Chapter 15
The police interrogation results came out quickly, basically confirming Jin Zhaoxuan's "script".
The three men arrested were: two "students" who were professional "construction site rats" hired from out of town, specializing in all sorts of dirty and strenuous jobs in the gray area; and the third, a lurking security guard, who was an "insider" of Zhao Xinguo's company, responsible for lookout and cleaning up after them. They gave the same story, insisting that they were "sent by the company to conduct legal preliminary geological surveys," and that the signal jammer was "a personal toy to enhance the signal." As for why they were conducting "surveys" at a cultural relic protection unit under the cover of darkness... they stammered and began reciting the "Code of Conduct for Geological Exploration Enthusiasts."
While the evidence wasn't enough to send Zhao Xinguo directly to jail to sing "Tears Behind Bars," the label of "Xin'an Industrial" for illegal operations and suspected damage to cultural relics was firmly attached to it. Local media, following up on the "enthusiastic revelations" from the children of veteran workers and cultural relic protection volunteers, published follow-up reports. Although they didn't name names, the label of "a real estate company eager to demolish industrial sites to build shopping malls" had become firmly ingrained in local circles.
The pressure has been successfully shifted to Xin'an Industrial. At least in the short term, they have to keep a low profile and dare not make any big moves against the water tower—after all, nobody wants to be blocked by elderly people holding up signs saying "Protect Industrial Heritage" every day.
Jin Zhaoxuan seized this precious "peaceful development period" and went all out to push the museum's AR guided tour project to its final sprint. With the mediation of Director Zhang, the "strongest assistant," the project successfully passed the final review hurdle, and the official launch date was set for Saturday two weeks later—an auspicious day, suitable for opening and showing off.
This means that Comrade Yin Shaoqing will soon officially and permanently debut as the "virtual history narrator - Teacher Yin," accepting the scrutiny (and possible criticism) of the general public.
One week before the launch, at my old house, late at night.
Jin Zhaoxuan was facing the computer screen, making final fine-tuning of Yin Shaoqing's "permanent skin" in the system. After repeated iterations and intensive optimization, Yin Shaoqing's virtual image had reached a "photo-shopped" level of realism, with lighting, materials, and micro-expressions all at their peak. It could even produce extremely natural changes in eye contact and body language based on the content being explained and the ambient lighting—simply put, except for the fact that he couldn't touch it, it was indistinguishable from a real person.
At this moment, in the virtual "study" scene, Yin Shaoqing is wearing a well-fitting light gray Chinese-style long gown with a stand-up collar—a "skin" he and Jin Zhaoxuan decided on after brainstorming. It has the spirit of an intellectual from the Republic of China era, but it's not too old-fashioned and could create a generation gap. The fabric of the gown has a soft matte sheen under the virtual lighting, and the lapel is embroidered with very faint bamboo leaf patterns. With his slight movements, the patterns seem to flow, exuding understated luxury and sophistication.
He was conducting the final full-process simulation explanation before the launch, as requested by Jin Zhaoxuan. His voice was clear and soothing, and when he talked about technical details, he was as rigorous as a textbook, while when he interspersed historical anecdotes, he added just the right amount of warmth, perfectly controlling the flow.
Jin Zhaoxuan slumped in his chair, his fingers unconsciously twirling a pen, his gaze fixed on the lifelike figure on the screen. From the meticulously combed sideburns to the straight, delicate nose, and then to the lips that always wore a gentle curve… Tsk, did the modeler secretly add a "beauty filter"? The more he looked, the more…
Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on Jin Zhaoxuan's slightly messy short hair and focused profile, clearly outlining his straight nose and the slightly pursed lips that were unconsciously pressed together. The relentless work had made him thinner, his jawline more defined, and his eyes showing signs of weariness and dark circles. But when he stared at the screen, his eyes shone with an astonishing brightness, a mixture of a tech geek's pickiness, a capitalist's scrutiny, and... something deeper, something more viscous.
"Stop for a moment." Jin Zhaoxuan suddenly spoke up, interrupting the smooth explanation, "Here, when you say, 'The improvement of the No. 3 vent actually borrowed some design ideas from Krupp in Germany,' you can be more assertive and don't add 'maybe.' You are Professor Yin, so you need to project an aura of 'this is the truth!'"
On the screen, Yin Shaoqing stopped, turned his face to look at the camera (in Jin Zhaoxuan's direction), and his virtual eyes appeared exceptionally deep and lustrous under the light and shadow. His long, thick eyelashes seemed to blink, as if one could truly see through the screen. He tilted his head slightly, revealing a thoughtful expression. This subtle expression instantly imbued the virtual character with a vivid "human" quality, even... a little cute?
“Okay, I’ve got it.” He nodded, then noticed Jin Zhaoxuan’s overly “focused” gaze, and his virtual eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. “Mr. Jin, you’ve been looking this way. Is there anything about my appearance that needs adjusting? The collar? The cuffs? Or… my face?”
Jin Zhaoxuan's fingers paused, and the pen he was twirling fell to the table with a "clatter," rolling to the floor. He awkwardly looked away, bending down to pick up the pen, using this to hide his suddenly racing heart and slightly flushed ears, forcing himself to say, "No... I was just checking your micro-expression synchronization, to prevent you from suddenly messing up your facial expressions in front of thousands of people. It's alright, much better than that 'forced to work' coffin face you had last time."
Yin Shaoqing's virtual avatar seemed to chuckle very softly. The smile was faint, yet it softened and warmed the light and shadow in the entire virtual study. "Mr. Jin has been working hard lately. Your complexion... looks like you need to recharge your sleep." His voice came through the top-of-the-line speakers, deep and pleasant, carrying undisguised genuine concern. "Once the project is online and stable, you should take a break and get some good sleep for a few days."
"You're just a... virtual avatar without even a physical body, and you're concerned about whether the boss takes a break or not?" Jin Zhaoxuan muttered, picking up his pen, his fingertips still seemingly lingering with the heart palpitations of just moments before. "You're the most important one. Thousands of eyes will be watching you, and not a single frame can be off, understand?"
"I won't let you down." Yin Shaoqing's voice was steady, carrying a reassuring strength, as if he were making a solemn promise.
Jin Zhaoxuan looked up at the screen again. The two stared at each other silently for a few seconds, separated by the boundary between virtual and reality. The only sounds in the room were the low hum of the server fan and the occasional, distant, and indistinct sound of traffic outside the window.
A tacit understanding and trust that needs no words flows quietly in the air, so thick it cannot be dissolved.
On the day of its launch, the Ansteel Museum was filled with the sounds of gongs and drums, firecrackers, and red flags, and was packed with people (not really).
The official launch of the "Industrial Memory AR Guided Tour System," coupled with pre-launch viral marketing and the positive word-of-mouth accumulated during previous demonstration days, immediately ignited the entire city. Citizens, students, history enthusiasts, and even tour groups carrying cameras from out of town... the queues at the museum entrance were comparable to the Spring Festival travel rush. The museum had to urgently implement crowd control measures, and the security guards were practically hoarse from shouting.
Jin Zhaoxuan and Xiao Chen's team were on-site providing technical support, working tirelessly like spinning tops. Jin Zhaoxuan, dressed in a simple black shirt and trousers, stood out in the crowd with his tall and straight figure. He remained calm and methodical in handling various unexpected minor issues (such as a child's glasses suddenly malfunctioning or network fluctuations), occasionally picking up the walkie-talkie to issue instructions in a low voice. His profile appeared somewhat cold and sharp under the bright lights of the museum hall, and only when he occasionally glanced towards the main exhibition hall would a fleeting, extremely subtle tension flash deep in his eyes—like that of an elderly father sending his child to the college entrance examination.
In the main exhibition hall, the first batch of "warriors" have already put on AR glasses and begun their journey through time.
Exclamations and exclamations of surprise and admiration rose and fell, as if a pot had exploded.
In the immersive AR-constructed scene of a steel mill in early 1936, Yin Shaoqing appeared as promised. Dressed in a long gown, with a gentle demeanor, he stood beside the massive virtual mill, not at all overshadowed, but exuding a composed air of "I know this machine well." His explanation was eloquent, not only recounting how steel was made, but also about the people who made it—how Chinese workers risked their lives to research and improve it under harsh conditions, and how a few "oddballs" among the Japanese engineers held fast to their technological ideals. The complexity and warmth of history unfolded slowly in his calm and objective narration, captivating the audience.
He can also engage in simple real-time interactions with users, answering questions within a preset range. When a chubby boy curiously asked, "What did the workers do after work back then? Did they also watch short videos?" Yin Shaoqing smiled (his smile elicited a murmur of surprise), and the virtual scene showed vivid images of workers gathering in their simple dormitory to play chess, play an off-key erhu, and secretly cook noodles in their lunchboxes, full of everyday life, which drew a knowing burst of laughter.
"My goodness! Teacher Yin is so real! I feel like he's about to step out of the screen!"
"His knowledge is amazing! And his voice is so soothing! He's the perfect human type!"
"I heard this virtual avatar was modeled after a real historian? The level of detail is amazing!"
"Mom, I want to study history in the future! I want to become a cultured and elegant person like Teacher Yin!"
The praise was so enthusiastic it almost lifted the roof off the exhibition hall. Director Zhang and the leaders from the Cultural Bureau beamed with joy at the enthusiastic response, nodding to each other with knowing looks that this was a sure thing. Media reporters were snapping away at the participants and the virtual Yin Shaoqing; tomorrow's headlines were in the bag.
Jin Zhaoxuan stood behind the one-way glass in the control room, looking at everything in the hall. His clenched fist slowly relaxed, his palms slightly damp. On the large screen behind him, all the parameters of Yin Shaoqing's core system were displayed, all showing green, as stable as a rock.
It was a success.
A heavy burden seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders, but then a more subtle, bittersweet emotion welled up inside him—the "person" he had awakened from the broken mirror, who had stayed with him through countless silent nights, who had shared secrets and pains that transcended life and death with him, and who was now shining brightly under the spotlight, was moving towards a wider world in a way that he couldn't fully control, and was even a little reluctant to let go of, so that he could be seen, liked, and needed by more people.
I felt both proud enough to want to laugh out loud, and also a vague sense of emptiness, like my own beautiful cabbage being watched by the whole neighborhood.
"President Jin! Teacher Yin's interaction data is off the charts! The audience feedback is overwhelmingly positive! The server says it can keep going for another five hundred years!" Xiao Chen excitedly rushed over to report, his face beaming.
"Okay, keep monitoring, pay attention to peak load, don't overdo it." Jin Zhaoxuan suppressed the turbulent emotions surging in his heart, regaining his usual calm capitalist demeanor, though the corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up slightly.
"clear!"
The hustle and bustle lasted all day. Only after the closing announcement was made countless times did the crowds reluctantly disperse.
Jin Zhaoxuan stayed behind to do the final finishing touches and checks. After the employees had all left, yawning, he returned alone to the empty and quiet control room.
The museum fell silent, with only the safety indicator lights emitting a faint green glow. On the large screen, Yin Shaoqing's virtual avatar did not enter standby mode as programmed, but instead stood quietly in the now empty virtual study, facing Jin Zhaoxuan, as if waiting.
"Are you tired?" Jin Zhaoxuan leaned against the control panel as if all his strength had been released, asking softly into the microphone, his voice hoarse from the exertion. Two buttons on his shirt collar were undone, revealing the clear lines of his collarbone. His hair, damp with sweat from a long day of work, casually fell across his brow bone, revealing a rare, unguarded weariness and gentleness, the sharpness and strength of the day gone.
"Not tired." Yin Shaoqing's voice rang out in the silent control room, softer, closer, and more real than his public explanation during the day, as if whispering in his ear, "The system's energy circulation is very smooth, and the audience's feedback... is even more enthusiastic than expected. Mr. Jin, you have succeeded."
"It's us," Jin Zhaoxuan immediately corrected, his gaze falling on Yin Shaoqing's clear and vivid face on the screen. Virtual light and shadow gently swirled around his brows and eyes, outlining his delicate nose and the ever-present gentle smile on his lips. Jin Zhaoxuan suddenly recalled the wet, pale, and desperate face he had first seen in the shattered mirror. Now, that face was so vibrant and bright, seen, remembered, and loved by countless people.
"How does it feel? Being surrounded by so many people, like a celebrity," Jin Zhaoxuan asked, his tone gentle to himself.
“It’s amazing.” Yin Shaoqing thought for a moment, his virtual gaze seemingly able to penetrate the screen and land precisely on Jin Zhaoxuan. “I’m a little nervous, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But more than that, I’m happy. Those almost forgotten histories, those once vibrant people and what they did, are finally being seen, heard, and remembered by more people. This is much better and much more important than I imagined.”
He paused, his voice softening, with an almost intimate tone: "Mr. Jin, thank you. Without you, I might still be talking to myself in that cold mirror, or... I would have given up long ago."
"Stop with the mushy stuff." Jin Zhaoxuan turned his face away, feeling his ears start to burn uncontrollably again, but he said fiercely, "It's because you're so capable, with solid knowledge and good looks... oops, I mean, a great image!"
Yin Shaoqing smiled, offering no further rebuttal, but simply watching him quietly. A comfortable and peaceful silence descended upon the control room. One of them, leaning against the control console in the real world, and the other, in a virtual study constructed from data streams, seemed to be sitting side by side under the starry sky, sharing this precious moment after the hustle and bustle had subsided.
However, this peaceful moment was soon shattered by a crisp "ding".
Jin Zhaoxuan's phone screen lit up with an encrypted email notification from an anonymous overseas number. He frowned, unlocked the phone with his fingerprint, and opened it.
The email was brief, written in English, and politely worded, yet it revealed an underlying arrogance.
"Mr. Jin, we have a strong interest in your company's outstanding AR navigation system, especially the exceptionally detailed historical data source behind the 'Teacher Yin' character. We are willing to offer a highly competitive price to purchase all rights to the relevant core algorithms and complete database. Please consider this carefully. We can arrange a confidential in-person meeting to discuss this in detail. Please do not reply to this email address."
It was unsigned, but the words conveyed a sense of "I am very rich and very resourceful".
Jin Zhaoxuan's face instantly darkened, his eyes sharp as drawn swords. He turned his phone screen towards the large screen.
Yin Shaoqing also saw the content, and the virtual avatar's expression turned serious, a hint of coldness appearing between his brows: "Overseas capital... buying core technology and... databases at high prices?"
"It seems someone values you even more than I thought," Jin Zhaoxuan sneered, his aura suddenly becoming dangerous and domineering. "Moreover, they're not satisfied with just playing dirty tricks domestically; they want to come and 'acquire' you directly."
“Perhaps the forces behind Zhao Xinguo couldn’t hold back any longer, or… they are new predators who have caught wind of this.” Yin Shaoqing analyzed calmly, his virtual finger tapping unconsciously on the desk. “What they’re after is probably not just the AR technology itself, but also those parts of my ‘memory’ that might touch on sensitive historical nerves or contain undisclosed technical details. That’s the ‘treasure’ they really want.”
“No matter what kind of demons or monsters come,” Jin Zhaoxuan put away his phone, straightened up, and his previous fatigue and laziness vanished. He returned to his calm, strong, and inviolable guardian demeanor. “If you want to touch my people… if you want to touch my core assets, you’ll have to ask me for permission first.”
Looking at Yin Shaoqing's virtual eyes filled with concern and worry on the screen, his tone unconsciously softened, carrying a hint of reassurance: "It's alright, we'll deal with whatever comes our way. I'll handle it. You've been working hard all day, so the system is switching to low-power mode. You... should 'rest' too."
Yin Shaoqing nodded, and his virtual figure began to slowly fade, like morning mist dissipating. Before disappearing completely, he spoke softly, his voice carrying a warmth that seemed to penetrate the data stream, soothing Jin Zhaoxuan's heart:
"Mr. Jin, you should go home early and get some sleep. Don't always... push yourself through it all alone."
"Got it, stop nagging." Jin Zhaoxuan replied in a low voice, watched the screen return to the dark blue standby screen, stood there for a while, and then turned and left the control room.
In the empty museum corridor, his footsteps echoed clearly and lonely. Outside the window, the city's neon lights continued to flicker, weaving a web of prosperity and desire.
The brighter the light, the more the shadows beneath it stir.
But this time, he knew clearly that he was not alone. A trust and bond that transcended the boundaries of reality and illusion was firmly tied to his heart, becoming his strongest and most tender support when facing all the undercurrents.
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