undercurrent
The WeChat message about the "abnormal heartbeat" seemed to have vanished without a trace. Jiang Mo hadn't received any reply from Shen Zhiyan by the time she finished work the following evening. She couldn't tell if she was disappointed or if it was expected; she simply moved the potted "Lu Gen" from the corner of the balcony to a more prominent position, as if its stubborn green could offer her some kind of silent support.
Linda called excitedly: "Momo, your 'My heart is more honest than my face' quote from yesterday is trending! Although it's not ranked high, the response is great. Everyone says you're genuine and humorous! The team discussed it and thinks we can strengthen your style of 'using humor to break down professional barriers,' and we can use it more often on the show in the future..."
Jiang Mo listened to the plan on the other end of the phone, but her gaze remained fixed on the view outside the window. Real? She was simply habitually cutting a slit in her armor for ventilation.
“Linda,” she interrupted, “let it happen naturally. It’s not funny if you try too hard.”
When Jiang Mo stepped back into the lab, she sensed a subtle unease. The young researchers, upon seeing her, no longer displayed mere curiosity or polite distance; their eyes held a hint of…well-intentioned teasing? She heard someone chuckle softly, repeating, “Your heart is secretly running away,” and the atmosphere was noticeably more relaxed than before.
Even Zhou, the researcher who was in charge of guiding her, tried a new approach when explaining a complex signal filtering algorithm: "...Simply put, it's like listening to only the person you want to hear from a bunch of noisy conversations. Ms. Jiang, your analogy yesterday is actually very close to the concept of 'signal-noise separation'."
Jiang Mo was somewhat surprised, but then understood. Her instinctive joke seemed to have inadvertently become a kind of communication lubricant. She smiled and followed up, "Then should I be more careful in the future, and not let my 'heartbeat' be too noisy in your 'chat'?"
A few low chuckles rippled through the room. Researcher Zhou chuckled as well: "No need for that. Sometimes, valuable information can be found hidden in the 'noise'."
Just then, the laboratory door was pushed open. Shen Zhiyan, who had disappeared for several days, walked in without warning.
He was still wearing a neatly pressed shirt, but a barely perceptible weariness lingered in his eyes, as if he had been pulling all-nighters. The lab fell silent instantly, as if a more efficient order had been re-established. His gaze calmly swept across the room, lingering on Jiang Mo without any particular focus, as if the unanswered WeChat messages and the confrontation with the database had never happened.
"The equipment calibration data is out," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, getting straight to the point. "The third group has a systematic deviation of 0.2%, so it needs to be recalibrated. Data processing is paused; we'll conduct error analysis first."
Without pleasantries or explanations, he went straight to the control panel, pulled up the data stream, and began issuing commands. The meticulous, efficient, and unquestionable Shen Zhiyan was back, like a block of ice thrown back into water, quickly covering up the slight warmth and ease that had just begun to emerge.
Jiang Mo lowered her head and continued fiddling with the software in front of her. She wasn't surprised by his attitude, but the tiny bit of expectation in her heart vanished silently, like a bubble gently punctured by a needle.
During lunch break, Jiang Mo fell a few minutes behind due to a problem with an operation. When she packed up and left the lab, most people had already left. At the end of the corridor, Shen Zhiyan stood with his back to her, talking quietly with Xiao Chen by the window. The sunlight outside the window outlined his slender figure.
"...The priority of model iteration needs to be adjusted. First, improve the recognition rate of emotional spoofing. They're urging us to do it urgently." Shen Zhiyan's voice faintly came through the empty corridor.
“Understood, Teacher Shen. Then… should the ‘inconsistent’ data samples collected by Miss Jiang be archived separately, or incorporated into the general library?” Xiao Chen asked.
Jiang Mo subconsciously slowed her steps and stopped at the corner.
Shen Zhiyan remained silent for a moment. Just when Jiang Mo thought he wouldn't answer, his voice rang out again, a few decibels lower than before: "Tag her separately and create an independent case set. Her data... has a rather unique pattern, requiring a longer observation period and a more complex analytical model."
His wording was extremely professional and calm, devoid of any personal emotion. But the words "distinctly marked," "unique case," and "special pattern" felt like heavy stones, one after another, thrown into Jiang Mo's heart. So, in his eyes, she had finally been upgraded from "noise" that needed filtering to a special "case" worthy of being "distinctly marked"?
Is this... a kind of progress? She forced a smile, but felt no joy at all.
Xiao Chen seemed to be asking for instructions in a low voice again. Shen Zhiyan hummed in response and added, "Notify the project team that the afternoon meeting is moved to 3 p.m. Also, help me contact the library; I need to access..." The last few words were spoken too softly for Jiang Mo to hear clearly, only vaguely catching fragments of "cognitive dissonance" and "behavioral motivation."
She didn't linger, turning and walking in another direction. The sound of her heels striking the ground was exceptionally clear in the empty corridor.
During the afternoon recording, Shen Zhiyan was still present, but he barely interacted directly with Jiang Mo. He spent most of his time in the control area, discussing the perplexing data and algorithms with the technicians. However, when Jiang Mo operated the instrument and a data acquisition failed due to an extremely slight angular deviation, he didn't point out the error directly as he usually did. Instead, he whispered to Researcher Zhou, "Tell her to check the damping coefficient of the Z-axis fixture; it might exceed her tactile perception threshold."
Researcher Zhou relayed the message. Jiang Mo followed his instructions and successfully completed the data collection.
He continued to observe, analyze, and even anticipate the difficulties she might encounter, difficulties she herself was unaware of. He simply stopped speaking to her directly. This terrifyingly precise "care," delivered through a third party, created an unprecedented sense of alienation for Jiang Mo. She would rather he had, like in the beginning, bombarded her with data and probabilities, even if it was harsh and sarcastic.
She now felt as if she were inside a transparent glass box labeled "special case." He stood outside the box, calmly recording all the reactions inside, but refused any further direct contact.
After recording ended, Jiang Mo was the first to leave the lab. She needed to breathe some air free of the metallic and disinfectant smell. At the elevator, she ran into Xiao Chen, who seemed to have been waiting there for a while.
“Ms. Jiang,” Xiao Chen handed over a thin, silver USB drive, looking somewhat flustered, “Professor Shen asked me to give this to you. Inside are… some introductory tutorials on signal processing and pattern recognition, and… several publicly available sentiment computing datasets. He said… you can take a look if you are interested.”
Jiang Mo looked at the USB drive but didn't immediately take it.
So, this is his response to her WeChat message, to her "special case"? Using his more professional knowledge, he pushes her into a deeper, more familiar field, letting her, in the ocean of data, understand or even "decipher" his observation model of her?
She was silent for a few seconds, then finally reached out and took the USB drive. The metal casing was cold to the touch.
"Thank you," she heard her own calm voice.
The elevator doors slowly closed, reflecting her slightly pale face. She gripped the USB drive tightly in her hand, the cold touch spreading from her fingertips.
He gave her a key, but didn't say whether behind the door lay a wider world or a more sophisticated prison.
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