Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Five days ago, in the archives of the research institute in the suburbs of Guangyang City.

Lin Shen sat on an old wooden chair by the window, with a pile of dusty documents half a person's height at his feet.

He turned to the name that appeared repeatedly in Song Yuanming's notes—Zhou Weiqing.

The earliest record is from seven years ago, written in messy handwriting, with the usual restraint, but unable to suppress the anger beneath the paper: "Zhou Weiqing questioned research ethics at the academic committee meeting today."

He knew perfectly well that the beacon theory had never involved human experimentation, yet he still said at the meeting, "This kind of research will inevitably cause problems sooner or later." After the meeting, someone asked me if I was conducting human brain experiments. When the meeting ended, Zhou Weiqing and a few others were smoking in the corridor, laughing loudly.

Lin Shen's fingertips swept over the five words "laughing loudly," and the paper was worn with fine fuzz by his fingertips.

Scrolling down to the records from six years ago, the date was marked as the day the core algorithm for beacon theory was broken. Song Yuanming's handwriting was unusually emotional, the strokes so heavy they seemed to tear the paper: "The algorithm is working." Zhou Weiqing came to the lab, glanced at the screen, said "Congratulations," and turned to leave.

I heard him on the phone in the hallway, saying, "If he succeeds, our project is over." I will absolutely not let this guy get to me.

The record from four years ago was written in red ink on the margin, the ink having faded to a dark red: "Zhou Weiqing sat next to me in the cafeteria today and said that we've been fellow disciples for so many years, let's not let this little thing cause us any distance. I said no."

He chuckled and said, "Professor Song is just too serious. Science belongs to everyone. If you're always rushing ahead, what about the people behind you?" I replied, "I've never blocked anyone's way."

He put down his chopsticks and left. I stared at the half-eaten plate of food he'd thrown away, pondering for a long time what he truly wanted. Then I understood: what he wanted wasn't a path, but my path.

Lin Shen pulled out these pages and tucked them into a folder he always carried with him.

His memory jumped back three days to the photocopy of the review meeting minutes he retrieved from the archives of the Provincial Department of Science and Technology. The red stamp on the cover with the word "Confidential" had faded to a light pink.

The review took place on October 17, five years ago. The attendees included Song Yuanming, Zhou Weiqing, and three review experts.

Zhou Weiqing's statement was recorded in full: "Professor Song Yuanming's research involves the active intervention of neural signals. I must point out that if this technology matures, it could theoretically be used for unauthorized manipulation of neural signals."

This is not a technical issue, but a matter of nature. As Professor Song's senior colleague, I shouldn't be saying these things in this setting, but out of a sense of responsibility as a scientist, I suggest the committee carefully consider the necessity of continuing this project.

The review conclusion section was stamped and read, "It is recommended to postpone the beacon theory project and await further ethical evaluation."

Lin Shen's knuckles, gripping the pen, turned white.

Zhou Weiqing was Song Yuanming's senior in the same academic line, three years ahead of Song Yuanming. The two shared a dormitory when they were pursuing their doctorates, and they had the same supervisor.

He knew better than anyone that the beacon theory was the culmination of Song Yuanming's decades of hard work, and he knew better than anyone that this research, from its inception to its algorithmic breakthrough, had not violated any ethical principles.

He did it on purpose.

The screenshot of Song Mingzhang's call log was sent to him by Meng Zhaowen.

A week after the review meeting, Zhou Weiqing’s office landline and Song Mingzhang’s mobile phone rang three times, lasting seven minutes, twelve minutes, and five minutes respectively.

The day after the third call ended, Song Mingzhang submitted a written report to Zhong Lin entitled "Evaluation of the Extraordinary Application Value of Song Yuanming's Neural Signal Decoding Project".

Lin Shen placed the call log and the Five Mountains Alliance report side by side, thus establishing the causal link.

The internal investigation report, dated three days after the laboratory explosion, was signed by Zhou Weiqing.

The report stated: "An investigation revealed that the explosion was caused by improper operation of the experimental equipment, and Professor Song Yuanming bears direct responsibility for this."

The final recommendation is, "To protect the institute's reputation, it is recommended that the beacon theory project be terminated and the relevant researchers be reassigned to other research groups."

Lin Shen stared at the words "illegal operation" for a full two hours.

He had been doing experiments with Song Yuanming for five years. His teacher was known for his meticulousness in the institute. He knew the equipment operating procedures by heart and would personally check the water, electricity, and gas three times after each experiment. How could he possibly make such a basic mistake?

Lin Shen saw the announcement of the provincial key projects approved by the Provincial Department of Science and Technology on the official website six months ago.

The project is titled "Neurorehabilitation Project," and the person in charge is listed as Zhou Weiqing. The first paragraph of the project introduction states: "This project is based on the independent research accumulated by Researcher Zhou Weiqing over more than ten years."

A groundbreaking original breakthrough has been achieved in the field of neural signal decoding and motion intention recognition. This technical approach, proposed and validated by Researcher Zhou Weiqing's team, fills a gap in this area both within the province and nationwide.

The name Song Yuanming does not appear in the entire text.

Lin Shen compared the published content with Song Yuanming's unpublished research notes item by item. All the core modules matched perfectly, and even the three decimal places of the algorithm parameters were exactly the same.

The van's engine emitted a deep roar. Lin Shen pressed the accelerator harder, increasing the speed to 120 miles per hour. The poplar trees on both sides rushed past like tombstones knocked down by the wind.

He unscrewed the bottled water in the passenger seat, took a sip, and the cold liquid slid down his esophagus, suppressing the surging anger in his chest.

As dusk fell, the outlines of the provincial capital's buildings gradually became clear, a gray expanse resembling piles of cement blocks on the horizon.

Lin Shen folded the copy of the notes, put it back in the inner pocket of his coat, and pressed his fingertips against the paper through the fabric.

Teacher, I've come to have your enemy apologize to you in person.

------

It was already daylight when the bread truck entered the provincial capital.

Lin Shen turned and veered onto the auxiliary road leading to the State Guest Hotel.

The car was parked on the street opposite the hotel and the engine was turned off.

The engine vibration disappeared, and the car became completely quiet.

Lin Shen picked up the printed itinerary from the passenger seat. The top of the page bore the words "Invitation" in gold lettering; it was Zhou Weiqing's schedule.

This morning at 9:00 AM, a press conference was held to release the interim results of the neurorehabilitation project and a cooperation signing ceremony was held.

At 10:00 AM, a celebratory banquet and awards ceremony were held, during which the Provincial Science and Technology Progress Outstanding Contribution Award was presented.

The location is the banquet hall on the third floor of the State Guest Hotel.

Lin Shen's gaze lingered on the three characters "Zhou Weiqing" for a long time.

This name appeared so many times in Song Yuanming's notes, each time accompanied by concessions, withheld funds, and a tarnished reputation.

Now it's printed on gold-embossed invitations, followed by the suffix "Provincial Science and Technology Progress Outstanding Contribution Award," which is like a huge joke.

He folded the documents and put them back in the passenger seat, his gaze passing through the windshield and landing on the hotel's revolving door.

The golden door frame turned in the morning light, swallowing in waves of formally dressed guests.