Reborn in 2005, starting with repairing mobile phones

He grabbed two glasses from a passing waiter's tray and shoved one into Lin Dong's hand.

"Don't just stand there, go inside and take a look around. I'm going to find my professor friend, and he'll bring some people over for you to meet in a bit."

After saying that, he slipped into the crowd like a slippery fish.

Lin Dong stood there, holding the glass of champagne.

He knew who he was looking for.

But he also knew that such a person wouldn't stand in the most conspicuous place in the courtyard waiting to be seen by him.

He took a few steps inside.

The courtyard was noisy with people, and figures holding wine glasses swayed back and forth.

Several middle-aged men in suits were surrounding a short young man who was nervously clutching his resume, looking bewildered.

Lin Dong looked away.

He took a few steps toward the corner.

Just then—

"...Say it again."

The sound wasn't loud.

But several people around them turned to look.

Lin Dong stopped.

He looked in the direction of the sound.

Several people were gathered in a circle near the side door of the courtyard.

A few onlookers stood on the perimeter, craning their necks to peer inside.

Lin Dong walked over.

In the gaps in the crowd, a young Asian man stood with his back to him, his back straight and his shoulders taut.

Across from me were two white men, one of whom was wearing a light blue shirt, his hands in his pockets, and a faint smile on his lips.

"Calm down, Sam."

His voice was calm and measured. "I'm just stating the facts."

"What facts?"

"The fact is—your filter group delay parameters don't work in the simulation software." The man in the blue shirt tilted his head. "Parameters that don't work are wrong. Is that hard to accept?"

Another white boy next to him chuckled.

The one named Sam didn't move.

"My parameters are working."

"Really?" The man in the blue shirt smiled. "Then explain why the software doesn't recognize it."

Sam spoke.

"Because the software uses a generic model. You didn't adjust any parameters. You didn't change any settings. You didn't even open the advanced options."

He paused.

"You ran the default settings once, got an error, and then concluded that my parameters were wrong."

The man in the blue shirt shrugged.

"I used the software's default settings. The default is correct. If you have to change this and that to make it work—that means there's something wrong with your parameters."

The person next to him laughed again.

"Sam, do you know..."

The man in the blue shirt took a half step forward and lowered his voice, "The problem might not be with the parameters."

Sam stared at him.

"What do you mean?"

The man in the blue shirt did not answer immediately.

He turned his head, looked Sam up and down, and then smiled.

There was no malice in that smile.

But there was no goodwill involved.

"You've been in this lab for two years."

He asked, "How many papers have you published? Are any of them first-author?"

Sam did not speak.

The man in the blue shirt nodded, as if he had expected this silence.

"Our lab has top-notch equipment, data, and collaborative resources. Anyone who gets in is a smart person."

He paused, then continued, "But have you ever wondered why, given the same level of intelligence, some people can publish first-author papers while others can only be credited as authors?"

The person next to him laughed again, this time a bit louder.

Sam gripped the stack of papers even tighter.

The man in the blue shirt looked at him with a hint of pity in his eyes.

"Relax."

He said, "Nobody's trying to steal your work. That paper was originally a collaborative project, so changing the order of authorship is perfectly reasonable, isn't it?"

He patted Sam on the shoulder.

Then he turned around and prepared to leave.

"Wait a moment."

The man in the blue shirt stopped and turned around.

Lin Dong stood to his side and slightly behind.

The man in the blue shirt looked at him and frowned slightly.

"Who are you?"

"Just passing by," Lin Dong said. "I happened to overhear you discussing the parameters."

He was indeed just passing by.

But when that word reached his ears, he paused for a moment.

"Filter group delay".

This is what he's been thinking about these past few days.

Zhou Chengyu's touch algorithm requires a clean signal, while Zhang Mingyuan's motherboard stacking has always been plagued by radio frequency interference.

Before he came to Stanford, he was wondering if he should talk to someone who knew about radio frequency.

The man in the blue shirt paused for half a second, then smiled and turned to Sam: "Your friend?"

Sam did not speak.

He looked at Lin Dong with a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Lin Dong ignored that question.

He looked at the man in the blue shirt. "You just said that the software's default settings are correct?"

The smile on the man in the blue shirt faded slightly.

"……so what?"

"So you haven't studied numerical analysis?"

The man in the blue shirt paused for a moment.

Lin Dong didn't wait for his reply.

"The default parameters of the general model are optimized for 70% of normal operating conditions."

He said, "The remaining 30%, including the filter group delay issue you just mentioned, is normal because it won't run with the default settings."

He paused.

"If it doesn't work, it means you're in the 30% who are experiencing this problem. It's not that the parameters are wrong, it's that you haven't adjusted them correctly."

The man in the blue shirt looked at him without saying a word.

The person next to him stopped laughing.

Lin Dong did not continue speaking.

He turned to Sam and nodded.

That means: It's alright now.

Then he turned and walked out.

The crowd automatically parted to make way.

The man in the blue shirt stood there, his lips moved, but he didn't say anything in the end.

......

Lin Dong walked out of the crowd, through the courtyard, and headed in another direction.

I had only taken a dozen or so steps when someone caught up with me from behind.

"etc."

Lin Dong stopped and turned around.

Sam stood in front of him.

"……Thanks."

Lin Dong looked at him.

"No need," he said. "As long as your parameters work, it's fine."

Sam paused for a moment.

"What you just mentioned, the numerical analysis, the 30% of routine operating conditions..." He paused, "Are you also in this field?"

Lin Dong hadn't had a chance to answer yet.

"Forest!"

Anderson's voice boomed from the crowd.

He squeezed through, followed by a middle-aged white man in a plaid shirt.

"I've been looking for you for ages—come, let me introduce you, this is—"

He saw Sam standing next to Lin Dong, paused for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow slightly.

Those eyebrows were raised with great expression.

Lin Dong ignored him.

He turned to Sam and nodded.

My name is Lin Dong.

Sam looked at him.

"...Cheng Chuan."

Lin Dong nodded.

"I'll go first," he said. "We can talk another time."

......

Anderson pulled Lin Dong aside, lowered his voice, and still raised his eyebrows.

"How is it?"

"What, how is it?"

"Um..." Anderson gestured towards Cheng Chuan with his chin, "Can I take him with me?"

Lin Dong looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"What are you talking about?"

"What am I talking about?" Anderson asked innocently. "I'm asking if you can take him with you. Back to the hotel. Tonight."

Lin Dong looked at him expressionlessly.

"roll."

Anderson paused for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Ha ha ha ha--"

He laughed so hard his shoulders shook, and several people around him glanced at him.

"Lin! Your reaction is hilarious! Hahahaha—"

Lin Dong ignored him and followed the white man in the plaid shirt inside.