Chapter 8: The Next Step—Fundamental Human-Computer Interaction

“Fourth brother, I heard you turned down Professor Wang’s guaranteed admission to graduate school. What on earth are you thinking?”
“If it’s about money, you don’t need to worry. The stipend you get during graduate studies is more than enough to support yourself.”
“Exactly. Fourth brother, Professor Wang is famous for being generous with subsidies. Many want to join his lab, but Professor Wang often turns them down.”

In the dormitory chat group, a few friends exchanged words, all earnestly trying to persuade Li Ping’an to continue with graduate school.

They believed that even if he didn’t choose Professor Wang’s guaranteed admission, he could still apply to other professors within the university.

After all, the Computer Science and Technology program at Shuimu University is highly competitive nationwide.

Moreover, more than half of their classmates planned to study abroad; in other words, as long as the students weren’t particularly underperforming, passing the entrance exams for graduate school was almost assured.

The concern from his roommates was like a warm current slowly flowing into Li Ping’an’s heart.

Whether in university or high school, friendships in male dormitories tend to be quite pure.

Some of them are simply like fathers to sons.

“Thanks, guys. Not taking the graduate route right now is a decision I made after careful consideration,” Li Ping’an replied half-jokingly in the group chat, attempting to lighten the somewhat heavy atmosphere.

“I’m planning to start a business. By the time you all graduate with your master’s degrees, you can come work at my company.”

There was a hint of confidence and hope in his words.

However, it was clear that none of his roommates took his words seriously.

To them, entrepreneurship was no easy path to tread, let alone succeed on.

Especially in their field, which often required millions in investment to develop software painstakingly, only for everything to collapse if no users bought it in the end.

It was purely a waste of manpower and resources.

Besides, they all knew Li Ping’an’s family’s financial situation quite well.

With such a background, where would he find the funds to support a startup?

Undoubtedly, in their eyes, Li Ping’an’s remarks were more of a cover-up for his awkward circumstances.

“Fourth brother, don’t rush your decision. It’s still early; there’s time,” one roommate earnestly advised.

“Yes, yes,” the others chimed in in agreement.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. You still trust me, right?”

Li Ping’an responded again, trying to reassure his roommates not to be overly concerned.

At dawn, Li Ping’an slowly woke from his sleep and gradually opened his eyes, instinctively looking out the window.

Outside lay a vast expanse of silver-white, endless snow stretching like a giant white velvet blanket unfurled to the horizon.

The light, reflected off the snow, became exceptionally bright, piercing through the window like sharp arrows, penetrating straight into Li Ping’an’s pupils, forcing him to squint slightly as the brilliance stung his eyes.

At this moment, wrapped warmly and comfortably in his cozy bed, Li Ping’an felt no desire whatsoever to get up.

He lay there quietly, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind wandering freely, as if immersed in a lazy, secluded space, absentminded and lost in thought.

No one knew how much time had passed before a crisp knock suddenly shattered the silence.

Knock, knock, knock—

In this household, Li Ping’an knew well that only his younger sister would come knocking on the door.

“What is it?” he asked weakly.

“Big brother, I’m hungry!” came his sister’s slightly coquettish voice from outside.
“It’s almost nine. Why aren’t you up yet? I still have homework to do later.”

Hearing his sister’s teasing tone, Li Ping’an slowly reached out from under the covers to grab his phone from the bedside and glanced at the screen.

It was 8:25. He inwardly grumbled: “Almost nine, huh?”

“Got it, I’m getting up now.”

He replied helplessly, reluctantly beginning to move his body to face the new day.

Half an hour later, Li Ya stood quietly at the door, holding a bowl of steaming noodles steadily in both hands, slurping them up with relish.

She wore thick cotton pajamas and knitted slippers, looking warm and adorable.

Only her hair was slightly messy.

She tilted her head slightly, gazing at the sky where light snow still drifted down, her eyes filled with a trace of expectation.

Hearing a faint sound behind her, Li Ya softly said, “I hope it snows again tomorrow—and heavily.”

At that moment, Li Ping’an walked up from behind, carrying a small bowl of noodles.

He heard his sister’s words and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why?” he asked.

“Because if it snows heavily, we won’t have to go to school. The teachers will surely let us study at home,” Li Ya replied matter-of-factly.

Li Ping’an couldn’t help but laugh aloud, “Are you silly? Just because you don’t go to school doesn’t mean no classes. What are you thinking?”

“We still have to attend online classes, don’t we?”

“And if nothing unexpected happens, the homework after class will be much heavier than at school.”

Li Ping’an spoke as he slurped another mouthful of noodles.

“Why is that?” Li Ya asked, puzzled.

Why indeed?

Li Ping’an swallowed calmly and said slowly,

“Because all the teachers assume the others haven’t assigned homework.”

“Isn’t it reasonable to pile on more homework?”

Li Ya was dumbfounded upon hearing this.

Thinking carefully, her brother’s words did seem quite accurate.

For instance, whenever there’s a holiday, the longer it is, the more homework the teachers assign—mountains of it, impossible to finish.

After a moment’s silence, Li Ya’s tone became soft and resigned: “Then I’d rather just go to school as usual.”

After breakfast, Li Ya returned contentedly to her warm, spring-like room, gently closing the door and starting her homework with focus.

Li Ping’an also turned back to his own room, his mind clear with plans and goals, unwilling to waste a single moment.

As for the bowls and chopsticks used earlier, he decided to wash them all together at noon.

Although the data storage device he ordered had not yet arrived, Li Ping’an did not let that halt his progress.

Sitting in front of his computer, his gaze sharp and resolute, he fed the various rich datasets stored on his computer into the AI data collection and preprocessing module one by one.

Then, without pause, he continued developing and studying the next foundational human-computer interaction module.

In this process, due to the immense data processing required, both the CPU and GPU of his gaming laptop ran at high power.

Even though it was the cold winter and the room temperature was low, the computer’s cooling fans still roared, spinning rapidly.