PCJ – Chapter 615 Mutated Rats

Yorks had visited China before, but previously his visits were purely academic—he came to give lectures on basic theoretical knowledge, much like a science popularizer. He never expected that just a few years later, he would be returning in the position of a learner. This reversal was hard for Yorks to accept, and perhaps even harder to embrace. As a result, his attitude remained as arrogant as ever.

“Principal, science knows no borders. The success your university has achieved in life sciences should benefit all of humanity. The U.S. government invested enormous resources into decoding the human genome, and the results became a shared asset of all mankind. Yet now, you refuse to share your research results with the world. Is this truly the scientific spirit of Tsinghua University?” Yorks challenged.

Xu Qingze replied calmly, “As far as I know, the vast majority of pharmaceutical and biotechnology patents are held by Americans. Mr. Yorks, are you seriously talking to me about the spirit of sharing?”

He looked at the now-awkward Yorks with amusement, thoroughly enjoying the situation. In his mind, he thought, This is called using your own spear to pierce your own shield. Truly, a lack of cultural depth is dangerous.

Though deflated, Yorks stubbornly persisted, “But one cannot deny that American scientists have made the greatest contributions to modern medicine. Now that you have also made a noteworthy achievement, I hope you can let go of prejudice and share your results for the good of the world.”

Xu Qingze responded, “These results were earned through the hard work and dedication of our scientists. To expect them to give up their rights so easily is something that wouldn’t happen anywhere in the world. Of course, if the researcher voluntarily agrees, we won’t stop them. But at the same time, we won’t force our scientists to give up what they rightfully deserve.”

Yorks then shifted tactics: “But this case is different. You’ve already published your paper, which implies an intention to share the research with the world. We are simply here to verify the experimental details. Any paper publicly published must ensure data accuracy and must withstand global peer review. If the experiment proves irreproducible after international attempts, it’s not just your journal’s reputation that will suffer—not just your university’s reputation—but the reputation of Chinese science and even the nation itself. Am I wrong, Principal Xu?”

Xu Qingze nodded, “You’re right. The reason we chose to publicly publish our results in our university’s journal is precisely because we want to share our findings with the world. We maintain high standards for our scientists and are serious about the papers we publish. The research was thoroughly reviewed by the university and deemed to have significant value in the life sciences. That’s why we chose to publish it as a standalone issue. Regarding reproducibility, our scientists are already repeating the experiments, and progress is going smoothly. In fact, the success rate this time is even higher than the initial trial, which demonstrates the robustness of our methodology and accuracy of our data.”

“You’ve already successfully replicated the experiment?” Yorks asked, astonished.

Xu nodded, “It’s precisely because the repeat experiments are ongoing that our team cannot accommodate your visit at this time. Our research staff are under heavy workloads, and with so many visitors, if every one of them were to interrupt their progress, then the research would grind to a halt. That’s why, once the replication is complete, the university will host an academic conference and invite international peers for scholarly exchange.”

Xu was clearly stating that the embryo culturing research team would not be engaging in any one-on-one academic discussions with Yorks. Finally getting a chance to regain some national pride, Xu was thoroughly enjoying himself. And this wasn’t the only thing he was proud of—the school’s mathematics paper had also become a global topic. The university was preparing to host an international mathematics conference. If they could win a Fields Medal right in Beijing, it would be even more satisfying. Both achievements were tied to one person, which made Xu marvel: This kind of talent must be retained at all costs!

Once the disappointed Yorks delegation returned to their hotel, Xu Qingze quickly called Director Huang Zhongfang. “Dean Huang, have you discussed the Party Committee’s resolution with Zhang Jiaohua yet?”

Huang knew what Xu was going to ask and replied with a troubled tone, “Principal Xu, I’m afraid Zhang Jiaohua doesn’t want to stay. The school’s incentives might not appeal to him. It’s not about money—he’s not your average graduate student. But he hasn’t outright declined either.”

“Dean Huang, Zhang Jiaohua’s case is unique. We can be flexible. Whatever he needs, we’ll try to meet it. If he wants freedom, we’ll give him enough freedom. He doesn’t have to be on campus all the time, or even teach. Worst case, just have his name affiliated with us. Zhang Jiaohua must belong to our university. If we can’t keep talent like this, where’s our dignity?”

Huang hadn’t considered this angle before. Xu’s words made him realize that if another school poached Zhang Jiaohua, it would indeed be a blow to their prestige.

“I’ll talk to him again,” Huang said.

“No, not just talk—we must secure him. Even if it’s only nominally, his name must be tied to our school,” Xu insisted.

Meanwhile, Zhang Jiaohua’s experiments were progressing smoothly. The first batch of cultured embryos had developed excellently. The animals inside the embryos had grown into complete organisms. Through a bright flashlight, one could see tiny white mice babies actively moving within their sacs. These mice could already sense light and sound, and would react to changes in their environment.

However, the research team found something odd. Normally, lab mice have a gestation period of 19–21 days, but these embryos had been developing for over a month and still hadn’t stopped. The cilia-like structures on the sacs continued to nourish the fetal mice.

“Zhang Jiaohua, these mice should’ve completed development by now. How long will the gestation extend in vitro?” Mei Qing asked.

“I don’t know,” Zhang replied, shaking his head. “But it’s definitely longer than normal.”

Previously, Zhang had performed “C-sections” on several samples. Although the mice survived, they were clearly underdeveloped—yet paradoxically, they were already twice the size of normal newborn mice.

Mei Qing noticed something even stranger. These prematurely born mice were gentle when Zhang was around, but grew agitated as soon as she approached.

“Squeak! Squeak!”
The mice began attacking their cages, biting the iron wires so fiercely that they left deep teeth marks.

“This isn’t normal,” Mei said. “These cages need to be replaced, and the lab needs better safety measures. If any of these mice escape, it could be dangerous.”

Zhang nodded. He realized these were no longer ordinary mice. The embryos had been exposed to intense spiritual energy, likely activating ancient genes in their DNA. Some dormant traits had reawakened—perhaps this was their true, primal form.

“Professor Huang has already arranged for us to move into a more secure lab. We’ll be relocating in a couple of days. The new place has better safety measures. But when I’m alone with them, they’re still very docile,” Zhang added, puzzled.

“Maybe they think you’re their mother,” Mei Qing joked.

“Professor Mei, please don’t say that…” Zhang said, clearly uncomfortable.

In truth, Zhang knew the reason behind the changes. The embryos had absorbed so much spiritual energy that they were no longer just mice—they were becoming spiritual beasts. Their growth and development were extreme. If they reached full maturity, who knew what they would become? Giant rats from sci-fi movies?

Zhang was planning another experiment: What if spiritual energy were continuously supplied throughout the developmental process? What kind of creature would be “born”?

“If we cultured a human embryo in vitro like this, would it undergo similar changes?” Mei Qing posed the controversial question.

This was a highly sensitive topic. Such experiments could lay the foundation for human cloning. Someday, people might cultivate a full organism from somatic cells, and if those cells were human, real human cloning could become reality. If consciousness transfer became possible, people might clone fresh bodies and transfer their minds into them—achieving something close to immortality. The mere idea was dangerously tempting.

“Zhang, I was just speaking hypothetically. Don’t even think about trying it. Cultivating a mutated mouse is one thing, but a mutated human could shake the world,” Mei warned.

Zhang laughed, “Even if you weren’t joking, I wouldn’t be dumb enough to try that.”

Mei nodded. “Good. By the way, Professor Huang wants you to stay at Tsinghua. What’s your plan?”

“I’m not necessarily going to work at any university or research institute. But if I do choose to, I won’t consider anywhere else,” Zhang replied.

“The school’s biggest fear is you being recruited elsewhere. But I know money doesn’t tempt you. And our school’s conditions aren’t bad,” Mei said.

“How’s your experiment going, by the way? I’ve been tied up here and haven’t checked in,” Zhang asked.

“If it weren’t going well, I’d have asked for help already. Both mine and Ma Nanli’s projects are progressing smoothly. A few more experiments, and we’ll wrap them up. But with your work stealing all the spotlight, ours will barely get noticed,” Mei Qing said, half-jokingly.

“Your projects are remarkable too. They’re totally worthy of publication in top journals. Or maybe I’ll ask Principal Xu to print them as standalone issues like mine,” Zhang offered.

Mei shook her head. “The whole world is talking about your experiment. Even if we do that, it won’t make much impact. I’ll just aim for an international journal.”

The decision to move Zhang’s project to a separate lab wasn’t just for safety—it also ensured readiness for upcoming international academic conferences, where researchers from around the world would want to visit.

“Jiaohua, the academic exchange is happening soon. You’d better organize the data and clearly separate what can be disclosed from what must remain confidential. Keep the sensitive material safe. A lot of visitors are coming—we can’t guarantee all of them are here with good intentions,” Huang Zhongfang warned.

“Don’t worry, the confidential stuff is all in my head. They won’t get anything. But the mice are another matter—they’re highly sensitive to outsiders and can be aggressive. We should prevent visitors from getting close,” Zhang cautioned.

“That’s easy. We’ll just use plexiglass partitions,” Huang replied after thinking for a moment.