Chapter 11: 11: Tears in Silence
Because at this time, Qiao Ze was fully engrossed in reading about the "Yangtze River Scholar Award Program Application Conditions".
For distinguished professors and chair professors, domestic applicants must be under the age of 45, with commendable achievements that are recognized as important by peers both domestically and internationally, and must have the ability to lead the development of the discipline... As for young scholars, they must be no more than 38 years old.
It doesn't seem all that difficult.
Uncle Li should be under 40 years old, right?
Qiao Ze thought to himself.
After looking it over, he closed the webpage and began to search for the criteria for election as a member of the Huaxia Academy of Sciences...
They don't accept individual applications, and it's based on a recommendation system, huh?
And furthermore, only academicians or nationally recognized scientific organizations can make recommendations.
And that's just to become a candidate; there's still a vote to follow.
So no matter how many achievements one has, if no one nominates you, you can't become an academician?
The young man pursed his lips and sat there lost in thought.
A moment later, Qiao Ze opened his eyes and started searching "Academicians promoted exceptionally without nominations".
The results that appeared were about who failed to be elected as an academician on several occasions, who had received which honors but still had not been elected as an academician...
Qiao Ze's expression visibly darkened, and he became unhappy, even somewhat annoyed.
He even subconsciously raised his hand to touch his chin, then suddenly understood why Uncle Li always stressed the importance of social connections.
So this is the real-world Uncle Li was talking about?
Qiao Ze was not convinced.
Thus, his hands returned to the keyboard, as he quickly typed into the browser, "Can someone who has made tremendous contributions to the progress of world science but has not been nominated become an academician?"
The search engine spat out a mess of web pages, but after flipping through a few pages, Qiao Ze found a concise reply on Zhihu to a very similar question.
The question was, "If I'm thirty years old this year and have already won the Nobel Prize twice, can I be exceptionally promoted to an academician?"
Top-voted reply one: "Would a thirty-year-old who truly obtained such honors still care about becoming an academician? You really don't need to worry about these things, okay? According to your hypothesis, you're only thirty and have already won the Nobel Prize twice; wherever you go, you'll already be treated as a VIP. Even academicians would have to call you a boss when they see you, understand?
What on earth makes you so constrained even in your dreams?"
Top-voted reply two: "Trust me, if you can win the Nobel Prize twice by thirty, it's not about whether you want to be an academician or not anymore, people would be begging you to become one. Supplement, don't talk about exceptions, remember the questioner specifically mentioned he's only thirty years old! You probably don't understand what it means to have won two Nobel Prizes by thirty, right?
Let me put it this way, the academicians are also afraid that the questioner might win another Nobel Prize in his lifetime and slap them in the face!"
After reading these two interesting responses, the corners of Qiao Ze's mouth turned up slightly before he revealed a knowing smile.
That's right, there's always a way to do things.
If there's only one path to achieving a goal, and this path requires you to force yourself to do something you're not good at, it only means you're not good enough yet.
So with renewed confidence, Qiao Ze once again started to search the internet for "How to win a Nobel Prize".
Dammit!
It's still a recommendation-based system...
But the good news is that if you really do make an outstanding achievement, it seems there will definitely be some anonymous recommendations.
At least that's what it says on the internet; some scientists don't even know who recommended them.
Just then, Qiao Ze suddenly felt sleepy. He glanced at the time on the bottom right corner of his laptop—it was already 10:25 PM. So he immediately closed his laptop, went to the bathroom to wash up briefly, then lay straight down on the bed and closed his eyes.
In less than two minutes, he began to snore softly...
It's 10:30 PM, it's time to sleep.
...
At 10 PM, in the room of Zhang Chunlei on the 11th floor, the hustle had just come to a halt.
With the cooperation of seven professors, they finally managed to process the data. Then Zhang Chunlei logged into his own account and through FileZilla, he transferred the configured program to Jiangcheng University's supercomputer. After setting up the parameters, the next step was to wait for the notification of the results from the supercomputer.
As a key professor being groomed by the college, he was capricious enough to have a special VIP channel at the supercomputing center, which allowed him to use the facility without having to queue.
After they had finished their work, none of the professors seemed in the mood for conversation, but no one left. They either whispered to the person next to them or looked at their phones, occasionally glancing at Zhang Chunlei's computer screen.
In short, they were all silently awaiting the final results.
The feeling was complex.
Especially for Li Jian Gao.
He hoped that Qiao Ze's judgment was correct, which would mean the boy truly possessed an almost terrifying mathematical intuition.
Yet, he felt that maybe it would be better if Qiao Ze were wrong on this occasion.
If the child's exceptional talent became known, it was uncertain whether it would bring fortune or misfortune in the future.
It was indeed tiring.
He wanted to go check on Qiao Ze but feared that he might miss out on the results if he left now.
Such a dilemma.
Just then, Lu Xiuxiu, whom he had added on WeChat today, sent him a message.
In fact, this wasn't their first chat of the day. At dinner, Li Jian Gao had sent her a photo of Qiao Ze happily talking with the professors, telling the mother that many university professors had a high regard for her child, which earned him a barrage of thanks.
"Professor Li, I'm sorry to disturb you. The child must be asleep by now, right? He's used to it at home; he invariably sleeps by 10:30 PM, nothing can change that."
Seeing this message, Li Jian Gao finally couldn't sit still any longer. After greeting everyone, he decided to return to his room to have a look.
At the very least, he had to take the child to the room they had specially arranged for him.
Upon opening the door, he saw Qiao Ze, who had already fallen into a deep sleep on the bed.
The child didn't mind new beds, but he did kick his covers off.
Li Jian Gao picked up the blanket that was kicked to one side and carefully covered Qiao Ze.
Although he was gentle, Qiao Ze still opened his eyes when touched, but thankfully, upon recognizing him, the boy turned over and fell back asleep.
Li Jian Gao let out a sigh of relief, returned to the doorway, took out the room card they had made for Qiao Ze, and then inserted the card of this room into the power slot before quietly leaving the room. There was no choice, he had to switch rooms for the night.
At 11:23 PM, he opened WeChat and replied to Mrs. Lu, "Just went to have a look, the child is asleep, don't worry."
But before he could receive a reply from Mrs. Lu, his phone started ringing.
He answered only to hear a piercing roar, "Professor Li, it's really damned unbelievable! The kid's judgment was actually right! It's just, it's just, it's just... Anyway, come over quickly."
"Beep beep beep..."
Li Jian Gao was somewhat startled; he hadn't even had the chance to respond before the other party hung up.
Was there really a need to be this excited?
Just then, the reply came on WeChat, "Thank you!"
Li Jian Gao intended to dismiss the WeChat notification, but after a second thought, he quickly replied, "No need to thank me, Mrs. Lu, your child is indeed a genius, possibly even one comparable to Newton or Einstein. From today on, what you should be doing is taking pride in him, not feeling small."
Of course, he could not see that at that moment, in an old residential building about ten kilometers away in a straight line, a woman was looking at her phone, fixated on the words in WeChat, tears streaming down her face in silence.