Flight mode
The flight to Vienna soared smoothly at an altitude of ten thousand meters. Outside the window stretched a frozen, boundless sea of clouds, reflecting a blinding white light in the afternoon sun. First class was unusually quiet, with only the low hum of the engines providing background noise. Jiang Mo sat by the window, a thick forum procedure manual open on her lap, her gaze frequently drifting towards Shen Zhiyan beside her.
He was facing a small table in front of him, on which lay several A4 sheets of paper filled with complex formulas and flowcharts. A minimalist black ballpoint pen was held between his fingers, occasionally scribbling a few quick annotations. For nearly five hours since takeoff, he had maintained almost the same posture, like a meticulously crafted sculpture immersed in its own world. Jiang Mo knew that he was doing final rehearsals for his upcoming speech at the international forum, transforming potential questions and corresponding strategies into familiar and controllable logical models.
She looked away, glancing at the obscure technical terms and packed agenda in her handbook. This was her first time stepping onto such a prestigious international academic stage, and despite her thorough preparation, a subtle unease lingered within her. She took a deep breath, trying to refocus her attention on the materials.
Just then, the cabin lights flickered a few times without warning, followed by a slight turbulence. The captain's calm but slightly urgent voice came over the intercom, informing passengers that due to a sudden strong turbulence ahead, the plane needed to detour, and a significant delay was expected.
A slight commotion and whispers arose in the cabin. Jiang Mo instinctively gripped the armrest and looked at Shen Zhiyan.
He finally looked up from the drawings, but there was no panic on his face. He only glanced at his watch very quickly, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. Unlike the other passengers, he didn't look around or ask the flight attendants. Instead, he immediately turned on the flight information screen on the back of the seat in front of him, pulled up the weather map, and quickly swiped and zoomed on it, his sharp eyes analyzing the dark red area that represented the danger zone.
“Based on the current speed and detour radius, the delay could be between six and eight hours,” he said to Jiang Mo, his tone as calm as if he were stating experimental data. “This means that the half-day buffer time we originally planned to prepare in Vienna will be completely taken up.”
Jiang Mo watched him instantly switch into "problem-solving" mode, and the tension caused by the bumpy ride strangely dissipated. "Then... what about the speech preparation?"
Shen Zhiyan had already picked up his pen again, quickly listing a series of time points and tasks along the edge of the paper filled with flowcharts. "Environmental variables have changed, and the plan needs to be iterated," he said without looking up. "We need to compress the original four-hour preparation process into two hours after arriving at the hotel. This requires us to be more than 95% familiar with the content, and the pre-set Q&A session needs to be further streamlined, retaining the core argument chain."
He pushed one of the sheets of paper in front of Jiang Mo, on which he had just circled several key parts: "This is the cross-cultural case explanation section that you are in charge of. There are three logical jumps that may be questioned. We need to strengthen the arguments in these three places before landing."
His calmness and efficiency acted like an invisible tranquilizer. Jiang Mo took the paper and nodded: "Okay."
The plane continued to bounce in the turbulence, but he seemed to be in an absolutely stable frame of reference, undisturbed by anything. Jiang Mo looked at his focused profile and suddenly felt that perhaps this was his way of dealing with all the uncertainties of the world—incorporating all variables into calculations, using logic and preparation to build a sense of security.
During the long delay, they used the unexpected extra time to conduct several rounds of intense simulated question-and-answer sessions in the cramped cabin space. Shen Zhiyan played the role of a scholar who posed sharp questions, challenging their viewpoints from various angles; Jiang Mo, on the other hand, was responsible for explaining those profound truths in a more approachable and engaging way.
After a simulated debate about whether "affective computing would deprive humans of the uniqueness of their emotions," Shen Zhiyan looked at Jiang Mo and suddenly said, "Your analogy about 'telescopes expanding rather than replacing human vision' had a very high signal-to-noise ratio. It was more effective than my explanation using mathematical inequalities."
Jiang Mo was taken aback for a moment, then smiled: "Teacher Shen, is that a compliment?"
"It's an objective evaluation based on data on the effectiveness of the communication." He pushed up his glasses and corrected seriously, but a very faint smile seemed to flash in his eyes.
During the flight, the flight attendant brought the meals. Shen Zhiyan habitually swapped Jiang Mo's favorite roasted vegetables and fruit salad from his plate to hers, while naturally taking the buttered bread she wasn't particularly interested in for himself. The whole process was seamless, without a single word exchanged, as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times. Jiang Mo looked at the extra fruits and vegetables on her plate, a slight stirring in her heart. This meticulous thoughtfulness was a wonderful contrast to his usual image, one that only cared about data and logic.
The flight finally landed at Vienna International Airport after a delay of nearly seven hours. The moment they stepped onto foreign soil, exhaustion and a sense of urgency washed over them simultaneously. On the way to the hotel, the classic and modern streetscapes of Vienna flashed past the car window, but neither of them had time to appreciate them.
They arrived at the hotel designated by the forum late at night. After receiving their room keys, as they parted in the corridor, Shen Zhiyan called out to Jiang Mo, who was about to open the door.
He took a palm-sized, exquisitely packaged dark blue box from the side pocket of his briefcase and handed it to her.
"What is this?" Jiang Mo asked, somewhat surprised, as she took the item.
“Based on your previous menstrual cycle data and recent stress levels, we predict there’s a greater than 70% chance your sleep quality will be poor tonight,” he explained casually. “This is a sleep aid spray containing valerian and chamomile, clinically proven…”
Before he finished speaking, Jiang Mo already understood. He was always like this, carefully wrapping all his care in data and theory.
"Thank you." She gripped the small box tightly, feeling its warmth in her palm. "See you tomorrow, Teacher Shen."
"See you tomorrow." Shen Zhiyan nodded and turned to walk towards his room.
Jiang Mo returned to her room, put down her luggage, and immediately checked the sleep aid spray. She pressed the nozzle, and a light herbal scent filled the air. However, just as she was about to wash up, her gaze inadvertently swept over the tiny, almost negligible product label affixed to the bottom of the spray container.
Besides the ingredient list, there was also a line of handwritten, extremely small but clear and forceful numbers, like a coordinate system:
48.2082° N, 16.3738° E
Jiang Mo's heart skipped a beat. These coordinates… She quickly checked them on her phone, and the result showed the location was indeed the Vienna Golden Hall.
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