Sound Equation

The midsummer night wind blew past the glass of the studio. As Tang Shuyu rerecorded the campus news on the mixer for the 27th time, a light tap suddenly came from the headset. He looked up and saw Yan Yu, who was wearing a white coat outside the glass and was stained with twilight. He was tapping the observation window with his anatomy class notes. The cold white light rolled down along his Adam's apple and shattered into stars on the "Clinical School of Medicine" badge. From her childhood of chasing the echoes of radio dramas on the bluestone floor in the alley, to the watershed of forty-nine places in junior high school, she thought she would never be able to catch up with the figure receiving the trophy on the Mathematical Olympiad podium. Until the opening ceremony of the first year of high school, Yan Yu, who was delivering a speech as a representative of the freshmen, had his Adam's apple trembling slightly when he read "Welcome to Mingde Middle School" - 16-year-old Tang Shuyu clenched the microphone and heard the first laughing "Xiaoyu, the script is stuck" coming from the director's room in three years. In the late autumn dusk when anatomy diagrams mixed with press releases, Yan Yu pressed the formalin-scented notebook onto her yellowed "Introduction to Communication": "Laboratory disinfection at 7:30." From then on, in the specimen showroom on the top floor of the medical school, the young man was correcting her communication report next to the skull model, and the scent of disinfectant and gardenia flowed under the hum of the centrifuge. He taught her to use Bayesian formula to calculate the probability of news events, and she filled the blank spaces of his anatomy map with sound wave patterns. Between the autopsy report and the broadcast script, the two of them boiled their youthful thoughts into a cooling culture medium in the incubator. When cherry blossoms fell on the window sill of the university radio station, Song Yi pushed the newly edited documentary in front of Tang Shuyu. The young man's eyelashes were filled with morning light like broken gold: "Does this interview sound like the bamboo horse brother you always mentioned?" The wisteria corridor of the School of Journalism and Media suddenly smelled of disinfectant. Yan Yu appeared holding the crumpled "Anatomy of the Throat", and half of the bow tie she left in junior high school was revealed in the pocket of her white coat. During the New Year's Eve live broadcast incident, Yan Yu broke into the snow-filled studio, with blood stains on his fingertips from the overnight experiment. He wrapped the frozen girl into a white coat with body temperature, and pressed his chin against her snow-stained hair: "Tang Shuyu, now calculate the Bayesian probability - is your tachycardia caused by Song Yi's hand warmer or the third button of my shirt?" The city lights flowed into a galaxy on the monitor screen, illuminating the radio station registration form that had been hidden in the inner pocket of his white coat for ten years. On the back was her tender handwriting: "Brother Yan Yu's voice is like the stars talking." And in front of the autopsy table during the graduation season, Yan Yu held a scalpel to cut away the moonlight, and hid the ring in the throat microphone she used to host: "Classmate Tang, do you want to verify the regression equation of vocal cord vibration frequency and cardiac cycle?" The rustling of the sycamore outside the window startled the pair of children who shared the stars in the alley twenty years ago. Now they finally heard the sweetness caused by green plums. Concept: In the time coordinate system, the true resonance of the same frequency is that two hearts grow in different trajectories, but in the arc of chasing the stars, they always maintain a partial differentiation of the original heart.