Noise and Signal

Jiang Mo brought the ginger-yellow cardigan back to the hotel, where it was laid out neatly on the sofa armrest like an artifact. The color was indeed strikingly similar to the soil on her balcony, a coincidence that left her with an inexplicable sense of unease. She even leaned closer to smell it; it had only a clean, sun-dried cotton scent, without any of the cold, laboratory smell.

Linda called half an hour later, her voice brimming with barely suppressed excitement: "The plan's finalized! We'll market you as the 'Morning Philosopher,' highlighting the contrast between your inner self and your cultivated character amidst the superficiality of the entertainment industry. Even though the CCTV screenshot is blurry, the imagery is perfect! When you're recording the show tomorrow, find an opportunity to casually mention your love of reading traditional classics. No need for a deep discussion, just start a conversation..."

Jiang Mo listened, but her gaze lingered on the blurry outline of the Data Science Center in the distance outside the window. She recalled Shen Zhiyan's eyes, calmly scrutinizing her through his frameless glasses. "Linda," she interrupted the endless chatter on the other end of the phone, "that surveillance footage... could the Data Science Center have seen it too?"

"So what if they see it?" Linda said dismissively. "It's a good opportunity for them to see the depth of Jiang Mo's knowledge! Besides, it's an environmental monitoring project, capturing macroscopic atmospheric data. Who cares what a tiny black dot on your balcony is doing? Don't scare yourself."

Even so, when Jiang Mo stepped into Laboratory 07 in Area A3 again the next day, she still felt an invisible pressure. Today she changed into a pair of flat soft shoes and wore the slightly oversized lab coat provided by the production team, trying to blend into the environment.

Shen Zhiyan had arrived and was standing in front of an instrument recording data. He had changed into a dark blue cashmere sweater, the style still simple, which made his profile look even more refined. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, his gaze lingering for a moment on her flat shoes, and nodded almost imperceptibly: "The standard deviation of the heel has returned to the safe threshold. Very good."

Today's recording task was to learn how to use a non-contact 3D scanner to acquire the surface topography of objects. The director wanted to film Jiang Mo's "growth process" from unfamiliarity to proficiency. However, the process did not go smoothly.

Jiang Mo held the scanning probe, pointing it at a standard geometric model, but the 3D image on the screen was always distorted, broken, or filled with noise. She adjusted the distance and angle according to the operating instructions, but with little effect. The director gestured for her to make a confused and cute expression off-camera, and she forced a smile, feeling only annoyed.

“There’s a slight tremor in your hand,” Shen Zhiyan’s voice rang out from the side, calm and even. “The frequency is about 8 Hz. Although the amplitude is small, it’s enough to exceed the scanner’s dynamic tolerance.” He pulled up the data waveform on another screen. “Look, this is the vibration curve when you hold the probe. It has a clear correlation with the distorted areas of the scanned image.”

Jiang Mo stared at the constantly fluctuating curve, feeling all her discomfort and clumsiness being quantified, displayed, and laid bare. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her wrist, but the distorted image on the screen seemed to mock her futile efforts.

“Teacher Shen, could you…” she tried to ask for help.

“There are two solutions,” Shen Zhiyan interrupted her, his speech as steady as an AI voice. “First, use a robotic arm to fix the probe and eliminate human interference. Second, conduct muscle stability training to reduce the tremor frequency. Given your current situation, I suggest you choose the first option.”

He walked directly to the equipment rack and began adjusting a small robotic arm, showing no intention of personally guiding her or making any physical contact. Jiang Mo, holding the probe, froze on the spot, feeling like a faulty part that needed repair.

During her lunch break, she hid in the temporary rest room and texted Linda: "Here, I feel like a noise source that keeps generating incorrect data."

Linda quickly replied, "Then let's create some beneficial 'noise'! Remember to mention the Tao Te Ching when you have the chance!"

The afternoon recording session was scheduled in the lab's data processing area. The task was to denoise and reconstruct the model from the data scanned that morning. Faced with the dense array of buttons and parameters on the computer screen, Jiang Mo felt even more lost. She tentatively moved the mouse, clicked on a few menus, and then quickly closed them.

Shen Zhiyan sat at the workstation next to her, processing his data, his fingers flying across the keyboard. He seemed completely immersed in his own world, occasionally pausing to frown slightly at the formulas on the screen, then muttering a few words to himself in a language Jiang Mo couldn't understand, such as "singular value" or "regularization".

Just as Jiang Mo was about to give up and admit to the camera that she was "incompetent in science," she accidentally clicked on a language settings option. The menu listed dozens of languages, and her gaze paused when it swept over "Espaol" (Spanish). This was the language she had been studying for three years, a field full of rhythm and passion that seemed completely out of place in the cold laboratory.

As if by some strange twist of fate, she switched the interface language to Spanish.

The complex technical jargon instantly transformed into even more unfamiliar words, but she could vaguely discern the basic menu structure. Relying on intuition and lingering memory, she began to experiment. She clicked "Filter," selected "Median," adjusted "Radio del kernel"...

The rough edges and noise of the 3D model on the screen became smooth and clear at a speed visible to the naked eye.

She was immersed in this small sense of accomplishment, like cracking a code, and temporarily forgot about the camera and the man beside her. Until a calm voice sounded beside her:

"You chose a nonlinear median filter instead of the more commonly used Gaussian filter."

Jiang Mo was startled and turned her head sharply, meeting Shen Zhiyan's gaze. He had stopped working at some point and was now looking at her screen.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes filled with a purely academic inquiry. "Gaussian filtering is generally more effective at removing Gaussian noise."

Jiang Mo's heart skipped a beat. How could she explain? Should she say she just guessed? Or was it because "Mediana" looked better than "Gauss" on the Spanish interface?

She opened her mouth, but before she could come up with a reason, Shen Zhiyan had already shifted her gaze back to the screen and continued her analysis: "However, for the salt-and-pepper noise generated during the scanning process, median filtering is indeed a better solution. Statistically speaking, your choice has a 45% higher accuracy rate than random selection."

He paused, then looked at her again. This time, the pure ice in his gaze seemed to crack slightly, revealing a hint of... curiosity.

“Miss Jiang,” he tilted his head slightly, a gesture that made him seem less like a precision instrument, “do you know Spanish?”

The only sounds in the lab were the low hum of the instruments and the sudden, clear movement of air between the two men. The camera silently zoomed in, capturing this unexpected standoff.

Jiang Mo's mind raced. Admit it? Would that seem deliberate, confirming Linda's marketing plan? Deny it? Lying would seem foolish and dangerous in front of his eyes, which seemed to see through all the data.

In the instant she hesitated, Shen Zhiyan seemed not to need her answer. He raised his hand and lightly touched the environmental sensor indicator light above her screen with his fingertip; the small green light was flashing at a fixed frequency.

“The laboratory’s environmental sensors continuously collect audio data to analyze background noise.” His tone remained calm, but what he said sent a chill down Jiang Mo’s spine. “The collection is broad-spectrum, including all human voices. Although the main purpose is to analyze the equipment’s operating status, theoretically, sufficiently clear voice signals of specific frequencies can also be separated and identified.”

His gaze fell calmly on her face, as if he were merely stating an objective fact.

"For example, a recitation sound with a frequency concentrated between 500 and 2000 Hz and a certain rhythm and repetition."

Jiang Mo's blood seemed to freeze at that moment. He knew. He must have heard the voice in that surveillance video, and might even have identified through audio analysis that she was reciting the Tao Te Ching! His comment that morning about it being "noise" now sounded like a cold, long-buried mockery.

She looked at him, trying to find any hint of mockery, disdain, or inquiry on his face, but there was none. His expression remained professional and calm, as if he were simply discussing a filtering algorithm.

However, this absolute rationality now constitutes the heaviest pressure.

The director gestured from outside, indicating that the recording of this segment was over and they could move on to the next location. Jiang Mo felt as if she had been granted a pardon and almost immediately stood up, wanting to escape this suffocating space.

"Miss Jiang." Shen Zhiyan's voice came from behind again.

She stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around.

“Your Spanish level,” he said, his voice low but clear, “seems to deviate somewhat from public perception. That’s…an interesting sign.”

He didn't say anything more. But Jiang Mo felt that the ginger-yellow cardigan she had left on the hotel sofa, and the brief and abrupt moment of gentle warmth it represented, seemed to be completely covered by a cold, observer's scrutinizing color at this moment by this casual remark.

She hurried out of the lab; the corridor outside was empty and quiet. She needed to call Linda immediately; the "morning philosopher" marketing campaign had to stop right then and there.

But at the same time, a deeper question swirled in her mind—why did Shen Zhiyan choose this moment and this way to bring this matter up? This man, who always speaks with data and logic, after stripping away her "celebrity" shell and glimpsing her "metaphysical" core and "Spanish" skills, what kind of "data" did he want to obtain from this complex "sample" of her?