PCJ – Chapter 613 Major Event

Where was Zhang Jiaohua at this time?

Zhang Jiaohua was lying on the sofa in the living room of their apartment in Beijing. The TV was playing “What Can Save You, My Lover”, and he was humming along: “The first snow of 2002 came later than usual…”

He hadn’t even realized that at some point his phone had turned off due to a dead battery.

He had come here mostly to avoid the people from the math department. He wasn’t afraid—just felt it was all too troublesome. Even if he couldn’t completely escape it, he at least wanted one peaceful night. Once they had mostly finished verifying things, he would go deal with them. What he didn’t know was that something had also gone wrong in the lab.

Finding the TV drama boring, Zhang Jiaohua turned it off with the remote and entered the Daoist cultivation diagram. Unknowingly, the diagram had changed dramatically. The surrounding area had grown vast and boundless—its size comparable to the Kunlun secret realm. Beside the geothermal fire, a stream flowed in reverse, leading upwards. What used to be a foggy expanse was now somewhat transparent—still shrouded in mist, but underneath that mist was a glimmer of light, as if a gateway of light had opened.

“Could there be a way to go even higher?” Zhang Jiaohua stepped onto the flowing water, following the current toward the light. Reaching it, he discovered that on the other side was a whole new world. It was even vaster than before, though everything around was a white void—no sky, no ground, just a floating landmass beneath his feet.

This floating land wasn’t small, but compared to the endless void surrounding it, it seemed tiny.

Before Zhang Jiaohua had time to explore this new place, he suddenly felt the world spin. In the blink of an eye, he was back on his living room sofa, as if everything he’d just experienced had been a dream.

He took out his phone to check the time, only to find it shut off. Outside, the sky was already bright, but he had no idea what time it was. Hopefully he hadn’t missed his exam. He quickly found his charger, turned on the phone, and was immediately bombarded by a flood of texts and missed call notifications.

He ignored the messages for now and looked at the time. He breathed a sigh of relief—it was still early, just past 6 AM. Then he checked a text from Mei Qing: “Zhang Jiaohua, get to the lab quickly. There’s been a breakthrough in the experiment!”

He threw on his backpack and grabbed his phone to leave, but the moment he unplugged the charger, the phone died again.

“Whatever. I’ll deal with that later. I need to see the experiment results first.” Zhang Jiaohua bolted toward the university. A trip that normally took over an hour took him less than ten minutes. Despite the speed, he wasn’t out of breath at all.

“Stop! The lab building is closed today.”

Armed SWAT officers blocked his way at the entrance, their eyes scanning outside warily.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Who are you? Don’t ask what you shouldn’t,” a stern officer responded.

“I’m a student from the School of Life Sciences! If you don’t let me in, how am I supposed to conduct my experiment? I’m at a critical stage, and if I can’t go in, it’ll ruin everything!” Zhang Jiaohua protested.

“You can apply for a special access pass through your lab supervisor. No one enters without one,” the officer said coldly.

“No one told me about any pass!” Zhang Jiaohua tried to call someone, only to realize again that his phone was dead.

He was completely stumped now. While he could easily bypass the guards if he really wanted to, he didn’t want to cause a scene.

He could only anxiously wait outside, peering through the glass doors. But it was still early—just past 6 AM—too early for lab staff, who usually arrived around 8. So he saw no familiar faces.

He turned back to the dorm to grab a spare phone battery.

Just as he was about to leave, someone called his name.

“Zhang Jiaohua! Don’t run!” Mei Qing came out of the lab building.

“Professor Mei, why are you here so early?” Zhang Jiaohua asked in surprise.

“I stayed here all night. I called you countless times, but your phone wouldn’t connect. Where did you run off to?” Mei Qing looked at him with both reproach and relief.

“I went out for a bit. My phone died. What happened? Why is everything so intense?” he asked.

“It’s your experiment! Its results are too important. The university took it seriously and requested top-level security. Hold on, I’ll go get you a pass.” Mei Qing hurried inside.

“I have an exam this morning, though. I can come back afterward,” Zhang Jiaohua said.

“Exam? The president said all your exams are waived. Wait here, I’ll be right back. Professor Huang is waiting for you inside. He didn’t sleep last night either. President Xu is also here. Everyone’s been waiting for you. Even if you go to your exam, they’ll just bring you back—there are people waiting for you there, too. You’re now under top surveillance by the university. Once you appear, everyone’s alerted.”

“Professor Mei, don’t make it sound so scary. You’re making me sound like a fugitive,” Zhang Jiaohua grumbled.

The SWAT officer who’d stopped him overheard their conversation and looked at Zhang Jiaohua with curiosity, though he said nothing.

Soon, Mei Qing returned with a pass that had Zhang Jiaohua’s photo on it—no doubt pulled from lab records, since all lab researchers had ID tags.

“Hurry, everyone’s waiting upstairs,” Mei Qing said.

“No need to take the exam, really?” he asked.

Mei Qing rolled her eyes: “You caused such a stir after just a few exams—you think we’re going to let you take more? You’ll turn the whole school upside down.”

“How was I supposed to know Professor Li Yang would do something like that?” he said.

“You were thrilled, weren’t you? You said you didn’t even use your best solution yet,” Mei Qing laughed.

They went upstairs, and word had already spread that Zhang Jiaohua had arrived. Professor Huang Zhongfang rushed out and yelled, “You little rascal! Where were you all night?”

Zhang Jiaohua chuckled. “Professor Huang, I went to our family’s place to treat myself. My phone died accidentally.”

“If you’d waited any longer, the school would’ve flipped upside down. Change your clothes—President Xu is still waiting inside. All the university leaders are on their way here. Quick, I have a ton of questions for you.”

Zhang Jiaohua quickly changed and headed toward the lab.

“Zhang Jiaohua, was this breakthrough from a lucky accident or something you planned in the experiment?” Huang asked.

“I planned it, though I used some unconventional means,” Zhang Jiaohua replied.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s conventional. What matters is whether it can be reproduced. That’s our biggest concern. If it can’t be replicated, it won’t be recognized academically. But if it can—then great,” said Huang.

Huang led him into the lab. “The others are waiting in the conference room. Go check the results first. Mei Qing, go inform the leaders.”

Zhang Jiaohua was shocked by what he saw—an egg-like structure had formed outside the body, mimicking a uterus.

“Well? Can you repeat it?” Huang asked.

Zhang Jiaohua nodded. “No problem.”

“The university is planning to announce our success in cultivating a true embryo in vitro. What’s your opinion?”

“Shouldn’t we wait until it’s repeated?” he asked.

“No. This breakthrough is too important—not just for the school, but for the life sciences field and the entire country. We’ve waited too long. If a foreign institution beats us to it, it would be a massive loss. Security measures are already tight, but nothing is foolproof.”

“Then go ahead. I’ll start repeating the experiment now. It won’t take long. Honestly, even I didn’t expect this kind of progress. I’ll keep observing it here—I want to know where that soul-fire in the embryo came from.”

Huang nodded. “Come on, let’s meet the leadership.”

The conference room was buzzing. When they walked in, President Xu Qinzhe immediately approached them: “This is Zhang Jiaohua, right?”

“Yes, President Xu. This is him. Zhang Jiaohua, this is President Xu. He waited here for you all night,” said Huang.

“If only we had more students like Zhang Jiaohua—I’d gladly stay up all night for them. It’s a blessing for our school and for the country to have a student like you. Come, sit down. We have many questions.”

President Xu then looked around. “Has everyone from the math department arrived?”

Fan Yichou stood up: “Yes, President. Everyone who reviewed the material yesterday is here, along with all the relevant documents.”

Xu nodded. “Excellent. We must be vigilant about any unexpected variables. Dean Huang, have you confirmed the experiment’s validity?”

Huang stood and nodded. “I just spoke with Zhang Jiaohua. He’s confident it can be repeated.”

Xu slammed his fist on the table in excitement. “Good! Zhang Jiaohua, are you sure?”

“Yes, but I used some unconventional methods—possibly beyond current instruments’ detection capabilities,” said Zhang Jiaohua.

“That’s even better. This is our own tech. No need to let others know,” President Xu laughed.

Turning to the other side of the room, he asked, “Is the university magazine ready?”

Xu Yangdong, the magazine editor-in-chief, stood up. “President, we’re ready. We can publish the special issue anytime.”

Xu nodded. “Zhang Jiaohua, that math problem—you said you had another solution. Can you show us?”

Zhang Jiaohua nodded, went to the blackboard, and started writing. The room went silent, with only the sound of chalk and breathing.

The math experts stared in awe at the steps appearing on the board.

“My god! You can solve it like this?!”

“Incredible! How did he even think of that?”

“Li Yang, do you think this method will work?” Fan Yichou asked.

Li Yang nodded. “It should. I thought of something similar, but didn’t consider that clever leap he made. His thinking is remarkable.”

In less than 30 minutes, Zhang Jiaohua finished the entire solution.

President Xu immediately said, “Director Fan, get your experts to review Zhang Jiaohua’s solution right away. Once it’s confirmed, we’ll announce it to the world. We must move fast—no risks.”

Fan Yichou nodded repeatedly. “Give us one hour—we’ll complete the verification.”

“Good! Magazine team, don’t wait—start layout. Dean Huang, how long until Zhang Jiaohua’s paper is done?” Xu asked.

“Should be ready by this afternoon,” Huang replied.

Writing the paper wouldn’t be difficult if the data was solid—something Huang had ample experience with.

“Excellent. Finish it as soon as possible. And remember—keep key techniques confidential,” Xu concluded.