Tan Qianche replied, “Work is going well, need to focus on guiding students.”
Lin Zhixia pondered his choice of words, detecting his deeper meaning.
Tan Qianche was implying that Lin Zhixia barely imposed any constraints on her students, making it difficult for them to maintain high-quality, efficient output. Lin Zhixia even suspected Tan Qianche was treating her like a student, too, indirectly teaching her how to be a strict, responsible teacher.
Lin Zhixia felt indignant.
She had her teaching methods.
Lin Zhixia’s graduate students were adults—they could reasonably arrange their schedules.
Moreover, many graduate students end up working in fields unrelated to their specialized studies after graduation. Lin Zhixia wanted students to discover their interest in scientific research, not force them to work year-round without breaks. She had times when she wasn’t in the right state of mind, so how could she demand students to be constantly on edge?
The moment she stepped through her door, Lin Zhixia was still pondering her teaching problems.
Then, she heard her mother’s voice: “Xiaxia, you’re home? Why didn’t you tell Mom you’d be home for lunch?”
Mom was home!
The gloom in Lin Zhixia’s heart instantly vanished.
This morning, her parents had moved the remaining things from their old apartment in Ancheng Complex and found a real estate agency to help them sell the place. Her mother handed Lin Zhixia the agency contract for her to review carefully, but Lin Zhixia just said, “Mom, Mom, I want to eat first, I’m so hungry.”
Hearing this, her mother hurried to the kitchen.
The phone in Lin Zhixia’s pocket vibrated again. She lit up the screen and saw a WeChat message from Jiang Yubai: “Did class go smoothly today?”
With her confidant actively reaching out, Lin Zhixia told him everything: “Not very smoothly. I taught two classes in total, and after the first class, more than half the seats were empty. Almost all the students from the Software College and Computer Science College left.”
She rapidly typed on the nine-square keyboard: “I hoped the Computer Science students would stay for the class, because we’re constantly trying to create quantum computers. If the drop rate exceeds seventy percent, the course will be canceled.”
A drop rate exceeding seventy percent… wasn’t impossible, Jiang Yubai thought.
Even before Lin Zhixia started teaching, Jiang Yubai had seen her course PowerPoint.
Jiang Yubai was, after all, an outstanding graduate of Trinity College, Cambridge. Trinity College emphasized developing students’ mathematical thinking abilities, so Jiang Yubai had some confidence in his mathematical skills. But after going through Lin Zhixia’s PowerPoint, he could only roughly understand a few basic formulas; the rest of the complex theoretical derivations were almost completely incomprehensible to him.
When Lin Zhixia was studying at Provincial No. 1 High School, classmates would often approach her with questions, seeking her help. Lin Zhixia always managed to solve their difficulties in a clear, accessible way. However, based on Jiang Yubai’s observation, Lin Zhixia didn’t understand the limitations of ordinary people’s comprehension—she was better suited for small-class teaching, adjusting strategies in real time for each student.
When teaching large undergraduate classes, she tried to convey the maximum amount of information in the shortest time.
No wonder half the students had left.
Jiang Yubai analyzed for her: “Students are afraid of failing courses. Failing means retaking, which affects their chances for graduate recommendation and studying abroad, quite troublesome. They left not because your class wasn’t good. Your PowerPoint is the most…”
His fingertips paused before typing: “professional, rich, detailed, and theoretically supported undergraduate course PowerPoint I’ve ever seen.”
Lin Zhixia only asked him one question: “Can you understand it?”
This was a deadly question.
Jiang Yubai felt like he was back in elementary school.
At present, Jiang Yubai was dressed in a suit, sitting in a spacious executive office with his secretary organizing contracts nearby.
Clear sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on his solid wood desk as his secretary handed him a document with both hands: “Mr. Jiang, here’s the latest version of Jiangke Software’s ‘Equity Incentive Plan,’ revised according to your previous notes…”
Jiangke Software was a software service company serving global clients.
It was 2016, and Jiangke Software had been established in 2011. In just five short years, it had expanded rapidly, maintained a stable client base, achieved steadily growing business performance, successfully broken through the traditional software sales model, and transformed into a mature software service provider, honored as the industry benchmark for “new generation internet startups.”
Five years ago, Jiangke Software released its first product—a seemingly ordinary image recognition system. Due to a lack of operating funds, the company once fell into difficulties.
Founder Chai Yang ran around everywhere, meeting hundreds of investors, until he accidentally met Jiang Yubai. Jiang Yubai approved of his business model and became his angel investor.
Jiang Yubai also leveraged his family’s network to promote their business to Thailand, India, South Korea, and Singapore. Plus, Jiang Yubai’s father already controlled an established internet company, making Jiangke Software a subsidiary of that internet company.
Jiangke Software integrated projects, advanced on all fronts, and developed to a thriving stage.
Jiang Yubai owned two investment companies and was regularly involved in various industries. Jiangke Software was considered a milestone in his investment history. However, just yesterday, this milestone showed cracks.
Jiang Yubai received news that Jiangke Software’s founding team planned to resign and leave—they also intended to issue a public statement.
The content of the statement remained unknown.
Jiang Yubai found this somewhat thorny.
For years, Jiang Yubai had been working behind the scenes, rarely exposing himself to public view—cautious sailing lasts forever, and he always had to consider the impact from all angles.
Jiangke Software’s issue was particularly special.
The head of Jiangke Software’s founding team was named Chai Yang.
Chai Yang had a deep friendship with Jiang Yubai.
The person proposing the “resign and leave” plan was also Chai Yang.
In other words, Chai Yang founded Jiangke and now wanted to leave Jiangke.
Before leaving, he planned to make a big move.
Back then, if Jiang Yubai hadn’t invested, Chai Yang would have given up on entrepreneurship.
Sharing hardships is easy; sharing prosperity is difficult. The fuse for the Chai Yang team’s resignation event was precisely that “Equity Incentive Plan.” Chai Yang and his team hoped Jiang Yubai could guarantee their internal shares and absolute decision-making power in the company; they absolutely could not use an “Equity Incentive Plan” to copy Huawei’s business model.
Additionally, Chai Yang learned through the news that “Quantum Technology Laboratory” was a newly established subsidiary this year. Within the parent company, this “Quantum Technology Laboratory” was on equal footing with “Jiangke Software Company,” enjoying numerous preferential treatments and special policies, and even appropriating Jiangke Software’s resources, which bothered Chai Yang.
The day Jiang Yubai personally went to the university to sign the contract, Chai Yang sent him a text message explaining his job-hopping plans.
That evening, Jiang Yubai skipped dinner and urgently called an internal meeting—but Chai Yang didn’t attend. Reportedly, several domestic companies had offered Chai Yang generous terms, and Chai Yang had also found new entrepreneurial partners.
Jiang Yubai pondered that the current situation was more serious than he had imagined.
Nevertheless, Jiang Yubai still signed and confirmed the “Equity Incentive Plan.” While writing, he asked, “Any news from Chai Yang?”
The secretary took the document and replied, “He hasn’t responded to the email.”
Not even responding to emails?
Chai Yang probably wasn’t simply looking to change jobs.
Chai Yang’s team had four core members—all were high-level managers of “Jiangke Software Company,” distributed across various departments. Jiang Yubai sent each of them a separate email, inviting them to meet at the same place next Saturday.
After finishing these tasks, Jiang Yubai sent another WeChat message to Lin Zhixia: “The Quantum Technology Laboratory has just started operations. Let me handle the equity distribution work. It’s a thankless task—you shouldn’t do it, I’ll do it.”
Lin Zhixia immediately guessed: “Is there a problem with Jiangke Software’s equity distribution?”
Jiang Yubai’s fingertips hovered over his phone screen.
He had to admit that Lin Zhixia was too smart.
He deliberately downplayed it: “Small problem, it’s fine.”
Lin Zhixia sent a “cat patting paws” emoji.
Jiang Yubai suspected she had guessed some inside information. He simply said, “After my meeting tomorrow, let’s discuss this matter.”
“Sure, sure.” Lin Zhixia readily agreed.
Jiang Yubai picked up his cup and had just taken a sip of water when Lin Zhixia suddenly sent a message: “Whatever difficulties you encounter, you can always talk to me. Don’t be shy, I’ll always support you.”
Jiang Yubai felt warmth in his heart. Imitating her tone, he solemnly promised: “Sure, sure.”
Lin Zhixia began probing: “Is the equity dispute related to Chai Yang?”
Jiang Yubai answered: “Yes.”
Lin Zhixia asked several more questions, which Jiang Yubai answered honestly, until Lin Zhixia brought up again: “Can you understand the ‘Quantum Bits and Computers’ PowerPoint?”
Jiang Yubai fell silent.
Lin Zhixia pressed: “You really can’t understand it?”
Jiang Yubai admitted with slight embarrassment: “No.”
Lin Zhixia concluded with great regret: “No wonder, if even you can’t understand it, let alone other students… When I was in high school, I should have tutored more classmates to better understand their situation.”
Lin Zhixia thought that PowerPoint was simple enough, but it turned out to be too advanced.
She had previously taught four undergraduates at Cambridge; three went directly into doctoral programs, one went to MIT, one stayed at Cambridge, and another settled at Stanford. Their physics foundations were all superior to Jiang Yubai’s, which had raised Lin Zhixia’s expectations for undergraduates—realizing this, Lin Zhixia couldn’t help but feel emotional.
Lin Zhixia sincerely hoped that both she and Jiang Yubai could quickly resolve their work troubles.
*
Lin Zhixia had maintained a habit for many years.
Every Friday evening, she would return to her bedroom, sit cross-legged, and quietly meditate. She mentally organized her memories, sorted knowledge points, achieved a level of integration, and generated many wonderful associations—this was one source of her inventions and creations. To date, she has published nearly twenty high-quality papers, obtained several national patents, and received continuous financial support.
However, this Friday evening, Lin Zhixia abandoned meditation.
She went to Jiang Yubai’s home.
It was rare for Jiang Yubai to be free tonight, and Lin Zhixia wanted to chat with him, discuss their predicaments, support each other, and solve problems.
Today was September 23, 2016, also the day before Lin Zhixia’s twenty-second birthday. She guessed Jiang Yubai might have prepared a birthday gift for her.
Lin Zhixia’s fingerprint had already been registered in the security system. She extended her index finger, gently touched a screen beside the door, and the large door opened. She crossed the threshold, walked out of the entrance hall, and called out: “Jiang Yubai?”
Surprisingly, Jiang Yubai appeared before her wearing a Provincial No. 1 High School uniform.