In the conference room, the light from the projector shone on Lin Yan's face, and her voice was as calm as ever: "Mr. Zhang, the error rate of your IFI/NGP model is as high as 70%." She spread out pages of detailed long-term social value data as if making her final argument in court.
But Zhang Tao just rubbed his brows tiredly, and his voice was as low as a sigh: "Xiao Lin, it's not that you are wrong. It's that we are all old... So old that we still believe that 'correctness' is more important than 'smart'."
At that moment, Lin Yan heard the sound of something breaking in his heart, crisp and irreversible, like glass falling to the ground.
She didn't cry or argue, she just bowed and left with the most professional smile, like a precision instrument that had been shut down gracefully. Returning to the empty apartment and opening the bottom layer of the suitcase, my grandma's old apron gave off a faint smell of sea salt and firewood. At that moment, all rational defenses collapsed - she squatted on the ground holding her apron, tears hitting the fabric like heavy rain hitting the deck of a fishing boat, making her feel bitter.
Pushing open the wooden door of the old house, dust hit my face. The stove was still the same as in the memory, but there was no longer the figure of my grandmother bending down to blow the fire.
She put on her old apron and pushed back the stove lid.
There is still the last bit of ashes left by grandma in the stove.
Lin Yan squatted down and blew lightly.
Mars jumped a little, as if in response.
She suddenly knew that she had to use her best logic to do the most illogical thing——
Here, I use my grandma's old stove to steam crabs pot by pot.
Evaporate the "correctness" that has been sentenced to death by capital,
Steaming out her own new taste of life with sea salt and tears.
Purpose: When "correctness" is redefined - in a world that pursues efficiency, the affectionate name of "invalidity" will be justified.