After Shen Fuxuan passed the civil service exam, he worked at the grassroots level for a while before being transferred back to the provincial capital. Since his return to the provincial capital, he hadn’t had much contact with Lin Zhixia and others. Duan Qiyan invited him out for meals several times, but after he made excuses repeatedly, Duan Qiyan stopped inviting him.
Lin Zhixia felt increasingly uneasy.
She sent Shen Fuxuan a WeChat message: “Good evening, Classmate Shen.”
Lin Zhixia rarely chatted with Shen Fuxuan in private, and her wording seemed particularly formal. But Shen Fuxuan replied instantly: “Good evening.”
Lin Zhixia seized the opportunity and asked: “How is Professor Shen doing recently?”
He responded just like his father: “She’s fine.”
Lin Zhixia knew well that Shen Fuxuan was not a person easily persuaded. She had been a classmate with Shen Fuxuan for four years and had witnessed firsthand how Shen Fuxuan’s daily entertainment was making Duan Qiyan run in circles.
Shen Fuxuan was always stirring up trouble, speaking half-truths and half-falsehoods, and this habit hadn’t changed even after he became an adult. Deng Shasha once commented that after just two days with Shen Fuxuan, she was almost dazed by this junior, showing he was no simple character and had quite a few tricks up his sleeve.
Lin Zhixia agreed with Deng Shasha’s opinion.
She put down her phone and fell face-first onto the bed.
Jiang Yubai pushed open the door and entered the room, only to see Lin Zhixia lying motionless on the bed. He walked over, sat on the edge of the bed, and skillfully lifted her by the waist. She leaned into his embrace, still clutching her phone. After a while, she received a WeChat message from He Yuanqian—it was a lengthy message in which He Yuanqian truthfully relayed that Shen Zhaohua had undergone surgery in mid-April this year. Shen Zhaohua’s family had all been optimistic about the surgery, but reality had slapped them hard in the face.
Before the surgery, Shen Zhaohua hadn’t mentioned it to anyone because she thought she would recover quickly and return to work.
After the surgery, Shen Zhaohua’s condition deteriorated, with cancer cells spreading and metastasizing, and targeted drugs showing no obvious effect. She planned to disclose her condition soon, to arrange new advisors for her students. She occasionally mentioned Lin Zhixia to her family and even dreamed of what Lin Zhixia looked like at ten years old.
Next Thursday, she wanted to meet with Lin Zhixia. Currently, she was staying in a special care ward at the Provincial People’s Hospital.
Lin Zhixia’s emotions were complex. She wasn’t clear about the extent of Shen Zhaohua’s “deterioration,” only hoping that a medical miracle would come soon.
She lay flat on the bed, resting her head on Jiang Yubai’s lap, and handed him her phone.
After reading the WeChat message, Jiang Yubai comforted Lin Zhixia in a gentle voice: “Next Thursday, I’ll accompany you to the hospital.” He checked the calendar; next Thursday happened to be April 27th.
*
This year’s graduate student interviews were scheduled for late April.
Before April 27th, Lin Zhixia had to interview more than twenty students.
She screened the resumes and briefly reviewed the papers already published by the students—among this batch, Chen Shihan was undoubtedly the most outstanding. Additionally, Chen Shihan was female and had only applied to Lin Zhixia as her advisor. Since Lin Zhixia preferred to recruit female students, she simply decided on Chen Shihan in advance and added her name to the research group.
On the day of the graduate student interview, the quantum computing evaluation committee of the Interdisciplinary College consisted of seven professors, including Lin Zhixia, the Deputy Dean, Qu Zongyi, Tan Qianche, and others. The professors sat on one side of the long table, with students standing on the other side. The atmosphere was very tense; some students had flushed faces, sweaty foreheads, and pale lips. Tan Qianche said to Lin Zhixia, “These students have poor psychological quality. No matter how well they study, don’t recruit them.”
“My enrollment quota for this year is already full,” Lin Zhixia revealed.
Tan Qianche opened his work journal, writing as he asked: “Are they obedient, your new students?”
“Obedience is secondary,” Lin Zhixia insisted. “Having their ideas is primary.”
Tan Qianche capped his pen and commented indifferently: “The best student sources are at Tsinghua and Peking Universities. You’re only suited to mentoring good students.”
He rolled up an inch of his sleeve, revealing his wrist with distinct wrist bones, slightly visible blue veins, and proportionate muscle lines. The newly arrived female student kept staring at his hand, causing him to laugh briefly as he gazed at her. The female student’s face immediately turned red, and her hands twisted the hem of her jacket.
“Look,” Tan Qianche said in an extremely low voice, “this student can’t be accepted either.”
Tan Qianche’s seat was at the far end, with Lin Zhixia as his neighbor, so only Lin Zhixia could hear him speak. He had just offered his advice when Lin Zhixia responded coldly: “Our admission standards are different, Professor Tan.”
Then, Lin Zhixia raised her voice: “Student Chen Shihan, don’t be nervous. Please introduce yourself.”
Chen Shihan had flown from Hong Kong to the provincial capital just yesterday. Her Mandarin wasn’t good, and since getting off the plane, she had been on tenterhooks. Her boyfriend didn’t want her to study for a graduate degree in the mainland, always telling her that mainland classmates discriminate against Hong Kong girls and would certainly isolate her, which scared her into telling everyone her hometown was in Guangdong, that she was a genuine Guangdong person.
During her self-introduction, Chen Shihan accidentally spoke smoothly: “I’m from Guangdong.”
Tan Qianche interrupted her: “Your profile shows that your household registration is in Hong Kong, Student Chen.”
Chen Shihan quickly corrected herself: “Hong Kong.”
Tan Qianche smiled again.
Chen Shihan’s tongue seemed to be tied in knots. Her stammering appearance truly resembled Lin Zhixia’s other student, Zhan Rui. Fortunately, the professors present were all very patient. The Deputy Dean posed a few simple questions, and Chen Shihan picked up a marker and quickly answered on the blackboard. Gradually, she got into the rhythm, no longer showing any nervousness, and could even chat pleasantly with the professors.
Chen Shihan’s undergraduate major was in physics with a minor in computer science. In high school, she had participated in physics and chemistry competitions. During her undergraduate studies, she had also published papers. With such an academic background, she stood out remarkably among the students.
Qu Zongyi was particularly satisfied and asked her on the spot: “Student Chen Shihan, have you decided on an advisor?” Before finishing his question, he pushed forward the nameplate in front of him, which prominently displayed “Interdisciplinary College Subject Leader, Professor Qu Zongyi.”
Chen Shihan looked longingly at Lin Zhixia, hesitating to speak—her ardent gaze was easily understood by anyone.
Qu Zongyi gave an awkward “hehe” laugh and found himself a way out: “The master leads you to the door, but cultivation depends on the individual.”
Chen Shihan bowed to the professors: “Thank you, professors.”
Lin Zhixia nodded to her.
Chen Shihan knew this represented Lin Zhixia’s approval. Her heart was sweeter than honey, and she returned a smile to Lin Zhixia.
After Chen Shihan left, Qu Zongyi unscrewed a glass bottle, took a sip of tea with Semen Sterculiae, and complimented: “Professor Lin’s students are all excellent.”
Lin Zhixia reciprocated: “Not as good as Professor Qu’s students.”
While recording interview scores, she was also drafting a “Graduate Student Training Plan.” Halfway through writing, she heard Qu Zongyi say: “Oh, you’re Professor Shen’s granddaughter, right, Professor Lin? I heard about Professor Shen’s situation this morning.”
Lin Zhixia’s movements paused.
Many professors at the school believed that Lin Zhixia was Shen Zhaohua’s biological granddaughter because she had been cherished by Shen Zhaohua since childhood. She didn’t contradict Qu Zongyi but only said: “Professor Shen will recover.”
Qu Zongyi didn’t respond, so Lin Zhixia repeated: “She will get better.”
Qu Zongyi specialized in chemistry research, with some knowledge of medicine and biology. He believed that Shen Zhaohua’s situation was not optimistic—this wasn’t him being alarmist; professors from the Medical School agreed with his opinion.
He pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose and told a lie: “Professor Shen has a strong constitution and can pull through.” He comforted her: “Don’t worry too much, Professor Lin.”
After several seconds, Lin Zhixia finally replied: “Thank you.”
*
This year’s graduate student recruitment continued in an intense yet orderly manner.
Lin Zhixia’s three newly admitted students, including Chen Shihan, were all formidable characters with rich backgrounds. According to reliable information, Chen Shihan not only excelled academically but also spoke English well, achieving an IELTS score of 8 points, making her a typical “child from someone else’s family.”
Xu Lingbo heard about this and felt quite uneasy.
Anxious emotions filled his heart.
He was about to enter his third year of graduate studies without a single published paper. The junior students in the group were becoming increasingly impressive—even Zhan Rui had submitted a conference paper, while he still had nothing to show.
Heaven knows that for the past half year, he had been studying diligently and never slacked off. But for him, writing papers was like winning the lottery—effort alone wasn’t enough; it also required luck.
On another bright morning, Xu Lingbo got up early, rushed to the laboratory, and brought breakfast for his senior, Fang Yiwen. It was 7:30 in the morning, and only the two of them were in the laboratory.
He brought the breakfast to Fang Yiwen, who was reading Zhan Rui’s paper. Her fluffy, messy hair was as carefree as ever, exuding an air of casualness and uninhibitedness. Her left leg was propped up on another chair, her shoe soles still stained with yellow mud, showing not a bit of elegance in her posture, yet displaying boundless spirit and natural grace.
Xu Lingbo’s heart stirred, and like Zhan Rui, he stammered: “Sen-Senior, I, I, I…”
His senior interrupted him: “I know what you’re going to say.”
Xu Lingbo took a sharp breath, and his senior asked: “Do you want to hear my kind lie or the plain truth?”
Xu Lingbo chose the “kind lie.”
Fang Yiwen spoke softly: “You need to focus your mind on studying.”
“Our personalities complement each other,” Xu Lingbo suddenly blurted out boldly. “Give me a chance to reduce the gap between us, Senior.”
Fang Yiwen shook her head slightly and said indifferently: “The gap between you and me is deeper than the Mariana Trench, greater than the energy released by nuclear fusion. Let me give you an example: if I am a first-magnitude star in the Orion constellation of the Milky Way, you are a small satellite of Jupiter; if I am highly oxidizing perchloric acid, you are a bowl of pH-neutral water; I am continuously replicated DNA, you are ATP that will eventually be hydrolyzed. Our abilities are not even on the same evaluation scale.”
She looked up: “The plain truth, understand?”
Xu Lingbo felt as if a thousand arrows had pierced his heart. He stumbled out of the laboratory, bumping into Professor Tan Qianche from the Physics College. Seeing him distraught, Professor Tan specifically steadied him and asked: “Is your Professor Lin in the laboratory?”
“No,” Xu Lingbo murmured, “Professor Lin went to the hospital.”
“Is she sick?”
“Not her, it’s her grandmother, Professor Shen Zhaohua, who’s hospitalized.”
Tan Qianche pondered thoughtfully.
Xu Lingbo managed to collect himself and asked on behalf of Lin Zhixia: “Professor Tan, what business do you have with Professor Lin?”
Tan Qianche replied: “Your Professor Lin is the deputy leader of the Four-School Joint Research Group and is likely to be selected for this year’s Global Forbes 30 Under 30 Outstanding Talents. Professors from the Four-School Research Group all want to recommend Professor Lin to the International Academic Union so she can receive the ‘Most Outstanding Scientist Under 30’ award.”
Xu Lingbo had heard of this award, known for its generous prize money, far-reaching influence, and strict evaluation system, often called the “Little Nobel Prize.” The review committee included top scientists from China, Japan, Europe, and America, with the annual award ceremony held in the great halls of capital cities.
For the ten-thousandth time in his life, Xu Lingbo sighed: “Professor Lin is truly exceptional. I’m dragging down Professor Lin’s group…”
Tan Qianche consoled him with one sentence: “Don’t compare yourself to geniuses; don’t torment yourself. The more one understands, the less one knows[1].”
Xu Lingbo expressed his appreciation for the advice.
*
Today, the sun shone brightly, the weather was clear, cloudless for thousands of miles—seemingly a good omen.
Lin Zhixia carried a fruit basket in her left hand, holding Jiang Yubai’s hand with her right, as they walked together into the inpatient department of the Provincial People’s Hospital.
Shen Zhaohua’s ward was on the seventh floor.
The corridor was clean and tidy, the sunlight outside the window dazzling, with family members accompanying patients for walks, displaying a serene and peaceful atmosphere.
Lin Zhixia stood in front of a door to a ward, which was slightly ajar, but she didn’t dare push it.
For a moment, it seemed like she had returned to her childhood. That year, Lin Zhixia was only nine years old. She participated in an autumn tour and met Shen Zhaohua at the aquarium. Shen Zhaohua gave her business card to Lin Zhixia, but Lin Zhixia hesitated to accept it. Many years later, she was again hesitant and indecisive. Jiang Yubai placed his hand on her shoulder, and she finally pulled the door open a crack.
She heard Shen Zhaohua’s voice: “Come in.”
Shen Fuxuan was also in the room. He smiled and said, “Professor Shen woke up at five and has been waiting for you all morning.”
“I haven’t been waiting,” Shen Zhaohua paused, then asked, “Is that Lin Zhixia?”
Lin Zhixia slowly walked into the ward.
She finally saw Shen Zhaohua.
Shen Zhaohua’s condition was quite good. She wasn’t lying weak and breathless on the bed as Lin Zhixia had imagined. On the contrary, she looked spirited, just much thinner, with her skin having a yellowish tinge. She sat on the bed, leaning against the pillow, with a tube inserted into her left hand, receiving an IV drip.
Lin Zhixia spoke: “Hello, Professor Shen.”
Jiang Yubai was even more polite. He also introduced himself, stating that he was Lin Zhixia’s family member.
Shen Zhaohua had a deep impression of Jiang Yubai—as a child, Lin Zhixia loved visiting the university’s laboratories and libraries, and Jiang Yubai often accompanied her. The two children were inseparable on campus, like shadows following each other.
Shen Zhaohua’s attitude toward Jiang Yubai was quite amiable: “Please, both of you, sit down.”
Lin Zhixia sat properly on an empty seat by the bed. She kept her legs together, holding the fruit basket, her gaze never leaving Shen Zhaohua, which made Shen Zhaohua smile.
Shen Zhaohua chatted with Lin Zhixia like an elder: “It’s the end of April. Has the graduate student interview ended?”
“Yes,” Lin Zhixia said, “This year I recruited three students.”
Shen Zhaohua expressed satisfaction: “That’s good.”
Lin Zhixia moved her chair forward, getting closer to Shen Zhaohua: “How have you been feeling recently?”
Shen Zhaohua had always suffered from farsightedness. Recently, her eye problems had become more severe; she couldn’t see clearly from far or near, only vaguely distinguishing blurry outlines. She opened her eyelids slightly, facing Lin Zhixia, and said: “Not bad.”
Shen Fuxuan stood silently nearby, peeling an apple.
Jiang Yubai stood next to Shen Fuxuan. They were considered close friends, and Jiang Yubai spoke softly with Shen Fuxuan. Shen Zhaohua couldn’t hear clearly what the two were saying, and a buzzing noise came to her ears. She half-closed her eyes, leaning against the headboard, with her hands resting on the blanket, knuckles prominently protruding, the backs of her hands covered with age spots.
The ward fell silent at that moment.
“Lin Zhixia.” Shen Zhaohua only called her name.
Lin Zhixia quickly responded: “I’m here.”
Shen Zhaohua instructed: “Open the box on top of the cabinet…”
Before she finished speaking, Shen Fuxuan came over to help. His skin tone was darker than before, probably from being in the countryside, and he had matured significantly, no longer laughing before speaking as he used to, or speaking and acting with a teasing tone.
He took a wooden box from the cabinet and handed it personally to Lin Zhixia, explaining: “It contains many penguins.”
“Penguins?” Lin Zhixia opened the lid.
It was a row of small wooden carved penguin figurines.
Shen Fuxuan introduced their origin in detail: “Last year, Grandmother went on an expedition to Antarctica and happened to meet an Antarctic penguin researcher. Grandmother bought a batch of teaching aids from him…” He stepped back, moving further away from her: “A complete collection of world penguin species.”
How did Shen Zhaohua know that Lin Zhixia liked penguins?
When Lin Zhixia was ten years old, she often ran to Shen Zhaohua’s laboratory. Each time she came to the lab, her backpack was bulging—it contained her small plush penguin toys. Shen Zhaohua had seen them several times and remembered.
Lin Zhixia held the box, as if suddenly returning to her student days, only able to say one thing: “Thank you, Professor Shen.”
Shen Zhaohua leaned on the bed, looking at Lin Zhixia, then turned to Shen Fuxuan and said: “You’ve been here all morning. It’s Thursday today, and work is important. You go back first.”
“I’m leaving?” Shen Fuxuan picked up his jacket.
Shen Zhaohua waved her hand.
The caregiver slightly pulled back the curtains, and bright light shone in, falling on Jiang Yubai. Jiang Yubai handed the fruit basket that Lin Zhixia had brought to the caregiver, then spoke: “Professor Shen should rest well first. Lin Zhixia and I will visit again in a couple of days.”
Shen Zhaohua picked up a pair of framed glasses from the bedside and placed them on the bridge of her nose. Her movements were slow, and she didn’t let anyone help her. The liquid in the IV bag dripped down one drop at a time. She inadvertently touched Lin Zhixia, and Lin Zhixia felt that her hand was as cold as the medicine.
Shen Zhaohua peered through her glasses, examining Lin Zhixia carefully. The view was still blurry. Shen Zhaohua couldn’t help but cough once, then said: “Today, after seeing you this last time, that’s enough. You don’t need to come again in a couple of days. You all have… your careers and lives… I’m almost eighty years old, an old fogey now…”
Lin Zhixia understood her implied meaning, and Shen Fuxuan’s expression wasn’t looking good either. But he could still manage to smile. He put on his coat, sat on the stool, and said in a convincing tone: “It hasn’t come to that point yet. Let’s observe for a few more days; the targeted anti-cancer drug is effective. My mother said you were almost elected as an academician last year. When you get better, with the academician medal in hand, you can still teach at the school…”
“Gu Likai is also being considered for academician,” Lin Zhixia suddenly interjected. “I organized a Four-School Joint Research Group with Professor Gu as the leader. When he visited our school last week, we also talked about you, Professor Shen.”
Shen Zhaohua pressed on the side rail of the bed and joked: “When he becomes an academician, burn an incense stick for me.”
“What?” Lin Zhixia was somewhat shocked.
Shen Zhaohua thought she hadn’t understood and repeated: “Burn an incense stick.”
The room fell silent.
Shen Zhaohua closed her eyes to rest, then continued: “Your senior Zhu Chan has long been able to conduct research independently, and so have you, with funds and achievements… Colleagues at the school think you’re my granddaughter… I’ve laughed about it a few times…”
Her words were intermittent, like an old person sleep-talking.
Tears welled up in Lin Zhixia’s eyes. She hadn’t cried for many years, but just thinking about how good Shen Zhaohua had been to her, she couldn’t control her emotions.
Shen Zhaohua had opened up the university’s library resources and laboratory equipment to Lin Zhixia, connected her with Gu Likai as her undergraduate advisor, and, after she completed her doctorate and returned to China, helped her build connections and stabilize her network relationships at the school. No wonder the Vice President mistakenly thought Lin Zhixia was Shen Zhaohua’s granddaughter.
Tears suddenly rolled down, dripping onto the back of Lin Zhixia’s hand. Fearing that Shen Zhaohua would notice, she spoke in a normal tone: “Alright, I understand, Professor Shen. You should rest. Jiang Yubai, Shen Fuxuan, and I will go first. When we have time another day, we’ll come to see you again. I can bring Senior Zhu Chan…”
But Shen Zhaohua comforted her kindly, like a grandmother: “Don’t cry anymore, Xiaxia.”
Her comfort only made things worse, and Lin Zhixia cried even harder. Tears fell like broken pearls, wetting her skirt. She stood up from her seat, trying to maintain composure: “I’m sorry, Professor Shen, I…”
“This child… just has a soft heart,” Shen Zhaohua commented.
Jiang Yubai handed tissues to Lin Zhixia, while Shen Fuxuan made a self-deprecating remark: “Grandmother, don’t talk about her anymore; I’m about to cry too.”
Shen Zhaohua laughed. Her sense of fatigue seemed to have diminished somewhat, and her condition was better than in the morning. She moved the blanket up an inch, rested her neck on the soft pillow, tilted her head slightly back, and continued: “If I leave, don’t shed tears… If you remember me, it’s as if I haven’t left, isn’t it?”
Her tone was as if she were explaining a problem to students.
Jiang Yubai and Shen Fuxuan remained silent, and Shen Zhaohua looked at Lin Zhixia again. She knew that Lin Zhixia’s memory was unparalleled. Lin Zhixia was indeed brilliantly intelligent and quickly understood her gaze, agreeing: “Yes.”
Shen Zhaohua calmly recited a line of poetry: “Life in the world of light has its end, death returns to the netherworld, what’s there to fear[2].”