The situation had been resolved just as he’d hoped. He had both upheld the rules and retained the talent, all while settling the dispute between the two deans.
He turned and walked toward his desk, intending to pick up his cup of tea and wet his throat.
Just as his hand was about to touch the teacup.
Zhou Qiping’s gaze fell quite naturally on the spot next to the teacup.
A dark blue foreign journal was sitting there.
It was the autumn issue of *Discrete Mathematics* that Li Jianming had slapped on his desk when he’d stormed in ten minutes ago.
With Old Li and Old Fang’s bickering giving him a headache, Zhou Qiping hadn’t paid the journal any mind.
Now, as he looked at the gold-foil English letters on the cover, an idea suddenly struck him.
Although Zhou Qiping was a vice-principal who didn’t oversee research, he was intimately familiar with the university’s research department policies and financial accounts.
He stopped reaching for his teacup and picked up the journal instead.
He flipped to the dog-eared page and glanced at the short byline beneath the title.
C. Zhuo.
Zhou Qiping looked up, his gaze traveling over his desk to land on Chen Zhuo once more.
Much of the sternness on his face faded, replaced by the gentle smile an elder gives a promising junior.
"Old Li, Old Fang, I was so focused on laying down the law for you two just now."
Zhou Qiping tapped the journal against his hand a couple of times.
"I almost forgot something important."
Li Jianming and Fang Shi both looked at him in confusion.
"Just now."
Zhou Qiping pointed at Li Jianming.
"It wasn’t until Old Li slapped this journal on my desk that I learned someone from our very own Huake University quietly published a single-author paper on discrete algebra."
Zhou Qiping looked at Chen Zhuo, his tone lightening.
"Xiaochen, according to Huake University’s current research incentive regulations, regardless of whether you’re faculty or a student, as long as the university is listed as the primary affiliation, publishing a solo-authored paper in a journal of this caliber..."
Zhou Qiping paused, the smile at the corners of his mouth deepening.
"The university offers a substantial, direct cash award."
Zhou Qiping placed the journal back on his desk.
"Previously, Old Li was taking this paper all over the place trying to find the author. No one knew who this C. Zhuo was, so the award money has just been sitting on the research department’s books, waiting to be disbursed."
Looking at Chen Zhuo, Zhou Qiping made his final, and most tangible, promise of the day.
"Now that we’ve cracked the case and confirmed you’re the one, there’s no reason for the university to hold onto this money."
Zhou Qiping made the decision with swift authority.
"I’ll speak with the head of the research department this afternoon. At the latest, this substantial cash award will be directly deposited into your account by tomorrow."
In the office, just a moment ago, no matter what the adults were discussing—vital national projects, the throne of pure mathematics, historical standing, or even the highest tier of remuneration—Chen Zhuo’s reaction had been utterly placid.
He just stood there quietly, his right thumb occasionally giving a light click to the mechanical pencil he had just refilled with lead.
It was as if all of it combined was less important than the pencil in his hand, the one that wrote such smooth equations.
But when the words "substantial cash award" came out of Zhou Qiping’s mouth, followed by the assurance that it would be in his account by tomorrow, the light, continuous clicking of the mechanical pencil in Chen Zhuo’s hand stopped.
Chen Zhuo looked up.
Those eyes—once clear, quiet, and even tinged with a hint of resignation—instantly lit up with a brilliant, undisguised sparkle.
He still wasn’t sure how much the monthly remuneration for a research assistant was.
But he had seen the exact figure for the university’s substantial cash award for a single-authored paper in a top-tier journal while flipping through a school newspaper in the library once.
It was a number that could only be described as a huge sum.
The gentle politeness on Chen Zhuo’s face was instantly replaced by a lively, vibrant, youthful energy.
He looked at Zhou Qiping.
He stopped fidgeting with his pencil, naturally straightened his posture, and brought his feet together.
Then, looking at Zhou Qiping behind the desk, he gave a formal bow, his voice louder, more solemn, and more sincere than when he had first greeted him.
"Thank you, Principal Zhou!"
Chen Zhuo looked up, a brilliant and sincere smile spreading across his face, revealing his pearly white teeth.
The young man’s lips couldn’t help but curl up, revealing a clean, contented smile—one that perfectly suited his age.
Next, he turned and gave a slight bow to Li Jianming and Fang Shi, who were standing nearby.
"Thank you both as well, Professors. I’ll have to trouble you with the matter of the remuneration from now on."
His thanks were delivered with resounding, heartfelt sincerity.
Standing to the side, Fang Shi and Li Jianming watched the young man with his impeccable manners, grinning from ear to ear. They both fell into a strange, simultaneous silence.
Fang Shi looked at Li Jianming, and Li Jianming looked back at Fang Shi.
The two heavyweights stared at each other, utterly bewildered.
These two men, titans who wielded immense influence in the domestic academic world, were now feeling a complex cocktail of emotions. It was so absurd they almost wanted to laugh.
Just a few minutes ago.
Fang Shi had laid out grand, soul-stirring narratives about key national projects, strategic assets, and deciphering the laws of the universe.
Li Jianming, for his part, had dangled the temptations of fame and glory that would drive any scholar mad: the throne of pure mathematics, absolute truth, being the first author in a top-tier journal.
The two of them had argued until they were red in the face in the vice-principal’s office, on the verge of coming to blows, all to snatch this kid for themselves.

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