The curtain falls
The car did not ultimately head towards Lin Jing's residence, but instead turned around and returned to the studio.
“Now is not the best time to face her,” Shen Zhiyan explained, his voice calm and collected. “We need to confirm each other’s positions first.”
He spoke with restraint, but Jiang Mo understood his unfinished words—before facing the final undercurrents in their family life, they needed to confirm each other's new place in each other's lives after this shared adventure.
Back in the studio, sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting warm rays across the concrete floor. The two began their tasks with perfect coordination.
Shen Zhiyan sat silently at the control panel, his long, slender fingers flying across the keyboard as he performed the final "cleanup." Not a crude deletion, but rather the transfer of all data related to the "Mind Domain" and the "Observer," after layers of encryption, to an isolated zone requiring dual keys for access. It was like sealing off an era.
Jiang Mo carefully arranged the yellowed pages. When she touched the photo addressed to "Ayan," her movements were exceptionally gentle. She found a plain paper bag and carefully put the photo, the jewelry box, and Li Qingyun's witty notes together, placing them on the highest shelf of the bookshelf—a spot that required tiptoeing to reach but was easily visible.
After finishing all this, she turned around and found that Shen Zhiyan had stopped working at some point and was quietly watching her. Their eyes met, and neither of them spoke; a peaceful weariness slowly settled in the air.
The silence was broken by a soft gurgling sound coming from Jiang Mo's stomach.
Against the backdrop of a life-or-death crisis, the voice sounds remarkably natural, even somewhat comical.
Shen Zhiyan was clearly taken aback.
A hint of embarrassment flashed across Jiang Mo's face, but she deliberately put on a stern expression: "What are you looking at? Doesn't Dr. Shen's physiological needs model include a hunger variable?"
A faint smile seemed to flicker in his eyes as he stood up and casually picked up his car keys: "Including... Data shows there's a porridge shop nearby where the ingredients are most likely to be fresh during this time period."
There was no deliberate attempt to create romance; it was just an ordinary morning, and we went out for an ordinary breakfast together.
The congee shop was steaming hot. They sat against the wall, sharing a dish of refreshing pickles. Shen Zhiyan habitually put all the dried scallops from his bowl into hers, while she casually picked out the cilantro he disliked and put it in her own bowl. The movements were fluid and natural, as if she had been doing this for many years.
“The studio’s first project,” Jiang Mo said, biting her spoon, her eyes shining in the morning light, “I want to create a series called ‘The Temperature of Science’.”
“The signal-to-noise ratio of the name is very high,” Shen Zhiyan agreed. “We can start with practical application cases of affective computing.”
"Using stories to illustrate principles?"
"Yes. Narrative logic itself is a special kind of algorithm."
And so, on an ordinary morning filled with the aroma of porridge, they sketched out their shared future. The wisdom and tacit understanding that had once been used to combat crises now served as the building blocks for their dreams.
Back downstairs at his studio, Shen Zhiyan didn't rush inside. He stopped under a newly transplanted ginkgo tree, sunlight filtering through the golden leaves and casting dappled shadows on his shoulders.
"Jiang Mo," he called her, his voice softer than usual.
"Um?"
He turned around, his expression serious like a scientist: "Based on all the data samples from our shared experiences, and the iterative calculation results of my personal emotional model..."
He paused, as if running an extremely complex final verification, and then clearly gave the output:
“I am certain that I want to establish a long-term, stable, and exclusive romantic relationship with you.”
This is probably the most academic paper-like confession in the world.
Jiang Mo gazed at him, at this man who expressed his most emotional feelings with the most rational language. She didn't laugh at him, but simply took a step forward and gently took his hand, which was hanging by his side.
"Approved." She tilted her head slightly, a smile playing in her eyes. "Comrade Shen Zhiyan, your application has been approved by the organization."
His fingers stiffened slightly at first, then firmly gripped hers, completely enveloping her cool hand in his warm palm. The sunlight merged their shadows, casting them onto the "Rational Entertainment" sign behind them.
A few days later, one evening, they were testing the studio's first interactive science popularization program when Linda burst in, her face contorted with a complex expression.
"Two big news items." She turned the tablet towards them. "First, Momo, you've been nominated for Best Supporting Actress at the Golden Rooster Awards!"
Just as joy ignited in Jiang Mo's eyes, Linda switched the scene.
“Secondly, the Alpha Science Foundation sent an invitation, specifically requesting Professor Shen as a guest speaker at the main forum, and—” she paused deliberately, “strongly suggested that Jiang Mo and the Rational Entertainment Studio serve as his dialogue partners and collaborators.”
The Alpha Foundation is the pinnacle of the international scientific community. This invitation is both a supreme honor and a sudden, ultimate test.
Shen Zhiyan and Jiang Mo exchanged a glance, seeing the same surprise in each other's eyes, which then turned into a synchronized determination.
A new stage has been set, and this time, they will not be fighting alone.
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