Chapter 25
The provincial television station's special interview was scheduled for the afternoon of a week later. The location was incredibly prestigious—the coolest AR guided tour experience area in the Ansteel Museum, with the background being that virtual scene that instantly transports people back to the "money-burning" early 1936 rolling mill.
After a week of "soul repair" (sleep and eating), Jin Zhaoxuan's body had basically returned to its factory settings. Dressed in a well-tailored, expensive dark gray suit, he stood with his arms crossed like a picky supervisor on the periphery of the shooting area. His expression seemed calm and collected, but his gaze was like a searchlight, fixed on Yin Shaoqing in the center of the area, as if afraid that this "darling" would mess up at a crucial moment or say something shocking.
Yin Shaoqing's virtual avatar today was clearly enhanced with three levels of effects: "beauty filter + high definition + smoothness." Under the "death stare" of a professional lighting technician and a top-of-the-line TV camera, it was almost indistinguishable from reality, enough for him to debut as a virtual idol. He wore his signature dark blue long robe (the museum skin limited edition), his figure was as upright as bamboo, and his face was as gentle as jade. Facing the female host and the dark camera lens, he was as composed as if he were on TV every day, without the slightest fear.
The host was a middle-aged female reporter known for her witty remarks, sharp questions, and approachable demeanor. She began by giving a commercial shout-out to the AR navigation system, and then, like an eel, the conversation naturally and smoothly veered towards "Teacher Yin" herself.
"Professor Yin, we all know that you are one of the top highly realistic AI models in China today. But after communicating with you, it doesn't feel like we are talking to a program at all. The interaction and human touch are very strong. We are very curious about how you achieve such a near-perfect... 'humanized' mimicry?" The host asked directly, with a sweet smile but a look of inquiry in his eyes.
Yin Shaoqing tilted his head slightly, a perfectly timed expression appearing between his virtual brows, as if he were deep in thought (this micro-expression simulation is worth a hundred million!), before speaking, his voice clear and pleasant:
"This is mainly due to our R&D team's in-depth exploration and innovation in natural language processing, affective computing models, and multimodal perception interaction technology. My 'human-like' performance does not stem from having autonomous consciousness or emotions, but is based on deep learning and pattern recognition of massive human dialogue samples, historical document corpora, and expert interview data, thereby simulating appropriate semantic responses, emotional tendencies, and expression styles that conform to different situations. In short, it is about pursuing 'human-likeness' and striving for realism, rather than claiming to 'be' human."
Versailles's answers were rigorous, professional, and logically clear, and he even had a touch of tech geekiness, which made the knowledgeable tech guys in the room nod in approval.
"So, when dealing with such weighty and complex issues as the history of Ansteel, especially those involving Sino-Japanese technological cooperation and the trauma of war, how do you ensure the objectivity, neutrality, and accuracy of your interpretations? How do you avoid the bias that algorithms might introduce?" The host was clearly well-prepared, pressing the question relentlessly.
"My core logic and judgment are strictly based on verifiable facts and data," Yin Shaoqing said calmly and steadily. "For parts that are clearly corroborated by multiple historical sources, I will strictly adhere to them and present them truthfully. For parts that are subject to academic controversy, lack historical materials, or are vaguely recorded, my approach is to collect and present different viewpoints, hypotheses, and related evidence as much as possible, and clearly indicate their sources, backgrounds, and current academic credibility assessments, leaving the judgment to the audience or professional researchers. My core goal is to provide a comprehensive, clear, and unemotional 'information puzzle' and 'logical deduction aid,' rather than, and is unable to, replace humanity in making the final historical value judgment."
He paused, his virtual gaze seemingly casually and swiftly sweeping over Jin Zhaoxuan standing in the shadows before settling steadily back onto the host's face, his voice now carrying an indescribable depth:
"Technology can try its best to recreate cold scenes and analyze dry data, but the warmth of history, the weight it carries, and the reflections it evokes ultimately require humanity to use its warm heart and independent thinking ability to feel, measure, and pass it on."
This statement, while possessing the absolute rationality and restraint of AI, also subtly reveals a depth and warmth that transcends code and borders on philosophical contemplation. It instantly elevates the tone of the entire interview, causing the host and the staff on site to secretly gasp and their eyes to show genuine admiration.
The first half of the interview went smoothly. Yin Shaoqing's performance was textbook perfect; his knowledge was like a portable hard drive, his reaction speed was like 5G, and his attitude remained consistently humble and appropriate, making one feel as if bathed in a spring breeze. Jin Zhaoxuan watched from the side, a mixture of pride ("My child is so promising"), relief ("It wasn't a waste of my time raising him"), and a vague, tingling, tender emotion welling up inside him like an effervescent tablet thrown into water, bubbling and bubbling.
During intermission, the host, her high heels clicking, walked up to Jin Zhaoxuan, her eyes shining, and exclaimed in genuine admiration:
"President Jin! Your team's AI model is absolutely amazing! It's not just the top-notch technology, but more importantly, the cultural depth and intellectual richness it exudes from within! Professor Yin doesn't feel like a program to me, but more like a true, refined, and erudite historian!"
Jin Zhaoxuan maintained a polite capitalist smile and said modestly, "You flatter me. The team has indeed devoted a lot of effort, especially in the verification of historical materials and the construction of knowledge graphs."
“I’m particularly curious,” the host said in a low voice, with a hint of gossip in his smile, half-jokingly, “when designing Professor Yin’s image, personality, and even way of speaking, were there any specific historical figures as references? I always feel… well, there’s a particularly unique quality that leaves a deep impression.”
Jin Zhaoxuan's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained as steady as a rock, his smile unchanged, and his lines came out naturally: "Teacher Yin's image and temperament are an artistic refinement and shaping that takes into account the integrity and character of many progressive scholars and technical experts who devoted themselves to saving the country through industry during the Republic of China era, combined with the overall spirit of the intellectuals of that era. It can be considered... a kind of collective impression."
"So that's how it is, the culmination of collective wisdom." The host nodded, agreeing verbally, but his eyes still clearly flickered with a curious glint that seemed to say, "I don't believe you."
After the break, the interview entered its second half. The topic shifted more towards the future application prospects of AR technology and the contemporary significance of digital preservation of industrial heritage, and the atmosphere became much more relaxed. At the host's playful request, Yin Shaoqing even used virtual gestures to remotely operate a component of a virtual rolling mill, explaining several "unique operating techniques" used by veteran craftsmen back then. The demonstration was vivid and intuitive, with a powerful effect, eliciting quiet exclamations of amazement from the onlookers.
The interview concluded successfully in a harmonious and pleasant atmosphere, with both hosts and guests enjoying themselves. After the large group from the TV station left, the bustling experience area instantly quieted down, leaving only the staff packing up the equipment and Yin Shaoqing, who was still online and waiting in the backend management interface.
Jin Zhaoxuan stepped forward, looked at the figure on the screen sitting in the virtual study, who seemed to have slightly moved his shoulders (another damn, human-like little gesture), and asked in a low voice, "Are you tired? Is your CPU fried?"
"The system load has remained within the safe threshold, and it's running smoothly," Yin Shaoqing replied, then turned his gaze to him, "But you, you've been standing here for so long, don't you want to sit down and rest for a while?"
"I'm not made of paper." Jin Zhaoxuan said defiantly, but his actions betrayed his words as he pulled over a chair and sat down. Looking at the exquisitely detailed ghost on the screen, he suddenly asked a somewhat dangerous question: "You heard the host asking about the original character, didn't you?"
"Yes, I heard you." Yin Shaoqing nodded, his virtual eyes clear. "Your answer was... very appropriate."
Jin Zhaoxuan paused for a moment, then lowered his voice even further, carrying a hint of confusion he himself didn't realize: "Sometimes, even I can't tell... are you the unlucky guy Yin Shaoqing from eighty years ago, or the 'Teacher Yin' AI that we painstakingly created?"
This question, like a fine needle, gently pierced the veil of secrecy they had been tacitly maintaining.
Yin Shaoqing also remained silent for a moment, his virtual face revealing an extremely complex expression that blended confusion, relief, and a certain deep emotion.
He spoke slowly, his voice soft yet clear: "I... I don't know either. I often think about what I am now. Am I a wandering ghost with all of Yin Shaoqing's memories and obsessions? Or am I an advanced artificial intelligence that relies on modern technology and was accidentally injected with a specific historical data package? Perhaps... both, or perhaps neither. Maybe I am just an unfinished 'remembering thought' left behind by Yin Shaoqing in that desperate era, which, through your hands and the technology of this era, has continued in a way that no one could have predicted... a little echo."
He looked at Jin Zhaoxuan, his virtual gaze seemingly able to penetrate the screen and reach the heart. His voice was as soft as a sigh, yet as heavy as a thousand pounds: "But there is one thing I am absolutely certain of. Whether it is the boy named Yin Shaoqing eighty years ago, or the 'Teacher Yin' who is now trapped between data and light and shadow, meeting you in this era is a... very, very good thing."
Jin Zhaoxuan's heart skipped a beat, as if something had lightly pinched it. He subconsciously looked away, feeling his ears burning, and gave a muffled, almost inaudible "hmm."
A silent yet incredibly powerful current (not in a physical sense) flows and surges quietly between the cold screen and the warm reality. The boundaries between virtual and real, past and present, life and death become blurred and ambiguous at this moment.
"I'm leaving," Jin Zhaoxuan finally stood up, his movements somewhat hurried, breaking the thick, unsettling atmosphere. His voice returned to its usual tone. "Xiao Chen just sent a message. There's some trouble at the company, I have to go back."
"Okay, be careful on the road."
Back at the company, Jin Zhaoxuan had barely settled in when Xiao Chen knocked on the door with a strange look on his face, carrying a small, tightly wrapped cardboard box, as if it were a time bomb.
“Mr. Jin, there’s an international package for you. It was sent from Japan via special logistics, and we can’t find the sender, only the address of the agent’s receiving point.” Xiao Chen carefully placed the box on the table, his expression serious. “The security department has scanned it inside and out three times with equipment and confirmed that there are no explosives, biological or chemical hazardous materials, or electronic tracking or eavesdropping devices… but this thing just gives me… a creepy feeling.”
Japan? Jin Zhaoxuan's brows immediately furrowed. He waved for Xiao Chen to leave first, then closed the door, stared at the unremarkable box for a few seconds before taking action, slowly and carefully unpacking it as if defusing a bomb.
There was nothing scary inside that I had imagined.
Only two items lay quietly in the cushioning material:
An exceptionally well-preserved old notebook with a dark blue hard cloth cover and worn-out edges. On the title page, a line of faded but still clear fountain pen handwriting, written with vigorous strokes: "Records of my observations at the Anshan Steel Works, Showa 16 to Showa 20. Takeda Koichi."
And, a palm-sized, high-quality white sticky note. Two simple lines of Chinese characters were printed on it:
"Old objects may offer some answers. I look forward to meeting 'Mr. Yin.' I await good news. Takeda Kei."
Kei Takeda? Is that the name of the fake-smiling representative from the Takeda family in the meeting room? Or is he a more hidden figure within the Takeda clan?
Jin Zhaoxuan's heart sank to the Mariana Trench in an instant.
As expected, the other party hadn't given up! And skipping all the intermediaries, they directly and precisely targeted "Mr. Yin" with their bait and spearhead! This private notebook of Takeda Koichi was undoubtedly a huge temptation, and also a blatant test. They wanted to use this "evidence," which might record even more sordid secrets from back then, to exchange for direct contact with Yin Shaoqing! Or rather, to verify their terrifying suspicions!
He took a deep breath, picked up the notebook with its worn paper and faint musty smell, and slowly opened it.
The paper had long since yellowed, but the penmanship remained clearly legible, bearing the distinctive writing habits of the old era. The preceding sections were mostly dry and tedious, consisting of observations of technical parameters, records of personnel exchanges, and pessimistic complaints about the war situation. However, turning to the records after July of Showa 20 (1945), the style abruptly changed, and a chilling atmosphere began to permeate the text.
"...On July 28th, Mr. Takahashi's attitude has become increasingly ambiguous and wavering recently. He has questioned the necessity of the 'Jade Project' on several occasions in private, and his words have been quite critical of the Empire's strategy. He is also in close contact with Chinese technician Liu Fusheng and others, and I suspect he may have developed ulterior motives. We must be on guard against him."
"...On August 10th, we received a reliable tip that Mr. Takahashi is suspected of abusing his position to secretly copy and hide some core civilian improvement technology data, which was not included in the established destruction list. His adopted son, Yin Shaoqing, may know the details and even the location of the data. This son must be closely monitored."
"...On the evening of August 13th, I finally confronted Mr. Takahashi in his office. He was furious and even went so far as to say, 'Technology knows no borders, and we should leave a legacy for future generations.' How utterly ridiculous! How can the technological achievements that the Empire has poured its heart and soul into be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy?! However, his attitude was resolute, and I fear that things will not end well."
"...August 14th, late at night. The water tower matter is over. Mr. Takahashi 'committed suicide' to atone for his sins, and Yin Shaoqing 'disappeared' in the chaos. The appearances have been made. However... the look that Mr. Takahashi gave me before his death was icy cold and full of sarcasm. The information he secretly kept could not be found in the end, which is a great worry that keeps me awake at night."
"...August 15th, noon. The imperial voice of His Majesty was broadcast...The Empire...has truly fallen. The edifice has crumbled, all is lost. I only pray that Heaven will bless my family, that my wretched body may be allowed to return to my homeland, so that one day...perhaps..."
The notes abruptly stop here, with several pages clearly torn out, leaving jagged, rough edges.
Jin Zhaoxuan's knuckles, gripping the notebook, turned slightly white, his fingertips icy cold. This notebook, almost word for word, confirmed Yin Shaoqing's previous deductions, and exposed the ugly face of Takeda Koichi, a war maniac, schemer, one of the culprits who murdered Takahashi Shinsuke and indirectly caused Yin Shaoqing's death! The descendants of the Takeda family had obviously learned more unsavory details from this ancestral "crime diary," and they were still obsessed with the "Takahashi's private files" (the iron box guarded by Liu Fusheng) that their ancestors had failed to obtain. They might even have connected Yin Shaoqing's "resurrection" with it, creating terrifying associations.
Now, by releasing this notebook, which can be described as "evidence," are they trying to seek "reconciliation" through "openness and honesty"? Or are they using it as bait to set a more insidious trap, wanting to verify Yin Shaoqing's "true identity"? What kind of dirty schemes and murderous intent are hidden beneath the calm words "hoping to meet with Mr. Yin"?
Jin Zhaoxuan snapped his notebook shut, feeling as if it were a branding iron just pulled from a steel furnace, hot to the touch and heavy on his heart.
Without hesitation, he immediately picked up the phone and called Liu Jianjun, explaining the situation concisely.
"Damn it! Those bastards from the Takeda family! They're like dogs that can't change their nature! Their ancestors were murderers and thieves, and now they want to play dirty tricks?!" Liu Jianjun cursed angrily on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Jin! This is absolutely a case of a weasel offering a chicken a New Year's greeting! That lousy notebook is poison coated in sugar! You absolutely mustn't agree to anything they say in a moment of impulse! And Professor Yin mustn't show her face! Who knows what they're up to? Are they trying to catch a 'ghost' to study?!"
“I know the importance of this,” Jin Zhaoxuan said in a low, cold voice. “But this notebook itself is also extremely important direct evidence for us, and it can put an end to many historical doubts.”
"We can't risk Teacher Yin's life!" Liu Jianjun exclaimed anxiously.
“Of course not.” Jin Zhaoxuan looked at the dark blue notebook on the table, his eyes sharp as ice blades. “They want to see me? Sure. But we have to set the rules. It’s not like they can see whoever they want, wherever they want, or however they want.”
A bold and dangerous countermeasure plan began to rapidly take shape in his mind.
"Brother Liu, could you please tell Uncle Hammer and Xiucai to keep a close eye on the area around the old house and the museum lately, looking for any unfamiliar faces or unusual activity? Also, please use all your connections to dig deep into the background of this 'Takeda Kei,' the more detailed the better, I even need to know how many times he wet the bed as a child!"
"No problem! Leave it to me! I'll get right on it!" Liu Jianjun's tone was firm and full of fighting spirit.
After hanging up the phone, Jin Zhaoxuan sat back in his large office chair, leaning back and unconsciously tapping his fingers rhythmically on the smooth desktop, making soft "tap, tap" sounds. His gaze was fixed on the setting sun outside the window, deep and cold.
Tsk, the peaceful daily life is indeed the most luxurious and fragile thing in the world.
This time, however, he will not allow any venomous snakes lurking in the shadows to have the opportunity to extend their fangs towards the "people" he wants to protect.
A sharp, hunter-like glint flashed silently across his deep eyes.
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