PCJ – Chapter 609 A Global Challenge

“Zhang Jiaohua, honestly, I think the fact that you’ve brought the experiment to this stage is already a huge success. After all, the mechanisms of living organisms are incredibly complex. You might be the most advanced researcher in the world on this topic. If you’re aiming for even more achievements, I fear it may already be extremely difficult,” said Huang Zhongfang, believing that Zhang Jiaohua was getting too fixated.

He was pleasantly surprised by Zhang Jiaohua’s progress—never expecting he’d get this far. At the same time, he was worried that Zhang Jiaohua was setting his goals too high, possibly beyond the capabilities of current human science. Zhang was smart—if he pivoted to something more feasible, he could accomplish even more.

Huang Zhongfang wasn’t someone who chased quick success, but in the current research climate in China, anyone entering this field had to adapt to its rules. The domestic academic system was purely results-driven. Without results, there’s no recognition. Results meant high-level academic papers and tangible research outputs. No one had the patience to wait years for results.

These papers and research results might not have much real value—some were even low-level repetitions, just as Zhang Jiaohua pointed out—but they were still critical. Without them, you couldn’t get research funding. Huang didn’t want to leave the lab to chase grants, but scientific research was a money-burning industry. Labs needed substantial funding just to function. So scholars like Huang had to become lab managers, spending their time securing grants while leaving the actual research to PhDs and master’s students. That was reality.

Huang recognized Zhang Jiaohua’s potential and talent. He genuinely hoped this young man would rise to greatness. So, in his eyes, Zhang’s current progress was more than enough. If he published a paper, it would definitely shake the world.

But Zhang shook his head. “Professor Huang, there are still several experimental phases I haven’t done yet. This is just a half-finished product. I won’t submit something half-baked.”

Mei Qing quickly added, “Zhang Jiaohua, don’t rush. Professor Huang is just looking out for you. What you’ve achieved is already a huge leap. Please consider his advice seriously.”

Huang Zhongfang was the absolute authority in the lab. All the research funding came from him. Anyone who didn’t follow his lead was often removed from the project group. Mei Qing worried that if he got upset, he might kick Zhang out.

Ma Nanli quickly added, “Senior Sister Mei is right, Zhang Jiaohua. Think it over carefully.”

Xia Hui and the others looked a bit confused—they hadn’t quite figured out what was happening—but they could sense something was off.

Huang chuckled. “Don’t worry, everyone. I’m just giving Zhang a suggestion. The final decision is his. His experiments aren’t too resource-intensive, so funding’s not a problem. I’m just concerned he might go too deep and end up wasting his time.”

“Professor Huang, I’ve decided to continue. I feel like I’m close to a breakthrough. Even if I don’t achieve my ultimate goal, I’ll at least gain clearer insights,” said Zhang Jiaohua.

Huang nodded. “Then go ahead. Mei Qing and Ma Nanli’s projects are progressing well after some adjustments. Zhang, keep an eye on those too. As I’ve always said, as long as you work earnestly, I’ll be your strongest support. Our platform here isn’t perfect, and I know you won’t be limited to it forever. But I hope you can help build it for the benefit of the next generation of students.”

Huang was very aware that any one of these current research projects, once completed, would make waves. They were all original studies. Even one success would have a profound impact on the group’s future. His team could become world-class. But once these geniuses grew, would they still fit in the same platform? Especially Zhang Jiaohua—his thinking was so active that not even Huang, at his peak, could match it. And he was only a freshman. Once he matured, how could this group possibly contain him?

What Huang didn’t know was that Zhang’s ambitions weren’t here at all. This lab was just a brief stop on his long journey.

Still, Huang was pleased with the lab’s current atmosphere. Everyone was working toward the same goal. That kind of energy was what produced real results. Suddenly, Huang felt old—unable to keep up with these young people.

“All I can do now is provide a solid foundation for them. Their growth will be my greatest achievement,” thought Huang. He forgot he wasn’t even fifty yet, but in front of them, he already felt aged.

Zhang Jiaohua carried out his experiments step by step, patiently. Every stage brought surprisingly good results. No one in the lab doubted him anymore—not even Huang. In fact, Huang began to suspect his own earlier judgment. Maybe Zhang really could succeed. And if he did, it would be world-shaking!

Time flew. By the time Zhang reached the fifth phase of his experiment, winter had arrived. Snowflakes danced through the campus, turning it into a quiet, enchanting place.

But Mei Qing had something else to worry about—the final exams were approaching. Zhang had been holed up in the lab and hadn’t touched a textbook. Their school was known for its difficult exams—getting a 60 wasn’t easy. And Zhang had to complete all the coursework for his degree in one year. This semester, he had to take all the exams meant for the corresponding term in a regular four-year program—and not just pass, but score top marks.

To Mei, Zhang was clearly wasting his time with undergrad courses. But rules were rules. Technically, Huang could apply for a special waiver for Zhang, but Zhang was stubborn. No one could change his mind. Huang now regretted betting with him. Genius students like Zhang shouldn’t be treated like regular ones—it was a waste of talent.

“Zhang Jiaohua, you’re really taking all those exams?” Mei Qing asked.

“Yep. Decided that a long time ago,” he replied nonchalantly.

“You’re not even the least bit nervous? I’m worried sick, and you’re acting like it’s nothing. If you fail, you’ll have to stay three extra years! With your talent, even a PhD doesn’t match you. Why not let Professor Huang apply for early graduation for you?”

“No need. It’s not like I’m going to fail. Besides, it wouldn’t be easy for Professor Huang to get that approved. Why trouble him? And if I somehow do fail, I’m sure he’ll figure something out,” Zhang said with a smile.

“That’s not the same,” Mei said.

Zhang joked, “Are you worried I’ll drag down the class average?”

“Forget it! Do whatever you want!” Mei said angrily.

A freshman trying to pass half a university degree in one semester—this was newsworthy. Word had spread across campus. It had become a hot topic of discussion.

More than 80% believed he wouldn’t make it. The school’s exams were notoriously brutal. Getting a 60 was already hard—getting top marks was nearly impossible. Every instructor liked to include a couple of ridiculously difficult problems at the end to showcase their own “standards.” This was one of China’s top schools—if the exam didn’t stump the entire class, it wasn’t good enough.

One instructor even said publicly: “You think you can ace a full semester of exams in one go and still get top scores? What, you think we professors are pushovers?”

That statement made students want to beat Zhang up. Everyone expected the hardest exam season ever, and it was all thanks to this freshman taking an unconventional path.

Only a few romantic dreamers believed Zhang might succeed. Maybe the world needed a little hope?

In reality, to accommodate Zhang’s overloaded schedule, the biology and chemistry department had to completely revise the exam calendar. Zhang had to sit through exams nearly every day for two weeks—with barely any rest.

Every time he entered a classroom, he was like a celebrity.

“So you’re that Zhang Jiaohua!”

But why did everyone speak to him through gritted teeth?

Zhang didn’t get it. He scratched his head. To avoid awkwardness after each exam, he usually handed in his paper early—often in less than half the allotted time.

Many thought he had given up. But the proctors were shocked.

“His answers are all correct,” said math teacher Li Yang, who personally proctored his exam to see if Zhang could beat his paper. The final question had no real answer—it was a world-class unsolved problem. He just wanted students to outline a possible approach.

“Huh? He actually wrote this much?” Li Yang was shocked to see the space filled with dense writing. And at the end: ‘I have an even more elegant solution, but there’s not enough space to write it here.’

Li hadn’t verified the solution yet, but it looked solid. Especially that last line—it drove him crazy. You couldn’t ask me for extra paper?!

Li Yang couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mr. Zhao, watch the room for me. I’ve got something urgent,” he said, running out with the exam in hand. But when he reached the door—Zhang was already gone.

Zhang was back in the lab. He had another exam in the afternoon, but wanted to check his experiment results. Ten days of exams were already a heavy disruption—he had to use every free moment wisely.

“Zhang Jiaohua, shouldn’t you be taking an exam right now?” Mei Qing was shocked to see him.

“Already finished,” he replied.

“You handed it in early again? How long did you take—half an hour?”

“Not that quick. Almost an hour,” Zhang said sheepishly. That last problem was tough.

Mei looked relieved. “Good. At least an hour.” That morning’s English exam had taken him just 30 minutes. If it weren’t for the listening section being time-fixed, he might’ve finished faster.

An hour later, Xia Hui, Ma Zhenyuan, and Luo Huaping walked in.

“Zhang Jiaohua, you’re in trouble. The math teacher’s looking for you,” Xia Hui said.

“Why? I submitted the paper,” Zhang said.

“Maybe he thinks you won’t get top marks,” Ma Zhenyuan guessed.

“Yeah! Why’d you turn it in so early?” Luo Huaping asked. “That last question was unsolvable—a world-class problem. Why did he even include it?”

Xia Hui pointed at Zhang. “It’s all because of him! We’re all suffering this year. The exams are at least twice as hard as before. And that last 15-point question? Totally unsolvable!”