The Alchemist and Li Jianming pushed open the door, one after the other.
The air in the room was thick with the choking smell of smoke.
Zhou Qiping wasn’t sitting in his executive chair; instead, he was standing to the side of his desk.
He held the receiver of a landline phone in his left hand and a half-smoked cigarette, nearly burnt to the filter, in his right. His leather shoes scuffed unconsciously back and forth on the wooden floor.
Seven or eight documents were scattered messily across his desk. The one on top was a contact list for several provincial and national media outlets, covered in circles drawn with a red pen.
"Yes, yes, we need significant coverage."
Zhou Qiping spoke into the receiver, his voice a little hoarse but filled with an irrepressible excitement.
"This isn’t about our university just trying to grab the spotlight. This is about bringing honor to our country’s basic sciences. We’re talking about the sole successor publicly acknowledged by someone of Pierre’s caliber. If you stick this on page two, I won’t be able to answer to my superiors."
He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"Good. You go ahead and confirm with the station. I’ll have someone from my side follow up immediately."
Zhou Qiping hung up the phone.
He turned around just in time to see the Alchemist and Li Jianming walk in.
Zhou Qiping’s eyes were shining.
His usual, steady demeanor of a vice-principal was completely gone, replaced by the fervor of a hunter who has finally seen his prey fall into the trap.
He casually stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk, which was already overflowing with butts, and strode toward the two of them.
"Old Li! Old Fang! You’re just in time!"
Zhou Qiping’s voice was a couple of notches higher than usual.
"Great news! Absolutely fantastic news!"
Without waiting for them to speak, he pulled out two chairs and gestured for them to sit.
"I just took three calls. One from the Ministry of Education, one from the provincial government, and another from the Guangming Daily."
Zhou Qiping slapped the edge of the desk.
"Thirteen years old! Keda is going to be world-famous this time! I’ve already told the Publicity Department to drop everything and focus on coordinating with CCTV. We need to do a major feature on Chen Zhuo."
He turned and, from the pile of documents on his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper with several large characters written on it.
"I’ve even thought of a title. Listen to this."
Zhou Qiping tapped the paper with his finger.
"’A Strong Youth Makes a Strong Nation—Getting to Know Pierre’s Only Disciple from Hua Country.’ What do you think? Powerful, right? Once this program airs, who’s going to dare compete with Keda for next year’s student enrollment, or for funding for those national labs?"
Li Jianming stood there without moving. He didn’t sit down.
He stared at the paper in Zhou Qiping’s hand, his expression as cold as the ice outside.
The Alchemist didn’t sit either. He reached back and shut the office door firmly.
The room was so quiet that the only sound was the WHIRRING of the air conditioner vent.
The smile on Zhou Qiping’s face slowly faded. He looked at Li Jianming, then at the Alchemist.
"What’s wrong? Something happen at home this morning?"
Li Jianming took a step forward.
He threw the folder he had been clutching tightly onto the desk. It slid for a short distance, coming to a stop right on top of the paper with Zhou Qiping’s program title.
"Principal Zhou."
Li Jianming’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word was laced with a cold hardness.
"Are you running a university or a circus?"
Zhou Qiping was stunned.
"Old Li, what are you talking about? What circus?"
"Let me ask you, how old is Chen Zhuo?"
Li Jianming stared at him.
"Thirteen."
"So you do know he’s thirteen."
Li Jianming scoffed.
"A thirteen-year-old boy. You’re going to make him memorize a script for television, to perform for a national audience about how he was discovered by a Fields Medal winner. Have you considered the consequences?"
Zhou Qiping’s expression darkened.
He reached out and tapped the desktop.
"Old Li, what kind of talk is that? This is about bringing glory to the university, how can you call it a performance? This is the power of a role model. The directives from above tell us every year to identify and promote exceptional talent. Isn’t this a perfect example right here?"
"An example?"
Li Jianming took another step forward, pointing at the photocopy sticking out of the folder.
"Read what Pierre wrote in his letter. He said that explaining the shape of the sun to a blind man is a waste of life. He chewed out every single one of those titans of mathematics in Europe. And now you want to bring in a film crew, stick a camera in Chen Zhuo’s face... What do you think Pierre will think?"
Li Jianming gritted his teeth.
"He’ll think that we at Keda are also just a bunch of blind men crowding around a miracle for entertainment."
Zhou Qiping frowned.
"Old Li, you’re overthinking this. Foreigners don’t understand the way things are here. We’re establishing a positive image. Publicity is publicity, and academics are academics. The two don’t conflict."
"They don’t conflict?"
Li Jianming gave a bitter laugh.
"Chen Zhuo is in the middle of working out the convergence logic for several manifolds. With that kind of thing, being off by a single decimal point can throw everything off completely. And you want him to stop now to memorize your interview outline? To chat with reporters about what he eats and drinks?"
"Old Li."
Zhou Qiping’s tone grew heavy.
"You need to see the bigger picture. Keda isn’t just your School of Mathematics. How do you think the phase-two funding will be allocated next year? Are we going to rely on those few insignificant papers we usually publish? We’re holding a royal flush right now, and you want me to hide it and not play it?"
Li Jianming didn’t yield an inch.
"Chen Zhuo earned that royal flush himself. He is not your bargaining chip for funding. If you dare let reporters onto campus at this critical juncture, I’ll go stand in the road and block traffic myself."
The two were at loggerheads.
The tension in the office was so thick it felt like it could ignite at any moment.
The Alchemist hadn’t said a word the entire time.
He looked at Zhou Qiping, then back at Li Jianming.
Only when both men were panting heavily and had fallen silent did the Alchemist slowly take a step forward.

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