Next, Tang Shun and Song Zimo entered a state of frenzy, compressing their sleep to four hours a day, dedicating the rest to practice.
They quickly clarified their roles: Tang Shun was responsible for the theoretical content of the report, while Song Zimo handled the clinical part of the presentation. They occupied the institute’s largest eting room and simulated countless tis.
"Stop!" Tang Shun called out during the fifth complete rehearsal, "Dr. Song, when you’re introducing the Alina case here, your emotions can be a bit restrained. We’re making a scientific report, not telling a story. Describing her as ’this brave violinist’ should be changed to ’Volunteer P-001 for professionalism."
"But the chairperson Carlson is female, and might be more moved by such human details," Song Zimo argued back. "Data is the skeleton, the story is the flesh, doesn’t the professor often say dicine is the science about people?"
"That’s in the right context, but now it’s the Nobel Prize Committee; the first impression must be scientific rigor," Tang Shun insisted.
The two couldn’t agree and eventually pulled Lu Xiaolu in as a referee. Lu Xiaolu listened to both sides’ reasons: "Let’s compromise. Use ’Participant P-001, a 27-year-old female carrier of Lynch Syndro.’ It’s objective, yet implicitly contains gender and age information, allowing the audience to make their own connections. As for ’brave’... data can reflect it: she turned down standard preventive surgery and chose to participate in cutting-edge exploration, which itself is reflected in clinical decision data."
"Makes sense!" They both said in unison and imdiately made the revisions.
Xiao Su, bringing Xiao Shu to the institute to deliver lunch to Yang Ping, happened to run into Tang Shun and Song Zimo in the corridor, walking while gesturing, muttering as if they were actors imrsed in their own world.
"Are they... okay?" Xiao Su quietly asked Yang Ping.
"Pre-exam syndro," Yang Ping accepted the lunch box, glanced at the two who were so agitated they’d almost walked clumsily, with a smile in his eyes, "It’s good to let them feel a bit nervous; it might be the only ti in their lives."
The night before departure, Yang Ping called them to his office, without extra reminders:
"The report is for others to listen to, not for self-satisfaction. Look more at the audience, less at the teleprompter."
"Answer questions; if you know, say you know. If you don’t, say ’we’re currently researching this question.’ Honesty is more important than smartness."
"It’s rely a report on scientific achievents, nothing that significant, just relax a bit."
The two nodded solemnly, silently repeating these three sentences in their hearts several tis.
...
When Tang Shun and Song Zimo finally stood in Stockholm Arlanda Airport, breathing the crisp Northern European air, the sense of unreality reached its peak.
"Did we really co?" Song Zimo muttered, looking at the Swedish language on the airport signboards.
"We did!" Tang Shun took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, "According to the plan, first go to the hotel, and in the afternoon, go to Karolinska Institute to get familiar with the venue and equipnt."
Receiving them was a young staff mber from the Nobel Prize Committee office nad Eric, fluent in English, professional yet slightly aloof. Learning the main speakers had changed to two "representatives," a hint of surprise flashed in Eric’s eyes but soon returned to normal, rely confirming that the report content and timing hadn’t changed.
On the way to the hotel, Eric briefly introduced the itinerary: the report is tomorrow morning, followed by a small-scale roundtable discussion with so committee mbers and professors from Karolinska Institute in the afternoon. The morning of the following day is free, and in the afternoon, return trip.
"Is Professor Yang Ping... unwell?" Eric asked tactfully.
"Our research is at a critical juncture, and Professor Yang couldn’t leave," Tang Shun answered flawlessly, "But he highly values this report and assigned us to ensure the theory is presented with the utmost accuracy and comprehensiveness."
Eric nodded, asking nothing more.
The hotel had a typical Nordic minimalist style, clean, quiet, with a touch of coolness. After dropping off their luggage, without even having ti to feel the jet lag, they imdiately rushed to Karolinska Institute.
The auditorium was older and more solemn than they imagined. Dark wooden walls, high ceilings, seats arranged in a fan shape around the stage. Behind the stage was a huge projection screen, with an old-fashioned sliding blackboard next to it for writing.
The technician ca to help them test the equipnt. Tang Shun rigorously checked every aspect: PPT remote, laser pointer, microphone volu, video playback smoothness... even tested the steps from different positions on the stage to the screen to ensure natural movent during the presentation.
Song Zimo focused on the atmosphere, walking to the middle of the audience seats to feel the view from different angles, adjusting his stance and gestures. "Tang Shun, don’t you think the lighting here is too serious? When we’re speaking, the expressions can be a bit more lively, to balance it out."
"First ensure the content is flawless." Tang Shun didn’t look up, continuing to check the backup USB drive.
After familiarizing themselves with the venue, they sat in Karolinska Institute’s café for a final content review. Around them were several scholarly-looking people, speaking softly, and the air was filled with rich coffee aroma and academic atmosphere.
"I suddenly kind of understand why the professor didn’t co." Song Zimo said, stirring his coffee.
"Hmm?"
"This place... is too formal, every step feels like walking in prescribed boxes. With the professor’s personality, he’d probably feel stifled." Song Zimo laughed, "He prefers the slightly chaotic but lively ambiance of our institute."
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