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Shen Zhiyan's WeChat message was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples in Jiang Mo's heart. The message about database access, though businesslike in tone, carried a subtle, unusual meaning upon closer examination. It was no longer a general instruction based on program scheduling, but a precise and selective allocation of resources.
She didn't reply immediately, nor did she rush to the database as if she had received a pardon. Instead, she returned to the hotel first and completed the silent ritual with "Lu Gen." This time, as she recited the Tao Te Ching, her mind struggled to focus. The profile of Shen Zhiyan when he spoke of "coordinate system" kept involuntarily appearing in her mind, along with the incongruous swallow badge in the group photo.
It wasn't until 7 p.m., when the neon lights outside the window gradually lit up, that she finally got up. A strange intuition told her that this trip to the database might allow her to see something beyond Shen Zhiyan's "primary coordinate system."
The Data Science Center was even quieter at night than during the day, with only a few windows lit up, like transparent squares suspended in the darkness. Jiang Mo, with her temporary access, entered the central data repository in the annex without hindrance. It was less like a library and more like a gigantic, futuristic information hive. Soft lights automatically illuminated rows of smart bookshelves gleaming with a cold metallic sheen, and the air was filled with the mixed smells of paper, ink, and machine heat.
Following Shen Zhiyan's directions, she found the thirteenth district. Compared to the other districts, this place seemed more remote, and the books and materials on the shelves were more old, some even being scanned copies of thread-bound books. The topics were mostly focused on fundamental theoretical fields such as the history of mathematics, philosophy of science, and the origins of computer graphics.
She saw Shen Zhiyan at the end of a row of bookshelves.
He had his back to her, and was tiptoeing to take a thick foreign language book from a high shelf. He had taken off his lab coat, wearing only a light gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms. The light cast a warm glow on his slightly bent back, a posture that softened his usual aloofness.
Hearing footsteps, he turned around, his face showing no surprise, as if he had expected her to come.
“Miss Jiang.” He nodded, took the book he had taken out and held it in his arms, the gold-embossed Latin title on the spine flashing by.
“Professor Shen.” Jiang Mo approached, her gaze sweeping over the books in his arms and then looking at the bookshelf behind him. “I came to find the literature about polar coordinates that you mentioned.”
"Section H, seventh row, third cell from the top," he stated the location precisely, his tone as if giving instructions in a laboratory. "There are three introductory books and one advanced application example book, suitable for your current level of understanding."
Jiang Mo looked in the direction he indicated and indeed saw those books. She walked over, ran her fingers along the spines, and pulled out the book, "Polar Coordinates Principles and Visualization Applications." The book was old, but well-preserved.
"Thank you," she said softly, then paused and added, "Thank you for your permission too."
Shen Zhiyan did not respond to the thanks. His gaze fell on the bookshelf area where her finger had just traced, where several books with nothing to do with mathematics stood side by side—"The Rhythm of Architectural Space," "Asymmetric Aesthetics," and "Visual Experiments in the Bauhaus Period."
Jiang Mo followed his gaze, her heart skipping a beat. The book titles, the design sketch on his screen, and the swallow badge on his chest vaguely formed a connection.
"Is Professor Shen also interested in architectural aesthetics?" she asked casually, her fingertip lightly touching the spine of the book "Asymmetric Aesthetics".
Shen Zhiyan's gaze shifted from the spine of the book to her face. His eyes behind his glasses were calm, as if he were assessing the intention behind the question. The cold light from the overhead lamp in the archives reflected two cold stars on his lenses, hardening the almost soft features that had just been revealed.
"Any structure, whether a mathematical formula or a physical space, follows inherent laws and order. Analyzing its commonalities is part of basic research." He gave an impeccable, standard answer befitting a scientist, completely concealing his personal interests under the grand narrative of academic inquiry.
He held the heavy book, turned slightly to the side, and gestured as if to end the conversation: "The documents you requested are over there. The central archives are cleared out every night at ten o'clock."
After saying that, he walked straight toward the library registration desk, his back once again enveloped in that familiar, aloof, rational shell.
Jiang Mo didn't leave immediately. Holding the book "The Principle of Polar Coordinates," she slowly paced among the silent bookshelves. Section I, next to Section H, was labeled "Interdisciplinary Studies - Art and Science," while Section J was "History of Science and Biographies of Scientists." She walked over there, almost as if possessed.
In an inconspicuous corner of Section J, she stopped. There were some donated old items and internal publications. Her eyes were drawn to a collection of essays with a faded cover—"Collection of Winning Entries from the National Young Architects' Creative Competition (2015)".
A strong premonition gripped her. She reached out, hesitantly, and opened the heavy cover. The pages were yellowed, carrying the scent of age. She turned the pages one by one, mostly encountering unfamiliar names and imaginative architectural sketches. Until she reached the latter half, a familiar name caught her eye—
Shen Zhiyan.
Title of the work: Swallows Returning to Their Nests: A Mobile Community Center Based on Nonlinear Parametric Design
The color page featured a series of stunning concept illustrations: flowing curves forming a roof that stretched out like a swallow's wing, with layered spaces and light and shadow moving freely within them. Those vibrant lines, that unconventional pursuit of symmetry, perfectly overlapped with the fragments of design drawings she had glimpsed on his screen, and with that swallow emblem.
In the project description, the young Shen Zhiyan wrote: "...attempting to use mathematical logic to capture the fleeting trajectory of a swallow's feather cutting through the air, and to solidify it into a habitable space. Architecture should not be a cold geometric shape, but a nest that carries emotions and memories..."
Jiang Mo's fingers lingered on the words brimming with idealistic passion, and her heart felt as if it had been gently squeezed. This young man who wrote such emotional words was completely different from Shen Zhiyan, who now quantified everything and constantly talked about probability and standard deviation.
"Has it been found?"
A calm, emotionless voice came from behind him.
Jiang Mo slammed the book shut and turned around. Shen Zhiyan, who had returned at some point, stood a few steps away, quietly watching her and the award-winning collection he had just closed. His face showed no anger or embarrassment at having his secret exposed, only a profound and unfathomable silence.
The air seemed to freeze. The database's temperature control system emitted a very faint hum.
Jiang Mo felt an unprecedented tension, her palms slightly sweaty. She opened her mouth, wanting to explain something, but found herself at a loss for words.
Shen Zhiyan's gaze slowly moved from her face to the closed portfolio in her hand, then he looked up at her again. His eyes were complex and unreadable, as if he were examining a huge noise that had unexpectedly deviated from all predictive models.
He didn't question or explain; he simply took two steps forward and extended his hand.
Jiang Mo subconsciously handed the portfolio back to him.
He took the book, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force. He didn't look at the book again, nor at Jiang Mo, but simply turned around and stuffed the book, which contained evidence of another part of his life, back into the dusty corner, his movements so quick they were almost hasty.
"The polar coordinates document you requested," he said, his back to her, his voice regaining its usual steady tone, but a few decibels lower than usual, "can be borrowed for a week after registering at the entrance."
After saying that, he walked towards the exit without looking back, his figure quickly disappearing into the shadow of the dense bookshelves, as if he were completely swallowed up by this space that held the past.
Jiang Mo stood alone in the same spot, holding the book "The Principle of Polar Coordinates" in her arms, her fingertips still seemingly retaining the rough texture of that award-winning collection of works.
"Swallows returning to their nests"...
So, is his choice to stay within the system, to remain at the data science center, also a kind of alternative "returning home"? And is that swallow badge a silent tribute to his past flight?
She glimpsed a hidden corner outside his coordinate system, but this discovery, instead of clarifying things for Shen Zhiyan, shrouded him in an even deeper fog. What kind of data storm is this man, who left so calmly, experiencing inside? Will her transgressive "visit," within her still unclear "confidence interval," bring her elevated recognition, or will she be directly categorized as... a "high-risk sample" requiring strictly limited access?
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