When Lin Zhixia returned to the hotel room, Jiang Yubai was taking a shower. He hadn’t completely closed the bathroom door, and mist escaped through the gap. Lin Zhixia could hear the sound of water hitting the floor and smell the fragrance of shower gel.
She stood at the bathroom door, openly looking toward the shower area.
Through a frosted glass panel, Jiang Yubai’s figure was indistinct and unclear. He turned off the shower head, the water sound stopped, and mist spread everywhere. He called her nickname: “Xiaxia?” His voice was slightly hoarse, particularly bewitching.
Lin Zhixia silently approached him, only to have her wrist grabbed by him and pulled into the warm, rippling round bathtub. Her clothes fell to the floor, her thoughts washed away by the waves, her entire body relaxed. Jiang Yubai ran his hand from her shoulder to her neck, his palm touching skin that was fair, tender, and lustrous, slippery to hold. He firmly gripped her waist and lowered his head to kiss her ear.
Lin Zhixia leaned against Jiang Yubai, grabbing his left hand, gently pressing his knuckles, tracing his nails. Finally, she imitated his frequent gesture by placing a kiss on the back of his hand, and he immediately withdrew his hand.
She quickly looked up at him.
He smoothly kissed her and massaged her with his left hand for a while. She felt so comfortable that her bones softened, almost melting into the water.
The surrounding water vapor rose, misty waves ethereal, the light dim and hazy—they seemed to be in a fog. Jiang Yubai’s urgent breathing entwined around her ear, and she subtly stated: “It’s past ten at night, I’m a bit tired…”
Jiang Yubai rose and put on a bathrobe, then pulled out a towel and covered Lin Zhixia’s head. Lin Zhixia hooked her arms around his neck and was immediately lifted in his arms and carried into the bedroom.
The bedside lamp emitted a dim glow. Lin Zhixia hugged a pillow, rolling back and forth alone on the bed. Jiang Yubai pulled away her pillow, lay down beside her, and said without reason: “You’re still not sober. Go to sleep early.”
Lin Zhixia retorted: “I’m very clear-headed.” Then added: “Alcohol doesn’t affect me at all.”
Jiang Yubai turned off the bedside lamp and removed his bathrobe. Her hand reached out to touch him. He firmly caught her slender wrist, and she blurted out: “My communication with Senior earlier went very smoothly.”
Jiang Yubai only asked: “What did you talk about?”
Lin Zhixia answered steadily: “Economic issues.”
Jiang Yubai guessed: “Industry investment?”
Darkness enveloped the entire room, but a flash of blue light appeared outside the window—a sudden thunderstorm swept through the city, and the unexpected thunder startled Lin Zhixia. She threw herself into Jiang Yubai’s arms and continued: “No, I discussed salary and benefits with Senior.”
Jiang Yubai’s right hand around her waist paused, and she went on: “You know, I sold software before, and Senior didn’t take a penny. This year she joined our company and works overtime every day, which is exhausting… Besides overtime pay and equity incentives, she deserves more rewards.”
Jiang Yubai didn’t quite believe that Luo Ying and Lin Zhixia had discussed “salary and benefits” for half an hour, but Lin Zhixia sincerely suggested: “I want to establish a public award based on quantified performance evaluation results to recognize the best technical team in the company’s engineering department, and then distribute bonuses evenly to each employee according to their contributions within the team. After this year’s spring and fall recruitment, the company will have a large batch of new people…”
At this point, she yawned: “I told Senior that I’m not a reliable person. She must understand what I mean.”
Jiang Yubai, however, responded cryptically: “Not necessarily.”
Lin Zhixia continued explaining to herself: “My energy is limited, and I’m not good at managing and operating businesses. Some learn the way before others, and each profession has its specialty… Senior also said that there’s no perfect life, and many things people yearn for, they might never reach in this lifetime.”
Jiang Yubai probed indirectly: “What kind of personality does your Senior have?”
“A bit like my brother, both are responsible people,” Lin Zhixia concluded. She was so tired that her consciousness was unclear, her voice growing softer: “My brother’s Weibo name is ‘Autumn Autumn Gets Promoted and Raises.'”
“What about you?”
“Summer Summer Blazes Trails.”
Jiang Yubai couldn’t help but laugh: “That rhymes.”
Lin Zhixia was half-asleep, murmuring: “You can also create a similar username, corresponding to ‘Blaze Trails’…”
Jiang Yubai held her tighter: “Shelter from Wind and Rain?”
Lin Zhixia said, “Jiang Jiang Shelters from Wind and Rain.”
“Only for you,” he added.
Lin Zhixia had already fallen asleep. She no longer responded to him, completely sinking into dreamland.
*
The thunderstorm stopped in the latter half of the night. The next day dawned clear, with exceptionally fresh air.
Lin Zhixia and her colleagues once again departed from the hotel, heading to another well-known local institution in Hong Kong. The negotiation between the two parties began at nine in the morning and continued until four-thirty in the afternoon, with progress not going smoothly—several professors hoped to co-mentor graduate students with Lin Zhixia, Tan Qianche, or Gu Likai, rather than establishing the so-called “Four-School Joint Research Group.”
The Joint Research Group did not simply represent a “merger of strengths.” Division of labor within the group, transparency of information, funding sources, and allocation were all urgent and complex issues to be resolved. Even though Lin Zhixia proposed four different plans, her partners were still not satisfied.
Lin Zhixia expressed understanding.
In the evening, she left the campus with her colleagues.
A female student ran out from an experimental building, sprinting toward Lin Zhixia, shouting as she ran: “Professor Lin! Professor Lin!”
The voice headed straight for Lin Zeqiu, making him alert and causing him to look around. He happened to glimpse the female student—she had a somewhat round face, bright eyes, hair dyed dark brown, and ran with nimble steps and clear purpose. She stopped in front of Lin Zhixia, holding out a thick stack of documents.
Out of breath, she said: “My thesis, Professor Lin, may I ask you to…”
“Are you Chen Shihan?” Lin Zhixia recognized her. “You sent me an email the day before yesterday with your thesis attached. I read it, it’s well-written. I was planning to reply to you today.”
Chen Shihan held the envelope with both hands, voluntarily following alongside Lin Zhixia. She had just turned twenty-one, slightly younger than Lin Zhixia, her every move full of student-like qualities and somewhat reserved. After greeting everyone, she bowed to them. Tang Tingting asked with a smile: “Are you a student at this university?”
Chen Shihan described truthfully that she was about to graduate from her undergraduate program. However, her Cantonese accent couldn’t be changed, and apart from Lin Zhixia, the others didn’t quite understand her meaning.
Lin Zhixia chatted with her in Cantonese for about ten minutes, and her mood improved tremendously. She had read all of Lin Zhixia’s publications and was extremely interested in Lin Zhixia’s research. But she had never dared to contact Lin Zhixia.
Recently, she heard that Lin Zhixia and her group would be visiting their university, so she finally gathered the courage to send an email, and today she brought her thesis directly to Lin Zhixia in person—Professor Lin was indeed as beautiful, gentle, mature, and steady as she had imagined, full of the intellectual quality of a scholar.
She no longer concealed her intentions and stated frankly: “Professor Lin, I want to be your student.”
The university where Lin Zhixia worked also recruited students from the Hong Kong region. The school adopted an “application interview” system where students needed to submit application materials and then pass an interview assessment. According to the university’s schedule, this year’s interviews will be in late April.
So far, Lin Zhixia had already met many students. Last December, she had accepted one master’s student recommended from another school and two direct doctoral students, plus postdoctoral researchers transferred from other research groups, causing her research group to suddenly grow in number. If she added Chen Shihan, she doubted she would have enough energy to take care of each student.
Lin Zhixia had strict requirements for herself, with “teaching, imparting knowledge, and resolving doubts” as one of her professional principles. After careful consideration, she didn’t immediately agree to Chen Shihan’s request, but instead encouraged her to apply to several more schools and contact several more advisors. Chen Shihan, however, said she had only applied to Lin Zhixia’s school.
This was truly burning bridges behind her.
Lin Zhixia was somewhat surprised.
Chen Shihan also mentioned that she had searched for Lin Zhixia’s name on the “Advisor Rating Website,” where students praised Lin Zhixia to the skies. Lin Zhixia’s doctoral student Fang Yiwen had published two papers in half a year, each of high quality, enviable, and admirable, which fully demonstrated that Lin Zhixia was not only an independent Principal Investigator but also a dedicated advisor.
Lin Zhixia responded modestly: “I’m not that good; it mainly depends on the students’ efforts. The advisor’s reputation isn’t important; what matters is what the students gain.”
Despite saying this, after parting with Chen Shihan, she immediately took out her phone, opened the “Advisor Rating Website,” and searched for her name, “Lin Zhixia”—the mobile webpage displayed about twenty comments.
The first comment had the most likes. That student said, “Professor Lin is only in her twenties, but her knowledge reservoir is like someone in their seventies. Don’t be afraid to apply because of her youth; she is a responsible and excellent teacher.”
Another student said: “There’s a senior surnamed Xu in her group. If Senior Xu were in our group, there’s a 90% chance he would have delayed graduation. She doesn’t delay her students’ graduation—isn’t that proof of strong responsibility?”
Lin Zhixia noticed that the student who mentioned “delayed graduation” had the username “Cui Xiaoming.” She clicked on “Cui Xiaoming’s” avatar and saw that he had given Tan Qianche high scores several times, clearly a devoted supporter of Professor Tan Qianche.
Lin Zhixia locked her phone screen and put it back in her backpack.
“Do you want to accept Chen Shihan?” Tang Tingting asked her. “That child has talent, no devious thoughts. I quite like her.”
Lin Zhixia repeated her evaluation: “Talented, no devious thoughts?”
Tang Tingting picked up her milk tea, took a sip, and said: “Just like Duan Qiyan. I’m hopeless; I just like this type.”
Lin Zhixia let out a soft laugh.
*
Over the next few days, Lin Zhixia and her group traveled between different districts of Hong Kong. Lin Zhixia had originally hoped to collaborate with two Hong Kong universities, but she only managed to secure one. The day before leaving Hong Kong, she signed a “Joint Research Group” agreement with that university. Her undergraduate advisor, Gu Likai, was the overall director of the “Joint Research Group.” Gu Likai was about to be elected as an academician. Compared to Lin Zhixia in her early twenties, Gu Likai’s qualifications, age, connections, and foundation made people more comfortable.
With Gu Likai’s help, the two top universities in Beijing were willing to join the research group. The “Four-School Joint” brand instantly gained recognition, and Gu Likai’s daily work became increasingly busy.
In late April 2017, he specifically brought several colleagues and students from Beijing to the provincial capital to discuss the launch plan of the “Joint Research Group” with Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zhixia and Tan Qianche were jointly responsible for hosting this visit. Although this pair of senior and junior taught at the same university, they hadn’t seen each other for a long time and didn’t usually chat. Lin Zhixia felt that her relationship with Tan Qianche could be described as “keeping to themselves,” but Tan Qianche called her “Little Junior.”
His words were intimate, his voice cold and distant, creating a strong contrast that confused people.
Lin Zhixia could understand Tan Qianche because, last Friday, Lin Zhixia had received a digital wedding invitation from Senior Wei Ruoxing.
Senior Wei Ruoxing was an associate professor at a well-known university in Shanghai. Since last year, she had confirmed a relationship with another male teacher from the same school. That male teacher was young, promising, and handsome, a perfect match for the senior, being both “talented man, beautiful woman” and “talented woman, handsome man,” earning everyone’s approval.
Yet Tan Qianche remained unchanged. Compared to before, his style of handling matters was almost identical.
Lin Zhixia remained polite to Tan Qianche: “The dean and deputy dean had a meeting with me. The leadership attaches great importance to the ‘Four-School Joint Research Group’ and hopes you can bring your students to join. You are the student personally cultivated by Professor Gu, and your research achievements have significantly improved in the past half year…”
“Do you want me to join?” Tan Qianche lit a cigarette.
They stood in a garden on the east side of the experimental building, with a pleasant spring breeze and broad views. His laughter carried the smell of smoke: “I guess you don’t.”
The garden had lush grass, verdant bamboo, and pine forests, with beautiful scenery everywhere. Tan Qianche sat on a bench, cigarette ash falling on his fingers, and he spoke: “Professor Gu is the overall director of the research group…”
“You are Professor Gu’s pride and joy,” Lin Zhixia followed his meaning, “If you could join the group, everyone would be happy, Senior.”
Tan Qianche extinguished his cigarette.
Lin Zhixia consistently maintained a one-meter distance from him. He asked again: “The students you’ve recruited this year, are they of acceptable quality? This time, I don’t have time to vet them for you.”
“Thank you,” Lin Zhixia said, “I can vet them myself.”
Tan Qianche looked at his watch before throwing the cigarette into the nearby trash can. He stood up and took a few steps, tall with long legs, taking large strides.
Professor Gu would arrive on campus around 10 AM, and it was now precisely 9:55 AM. Time waits for no one. Tan Qianche and Lin Zhixia walked one after the other toward the university’s conference hall. They waited for a few minutes, and Professor Gu appeared with a group of colleagues and students—among this group, Yang Shuwen was considered an old acquaintance of Lin Zhixia’s.
Yang Shuwen was mingling in the crowd. When he spotted Tan Qianche, his face lit up with a genuine smile, calling out repeatedly: “Oh? Senior Tan!”
As he turned his head, Yang Shuwen’s gaze swept across and happened to meet Lin Zhixia. The warm smile froze at the corners of his mouth. His heart sank into an icy pit, and he mechanically nodded, calling her: “Junior Lin.”
Lin Zhixia smiled back in a friendly manner.
Yang Shuwen, however, circled away as if he had seen a ghost.
The school leaders gathered nearby, chatting casually with several other professors. Professor Gu walked toward Yang Shuwen with his hands behind his back, telling him, “Both your senior and junior have found teaching positions. If you want to stay in academia, you need to put in more effort.”
Last September, Yang Shuwen completed his doctorate and became a postdoctoral researcher in Professor Gu’s group. He showed little interest in research; the reason he chose to become a postdoctoral researcher was that he hadn’t found a suitable job yet. He thought to himself, “Being able to graduate with a doctorate is already a blessing amid misfortune,” but outwardly said, “Yes, Professor Gu, I will work hard.”
“Keep it up, Senior,” Lin Zhixia’s voice came from behind him.
He didn’t dare look back and strode forward.
Lin Zhixia remained in place, continuing to chat with Gu Likai. Gu Likai not only mentioned the content of the “Four-School Joint Research Group” agreement but also asked about Professor Shen Zhaohua’s recent situation. He said that his emails to Shen Zhaohua hadn’t been replied to, and when he called Shen Zhaohua’s office, her students told him that their Professor Shen had taken extended leave.
Lin Zhixia truthfully relayed: “I heard about this too. Professor Shen has taken leave to rest and will return to school in the second half of the year. Professor Shen’s work is quite demanding, often requiring field investigations. In all the years I’ve known Professor Shen, I’ve never seen her take a break.”
Gu Likai’s expression was quite unusual.
This was rather strange.
On the day Yang Shuwen had blown up the laboratory, Gu Likai hadn’t shown such a worried appearance. He didn’t say much in front of Lin Zhixia, but Lin Zhixia sensed something—Gu Likai and Shen Zhaohua were university classmates; he had known Shen Zhaohua for decades and certainly understood her better than Lin Zhixia did.
*
That afternoon, Lin Zhixia made a trip to the Institute of Paleontology and found Professor He Yuanqian.
He Yuanqian was Shen Zhaohua’s son-in-law and also Shen Fuxuan’s father. But his approach to dealing with the world was more sincere and simple compared to his son, Shen Fuxuan.
Recently, Lin Zhixia had just delivered a batch of amber to He Yuanqian’s laboratory. Upon seeing Lin Zhixia, He Yuanqian’s face appeared kind and amiable. Lin Zhixia directly asked him: “How is Professor Shen doing lately?”
“She’s fine,” He Yuanqian answered briefly.
Today was He Yuanqian’s office open day; his students had just left, leaving five or six disposable plastic cups filled with purified water on the tea table.
He Yuanqian picked up a paper cup and watered the potted plant by the window.
The setting sun slanted across, casting a brilliant afterglow at his feet. Both he and the flowerpot were coated in a rich golden-orange color. He pushed up the glasses on his nose bridge and said, “Professor Lin, I have good news. We measured that batch of amber with instruments and found a new species inside. My students are collecting data and writing a paper that should be published next year. Thank you very much, Professor Lin.”
“You’re welcome,” Lin Zhixia circled back to the previous topic. “I haven’t received any news from Professor Shen for a long time, nor have I seen her at the school. Earlier, I heard from others that Professor Shen was on vacation, and I was happy for her…”
He Yuanqian’s right hand trembled, and water spilled from the cup. The orchid’s branches and leaves stretched out, lush and verdant, with water droplets splashing on the orchid petals.
The office door was wide open, and some colleagues from the Paleontology Institute were passing by outside. The sound of people’s footsteps grew alternately near and far, while the inside of the office remained quiet.
Lin Zhixia waited for a few seconds, but He Yuanqian still didn’t speak. She then resolutely said, “Professor Shen was my first advisor. She taught me how to do research, brought me into the university…”
“Professor Shen also thinks of you often,” He Yuanqian finally revealed honestly. “At the beginning of this year, she was diagnosed with bile duct cancer and went to Beijing to see a doctor. Since it was discovered early, surgery could solve the problem. Our whole family believes in science and wasn’t too worried… Professor Shen didn’t want news of her illness to spread. When a person is over seventy, organs age, and illnesses are common. Earlier, she took leave for surgery, not wanting to worry colleagues or students.”
Lin Zhixia pressed further: “And then?”
He Yuanqian remained silent.
Lin Zhixia’s voice grew softer: “May I visit Professor Shen?”
He Yuanqian sighed quietly: “I’ll pass a message to Professor Shen right away.”
He Yuanqian’s sigh made Lin Zhixia understand that Professor Shen’s condition was not stable. Lin Zhixia’s anxiety followed. She wanted to contact Shen Fuxuan to inquire about Professor Shen’s current state.