Welcome Party 2.0
This is the second time Pan Qiu has attended the welcome party in two years.
These two welcome parties were like a relay race; she had gone from being "the one being welcomed" to "the one welcoming others."
At her first orientation, she sat in a corner of the lecture hall with more than forty new students. Everything was new and unfamiliar—the school emblem on the wall, the blue and white color scheme of the department, and the smell of paper and coffee in the air.
One of her clearest memories is of the person standing on the podium—Department Head Dr. Alan Chase.
It wasn't her appearance, but her aura. She wore a deep blue, sharply tailored dress; black leather ballet flats that looked both supple and powerful. A striking gold necklace adorned her neck, gleaming with a restrained light. She didn't need to raise her voice to silence the entire room.
At that moment, Panqiu looked at her almost breathlessly—that was the "person she wanted to be": unafraid of being watched, able to handle any occasion with elegance; possessing both sharp professionalism and retaining the humility and gentleness unique to women.
Now, she is attending the welcome party for the second time, but her role is completely different.
She no longer sat in the corner, but stood to one side of the stage. She was responsible for assisting with all the day's events: checking that each speaker's slides were ready, verifying the microphone battery, and pressing the slide transition button.
From this vantage point, she could see the entire classroom at a glance—the rows of seats and the slightly nervous new faces reminded her of herself two years ago.
That change in perspective brought a strange impact.
Before the meeting began, Dr. Chase walked to the side of the podium. As always, she was calm, her steps light yet with a certain confident rhythm. She extended her hand and gently shook hands with Pan Qiu.
"Thank you for your help today, Qiu."
Pan Qiu was about to answer when she heard her tone change, carrying a light, cheerful smile: "Ethan speaks very highly of you. He said you are one of his best students, right?"
Pan Qiu was taken aback. At that moment, she wasn't sure if it was the phrase "Ethan thinks highly of you" that made her heart race, or if being called by name by Dr. Chase was enough to make her feel flattered.
Following the other person's rhythm, she helped check the timing of several slide transitions. The screen flipped through the slides one by one with a light touch of her fingers, and sunlight streamed in from the glass window on the other side of the podium.
At that moment, she suddenly had a strange feeling—she was no longer just an audience member looking up, but someone invited to stand on the stage. That subtle sense of pride and excitement gradually welled up from her heart.
Two years ago, she was welcomed and illuminated; now, she stands on the stage, welcoming others and slowly moving closer to the person she wants to become. At this moment, she truly feels a quiet and steadfast growth.
Dr. Chase's opening remarks were as familiar as ever, steady and powerful—her style, a blend of seriousness and humor, consistently drew laughter from the audience. She spoke of systems, but also told stories; it was as if she were both welcoming and subtly reminding them.
As Pan Qiu listened, she couldn't help but recall herself two years ago when she first sat in the audience—back then, every word made her nervous, but now she could find a sense of relaxation in the laughter.
The time was approaching for the traditional teacher lightning talk segment.
Dr. Chase was wrapping up, while Pan Qiu had already bent down to check the list of invited speakers and their order of appearance, casually opening their slide files for easy switching. She was backlit, intently checking each filename. Sunlight streamed in obliquely through the glass window, falling on her hair. A few strands of hair stubbornly fell down; she raised her hand and gently tucked them behind her ears.
In that instant—the door at the back of the lecture hall was pushed open, and wind and light rushed in together.
She looked up, startled by the light, and saw a tall figure against the light, wearing a black stand-up collar trench coat and pulling a small suitcase.
The door closed gently behind him, and the moment the light was cut off, the world suddenly became clear—it was Ethan.
Oh my god. Barbara clearly said he was on a business trip and declined this year's invitation.
His sudden appearance made her heart skip a beat, followed by... a rapid heartbeat. In that instant, time seemed to stretch out; Dr. Chase's voice and the laughter from the audience faded into the distance, leaving only her heart pounding in her chest.
She watched him slowly descend from the top of the stairs, the light casting a long shadow behind him.
Her breathing became erratic, her fingers still on the keyboard, but she couldn't press any keys. Her mind was like a dream fueled by alcohol, a ridiculous image flashing through her mind—if Ethan walked up to her at that moment, reached out and grabbed her, saying "Let's go," she might really follow him without hesitation.
As he approached the podium, he caught Dr. Chase giving his closing remarks.
Pan Qiu could almost feel her heart pounding in her throat. She tried to act nonchalant, pretending to tidy up the notes on the table, but her fingers were trembling slightly.
Ethan walked straight up to her and stopped; he was much closer than she had expected.
When Pan Qiu looked up, the first thing she noticed was the fabric of his shirt, its pale gray texture subtly shimmering. He had his head down, his eyes calm, and the sidelight accentuated the curve of his jawline, making him appear almost unrealistically clean.
At that moment, she almost forgot to breathe.
He reached out his hand.
Pan Qiu's mind went blank—almost reflexively, she also reached out her hand.
For a fleeting moment, she actually thought he was going to take her hand. That illusion was as brief as a flash of light in the air; the next second, a small, cold metal object landed in her palm.
“My slides.” His voice was low, his tone gentle and calm, almost like an everyday occurrence.
Pan Qiu was stunned.
"Ah—of course." She realized what was happening, her voice almost frantic, as she hurriedly took the USB drive and plugged it into the computer. Her fingertips were still trembling.
Two years ago—he was also on this stage at the welcome party. That time he didn't bring slides, only a pen and a notebook filled with his thoughts.
She was sitting in the audience when she heard him say for the first time, "Adjustment means listening."
Now, he has brought slides.
And she became the one who helped him switch between slides.
Dr. Chase finished speaking, and the entire audience burst into applause.
This was followed by the usual lightning lecture by the teachers.
Dr. Chase picked up the microphone, his gaze sweeping across the room, his tone as calm and composed as ever: "Next, please welcome Dr. Ethan Ellery from the Emotion Regulation Laboratory."
She paused, a hint of amusement in her eyes: "He just got off a night flight last night—and he still insisted on coming to save the day this morning. We really should thank him."
A soft chuckle came from the audience.
Dr. Chase added, "Hopefully he caught up on at least a few hours of sleep."
Ethan had already stood up from the front row, straightened his shirt cuffs, and remained calm. His aura was understated yet drew attention.
Good morning, everyone.
His voice was as steady and clear as ever, as if it could dissect the layers of a noisy atmosphere.
The first slide was a familiar blue background with white text. It was a template she had created—she had used it to organize her meeting presentations six months ago.
Ethan spoke concisely and calmly. The topic was "inner speech," and it was more like an overview. He mentioned the team's research focus, the study on the bidirectional regulation between language and thought, and also introduced the new experiments currently underway.
The last slide popped up. The title was "Acknowledgments & Everyday Minds." It featured about six photos of Ethan's former graduate and undergraduate students, each with a genuine and radiant smile.
Ethan smiled slightly and looked at the photo on the screen.
"Before I conclude, I would like to thank those who made my work meaningful."
He paused for a moment, his tone softening slightly: “These are my students, past and present—they did all the really hard work, and I was just holding the whiteboard and pretending to be in charge.”
A burst of laughter came from the classroom.
He softened his tone, as if speaking to them, or perhaps to everyone in the room: "It is my good fortune to work with such a group of minds—they are curious, stubborn, and kind."
Ethan paused, a smile playing on his lips—both for the photograph and for a memory that only she could understand.
“Sometimes,” he said, “our research reminds us of something simple—the human brain also needs rest.”
The audience chuckled softly.
He didn't explain further, but simply let the photo linger on the screen for a few seconds.
The photo in the bottom right corner of the screen—
Sunshine, greenery, smiles—
That was her. On the street in March, a string of green beads hung from her scarf, she wore elf ears, and smiled brightly. She remembered that photo clearly; it was from last year's St. Patrick's Day. She, Zhiwei, and Lin Yue were in the crowd, being pulled aside for a photo.
That day, he emailed her during his meeting, attaching a photo of a slide, saying, "I think you might be interested."
On a whim, she replied with a photo she had taken during the march.
He quickly replied: "Looks like you had a 'productive' day too."
At that moment, the photo appeared prominently in the corner of the big screen.
Finally, he smiled slightly and looked away: "That's it, thank you—and welcome to begin your own experimental lives."
The screen slowly dimmed, and applause erupted. The light from the podium converged behind him, forming a soft halo.
That was when she had just started doing "internal" literature reviews, buried in papers and modeling every day, so anxious that she couldn't sleep. It was Ethan who said to her, "Go watch the parade, relax—it's an academic order."
The sun was shining brightly that day. She smiled as she took the photo and then smiled as she sent that relaxed feeling back to him.
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