The little one lunged into Mo Jingchun's arms and buried her little head in his armpit, her tiny body still shaking with sobs.
"All right, all right, don't cry. Our Candy's the best girl."
Mo Jingchun soothed his little sister Candy and carried her over to a row of chairs nearby. He sat down, planning to stay there and observe her for 30 minutes as instructed.
Although infant vaccines were now very well established and adverse reactions were rare, babies had different constitutions, and a few could still experience them.
The 30-minute observation period was meant to ensure that if a child had a severe adverse reaction to a vaccine, it could be detected and treated promptly, preventing serious consequences.
For example, anaphylactic shock, swelling of the throat, or choking—some of the more dangerous reactions.
Candy kept crying in the vaccination room, her sobs full of hurt. Mo Jingchun had no choice but to get up and walk around with her in his arms, gently rocking her as he soothed her.
But in the eyes of the other babies, the scene was quite different.
Everyone else is crying. Should I cry too?
Should I cry? I guess so.
In an instant, the entire vaccination room erupted in wails. One little fellow, whose mother had just taken off his clothes to expose his chubby little arm, cried so pitifully that there was only one word for it: miserable.
Meanwhile, the nurses in the vaccination room remained perfectly calm, as if it were all business as usual.
Candy seemed to prefer listening to the other babies cry. Her tiny body was still trembling with occasional sobs, but she had stopped crying. She even poked her little head out, watching with curiosity as a baby boy got his shot and cried his heart out.
With a group of older girls staring at him reproachfully, Mo Jingchun felt so awkward he could have dug through the planet beneath his feet with his toes.
"All right, next baby."
Feeling embarrassed, Mo Jingchun had deliberately sat in a corner, but the little one in his arms wouldn't sit still. Like a giraffe, she stretched out her little head, insisting on watching each of the adorable babies get their shots.
The short 30-minute observation period felt like an ordeal to Mo Jingchun, as if each minute lasted a whole year.
When the observation period was over, a nurse came over and examined Candy. Then she told Mo Jingchun they could leave.
"All right, there's nothing wrong. In theory, if there are no adverse reactions within 30 minutes of vaccination, the chance of a reaction afterward is extremely small. Still, if your baby shows anything unusual after you get home, bring her back to the hospital for an examination and treatment right away."
"Oh, and your baby may be sleepier than usual over the next couple of days. That's normal, so don't worry too much."
Mo Jingchun listened carefully to every instruction from the nurse, afraid he might miss something. His mother had always taken Candy to get her vaccines before, so this was Mo Jingchun's first time bringing his little sister in. He had no experience at all.
After they left the hospital, Candy seemed to have already forgotten her embarrassing episode. Her eyes roamed back and forth, taking in all the new sights.
As they passed a little shop, Mo Jingchun spotted a lot of stuffed toys inside. He walked past, thought it over, then turned back to the entrance.
Pointing at an Ultraman plush about as tall as Candy, Mo Jingchun smiled at the shopkeeper. "How much is this Ultraman?"
"You want to buy Ultraman? Are you sure you don't mean the pink Peppa Pig beside it?" Jiang Yufeng, a woman in her forties who had put on quite a bit of weight, asked in disbelief.
Who bought an Ultraman plush for a little girl to play with?
"Ultraman. The chibi version is just too adorable."
The shopkeeper wasn't about to argue with a customer who was ready to buy. Since he was sure, Jiang Yufeng quickly packed up the plush and handed it to him.
"Sixty-nine yuan. WeChat or Alipay?"
"WeChat. I'll scan the code."
Just as the nurse had said, the little one was prone to getting sleepy after her vaccination. Not long after Mo Jingchun boarded the bus, she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Her little hand, which had been clutching Ultraman by the thigh, went limp.
Fortunately, the bus wasn't crowded at this hour, and everyone had a seat.
Mo Jingchun had originally taken the entire day off, but when he got back to the apartment building, he realized that half a day would have been enough.
Looking at Candy, who had just been put to bed and was sleeping soundly, Mo Jingchun decided not to go to class that afternoon.
After placing the chibi Ultraman plush beside the little one, Mo Jingchun left the bedroom and gently closed the door behind him. Then he washed vegetables, lit the stove, and started cooking.
A little after two in the afternoon, the little one seemed to have woken up hungry. After half a small bowl of millet porridge and half a bottle of milk, she was full of energy again. While Mo Jingchun worked on his drawings, she started fussing in his arms, occasionally reaching out with her mischievous little hand to imitate him by pressing a key on his laptop.
But Mo Jingchun didn't dare say a word. If he drew Candy's attention, she'd probably get even more restless.
While Mo Jingchun struggled with his drawings, another group of people were experiencing their own mix of joy and frustration.
At the National Important Research Institute, where armed soldiers stood guard, Chen Xihe, several other professors, and the students watched the data transmitted from the fighter jet's test flight with delight. The jet was using the updated Attitude Balance Algorithm.
The new algorithm was performing even better than expected!
It had performed particularly well in tests that simulated a pilot briefly blacking out from excessive G-forces and leaving the computer to take over. The new Attitude Balance Algorithm could quickly correct the fighter jet's position, preventing the plane and pilot from crashing to their deaths.
If the pilot blacked out from G-forces at a very high altitude, it wasn't much of a problem. The old algorithm gave the fighter jet enough time to correct its position, and once the acceleration returned to a safe range, the pilot would soon wake up and take control again.
But at low altitude, even if the new Attitude Balance Algorithm corrected the fighter jet's position just 0.1 seconds faster, the outcome could change.
Looking at the promising data sent back by the fighter jet, Chen Xihe grew increasingly anxious at the thought that the bald guys next door still hadn't cracked it.
"Professor, if we could get the algorithm's source code and principles, then make some specialized adjustments, the results would definitely be even better."
Chen Xihe's expression stiffened. As if they didn't know that already. Did the old men need him to spell it out?
"Xiao Liu, go over and urge them again. Honestly, we've assigned every computer in the supercomputing center to their department, and it's been two days. They still can't crack an encrypted software program written by a college student. They're not ashamed of themselves, but I'm ashamed for them."
"We can't go back and tell the student our research institute couldn't crack it, can we?!"
Liu Yichong, wearing a white coat and black-rimmed glasses, nodded to Old Chen. "All right, Professor. I'll go over and urge them again right now."
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