For the past month or two, Li Dong’s life had been very regular. Well... regularly busy.
Aside from completing his normal freshman courses at Yuanpei College, he would dive headfirst into the library whenever he had a spare moment, frantically devouring massive tomes on chemistry.
The reason, of course... was that Madam Curie and Mendeleev were locked in a furious debate over "whether atoms are divisible" and "radioactivity and elemental transmutation."
This gave Li Dong the idea of trying to fleece these two titans of chemistry for all they were worth.
During that time, he had tried to simply look up the answers from modern chemistry online and post them in the group, but unfortunately, the messages wouldn’t go through.
’My permissions probably aren’t high enough yet...’
Li Dong was a bit indignant.
He then tried sending some ideas that he had truly come to understand himself, attempting to explain to Mendeleev that atoms actually contained protons and neutrons, and that radioactivity was a change occurring within the atomic nucleus.
This time, it sent successfully without any issues.
And then...
[Dmitry Ivanovich Mendeleev]: Oh? If you claim the atomic nucleus can split and transmute, then pray tell, what is the order of magnitude of the binding energy that holds these so-called ’protons’ and ’neutrons’ together?
[Mendeleev]: In the process of elemental transmutation, what is the precise energy equation released due to mass defect? Can you provide me with a rigorous derivation of decay kinetics and a thermodynamic proof?
Li Dong was instantly silenced.
’Binding energy? Mass defect? A derivation of decay kinetics?’
How was he supposed to understand such profound, hardcore derivations from the intersection of microphysics and nuclear chemistry?
Seeing Li Dong unable to answer, Mendeleev mercilessly twisted the knife:
[Mendeleev]: You must be the idiot nephew of that "Mr. High School Senior," right? Go get your uncle. Stop making a nuisance of yourself, kid.
This undisguised contempt left Li Dong feeling utterly crushed.
It also made him realize that he couldn’t get by just by bluffing with superficial knowledge. He had to truly master the material himself!
And so, Li Dong had recently been throwing himself into studying *Structural Chemistry*, *Quantum Chemistry*, and *Basic Radiochemistry*.
Relying on his 0.3 in Basic Attributes and the aura of his [Chemical Intuition], he had managed to cram the fundamental logic of the electron cloud model, extranuclear electron distribution, and decay chains into his brain.
Once he had thoroughly digested all this knowledge, he would return to the group and give those titans a little "shock from the future."
While buried in his chemistry studies, Li Dong had also asked his counselor for a leave of absence to take another trip to Zhejiang University.
The biology project at the Zhejiang University School of Life Sciences had reached its critical final stages.
On his last trip to Zhejiang University, Li Dong had already completed the emasculation and artificial pollination of the T1 generation plants.
After a period of waiting, the artificially pollinated seeds had finally matured and been successfully planted in the greenhouse, where they grew into self-crossed progeny.
This time, Li Dong’s main purpose was to carry out the final and most crucial step.
He would personally compile the complete segregation data for the seven pairs of contrasting traits in this new generation of plants.
His next visit would mark the project’s conclusion.
That afternoon, after finishing lunch at the Nongyuan Cafeteria, Li Dong took a leisurely stroll back to his dorm.
In the dorm, Wang Hao was poring over a mathematics monograph with his legs crossed, while Liu Qiang and Chen Nan, those two animals, were surprisingly sitting quietly at their own desks today.
"Huh? Did the sun rise in the west today?" Li Dong asked curiously.
"How come you two didn’t go crash a lecture today?"
Hearing Li Dong’s question, Chen Nan sighed miserably.
"Don’t even ask. It’s so frustrating."
Liu Qiang also looked as if he’d lost the will to live.
"We ran into trouble crashing a lecture."
"Yesterday, we went to crash the second-year graduate course *Algebraic Topology*. The two of us couldn’t help ourselves and asked Professor Zhang a few questions about deriving homology group sequences."
"Next thing we knew, Professor Zhang had singled us out. He tossed three all-English GTM graduate textbooks at us and told us to submit a review paper on singular homology by the end of the week..."
"Sigh, I’ve completely lost my appetite these past few days," Chen Nan added.
Seeing their ridiculously over-the-top humblebragging, Wang Hao immediately called them out.
"Alright, that’s enough. Stop with the humblebragging! Who do you think you’re fooling?"
"If Professor Zhang didn’t see your potential, do you think he’d waste his time on two freshmen who just crashed his lecture?"
"Isn’t it obvious he’s sizing you up as his own prospective grad students?"
Called out by Wang Hao, Liu Qiang and Chen Nan glanced at each other, then struggled to suppress the smiles tugging at their lips.
Indeed, getting on the radar of a top Yan University professor as a freshman and being personally assigned an academic task—that kind of recognition was more exciting than acing a final exam.
As he watched his roommates discuss their paper, Li Dong, who had just been enjoying the show, suddenly froze.
’A paper?’
He suddenly remembered the paper he had submitted to *Math. Comp.* He’d already received the acceptance notice from the journal a while ago.
When he first received the confirmation email, Li Dong had checked his inbox every day, hoping to find out the specific publication date.
However, the journal had only confirmed its acceptance. They never gave a definite answer as to which issue it would be in or when it would be formally published.
As time went on, he had stopped paying much attention to its progress.
’Thinking about it, it should be officially published soon.’
’I should check my email for a publication notice.’
As he thought this, Li Dong got ready to log in to his email.
Just then, his phone started to vibrate.
Li Dong glanced at the caller ID and froze.
The name on the screen was Zhou Qifeng.
Professor Zhou Qifeng was the homeroom advisor for his administrative class cohort at Yuanpei College.
At a university, the roles of a counselor and a homeroom advisor are different.
For instance, when Li Dong had requested leave to go to Zhejiang University, he had gone to his counselor.
The counselor was mainly responsible for daily student administration, handling trivial matters like leave requests.
The homeroom advisor, on the other hand, was usually a full professor from the college serving in a nominal capacity. Their main responsibilities were still research and teaching.
They would occasionally check in on the students’ general mindset at critical junctures, liaise with families, and assist with academic planning.
This was completely different from a high school homeroom teacher, who would micromanage everything and watch over students during every study hall.
Professor Zhou Qifeng wasn’t just the homeroom advisor for Yuanpei; he was also a senior professor at the School of Physics.
The courses he taught at the School of Physics and Yuanpei College were core subjects like *Quantum Field Theory* and *Quantum Many-Body Theory*.
To be honest, in the two or three months since the semester began, Li Dong hadn’t had much interaction with Professor Zhou, aside from that one time he’d asked about the "dynamical mean-field theory framework of the Hubbard model."
Oh, wait, that wasn’t quite right. He had also pledged his undying love for physics to him.
He’d mainly done that because he was afraid Professor Zhou would think he was insane for asking about graduate-level courses as a freshman...
So when Professor Zhou suddenly called him, Li Dong had no idea what it could be about.
"Hello, Professor Zhou."
Professor Zhou’s voice on the other end was calm, betraying no emotion.
"Li Dong, are you in your dorm right now?"
"I am, Professor Zhou."
"Then come down to Seminar Room Two in the basement," Professor Zhou said.
"Okay, Professor Zhou. I’ll be right down."
Hanging up, Li Dong called out to his three roommates.
"Guys, I’m heading down for a bit. Old Zhou wants to see me."
With that, he pushed the door open and left.
As the door clicked shut, Wang Hao, who was sitting on the lower bunk, suddenly shivered without warning.
"Hsss—"
"What’s wrong, Haozi? Cold?" Liu Qiang asked, giving him a confused look.
"No..." Wang Hao stared at the door, a look of horror in his eyes.
"I don’t know why, but the moment Brother Dong walked out that door, I got the creeps for no reason. I just have this feeling... like something terrifying that will completely crush our intellects is about to happen."
Liu Qiang and Chen Nan both rolled their eyes in unison.
"You’ve probably been doing too much higher-dimensional algebra and started hallucinating. Get back to your book!"
Li Dong quickly arrived at a door with a plaque that read "Seminar Room Two" and knocked lightly.
"Come in."
Li Dong pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The seminar room wasn’t very big. Professor Zhou Qifeng was sitting at a conference table.
Next to him sat another person.
Li Dong quickly walked forward to greet them.
"Hello, Professor Zhou."
Then, he turned to the other person.
"Hello, Dean Liu."
The man sitting next to Professor Zhou was none other than the Dean of the School of Mathematical Sciences—Liu Ruochuan!
Seeing the dean of the School of Mathematical Sciences in this seminar room, clearly waiting for him, a thought instantly flashed through Li Dong’s mind.
’Could it be... my paper for *Math. Comp.* has been published?’

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