Chen Huanyi was tired of crying.
When he looked at his phone, it was already two in the afternoon. Luckily, housekeeping hadn’t gotten to this room yet. He hurriedly threw on his clothes. As he was about to leave, he saw a sandwich and a box of milk on the table. Grabbing them both, he ran out the door and all the way back to his dorm.
“Hey, how come you’re back in the middle of the afternoon?” his roommate asked. “You didn’t sleep in lab, did you?”
“Ah, nope,” Chen Huanyi replied. “I’m just coming back to rest for a bit.”
“Did you decide on your graduation thesis topic yet? We have to declare by the end of the week, and proposals are due in three weeks,” said his roommate.
Chen Huanyi blinked. “Oh, not yet. I’ve only considered the general direction so far.”
“Eh, you too?” his roommate replied curiously, sighing. “When did you get so laid back?”
Chen Huanyi took a sip of milk. “Don’t worry, my current project is closely related to the direction of my thesis. All the documents are ready, and I’ve already finished writing a summary. The proposal at least shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Tsk tsk, xuebas [1] are so powerful.”
Chen Huanyi didn’t respond. Instead, he sent a message to Professor Shen, asking him when he would have time to discuss his thesis and decide on the topic.
Professor Shen didn’t reply until a couple of hours later. He said he was traveling and the meeting would have to wait until he returned. Seeing as there was no rush to notify the school about his topic, this shouldn’t pose any problems.
“Okay, let’s wait until you come back,” Chen Huanyi texted back.
One day, when Chen Huanyi was in lab, the shixiong who had asked him to help with the postgraduate admissions statistics ran over and greeted him. “Chen Huanyi! Hey, little buddy.”
Chen Huanyi looked up from the computer. “Huh? Who are you looking for, shixiong?”
The shixiong threw an arm around his shoulders. “Who else but you?”
“Ohhh!” Chen Huanyi started laughing. “Does shixiong have any odd jobs for me?”
With his elbow hooked around Chen Huanyi’s neck, the shixiong led him toward another office. “How can you call these odd jobs? Your shixiong only gives you the most glorious assignments! See, their postgraduate exam results just came out… heh, shidi [2], you get my drift, right… So, how about your shixiong will take you out for dinner tonight, hmm?”
At that moment, Chen Huanyi saw Lin Kai and a few other young professors walk out of another office, just as his shixiong made his tempting offer of dinner.
One of the teachers who knew the shixiong well called out teasingly, “Xiao-Bailong [3], are you bullying your little shidi again?”
The shixiong forced out a humorless laugh and said imploringly, “Zhang-laoshi, could you please not call me that…”
Zhang-laoshi nodded. “Sure, Xiao-Bailong.”
The shixiong named Bailong very innocently and miserably begged for forgiveness, and then towed Chen Huanyi away. As they left, Chen Huanyi caught sight of Lin Kai standing off to the side, an unforced smile on his face. He looked just like any other young teacher watching the scene unfold.
Chen Huanyi silently shifted his gaze away.
He really looked just like a renowned young scholar—mild-mannered and refined, elegant and poised. Actually—no, he didn’t just look the part—that was indeed who he was. Chen Huanyi thought of how he looked when he was working—that morning, he had probably been reading papers. Would he also encounter words he didn’t know and need to consult a dictionary as he read? Hm, probably not.
If there had never been any relationship between them, Lin Kai would probably be the sort of person he most admired and looked up to. But now, his admiration only grew—not only for the scholar Lin Kai, not only for those achievements that were so impressively praiseworthy—but rather, how could this person be so calm and collected? How did he never let any sign of struggle or embarrassment show through? Was he just like him, hiding his own desires at all costs? How did he look so serene and unruffled? Beneath that calm and undisturbed surface, was there an even deeper well of tranquility, or a great ocean with a surging undertow?
“Chen Huanyi, little buddy, what are you thinking about?” The shixiong tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him back to reality. “Look here—these are the students who scored above the national cut-off on the postgraduate entrance exam. Our school cut-off hasn’t been announced yet, but look at how many people there are—they’ll have to filter out half of them before the second round exam. But they can’t just take the top fifty percent—see, of course we’ve gotta take more of our own undergrads. They’re guaranteed to be pretty good students. Students from famous schools have some shortcomings though—they usually won’t start preparing for the postgraduate exam until their third year. In that case, they probably can’t compare with students from lower-ranked schools who start preparing in their first year… It’s not that we’re discriminating against them. We accepted plenty in the past, but they only got high scores on the postgraduate exam—they didn’t perform well in the second round, and they weren’t good at research either, so nowadays, we still…”
Chen Huanyi nodded. “I understand, Xiao-Bailong-shixiong. I’ll come up with a composite score based on the overall scores and subject scores. To determine the cut-offs for both, my criteria will be to accept as many students as possible from our own school and similarly ranked schools.”
“You got it, that’s the idea…” The shixiong patted his shoulder before something suddenly occurred to him. “Wait, what did you just call me…”
The list of names was very long, and it was much more difficult to determine cut-offs to meet specific objectives rather than simply ranking the scores in order. It took Chen Huanyi two hours to finish the calculations. “Shixiong, you see, it’s impossible to accept all of our undergrads. I can only accept as many of them as possible. With this goal, and considering the possibility of hidden research potential, we should accept students with high scores in biology, as well as in English.”
The shixiong looked over at the computer screen. The cut-offs were displayed, as well as the acceptance rates for their school and other schools. “Ehh…” The shixiong took the mouse and scrolled down, pausing at a certain name. “This person didn’t make the cut-off, huh…”
Chen Huanyi took a closer look. “I’m afraid we can’t do anything about that, shixiong. Even though they’re a student from our school, their composite score is on the low side, which is mostly because their biology score is rather low. These scores are already among the lowest for our own students. It’s very hard to make it into the acceptance list from there.”
The shixiong cleared his throat. “Chen Huanyi, little buddy, I’ll be direct with you. This person needs to be accepted. Whether we lower the entire cut-off score or reduce the minimum for the biology section, we can increase the overall admission rate from the written component, and just cut a few more people during the second round. We just need to accept this person.”
Frowning, Chen Huanyi still wanted to push back. “Shixiong…”
The shixiong cut him off. “Don’t say anymore, it’s not like I can do anything about it either. There are a few of these cases every year—if they don’t even pass the national cut-off, it’s easier to deal with, since our cut-off can’t be lower than that, but as long as they score above it… If you look at the cut-offs for the previous admissions cycles, you’ll find that the cut-off for our own students isn’t much higher than the national cut-off—the second round is the deciding factor. Ah, let me put it this way—if you send this list to the school administration, they’ll take one look and send it right back to you to fix. If you don’t do it, then someone else will.”
“I got it, shixiong,” Chen Huanyi said flatly. “Give me another hour.”
The shixiong patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t be too discouraged. Even though more people will make it to the second round, the incompetent ones will still end up getting cut.”
“Shixiong, you see—let’s say our school plans on accepting a hundred master’s students,” said Chen Huanyi as he typed. “If the process were completely fair, they’d take the top hundred candidates after considering the written exam and the second round exam. But now, someone has destroyed this fairness, which means that a student who was supposed to be accepted will instead be rejected. Shixiong, this is a very cruel thing—lots of people spend a year or two preparing for this exam. If they fail this time, they’ll probably need to spend another couple of years of their youth on it—they might even end up going down a path they never wanted to take.”
The shixiong sighed. “Not necessarily. It’s probably more like they wanted to accept a hundred, but now, because of some special circumstances, they’ll take a hundred and ten.”
Chen Huanyi’s fingers paused as he shook his head. “The school’s resources are limited, whether it’s lab space, instruments, projects, or advisors. If you spread out the resources originally allocated for a hundred people among a hundred and ten, of course each person wouldn’t receive too much less. But if you think about an advisor who wanted to take two more students now needing to take three, that’s quite a big difference.”
After giving him a long look, the shixiong didn’t say anything more.
Chen Huanyi continued typing, also remaining silent.
For a stretch of time afterward, Chen Huanyi spent long days in lab. He’d more or less picked up a new project and started digging into the literature.
One day, Chen Huanyi received a message—Professor Shen was back and asked him to come to his office to discuss his graduation thesis topic.
When Chen Huanyi ran over, Professor Shen was drinking tea and reading a paper with his brow slightly furrowed. As a full professor, he had a large office to himself. Seeing Chen Huanyi had arrived, his expression relaxed somewhat. He put down the paper and gestured toward the sofa. “Huanyi, sit down. Help yourself to water from the dispenser if you’re thirsty.”
Chen Huanyi sat down very decorously. “Thank you, Shen-laoshi, I’m all set.”
Professor Shen nodded. “How has your literature review been going? Any ideas?”
Chen Huanyi cleared his throat. “After doing some reading, I’m most interested in cancer bioinformatics. Throughout my bachelor’s, I’ve mostly been working in the wet lab doing experimental research, but for my thesis, I want to focus on computational methods and data analysis.”
Professor Shen hesitated for a moment. “Huanyi, here’s the thing—I’m hoping to get a student to work on protein evolution in animals.”
After thinking for a moment, Chen Huanyi persisted. “Shen-laoshi, I’d still prefer to work on cancer bioinformatics.”
“Someone has already taken the cancer bioinformatics project,” Professor Shen replied.
Chen Huanyi blinked. “But I’ve been…”
“He’s already submitted it as his thesis topic,” said Professor Shen. “Even though it’s just a bachelor's thesis, the topics can’t overlap too much.”
“But, Shen-laoshi, you should know well that I’ve been pursuing this direction all along,” Chen Huanyi said resolutely, his eyes very bright. “I can’t speak about everyone, but at least among my classmates, no one will do a better job than me.”
Professor Shen paused. Looking at Chen Huanyi with what seemed like pity in his gaze, he said slowly, “This was the reason for my trip, actually. That student isn’t from our school—he’s been accepted to the graduate program, so he’ll do his bachelor’s thesis here and defend it to both schools. His report is excellent and has already pulled in five million in funding. Several large pharmaceutical companies have also expressed interest in investing in this project. It’s not only about a bachelor’s thesis—after you all graduate, this project will continue. Once you start your master’s, you can join in and help out if you want to.”
Chen Huanyi’s breath caught in his throat. Even after a long silence, he still couldn't speak.
“You… should take a couple days to think it over,” said Professor Shen placatingly. “Protein evolution is an excellent topic. If you take it on, you should be able to produce an excellent thesis.”
Chen Huanyi nodded dully and left with his head lowered.
When he walked back to the lab computer, he saw rows upon rows of English text on the screen, the long words seeming to sprout wings and take flight. He grabbed the mouse and hit the red X in the corner of the window. The folder contained paper after paper on cancer bioinformatics. He pressed Ctrl+A with his left hand, selecting every document in the folder. His right hand was shaking—he wanted to hit the Delete button, but in the end, he couldn’t.
As though exhausted, he let go of the keyboard and dejectedly walked out of the lab.
By the time he came to his senses, he had already walked over to the door of the office where he’d run into Lin Kai waiting for some other younger professors. Looking up, he saw “Lin Kai, Associate Professor” and “Zhang Chaoran, Associate Professor” on the door plate. As he stared blankly at the names, the door suddenly opened from the inside. Chen Huanyi jumped in surprise—Zhang-laoshi was standing behind the door, ready to leave. Upon seeing Chen Huanyi waiting outside, Zhang-laoshi raised his eyebrows. “Who are you looking for?”
Before Chen Huanyi could reply, Zhang-laoshi turned his head and called, “Kaikai, do you have an appointment with a student?”
Chen Huanyi heard that man let out a derisive snort within the office. “Try calling me that again.” Footsteps sounded. “I’m meeting with some undergrads to discuss their thesis proposals today…”
Zhang-laoshi laughed boisterously. “Well, I’ll be leaving then.” Then he said to Chen Huanyi, “Go on in.”
Lin Kai turned his gentle gaze at Chen Huanyi, shrouding him in the shadow of his tall figure. “What is it?”
Chen Huanyi’s lips moved, but no words came out.
Just at that moment, two students—a boy and a girl—walked into the office and greeted Lin Kai. “Lin-laoshi, we’re here.”
Lin Kai nodded. “Alright, how’s your progress so far?”
“I decided on my topic and I’m almost finished with the literature review,” said the girl. “Could you take a look and see if these are okay? I also started writing my proposal.”
Lin Kai leaned down and said to Chen Huanyi, “Take a seat on the couch and wait a while for me.” Then he called the students over to his computer to give them each some pointers on writing their proposals. He also gave both of them a few more papers in English to look over.
Everyone’s graduation thesis topics were quite distinct. As Lin Kai talked to the boy, the girl came over to chat with Chen Huanyi to pass the time. Being classmates in the school of biological sciences, they were well-acquainted.
The girl didn’t hesitate to hit him where it hurt. “Eh, aren’t you writing your thesis with Professor Shen? What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided yet…” Chen Huanyi replied expressionlessly.
“But the proposals are due in two weeks,” the girl exclaimed in astonishment. “You haven’t decided yet? When the thesis topics and advisors were sent out to the class, I saw the space after your name was blank, but I figured you were probably working on some secret project, haha…”
Chen Huanyi awkwardly laughed along with her. “Nope. There are just too many options, it’s hard to make a decision…”
“Tsk tsk, xuebas are really built different, so impressive,” she teased. “I can’t even deal with a single topic, but you on the other hand, hahaha…”
Chen Huanyi had no choice but to keep laughing.
Glancing toward the sofa, Lin Kai raised his voice. “Quiet down, you two.” He continued speaking to the boy with his head lowered.
The girl was intimidated by Lin Kai. She didn’t dare say another word as she sat to the side and waited quietly.
More than an hour had passed by the time Lin Kai sent off the other two students. He got a cup of warm water from the dispenser and placed it in front of Chen Huanyi. Then he sat down and asked, “You haven’t decided on a thesis topic yet? What’s wrong?”
“Mm…” Chen Huanyi picked up the cup and took a few tiny sips of water, looking rather dejected. “Got beaten to the punch.”
Lin Kai put the pieces together. “It’s not too late to pick another topic.”
“But…” In front of him, Chen Huanyi couldn't suppress the plaintive note in his voice. “I’ve already worked on it for so long—I’m nearly done with the literature review, and the proposal and feasibility analysis are almost finished too.”
Lin Kai was quiet for a moment. “Chen Huanyi, do you know how many people there are working on the same topic at the frontier of basic research?”
Chen Huanyi blinked—this question had never occurred to him. He shook his head.
“Edmund Landau was the chair of the mathematics department at the University of Göttingen from 1909 to 1934.” Lin Kai’s voice was calm and low, as though it came from a distant galaxy. “During his term, he received countless manuscripts claiming to prove Fermat’s Last Theorem. Eventually, he found dealing with them to be too much work, so he printed out a stack of cards that said ‘Dear ___, thank you for submitting your proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem. The first error is on line ___ of page ___ and invalidates the proof. E. M. Landau.’ Even though most of the manuscripts were returned, the remaining ones still stacked up to over three meters tall.”
Chen Huanyi listened in silence, feeling somewhat bewildered.
“Fermat’s Last Theorem was proposed in the seventeenth century. It states that for integers n > 2, the equation xn + yn = zn has no positive integer solutions. In 1770, Euler proved the n = 3 case. In 1823, Legendre proved the n = 5 case. In 1832, Dirichlet tried and failed to prove the n = 7 case, but he succeeded for n = 14. In 1839, Lamé proved the n = 7 case. In 1850, Kummer proved the cases for n < 100, with the exceptions of n = 37, 59, and 67. It wasn’t until 1987 that Granville proved the theorem for all primes less than about seven hundred trillion using a computer… Finally, in 1995, the British mathematician Andrew John Wiles produced a complete proof for n > 2.”
Lin Kai paused. “If Wiles had been born in the seventeenth century, then he wouldn’t have been the person who proved Fermat’s Last Theorem. What did everyone else in the world working on Fermat’s Last Theorem do after 1995?”
Chen Huanyi was momentarily stumped. “They found something else to work on?”
“Perhaps they tried to find other ways to prove it.”
“Every small step at the frontier of basic research is a result advanced by thousands of scholars,” Lin Kai continued slowly. “If research is something you truly enjoy, then you can certainly be one among these thousands. You see, the more people work in a given field, the chances of making a breakthrough likewise increase. However, even though the entire field will be advanced by a breakthrough, only one person’s name will be marked down in history. Chen Huanyi, this is a question of values—there’s no right or wrong answer. It depends on whether you want to advance that small step, or leave your name in everyone’s minds.”
“What about you?” Chen Huanyi asked. “What would you choose?”
“…That has nothing to do with you.”
Chen Huanyi’s heart seemed to ache, but he also felt thoroughly energized, filled with a new and stronger determination. He stood up, nodded, and bowed to Lin Kai. “I understand now,” he said sincerely. “Thank you, Lin-laoshi.”
Lin Kai turned around and sat down at his desk again, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Close the door behind you when you leave.”
Before he walked out, Chen Huanyi couldn’t help looking back at Lin Kai. He felt as though this man shone with his own radiance—it wasn't a dazzling halo, but rather gentle yet brilliant sunlight. It was bright enough to light up all the darkness and chase away all the cold, yet not overly flashy or fiery as to cause any discomfort.
He took a deep whiff of air from the room and then closed the door behind him.
[1] 学霸 Top student.
[2] 师弟 Younger male classmate.
[3] 小白龙 Literally “little white dragon” (Xiao- is a familiar diminutive prefix, Bailong is his name).