Lin Zhixia possessed an exceptional memory. In her mind, she almost relived the scene from that night. Just as Jiang Yubai was about to ask if she wanted to play another round, she stepped back and ran out of his bedroom without looking back.
Why did she run?
She didn’t know either.
Her courage had already grown quite substantial.
Lin Zhixia’s mind was filled with random thoughts. She sat at a desk when her phone screen suddenly lit up—it turned out to be Han Guang, who had sent her a WeChat message. The paper that Lin Zhixia had reviewed for him had been successfully published.
He said to Lin Zhixia, “After thinking about it, I still need to thank you one more time.”
Lin Zhixia immediately replied: “No need to be polite, this is the result of your hard work. Congratulations, you can start applying for a PhD at MIT.”
The WeChat chat box displayed a line: “The other party is typing…”
Han Guang typed for a long time. He wrote a line and then deleted it. After deleting, he started writing again from the beginning, just like carefully choosing his words when answering an exam question. After several minutes, he finally sent a message: “Let me treat you to a meal.”
Lin Zhixia flatly refused: “Hahaha, no need, don’t be polite, focus on contacting professors at MIT and try to get your PhD admission letter this year.”
But Han Guang asked: “Have you had dinner yet?”
Lin Zhixia glanced at the wall clock. It was just past one in the afternoon. Who would eat dinner at this time?
Han Guang continued unprompted: “The ‘Quantum Computing’ course is over. You’re not my advisor, and I’m not your student. I’d like to treat you to a meal. There aren’t many places around campus. How about Hakka Seafood Restaurant?”
Lin Zhixia became somewhat alert.
She stopped talking to him.
Han Guang held his phone, looked at the screen several times, but received no response from Lin Zhixia. He knew his attempt had failed. He opened his laptop and pulled out a folder—it contained all the assignment comments Lin Zhixia had written for him, adding up to tens of thousands of words.
He couldn’t describe that special feeling in exact words—when he proposed a viewpoint based on several papers, Lin Zhixia could cite even more literature to further broaden his vision. She could always use very simple and concise language to describe extremely complex theorems and inferences. Reading her summaries first, then checking the relevant papers, produced twice the results with half the effort.
She was gentle, smart, and erudite.
Last semester, Li Zirui was also one of Lin Zhixia’s students. Li Zirui was Han Guang’s classmate, and even Li Zirui said that with Lin Zhixia’s help, his average score this semester had improved by more than ten points, truly an unprecedented improvement.
Han Guang held his phone and checked Lin Zhixia’s Moments. He saw Lin Zhixia’s latest update: “I’m developing a quantum algorithm system and would like to ask everyone for a favor. If you know the answer to the physics question below and are interested in quantum programming, could you contact me?”
Han Guang picked up a paper and a pen from the table, scribbled a page of draft calculations, and solved the problem. He took a photo and sent it to Lin Zhixia. Lin Zhixia finally responded: “Do you have time? Don’t let this affect your main tasks.”
“Yes, I do,” Han Guang said.
He told a harmless little lie: “I wanted to treat you to a meal and ask about the quantum programming development project.”
Lin Zhixia did not comment. After some consideration, she added Han Guang to a WeChat group and introduced him to everyone. It happened to be afternoon break time, and most group members were free. Han Guang started a round of self-introductions.
The group was filled with outstanding students, all from world-class universities. Some specialized in technology, others in theory. The most impressive was senior Wei Ruoxing—she barely spoke. However, through others’ introductions, Han Guang learned that Wei Ruoxing was an associate professor at a 985 university in Shanghai.
This WeChat group was truly filled with hidden talents.
Lin Zhixia posted another message to the group: “Thank you all for believing in me and joining this project. I’ve always wanted to make a small contribution to the ‘quantum computing’ community, and I’m happy to have the opportunity to collaborate with everyone. I’ll outline the entire project structure first and then divide it into several smaller tasks.”
Duan Qiyan suddenly sent a raised hand emoji.
Lin Zhixia was amused and responded: “Do you have a question?”
Duan Qiyan said, “With so many small tasks, are we supposed to choose freely?”
“Yes,” Lin Zhixia explained, “I hope everyone can find tasks suitable for you. We’ll collaborate with divided responsibilities and strive to complete all the work by next year.”
Duan Qiyan tagged “Jiang Jiang Jiang Jiang” and asked: “Isn’t Jiang Yubai studying economics?”
Jiang Yubai responded directly: “What about it?”
Duan Qiyan expressed his confusion: “Lin Zhixia’s project has no connection to economics, so why are you in our group? Did you solve that physics question?”
That physics question…
Jiang Yubai had seen it too.
But he hadn’t attempted to solve it.
Because he knew Lin Zhixia would let him into the group. He had already achieved his goal, so he wasn’t concerned about the process. He calmly asked Duan Qiyan, “Did you solve it?”
Duan Qiyan immediately fell silent.
Just then, Lin Zhixia uploaded a group file. She had prepared the task plan and sincerely invited everyone to participate.
Soon, Feng Yuan, Luo Ying, and Wei Ruoxing took the three most difficult parts—all three belonged to the “fierce but quiet” type. They would hardly say a word in the group for half a day, but when they spoke, they demonstrated their capabilities and intimidated everyone.
Duan Qiyan, Shen Fuxuan, Han Guang, and Wen Qi were all deeply impressed by them.
Only Lin Zeqiu couldn’t distinguish which tasks were difficult and which were simple.
In Lin Zeqiu’s eyes, those professional terms completely exceeded the scope of computer science.
He knew that Lin Zhixia was obsessed with “interdisciplinary studies.”
Lin Zeqiu’s professional skills weren’t quite relevant. He could only observe from the sidelines along with Jiang Yubai. This was quite embarrassing because, if measured by emotional closeness, Lin Zeqiu and Lin Zhixia’s relationship would certainly be the most intimate, yet he could provide the least help to his sister.
Eventually, Lin Zhixia privately messaged Lin Zeqiu, quietly telling him: “Brother, the last task is for you. Can you work on some of the underlying framework? I’ll take most of it, and you can take a small part.”
What did she mean by “I’ll take most of it, and you can take a small part”?
Lin Zeqiu frowned with dissatisfaction.
This summer vacation, Lin Zeqiu didn’t go home. He stayed in the school dormitory and interned at a company at least six days a week. He left early and returned late, working day and night, and learned quite a bit. Now, he was sitting at his desk in the company, holding a box of takeout food. The food was almost cold, and he had little appetite, speaking somewhat impolitely: “What do you mean, I can only do a small part?”
Lin Zhixia asked in return: “Didn’t you say you were very busy?”
Lin Zeqiu claimed, “Not as busy as you.”
Lin Zhixia rarely sought help from Lin Zeqiu.
In Lin Zeqiu’s memory, the only times were when she was little. For example, when she was five years old, her cousin snatched her doll during a visit to their hometown. She sobbed and ran to find Lin Zeqiu, crying with snot and tears: “Brother, brother, I’m so sad, my cousin is bullying me, he took my things…”
That was many years ago.
Lin Zeqiu was somehow compelled to write: “As you make your way alone out there, the family all supports you. Don’t shoulder everything by yourself. Talk to me if anything happens.”
Lin Zhixia felt warmth in her heart. She said: “OK, OK.”
Lin Zeqiu immediately asked: “Is your dormitory not a problem?”
Lin Zhixia suddenly became very clear-headed. She asserted confidently: “Of course!”
After saying this, she felt quite guilty. She put down her phone, stopped looking at the screen, and turned to open the computer on her desk. She carefully checked her email and found a postdoctoral recruitment notice from MIT.
A major research group in the interdisciplinary field of physics and computer science at MIT was recruiting postdoctoral researchers from top laboratories worldwide, offering competitive compensation.
As is commonly known, a postdoctoral position is essentially a job that generally requires applicants to have a doctoral degree.
Lin Zhixia casually browsed the job requirements and responsibilities… When she reached the last page, her eyes suddenly lit up, and her interest was piqued. Just then, Jiang Yubai knocked on her bedroom door, and she quickly said: “Come in!”
Jiang Yubai entered Lin Zhixia’s room, holding a glass plate filled with bright red, juicy strawberries.
Lin Zhixia exclaimed excitedly: “Jiang Yubai, look at this, MIT’s postdoctoral recruitment notice! Come analyze it with me!”