Chapter 56: The Project Meeting Concludes

9 a.m.

After nearly a week, Zhou Yun returned once again to that conference room.

Today marked the final stage of discussion for the project, as after internal completion, Dean Yang still needed to personally present the project materials in Yanjing.

There were several projects applying for approval, not just this one, which was why Dean Yang gathered everyone for an in-person meeting—to ensure speed and flawless execution.

Apparently, the strategy worked well. Over the course of a week, each research team submitted project proposals of about 150 pages each, totaling over seven hundred pages.

However, the proposals themselves were not the most critical part of the presentation; their main purpose was to assure the review experts that a solid foundation existed and that the team could competently handle the project. As for how it would be done, the proposals detailed the methodology—directing reviewers to the specifics of execution.

Yet, compared to the “how,” the review team was more concerned with the “why” and the “results.”

The “why” was mainly conveyed through the presentation slides, which were compiled from two images submitted by each research team, and text was strictly prohibited—only visuals were allowed.

Fortunately, Zhou Yun was not responsible for creating these images; otherwise, he might have gone bald trying.

Even the architectural diagrams from academic papers were challenging enough. For a large-scale project like this, the demands were even greater.

He glanced subtly at Qiu Yan and Shen Rui beside him. Judging by their haggard looks, it was clear they had been pulled in by Teacher Deng to work on the graphics right after getting off the plane yesterday, probably pulling an all-nighter.

He silently offered a brief moment of sympathy for them.

Answering the question “What are the results?” was primarily reflected in the project metrics, which Teacher Deng Yonghua and the other leads had been laboring over recently.

Though the final metrics were summarized in just five statements, these five directly determined how much funding each research team and unit would receive.

This wasn’t about greed; rather, it was about securing a fair share of resources. For example, if you were given one million in funding but expected to accomplish a task worth ten million, why would you accept that?

As for why Zhou Yun was present, it was simply to fill out the numbers—since every research team was fully represented, their side likewise had to be complete. In truth, he had little to contribute today.

Zhou Yun sat quietly in the corner, listening to the senior experts report to Dean Yang. It felt no different from a regular group meeting, except that out of respect, Dean Yang refrained from harsh remarks.

Because today’s meeting was important, even lunch and dinner were delivered straight to the conference room.

Whenever a problem was raised during discussion, members of each research team made immediate revisions. If there were issues with the metrics, debates continued, and adjustments were made.

It wasn’t until 8 p.m. that Dean Yang finally expressed satisfaction.

“I have a flight at 9:30. Please compile all your materials and send them to Xiao Wang. I’ll first transmit them via a secure channel to Yanjing. If there are no issues, we can officially conclude this in-person meeting.”

Dean Yang cast a glance at everyone present. No one spoke.

“Alright, then I’ll head to the airport. Thank you all for your hard work—you may now rest.”

Upon hearing this, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, feeling as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

After exchanging a few words with Deng Yonghua and others, few remained in the conference room.

“Shall we head out too?”

Qiu Yan and Shen Rui rubbed their sore necks and began packing up their laptops.

“Teacher, when will we be going back?”

“I know you’ve all worked hard. The university has some matters, so I have to catch a flight back soon. You two can stay in Jiangcheng for a couple of days to rest—think of it as a short break. Just be back by Monday morning. Hotel and flight expenses will be reimbursed by the team. If nothing else, I’ll take my leave now.”

Deng Yonghua spoke rapidly; his flight was just an hour away, leaving little time to linger.

Hearing this, Qiu Yan and Shen Rui visibly brightened, their voices growing louder, “Understood, Teacher.”

Zhou Yun nodded in agreement as well.

After Deng Yonghua left, Qiu Yan gave a thumbs-up, “Teacher Deng is incredible—flying back and forth like that, his energy is boundless.”

Shen Rui wholeheartedly agreed, “No wonder he’s cut out for research!”

The group chatted as they walked toward the campus gate.

“What about tomorrow? Where should we go to have some fun?”

“I’m not going out. I have some things to take care of,” Zhou Yun replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to socialize; he genuinely had business to attend to. “Today’s only Thursday, and Monday is still a few days away. How about we hang out together on Sunday?”

“Sounds good. The next two days we’ll just wander around casually.”

Back at the hotel, after a shower, Zhou Yun noticed an unread message on his phone.

“Zhou Yun, need to talk,” it read.

It was from Lin Wei, but surprisingly, not a voice message.

He suspected Zhang Xiao had used Lin Wei’s phone to send the message.

“Are you Zhang Xiao? What’s up?” Zhou Yun replied.

Instantly, the response came back.

“Eh? Got caught so quickly?”

He smiled, sensing the girl was somewhat naive.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s like this: yesterday during testing, I recorded a vlog. Usually, when Weiwei and I go out, we document the moments and upload them to our small account on the video platform. It’s kind of like keeping a diary. I figure that if technology advances enough someday, Weiwei might be able to see them and relive these experiences through the vlogs.

“So I wanted to ask if we can release the test video from yesterday?”

Only then did Zhou Yun recall that Zhang Xiao had indeed brought a GoPro during testing.

He was somewhat surprised—didn’t expect Zhang Xiao to have such legal awareness to ask the subject’s consent.

“Sure, no problem. But I’d prefer not to appear on camera. Could you blur my face and alter my voice?”

“No problem. Once the video is edited, I’ll send it to you for review. If you’re okay with it, I’ll upload it.”

“Sounds good.”

After waiting a while without further messages, he assumed she was busy editing.

He set the phone aside, opened his computer, and began organizing some of the suggestions Lin Wei had mentioned the day before. One person’s input was naturally limited; it was best to have more people experience the product and refine it continuously. However, Zhou Yun had no intention of personally managing this process. If they could strike a deal with Big Rice, that company would handle it well. For large corporations, this was no great challenge, since the toughest part of projects usually lay in the negotiation phase. Zhou Yun had already simplified matters by providing a sample upfront, bypassing much potential hassle.

Elsewhere in the hotel, Zhang Xiao leaned against the bed, editing the video while chatting with Lin Wei.

“I really hope you get to use that smart cane soon, so even when I’m not around, you can go out and walk by yourself.”

“It’s okay. I’ve managed like this for so many years; a little more time won’t make a difference.”