Public opinion storm
The storm of public opinion did not subside with the arrival of night; instead, it festered and spread in the shadows of the internet. Jiang Mo did not stay at the hotel arranged by the production team, but instead had the driver take her straight back to her penthouse apartment in the city center. This was her true lair, a private sanctuary built with her past earnings and endorsements from her heyday, a place where she could be kept out of the public eye.
The elevator ascended silently, leaving the city's hustle and bustle beneath its feet. The door opened, and the entryway sensor light automatically turned on, casting a soft glow that illuminated the spacious living room. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lay a dazzling yet silent cityscape, like a silent film. She didn't turn on the main light, her bare feet treading on the warm teak floor, casually tossing her bag onto the imported Italian suede sofa. The expensive abstract painting, reduced to heavy blocks of color in the dim light, stood silent as a sculpture in the corner. This expensive silence, however, could not bring her the peace she once knew.
Linda's voice messages kept pouring in, reporting on the progress of the counterattack and also informing her of the new angles from which the other side was smearing her—this time, they were questioning her motives for participating in the variety show and mocking her for "faking her intellectual side and backfiring." Jiang Mo walked to the liquor cabinet, poured herself a small glass of amber-colored whiskey, without ice, and let the hot liquid slide down her throat, bringing a brief numbness.
She opened her phone; the encrypted link still lay quietly in her chat with Shen Zhiyan. That man, living in the data tower, had built an invisible defense for her outside a battlefield she couldn't comprehend. This realization gave her a strange sense of calm, more so than alcohol.
The next day, Jiang Mo arrived at the lab on time. She chose a well-tailored dark blue pantsuit, her makeup was exquisite, and her aura was composed, as if the woman who had been drinking whiskey alone in the empty apartment the night before was merely a phantom. She needed to maintain "stable information output," this was the advice Shen Zhiyan had given her in his own words.
The lab was filled with more scrutinizing eyes than usual, but she ignored them and went straight to her workstation. Researcher Zhou handed her a new operating manual and said softly, "The storm will eventually pass."
Jiang Mo smiled, neither confirming nor denying.
Shen Zhiyan arrived a little later. His eyes were more noticeably darker than yesterday, but his gait remained steady, and he wore his ever-present dark cashmere sweater. As he entered, his gaze immediately fell on Jiang Mo—a rapid, almost instinctive scan to confirm her condition. Their eyes met briefly in the air, and he nodded almost imperceptibly before heading towards the main control area to begin his routine equipment checks.
The lab operated efficiently and calmly throughout the morning. Jiang Mo focused on her data preprocessing work, occasionally consulting Researcher Zhou when she encountered problems. She could feel the occasional glances from the control room falling on her, with a cautious, watchful eye as they observed whether the data flow was smooth.
During her lunch break, instead of going to the cafeteria, she stayed in the rest area, opened her laptop, and checked the latest public opinion report sent by Linda. The malicious comments scrolling across the screen were still glaring, but she was now able to calmly filter out the valuable information—for example, several unusually active account IDs that were always the first to forward negative information.
A steaming cup of green tea was gently placed beside her.
Jiang Mo looked up and saw Shen Zhiyan standing beside her, holding his own thermos.
"Green tea contains theanine, which helps relieve mental stress and improve concentration," he stated in a flat tone, as if introducing the effects of some chemical reagent.
"Thank you." Jiang Mo readily picked up the cup, the warmth seeping through the porcelain walls to her fingertips.
Shen Zhiyan didn't leave, but sat down opposite her. He opened his tablet, pulled up a chart, and pushed it in front of her.
"This is a trend chart of online buzz related to the keywords 'Jiang Mo's acting skills' and 'Jiang Mo, a cultural figure' over the past twelve hours." He pointed to several curves of different colors on the screen. "As you can see, there were two abnormal peaks at 3 a.m. and 8 a.m. this morning. The dissemination paths highly overlapped, which is consistent with the characteristics of online troll group behavior."
His fingertip swept across the screen, zooming in on one node: "Especially this account 'Entertainment Octopus,' which was at the core of three key dissemination events, and its response speed was far higher than the threshold of normal users."
Jiang Mo looked at the precise data analysis, which perfectly matched the account IDs she had just recorded. She suddenly felt that the malice hidden behind the screen had been stripped of its disguise and revealed its mechanical and ridiculous nature in front of these cold charts.
“Professor Shen,” she looked up at him, her tone genuinely puzzled, “won’t spending time analyzing this… ‘noise’ affect your own research?”
Shen Zhiyan paused for a moment while operating the tablet, without looking up: "Modeling and analysis is part of my daily work. Moreover," he paused, as if searching for the right words, "identifying abnormal signals and eliminating system interference are prerequisites for ensuring the smooth progress of the main experiment."
He defined the trouble she was encountering as a "systemic interference" that needed to be eliminated. This statement strangely dispelled the last trace of unease she felt about taking up his time.
The afternoon's recording focused on "The Beauty of Data Visualization." The production team prepared a batch of messy urban traffic data and asked the guests to use their knowledge to transform it into intuitive and meaningful images.
Jiang Mo looked at the densely packed numbers on the screen, took a deep breath, and tried to apply the "coordinate system selection" approach that Shen Zhiyan had previously suggested. She abandoned the conventional bar charts or line charts and instead tried a relatively uncommon "radar chart." After some adjustments, even she was slightly surprised when the final image was displayed.
The traffic flow characteristics of different transportation hubs unfold like petals on a radar chart, some sharp and dense, others gentle and open, forming a unique "data flower" that clearly reflects the inherent laws of the data.
“A very clever choice,” Shen Zhiyan’s voice rang out from the side. He had walked over at some point and was looking at her screen. “Radar charts are good at showing the relative balance of multidimensional data. You’ve captured the periodicity in the spatial distribution of this data.”
This was the first time he had openly affirmed her work. There was no criticism regarding "variance" or "standard deviation."
Jiang Mo's heart skipped a beat, and she was about to say something when the laboratory lights suddenly flickered a few times and then went out completely. The hum of the air conditioner also stopped abruptly, with only the faint light from the emergency power supplies of some instruments flashing rhythmically in the sudden darkness.
"Did the power trip?" someone guessed amid a slight commotion.
"It might be an external line fault," Researcher Zhou's voice came through. "Everyone stay where you are and don't move around to avoid damaging the equipment."
The darkness amplified her senses. Jiang Mo could hear Shen Zhiyan's steady breathing beside her. She subconsciously took a small step closer to him, her arm brushing against his sleeve. The soft texture of the cashmere was exceptionally clear in the darkness.
"Don't panic." His voice rang out nearby, deep and steady. "The emergency power supply can keep the core equipment running for half an hour. The external lighting will be restored soon."
His calmness acted as an invisible barrier, isolating the subtle unease around him. Jiang Mo didn't speak, but simply murmured a soft "hmm" in the darkness.
A few minutes later, the lights came back on, and the lab returned to normal. Everyone acted as if nothing had happened and went back to work. Jiang Mo and Shen Zhiyan also returned to their posts, as if the brief darkness and close contact had never occurred.
But Jiang Mo noticed that the moment the lights came on, Shen Zhiyan's first reaction was to quickly scan the screen of the instrument she had just been operating to confirm that the data had not been lost due to the power outage.
After the recording ended, Jiang Mo packed her things to leave. As she passed Shen Zhiyan's workstation, she saw him looking down at his tablet, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he had encountered some problem.
"Is there anything else?" Jiang Mo stopped in her tracks.
Shen Zhiyan looked up and turned the tablet screen towards her. It displayed an email from an anonymous sender, containing only one line:
Know when to stop. Playing with fire will get you burned.
"I received it this morning." He said calmly, his tone devoid of emotion.
Jiang Mo's heart sank. This wasn't just a public attack targeting her; it had spread to Shen Zhiyan as well.
"It's because you helped me..."
“The probability is very high.” Shen Zhiyan interrupted her, his gaze sharp. “The other party is testing my reaction and assessing the cost of intervention.” He closed the email interface, his tone returning to its usual rationality. “This shows that your counterattack was effective and touched their core interests.”
He looked at Jiang Mo, his eyes showing no sign of retreat or fear, only the focus one would have when faced with a complex problem: "The strategy needs to be adjusted. Simple defense is no longer enough."
Jiang Mo returned to her apartment, where the lights of countless homes still shone outside her window. She watered "Lu Gen" but didn't chant sutras as usual; she simply watched it quietly for a while.
My phone rang; it was a new message from Shen Zhiyan. There were no pleasantries, just a document link and a single sentence:
A preliminary reverse tracking model has been built. You are needed to provide some behavioral feature data of the other party's past actions as a training set.
Instead of backing down because of the warning, he prepared to build a more proactive "data fortress".
Jiang Mo opened the document, which contained an extremely professional explanation of the model framework. At the end of the document, he highlighted in bold:
[Collaboration Model: You provide the domain knowledge, and I'll handle the algorithm implementation.]
As he looked at the words on the screen, he seemed to see that meticulous scientist carefully crafting a weapon for her, a weapon that belonged to his world, right on the edge of the battlefield she knew so well.
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