Hi guys, Author here.
Thank you all for your response and for sharing your thoughts on the story so far, I really appreciate it.
I've decided to not drop the book, I would continue to put my energy into it.
So, keep your eyes peeled as we dive deeper into the story. The first arc would soon be seeing a fantastic wrap (actually, not that soon), I promise you won't be disappointed.
That said, I'd like us to have a votewould you all like the second arc to start with:
1. Li Feng in college, or
2. Li Feng in final year of Highschool?
Thanks for sticking with us.
---
The door closed softly behind Li Feng.
Wen Yuning was already seated at the table, legs crossed casually, a thin folder resting beside her teacup. She looked at him, eyes bright — not stiff, not overly formal — the same easy composure she'd had at the Expo, just without the crowd.
"Please take a sit," she said with a small smile.
Feng returned the smile faintly and took the seat opposite her.
For a moment, neither rushed to speak. The atmosphere wasn't tense — it was more like the pause before a conversation both sides had been turning over in their heads for a while.
Yuning was the first to break it.
"Alright," Wen Yuning said lightly, resting her elbow against the table, fingers loosely interlaced. "I'm guessing you already have some idea about why I asked to meet."
Feng gave a small nod.
"Good." she continued, "At the Expo, Silent Hands performed far beyond what I expected from a high school showcase." A faint smile touched her lips. "Not just in outcome—but in behavior. It was clean. Efficient. Almost stubbornly accurate."
She watched him for a beat.
When he didn't react, she went on—tone shifting from casual to quietly intent.
"The signal stability stood out first. Especially under messy input."
She reached into the folder and slid out a single printed frame—a freeze-shot taken mid-demo—and placed it between them.
"Here," she said, tapping the image. "Your sister speeds up halfway through the sentence. The angle shifts. Part of the hand is occluded."
Her eyes lifted to his.
"Most systems would lag here. Or buffer. Or sacrifice accuracy to recover."
She shook her head slightly. "Yours didn't."
"The output stayed coherent... not because the noise was filtered out—no, that would have made the accuracy plummet—but because it looked like the system was anticipating it."
She leaned back a fraction, head tilting, curiosity bright and unforced.
"That's not something brute filtering can explain."
A pause. Then, simply:
"So I wanted to hear—from the person who built it—how Silent Hands actually treats incoming signals."
Feng didn't answer immediately.
He reached for the teacup instead, lifting it with an unhurried motion. The aroma reached him first—light, clean. He took a small sip.
"…surprisingly good tea," he said, almost idly.
Wen Yuning's lips curved. "I know, right? I had them switch it. The default here is actually quite terrible."
He gave a small acknowledging hum before setting the cup down.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm and explanatory—without the slightest trace of defensiveness.
"Silent Hands doesn't try to preserve the raw signal," he said.
"It treats the incoming data as incomplete by default."
Yuning's eyes narrowed — interested.
"Meaning?"
"Instead of compressing motion directly," Feng continued, "it compresses intent. The system assumes the input will be imperfect, so it doesn't wait for a complete gesture before processing."
He paused just long enough to let the idea land.
"It predicts likely continuations based on trajectory, tension, and transition patterns — then constantly corrects itself as new data comes in."
Yuning leaned back slightly.
"So you're not reconstructing gestures after the fact," she said slowly.
"You're reconstructing meaning while the signal is still forming."
"Yes," Feng replied. "That's the only way to keep latency low without sacrificing accuracy."
Her fingers tapped once against the table — not impatience, but excitement she wasn't bothering to hide.
"That explains why the system doesn't 'snap' back when a gesture deviates," she said. "It doesn't see deviation as error — just as another branch."
She exhaled softly, half-laughing under her breath.
"My team went back and forth on it for days," she said with a small, self-aware smile. "Some were convinced it was just very aggressive smoothing. Others thought the demo might've been… selectively flattering."
She gave a light shrug.
"And only a handful even considered the possibility of a genuinely adaptive approach."
Her eyes returned to Feng—open now, no probing, no testing.
"But hearing you explain it just now…"
She let the sentence trail for half a beat.
"…my doubt's gone."
She straightened slightly—not formally, just with quiet certainty—as the direction of the conversation shifted.
"This is Adaptive Signal Compression," she said, voice even but assured,
"paired with predictive reconstruction at the interface layer."
Not a challenge.
Not a guess.
A conclusion.
Feng gave a small nod — not affirmation, but acknowledgment that she'd reached the conclusion herself.
Yuning smiled — this time fully.
"Good," she said. "That means my instincts didn't betray me."
She loosely laced her fingers together, shoulders easing now that the last trace of doubt had cleared.
"Alright," she went on, tone lighter but focused. "Now that I know what Silent Hands is actually doing…"
Her gaze lifted to meet his again—no longer probing, but intent.
"…I should probably clearly explain why I asked to meet you in the first place."
---
Wen Yuning didn't speak right away.
She turned her teacup slowly, eyes lowered for a moment as if weighing how much to reveal. Then she took a small sip, exhaled softly—more thoughtful than tense.
"My team is working on a real-time cognitive interface project," she said at last. "Not assistive tech like Silent Hands."
She looked back up, expression steady, open.
"Something broader."
She set the cup down gently.
"The goal is to allow a system to interpret intent from imperfect human input—voice, gesture, micro-movement, even partial physiological signals—and respond fast enough that the user doesn't feel the delay."
Her fingers traced a small arc on the tabletop, as if sketching something invisible.
"In controlled environments, it works. Clean inputs, predictable patterns. But the moment the signal becomes messy—overlapping inputs, sudden changes, incomplete data—the system starts to fall apart."
She glanced at Feng, gauging whether he was following.
"We're not lacking data," she continued. "And we're not lacking processing power. That's what makes the lack of progress frustrating."
Her lips pressed together briefly.
"The problem is continuity. Every time the input degrades, the system has to choose between slowing down to recover accuracy… or responding fast and risking incoherence."
She shook her head lightly.
"Humans don't work like that. We don't stop understanding just because someone hesitates mid-sentence or changes direction halfway through a thought."
Her eyes sharpened slightly as she leaned back.
"So my team has been compensating—patching, smoothing, buffering. Making the system react better."
A pause.
"But reaction isn't the same as anticipation."
She looked at him directly now.
"What I saw in Silent Hands wasn't a system desperately fixing broken input. It was one that already expected the break."
The room went quiet for a moment.
"Basically, we've hit a wall," she said frankly. "We're missing something fundamental. A way to compress incoming signals without losing their future shape. A way to reconstruct intent instead of just data."
She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, as if saying it out loud had lifted some weight.
"That's the project," Wen Yuning said. "And that's where we're stuck."
Her gaze didn't pressure him.
It waited.
---
Feng listened without interrupting.
When Wen Yuning finished, the silence hung for a while.
And then, finally:
"I understand," he said.
Not dismissive. Not impressed. Just… precise.
"Your current approach treats instability as an error to be corrected," Feng continued, gently stirring his tea. "as a result, your system reacts—buffers, smooths, compensates."
He paused briefly, choosing his words carefully.
"And by the time the system realizes the signal has broken and starts repairing it, the damage would have already happened."
Wen Yuning's fingers stilled on the table.
"Human intent isn't a fixed signal," Feng went on. "It's directional. Even when the input becomes incomplete, there's still momentum—context carrying forward."
He lifted his hand slightly, tracing an invisible line in the air.
"Adaptive Signal Compression works because it doesn't preserve data uniformly. It preserves trajectory. What matters isn't the exact signal at every point—it's where the signal is going."
Yuning's eyes lit up—not dramatically, but unmistakably.
"That's exactly what we're missing," she said quietly.
Feng nodded once.
"With predictive reconstruction layered on top, the system doesn't wait for clarity," he added. "It prepares for likely continuations. When the input stabilizes again, it doesn't restart—it snaps back into alignment."
He met her gaze.
"For your project," he said evenly, "this approach wouldn't just improve performance. It would change how the system handles uncertainty altogether."
There it was.
The confirmation Yuning had come for.
She leaned back, a breath escaping her—not relief, instead it was something closer to satisfaction.
"Then coming here wasn't a waste of time," she said, a faint smile touching her lips.
She straightened, tone shifting—still friendly, but now purposeful.
"That methodology," she said, "is exactly what my team needs to push past our current ceiling."
She didn't rush the next words.
"So I'll be direct," Wen Yuning continued. "I'd like to work with you on this project. Ideally, with your direct involvement—as a consultant."
A beat.
"And if that isn't feasible," she added calmly, "then I'd like access to the underlying methodology so that my team can attempt the integration themselves."
Feng didn't answer immediately.
Not because he was hesitating— but because he was recalibrating.
"Silent Hands," he said, "is currently under exclusive commercial rights with Blue Horizon."
Yuning nodded, patient and attentive.
"The Adaptive Signal Compression and predictive layer are covered under that IP," Feng continued. "Which means any meaningful access would require Blue Horizon's participation."
She studied him for a moment, then smiled—this time openly.
"A partnership, then," she said.
"Yes," Feng replied. "Between the Wen Research Institute and Blue Horizon."
He paused, then added, evenly,
"As for my involvement—"
Yuning looked at him, attentive but not expectant.
"If the partnership moves forward," Feng said, "I can assist as a technical consultant. Directly. It would be faster than documentation alone."
Her smile widened just a fraction more.
"That," she said, "is exactly what I was hoping you'd say."
The atmosphere in the room shifted—not lighter, not heavier—
Clearer.
Two paths had converged.
"Then," Wen Yuning said, reaching for the folder beside her cup, "let's discuss how we formalize this—without wasting time."
Feng inclined his head slightly.
"Agreed."
And just like that, the meeting moved forward—not as a negotiation—
but as the beginning of a partnership.
---
Hello, Author here!
Damn, this chapter really drained me, not gonna lie. Had to do a lot of research to make sure:
1. I wasn't just writing mumbo jumbo
2. Tech guys would be able to relate
3. Non-techies would be able to follow along
Seriously, this chapter drained me a lot, but it's finally out. Finally, we can continue with the story and ease up on the pressure that's been surrounding the second branch. Let me not say more so that I don't end up giving spoilers.
Thanks for reading — I hope you enjoyed today's chapter.
If you're liking Li Feng's journey so far, don't forget to leave a comment or drop a Power Stone. Your support helps the story grow and motivates me to keep updating!
See you in the next chapter!