Fu Hanzhou couldn't help but frown as he looked away. The temperament of this girl was too similar to that of the same person.
Like Qin Ying in his dream.
But they look nothing alike.
He walked away a few steps and shook off the thoughts in his mind. There were so many similar girls. What was wrong with him?
After having such an absurd dream, I found it ridiculous that such people really existed.
He found his seat and sat down. Suddenly, he felt the jade pendant around his neck getting hot. He pressed his hand to his chest, and the heat from the jade pendant seemed to pass through his clothes to his palm.
The host's magnetic and elegant voice rang out in the center of the venue. Qin Ying raised her head and suddenly discovered that the officer she had just seen was sitting diagonally in front of her.
The host and organizer gave a brief speech and then got down to business. Cutting-edge instruments from home and abroad were continuously displayed.
Qin Ying listened quietly. These cutting-edge instruments completely broke the conventions, and many of them were extremely magical.
It cannot be explained by theory at all.
Everyone in the venue was in high spirits. The host came back and remained silent for a few seconds before speaking:
"Next, to present the core achievement of this conference, Professor Wei Zhuolan will give us a speech titled 'Breakthrough Applications of Space-Time Fold Theory'."
The pen in Qin Ying's hand suddenly fell on the table. The sound was not loud, but it startled her.
The three words "Wei Zhuolan" in the host's voice were like an icicle hitting the eardrum - the name that was blurred into light and shadow in the memory of traveling through the book was now coated with the outline of reality.
The spotlight suddenly turned to the side of the stage, and an old man with white hair and beard walked out slowly with a cane.
He wore metal-rimmed glasses on his nose, but his eyes behind the lenses were surprisingly bright, and his gray eyebrows trembled slightly with his steps. He had white hair but a hawk-like gaze. When he spoke, he took off his reading glasses, revealing the faded red rubber band on his wrist.
Qin Ying's breathing instantly stopped. The paranoid and stubborn young figure in her memory unexpectedly overlapped with the outline of the old man before her - the same curve of the corners of his eyes, the same movement of raising his hand to adjust his cuffs, and the faintly visible faded rubber band on his wrist...
Qin Ying was so shocked that she forgot to blink, but she didn't notice that the soldier sitting diagonally in front of her had a serious look in his eyes and a tightly clenched jaw, looking shocked.
"The essence of spacetime wrinkles is the discontinuous oscillation of the dimensional membrane..."
Wei Zhuolan's voice came through the microphone, with a hoarse voice of old age, but every word was clear as if a heavy hammer hit her nerves.
She saw the old man's skinny finger joints bulge when he opened the lecture manuscript, and below the six words "Space-Time Fold Theory" on the manuscript paper, her very familiar signature was printed - Wei Zhuolan.
She clenched the armrest of the chair so hard that her knuckles turned white.
Some people in the audience were whispering, and the blond scholar in the front row stood up to take pictures, but she was the only one who froze in place, as if an invisible hand was strangling her throat.
The name that she once regarded as a fragment of a dream, the figure that she last glimpsed in the turbulence of time and space, was now standing on the podium less than 20 meters away from her, tearing apart the mask of reality that she had desperately maintained with an almost cruel truth.
The PPT on the screen stopped at the "Space-Time Wrinkle Theory" page.
The white-haired old man on the stage suddenly coughed violently, and the lavender brooch on his chest suddenly flashed a bright light and fell to the ground.
"Professor Wei Zhuolan?"
The host's voice brought Qin Ying back to her senses instantly.
She watched the old man pick up the brooch with trembling hands - the pattern on the brooch was exactly the same as the dragon and phoenix pendant in the book.
Wei Zhuolan looked around the room, his expression suddenly becoming excited:
"I've been working on this research for sixty years, and today I'm finally getting my wish!"
The old man chuckled into the microphone, tears welling up in the corners of his wrinkled eyes:
"Sixty years, just to prove that some waits are worth it, even across time and space."
Qin Ying's fingertips pinched into her palms. At this moment, she felt like sitting on pins and needles and wanted to escape.
The air conditioner in the lecture hall made a humming sound, mixed with the old man's voice, and in a trance it overlapped with the sound of the jade pendant vibrating in the book.
The familiar voice made her shudder, and memories came flooding back.
The young and high-spirited Wei Zhuolan overlapped with the white-haired old man at this moment. Qin Ying seemed to hear again the paranoid and crazy words he said when he said goodbye to Wei Zhuolan for the last time:
"Qin Ying, you can't escape!"
The electronic screen at the conference site continued to play, and the words "Space-Time Fold Theory" were distorted in the projection.
Wei Zhuolan's white hair shone silver under the spotlight. He held up a blueprint filled with formulas:
"Everyone, time is never linear—"
As the report continued, Fu Hanzhou's expression in the front row changed from confusion to shock, his gaze fixed on the stage.
"Now, please welcome Dr. Qin Ying to the stage!"
The host's voice sounded.
The moment Qin Ying's high heels stepped onto the stairs, a slight shiver suddenly appeared on the back of her neck.
The ceiling lights in the venue were too glaring, so she subconsciously avoided the direction of the audience seats. However, while adjusting the laser pen, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a flash of military green in the aisle on the left.
She subconsciously looked over and her breathing stopped - the soldier who had just sat diagonally in front of her was now standing to the side, staring at her intently, and the thing in his hand was emitting a familiar halo under the light.
And next to him was the white-haired Wei Zhuolan.
Fu Hanzhou stood in the shadow of the emergency light, straight as a pine tree, with the medal on his chest glowing coldly.
Qin Ying's hand paused, and the laser pen drew a crooked red line on the PPT.
Memories emerged uncontrollably before her eyes: in the military compound in 1980, Fu Hanzhou was standing under the sycamore tree, holding her hand. His military uniform was stained with the faint scent of tobacco and soapberry, but his eyes were more scorching than the moonlight.
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