marching Ant's Xiaodie?"
"Yes," Gao Zhendong said firmly. "We need a breakthrough — or we'll lose the market."
"I won't lie. It's not going to be easy," Li Renzhong replied. "Artificial intelligence breakthroughs rely heavily on discovering the right algorithm. It's like finding the right valve to release water behind a dam — once opened, development floods in. But if you can't find it, progress is slow. It could take a long time."
The room grew even more somber.
"If we don't find a solution, we're done," Gao Zhendong said heavily. "Ideas. I want all your thoughts. Now."
There was a moment of hesitation before the head of marketing stood up.
"Our best option might be to seek a license from Marching Ant."
Silence.
Everyone understood the weight of that suggestion. Intelligent voice operation was no longer a gimmick — it was the future. Without it, they'd be obsolete.
Natural selection. Survival of the fittest.
"If Bixby doesn't make a breakthrough within two months," another executive said, "we may have no choice. But that depends on whether Marching Ant is even willing to license to us."
"We'll keep pushing for a breakthrough on our end," Li Renzhong added. "But I can't guarantee results in two months."
Gao Zhendong closed his eyes in thought, his brows furrowed. After a long pause, he opened them and nodded.
"Contact Marching Ant. Begin talks for licensing their intelligent assistant."
"Samsung reached out to us?" Chen Mo set his teacup down, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise — then chuckled. "Not unexpected."
"Yeah," Zhao Min nodded. "Huang Degui, the president of Samsung Greater China, called me. They want to talk."
"Let me guess — about licensing Xiaodie?"
"What else could it be?" Zhao Min smirked. "Samsung is more anxious than Apple right now."
"Why's that?"
"Easy. Their domestic share is already tanking. In the U.S., they're now facing Siri 2.0. In Europe and Southeast Asia, we've just licensed Xiaodie to China Micro, Mi, OPPO, and Vivo — all of whom are ready to pounce. Samsung's boxed in. They're staring down the barrel."
Her expression turned cold with satisfaction.
"Last time, they screwed us over by cutting off OLED screen supplies. I haven't forgotten."
Chen Mo grinned. "So what do they do now? Beg for help?"
"Exactly. They have three options," Zhao Min said, holding up fingers. "Break through with Bixby. Beg us for a license. Or fall — and follow Sony and Nokia into history."
"In that case," Chen Mo said with a mischievous gleam, "can I stand in front of them, arms crossed, and say, 'Surrender or be destroyed!'?"
Zhao Min laughed, already picturing it. "Sure, but you'd definitely look like a low-budget villain."
Not long after, Zhao Min composed herself. "So, what's your stance on Samsung?"
Chen Mo shrugged. "After that OLED stunt? I'm not fond of them. But the company's future is your responsibility — you're the president. I trust your judgment. Do what's best. I'll support you."
Zhao Min smiled and left the office, confident now that she knew Chen Mo's position.
With Zhao Min gone, Chen Mo stood and made his way toward the lab.
Inside, a large screen displayed a complex instrument schematic — a design loaded with dense circuitry and layered systems.
Holographic technology had finally been unlocked in the Science Library. The next step was bringing it to life.
On-screen was the blueprint for a medium-sized holographic projector — the first of three planned designs: micro, medium, and large-scale.
The micro version had to be under six inches, with ultra-high-density components. The large version demanded intense fidelity, broad field of view, and advanced optical clarity. So Chen Mo chose to begin with the medium projector — the simplest of the three.
Failure can fuel determination, but too much failure wears you down. He would start with a win.
"Mo Nu, let's get back to work," he said, donning his lab coat and walking up to the large screen.
"Okay," came the reply.
As he immersed himself once again in the design, time disappeared.
The real world faded, leaving only formulas, circuits, and the thrilling pursuit of the future.