Alternative Plan

The media visit was like a whirlwind, leaving behind only a trail of chaotic embers. Related topics lingered on the trending searches for days, with heated discussions under the hashtag #ShenZhiyanCoffeeProtectingFlowers#. Some adored the clumsy protection of this "brainy man," while others questioned whether it was a deliberate arrangement by the production team. Jiang Mo scrolled through the comments section, her expression calm. She was already used to the fleeting glamour of the entertainment industry. What truly left a mark on her heart were that swiftly blocking arm and those five identical cashmere sweaters.

Life in the laboratory returned to a superficial calm. However, the spilled coffee, like a drop of ink falling into clear water, did not completely change the nature of the water, but it still left some traces of spreading.

After filming ended that day, Jiang Mo didn't leave immediately. She sat on the sofa in the rest area, reviewing the follow-up schedule issued by the production team. Shen Zhiyan came out of the lab and hesitated slightly when he saw her still there.

"Aren't you leaving yet?" he asked. This seemed to be the first time he had proactively inquired about her whereabouts.

"Let's take a look at the schedule." Jiang Mo looked up and waved the folder in her hand. "There are a few outdoor scenes coming up, it seems like we'll be going to the science museum and the observatory."

Shen Zhiyan hummed in agreement and sat down on the single sofa diagonally opposite her, showing no intention of leaving immediately. He clasped his hands on his knees, his gaze fixed on the darkening sky outside the window, seemingly organizing his thoughts. The light from the overhead lamp in the lounge area cast a soft shadow on his sharply defined profile.

"Regarding the incident that occurred during the media visit," he began, his tone as calm as ever, "I reviewed it afterwards."

Jiang Mo raised an eyebrow, awaiting his "debriefing" conclusion. Had he calculated the probability of coffee spillage, or analyzed the composition of the stain on the cashmere sweater?

“In that emergency, my approach, while preventing damage to your clothes, may not have been the optimal solution.” He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with pure rational discussion. “Pulling you away directly, or using a material less prone to absorbing liquid when blocking with your arm, might have been a more efficient choice.”

Jiang Mo was stunned. She hadn't expected him to be "reviewing" this.

“Of course, the incident happened suddenly, and there was limited time to make a decision.” He continued, as if trying to justify his “non-optimal solution,” “Considering that you were wearing high heels at the time, pulling directly could have caused a risk of imbalance. So, blocking with your arm was, in that situation, an acceptable suboptimal solution.”

Listening to him earnestly analyze the various feasible solutions and their efficiency for a "hero saves the damsel in distress" scenario, Jiang Mo suddenly found it somewhat amusing, yet also strangely...touched. Was he trying to find a logical explanation for his instinctive protective action at the time?

“Teacher Shen,” she couldn’t help but interrupt him, a faint smile curving her lips, “have you ever thought that sometimes people don’t have enough time to call up so many ‘backup plans’?”

Shen Zhiyan looked at her, his gaze behind his glasses seeming to flicker for a moment, as if he were dealing with a completely new proposition. He was silent for a moment before slowly saying, "Intuition, in essence, is the brain's rapid pattern recognition and decision-making based on a massive amount of prior experience. It is not without logic, but rather the computational process is compressed."

He also incorporated "intuition" into his logical system.

“So,” Jiang Mo leaned forward slightly, looking into his eyes, “what kind of prior experience was your ‘suboptimal solution’ based on?”

This question seemed to have touched upon a blind spot in his algorithm. Shen Zhiyan visibly paused, his clasped fingers unconsciously tightening slightly. He avoided her gaze, looked back out the window, and lowered his voice: "This... requires more in-depth data analysis."

Just then, Xiao Chen hurried over with a file bag. "Professor Shen, the old documents you requested for that previous architectural acoustics project have been retrieved from the archives." He handed the file bag to Shen Zhiyan.

The file folder was made of kraft paper, with some wear and tear on the edges, looking quite old. The project number and name were written on the cover in black marker, and one word made Jiang Mo's heart skip a beat—"Returning Home".

It differs from the award-winning collection of works, "Swallows Return to Their Nest," by only one character.

Shen Zhiyan took the file bag and placed it naturally beside her without opening it, as if it were just ordinary work documents.

Xiao Chen didn't leave immediately. He looked at Shen Zhiyan, then at Jiang Mo, as if suddenly remembering something, and said with a smile, "By the way, Miss Jiang, didn't you ask Mr. Shen why he keeps so many identical clothes in his office? Actually, it's not just clothes; Mr. Shen has backup plans for many things. For example, he keeps four identical fountain pens; and the potted green plant in his office—after one died, he immediately bought a replacement of the same variety..."

"Xiao Chen," Shen Zhiyan interrupted, her tone carrying a barely perceptible hint of disapproval.

Xiao Chen immediately fell silent, gave an awkward laugh, and quickly slipped away.

Only the two of them remained in the rest area. The atmosphere became somewhat awkward because of Xiao Chen's unintentional remark.

Jiang Mo looked at the file folder next to Shen Zhiyan that read "Returning Home," and a series of fragments instantly flashed through her mind—the swallow badge, memories of the MIT architecture department, the phrase "providing a place for the wandering of the heart to land," the old project next to him that read "Returning Home," and his obsession with the "backup plan"...

A vague guess gradually became clear in her mind.

Were all his "backup plans" meant to cope with some... irreversible "loss"? That dead potted plant might just be the most insignificant microcosm. Was what he truly wanted a "backup plan" for, but couldn't have, that dream about architecture, about "returning home"?

Shen Zhiyan stood up and picked up the file folder. "It's getting late, let's go back." His voice returned to its usual indifference, as if the conversation about "intuition" and "prior experience" had never happened.

Jiang Mo also stood up, and the two walked towards the elevator together. Silence spread in the air, but it was no longer the cold, distant silence of the beginning; instead, it was a heavy silence mixed with too many unsolved mysteries.

The moment the elevator doors opened, Jiang Mo suddenly spoke softly, as if talking to herself, yet also as if addressing him:

"Sometimes, once it's lost, it's lost forever, and no amount of backup plans can bring it back. Instead of clinging to backups, it's better to cherish what you have now, even if it's not perfect or is just a suboptimal solution."

Shen Zhiyan paused almost imperceptibly as he was about to step into the elevator. He didn't turn around or respond; he simply stood with his back to her, his shoulders seeming a little more tense than before.

The elevator doors slowly closed, shutting out his figure.

Jiang Mo stood alone in the empty corridor, looking at the numbers flashing above the elevator, unsure whether he understood her unspoken message.

Unbeknownst to her, Shen Zhiyan, inside the elevator, was looking down at an old file folder in his hand with the word "Returning Home" written on it, his knuckles turning slightly white from the pressure. Her words about "cherishing" were like an abnormal instruction that couldn't be processed by existing programs, triggering a series of continuous, chaotic... recursive errors in the intricately functioning core of his mind.