Joint speech
The rotating claw mark on the screen, like a cold electronic eye, silently stared at Jiang Mo. The chill brought by the phrase "observation list" was far greater than the previous warning notes. This was no longer a simple intimidation, but a declaration, meaning that they had officially entered the sights of some unknown force, like specimens being labeled and placed under a magnifying glass.
She immediately sent the screenshot to Shen Zhiyan via an encrypted channel. His reply was swift and concise: "Received. Threat level upgraded. Corresponding protocol activated. Do not respond to this device. Use the backup plan for communication at the meeting tomorrow."
There was no panic, only a series of escalating response strategies. Jiang Mo obediently closed her laptop, as if shutting down a Pandora's box. She walked to the window, gazing at the tranquil night of Vienna, but the ominous shadow of the claw mark lingered in her heart. Beneath the golden cloak of this music capital, it seemed, unseen undercurrents were lurking.
The joint speech on the second day was scheduled as the grand finale of the forum, held in the Golden Hall, a hall of fame coveted by countless musicians. When Jiang Mo and Shen Zhiyan emerged from the side curtain and stepped onto the gleaming stage, the magnificent sight of nearly two thousand seats below, along with the exquisite murals on the dome and the surrounding statues of the Muses, created an invisible, breathtaking sense of oppression.
Shen Zhiyan wore a dark blue tie today, which made his skin appear even paler. His movements as precise as ever as when adjusting the microphone were, but Jiang Mo noticed that a few seconds before the show started, his hand, hanging at his side, rapidly tapped a complex Morse code rhythm on the edge of the tablet. That was their agreed-upon signal that "everything is ready."
The lights focused, and the presentation began. Shen Zhiyan was responsible for explaining the core theories and model architecture. On the huge screen, meticulously visualized data flows and algorithmic logic were displayed smoothly. His voice, clear and calm, resonated throughout the hall through the perfect sound system, like the most precise musical instrument, every note falling precisely on the right beat. Facing a multitude of world-class minds in the audience, he showed no stage fright whatsoever; rather, it was as if he had returned to his most familiar battlefield, using logic and evidence to build an impregnable fortress.
When it was Jiang Mo's turn, she took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. The spotlight shone on her, casting a warm glow. She didn't rush to speak, but instead slowly scanned the audience below, as if engaging in a silent dialogue with each listener.
“Standing here,” she began, her voice warm and gentle through the microphone, a beautiful contrast to Shen Zhiyan’s cool demeanor, “I feel as if I can hear countless great melodies that have echoed here for centuries. They speak of humanity’s most complex and profound emotions.” She skillfully steered the conversation toward the universality of emotions and scientific exploration, “And today, we stand from a scientific perspective, attempting to decipher the ‘source code’ of these emotions.”
She recounted a specific case study on how affective computational models assisted a veteran suffering from PTSD in his psychological recovery. Instead of piling up jargon, she used vivid imagery to describe how data curves captured subtle emotional fluctuations in the patient, how they guided therapists to make precise interventions, and ultimately how they helped him rediscover inner peace. Her narrative was imbued with empathy, giving cold numbers a human touch.
Throughout the presentation, the two displayed remarkable synergy. When Jiang Mo needed technical support, Shen Zhiyan would offer a concise comment; conversely, when Shen Zhiyan's theoretical explanations became too abstract, Jiang Mo would use a vivid metaphor or example to instantly connect with the audience. Their collaboration was like a duet rehearsed countless times—one rational and aloof, the other emotionally warm—weaving a harmonious symphony of science and humanities.
The Q&A session, as expected, presented another challenge. A philosophy professor from a top university posed a nearly tricky question: "Dr. Shen, your model is based on observable data. But consciousness itself, the private and ineffable nature of feeling, represents a chasm that science has yet to overcome. How can you guarantee that you are not measuring the 'shadow' of emotion, but emotion itself?"
This is an ultimate question that touches upon the essence of cognition. The hall fell silent instantly, and everyone looked at Shen Zhiyan.
Shen Zhiyan remained silent for a moment, not immediately responding with mathematical language. He looked at the questioner, then at Jiang Mo beside him, and slowly began to speak: "You are right. We may never be able to fully experience the 'sensory qualities' of others. Science, to some extent, is about using public 'symbols' to infinitely approximate those private 'experiences'."
He then shifted his focus: "But this doesn't mean our efforts are in vain. Just as we can't directly experience the inner turmoil Beethoven felt when composing his 'Symphony No. 5,' we can still feel that heart-stirring power through the score (symbols) and the orchestra's performance (model realization)." He quoted the musical metaphor Jiang Mo had just mentioned, continuing, "Our research is attempting to establish a more refined notation system for the 'score' of human emotions. It may never be able to fully recreate the composer's entire experience at that moment, but it can allow more people to understand and 'perform' this emotion more accurately, thereby creating connection and even healing."
He did not attempt to "solve" this philosophical puzzle, but rather acknowledged the limitations of science while emphasizing its immense value in connecting and understanding. This answer reflects both the humility of a scientist and the significance of his work.
As soon as the words were spoken, there was a moment of silence from the audience. Then, a wave of enthusiastic applause surged from every corner of the Golden Hall, growing stronger and stronger until it finally coalesced into a lasting and sincere sound. This applause was not only for Shen Zhiyan's insightful answer, but also for the depth and humanistic care demonstrated by their entire interdisciplinary research project.
The lecture concluded with applause. Many scholars rushed to the stage to further their discussions and exchange contact information. The philosophy professor who had previously raised pointed questions also approached Shen Zhiyan and said, "Young man, your answers have given me new insights into the meaning of science. Thank you."
Stepping out of the Golden Hall, the Vienna night air was exceptionally fresh. The tremendous success and the enthusiastic applause seemed to temporarily dispel the gloom brought by the "watch list."
"Your analogy of a 'musical notation system' is very moving," Jiang Mo said with a smile, looking at Shen Zhiyan, who was walking steadily beside her.
“It’s a logical extension of your previous concept of ‘emotional dialect’,” he replied calmly, but the slight relaxation at the corners of his eyes and brows betrayed his inner turmoil. He suddenly stopped, took out an extremely thin object that looked like a metal bookmark from the inside pocket of his suit, and handed it to Jiang Mo.
"This is?"
“The upgraded encrypted communicator is disguised as a commemorative bookmark. Its frequency-hopping mode makes it even harder to track,” he explained, then added, his voice deep and clear in the night, “Also, congratulations. Your ‘performance’ was unparalleled.”
This was the highest level of praise he could express.
Back at the hotel, Jiang Mo carefully put away the "bookmark." She opened her phone and found an urgent message from Linda sent via encrypted means:
"Mo, my aunt and uncle were taken away by a certain department this morning under the pretext of 'assisting in an investigation.' The procedures were all in order, but it happened suddenly. I am trying to verify the specific department, but they refused to disclose any details."
Almost simultaneously, the satellite phone in the room began beeping urgently. She answered the phone and heard Shen Zhiyan's tense voice:
"Get to room 1704 immediately. We've been misled—they've resorted to underhanded tactics disguised as legitimate ones."
Jiang Mo gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning white. This "pressure under the guise of legality" was more suffocating than direct violence. Just as she was about to rush out of the room, another message popped up on the encrypted channel:
"The responsible party has been identified. They are exploiting a gray area in cross-border data security reviews. We recommend initiating the 'procedural response' plan, with a 23-hour countdown."
At the end of the message, a bright red countdown appeared next to the rotating claw mark – 23:59:58.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
