bioinnovel Chapter 265 So-called academic exchange!
Chapter 265 So-called academic exchange!
Zhang Yan opened his textbook.
Fundamentals of Mechanical Design, Chapter 4.
He learned the above content in the system three years ago.
But he still sat quietly for the entire class.
Because I had promised Professor Yan.
……
Over the next few days, Zhang Yan followed an unusually regular routine.
I attend classes during the day.
I went back to the villa that evening to cook for Nie Qingcheng.
After finishing cooking, the two snuggled on the sofa. She dealt with company emails, while he mentally worked out the manufacturing plan for Suzaku.
Occasionally, she would put her feet on his lap and ask him to massage them.
Occasionally, he would close her computer so she could go to sleep earlier.
calm.
normal.
Like any ordinary couple.
But he knew this calm wouldn't last long.
The completeness of the Heavenly Craftsman's Heart is 61%.
The Vermilion Bird is still missing the Blazing Sun Crystal.
Ruins continued to accumulate strength somewhere.
There are less than two years left.
Tuesday evening.
Nie Qingcheng was looking at her phone while nestled in his arms when she suddenly looked up.
"Is that exchange meeting tomorrow?"
"Um."
"What are you going to do?"
Zhang Yan thought about it.
"Let's see how they perform."
"What if they don't behave?"
Zhang Yan remained silent.
Nie Qingcheng stared at him for two seconds.
You're laughing.
"no."
"Your lips are curved into a smile."
Zhang Yan pressed her head back down.
"sleep."
Nie Qingcheng snorted and didn't ask any further questions.
But she knew what that smile meant.
The last opponent who made him laugh is now at the bottom of the sea.
……
Wednesday morning.
Auditorium of the School of Mechanical Engineering.
When Zhang Yan arrived, the venue had already been set up.
Several professors and department leaders from the college were seated in the front row.
The middle area is for student representatives participating in the exchange, while undergraduate students sit on both sides to listen in.
The lecture hall was about 70-80% full.
Professor Yan stood at the entrance and waved to Zhang Yan when he saw him.
"You're here? Sit in the front."
"I'll sit in the back."
"Sit in the front." Professor Yan's tone left no room for negotiation. "I've saved a seat for you."
Zhang Yan did not refuse again.
Walk to the front row and sit down.
On the left and right are several graduate student representatives selected by the college.
A boy wearing glasses glanced at Zhang Yan and whispered to the person next to him.
"Who's this? A freshman?"
"It seems so."
"What are you doing here, freshmen? You probably can't even understand what I'm saying."
Zhang Yan opened the agenda on the table.
From 9:00 AM to 12:00 PM.
The first half consisted of a technical demonstration by each side.
The second half consisted of a free discussion and Q&A session.
Nine o'clock sharp.
The doors to the lecture hall opened.
The delegation from the land of cherry blossoms walked in.
Three professors, seven students.
The man leading the group was a middle-aged man around fifty years old, with his hair neatly combed, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a sharp suit.
The two professors behind him were slightly younger, but they were also dressed formally.
The seven students were all wearing dark suits, with the Tokyo Institute of Technology badge pinned to their chests.
The way he walks is quite interesting.
This is not the proper behavior of a guest entering someone else's home.
It's more like an inspection.
As they walked through the central aisle, their eyes swept over the Chinese students on both sides, and a slight smile appeared on their lips.
Zhang Yan had seen that kind of smile before.
At sea, the Japanese captain, who claimed he would force the Chinese warships to stop, also showed signs of this.
The leading professor walked to the front row and shook hands with the head of the department.
"Professor Tanaka, welcome to Jiangda University," the department head said in English.
"Thank you for the invitation." Tanaka's Chinese was surprisingly fluent. "I heard that your school built a new micro-nano manufacturing laboratory last year? We are very much looking forward to it."
They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes.
Seven students sat down in the opposite seating area.
One of them sat down and began to scrutinize the Chinese student representatives opposite him, his gaze lingering on each person's face for three seconds.
When it stopped at Zhang Yan's spot, it paused for two extra seconds.
It's probably because Zhang Yan looks too young.
The student turned to the person next to him and whispered something in Japanese.
Zhang Yan heard it.
"Undergraduates are here too? Do they really have no one else?"
The person next to him nodded, suppressing a laugh.
Zhang Yan turned a page of the agenda without expression.
The exchange officially began.
In the first half, the Chinese team gave a presentation.
A second-year doctoral student went on stage and gave a report on an optimization scheme for a six-axis linkage machine tool.
The PPT was well-organized, and the data was solid.
After he finished speaking, Professor Tanaka politely applauded.
Then he raised his hand and asked a question.
"May I ask which year's literature your thermal deformation compensation model is based on?"
"The Nakamura model from 2021," the senior student replied.
Tanaka adjusted his glasses.
"The Nakamura model was published by my student."
He paused for a moment.
"Have you seen the errata for that paper? There's a coefficient correction in the core formula of section three, which was updated last year."
The senior's expression changed slightly.
"I...didn't notice."
Tanaka didn't say anything more.
But everyone present noticed the slight upward curve of his lips.
It's not sarcasm.
It's something even more painful—pity.
It means: You haven't even kept up with my students' papers.
The atmosphere in the lecture hall fell silent for a moment.
Professor Yan sat in the back row, his fingers clenched tightly on his knees.
Next up is the Japanese side's presentation.
A student named Yamamoto went on stage.
What he showed was much more intuitive than a PowerPoint presentation—a miniature bionic robot about thirty centimeters tall.
The vehicle walks on four legs with smooth movements, and the servo motors at the joints respond at a speed that is visible to the naked eye.
He made the robot walk around the stage once, and then it did a somersault.
A gasp of amazement erupted from the audience.
Yamamoto bowed slightly and said in Chinese, "This is the latest achievement of our laboratory, with a servo response time of 2.7 milliseconds, which is world-leading."
He looked at the Chinese student representatives opposite him.
"I wonder if your university has any similar research findings in the field of robotics that we could exchange?"
The tone was polite.
But the word "similar" was used very carefully.
It means—can you produce it?
The lecture hall was silent for a few seconds.
Several Chinese student representatives looked at each other in bewilderment.
The college does have research groups focused on robotics, but most of their results are still in the paper stage, with few tangible products that are actually presented in a formal setting.
Tanaka tapped the table lightly on his seat.
That action was the same as last year.
He seemed to have anticipated this silence.
"If not, that's fine too." Tanaka's voice was gentle. "Academic exchange is all about the process."
Professor Yan's face turned ashen.
Just then.
Zhang Yan stood up.
Everyone's eyes turned to them immediately.
"I have one."
His voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear in the quiet lecture hall.
Tanaka looked at him.
"Who are you……?"
"I'm a freshman," Zhang Yan said.
Tanaka paused for a moment.
A few students from Japan, who are also Japanese, exchanged glances.
The student who had been muttering in Japanese couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Yamamoto stood on the podium, looked at Zhang Yan, and nodded politely.
"please."
Zhang Yan walked out of his seat.
He didn't walk towards the podium.
He walked to the center of the lecture hall, to the empty aisle.
Stop.
Everyone was looking at him.
I don't know what he's up to.
Professor Yan was also looking at him.
My heart was in my throat.
Zhang Yan raised his wrist.
I pressed it.
A flash of blue light appeared in the aisle in the center of the lecture hall.
A deep, mechanical hum echoed from mid-air.
Everyone's eyes widened at the same time.
A mecha—a mecha in the form of a metallic tiger—appeared out of thin air in the center of the lecture hall.
This is not a white tiger.
It was a tactical verification model that he specifically made at the Tianji Security Base.
"Tiger" style mechanical beast.
It is two sizes smaller than the white tiger, with a shoulder height of less than two meters and a total length of three meters.
But standing in the auditorium, it still resembled a fully grown tiger.
The black armor, made of titanium carbide tungsten alloy, gleamed coldly under the lights. The hydraulic structures at the joints emitted an extremely faint hissing sound in standby mode. The electronic eyes on its head glowed with a ghostly blue light, slowly scanning the entire area.
It didn't move.
But that sense of oppression—
It's not a matter of a 2.7 millisecond server response time anymore.
This represents a gap between two eras.
The lecture hall was deathly quiet.
Yamamoto's hand was still on his 30-centimeter-long miniature robot.
His mouth was open.
It won't close.
Tanaka's gold-rimmed glasses slipped down to the tip of his nose.
He didn't push it back because his hands were shaking.
The seven students in dark suits had that condescending expression on their faces from the moment they entered—
Gone.
It disappeared completely.
Instead, there was a pure, unadulterated shock.
And fear.
Zhang Yan stood next to the mecha, his hands in his pockets.
He looked at the flushed faces opposite him and spoke calmly.
"Servo response time is 0.3 milliseconds. Neural synchronization control. All-terrain adaptation."
He patted the Tiger's armor.
The mech lowered its head obediently and let out a deep, electronically simulated growl.
Yamamoto's miniature robot trembled on the podium.
Then he fell down.
Zhang Yan glanced at it.
He glanced again at Yamamoto's deathly pale face.
"Would you consider this similar?"