Chapter 8 Determined to Report

In the end, Lin Mo didn't reply to that text message.

For the next three days, he locked himself in the laboratory, doing the same thing over and over—taking out those blue flakes, testing them, recording the results, and putting them back. Pile after pile of data stacked up, and every single time, the results were just as perfect. But the unease in his heart grew stronger with each passing day.

George's questions were like thorns pricking at his brain.

Why was he so sensitive to the temperature of the high-temperature furnace? Why did he check my citation records? Why did he always throw out those precise questions just when I was at my most relaxed?

Lin Mo began to pay attention to the people around him. Students coming to borrow reagents, the cleaning lady, even the server in the cafeteria—everyone seemed to have become suspicious. He knew it was his own problem, but he couldn't control it.

On the evening of the fourth day, Lin Mo sat in the laboratory, staring blankly at the stack of data.

It started raining outside, the pitter-patter of raindrops tapping against the glass. He looked at those numbers, those charts, and those repeatedly verified results, suddenly realizing a problem:

He had already confirmed it. The material was real. The superconductivity was real. That system was real too.

The question now was: what should he do next?

If he continued to hide it, these materials would just lie in the safe, completely meaningless. If he spoke up, he might be questioned, ridiculed, or even treated as a fraud. But if he didn't say anything—

George's blue eyes surfaced in his mind again.

Lin Mo stood up abruptly. He remembered Wang Zhenguo's words: "No matter who it is, don't say a word." But after those words, there was another sentence: "In this field of research, some things require caution."

Caution was not the same as silence.

Lin Mo walked to the safe and opened it. Those blue flakes lay quietly inside, shimmering with a dim light under the lamp. He picked up the very first one he had made—the one from the first success. It was slightly rougher than the later ones, but its performance was just as perfect.

He put it into a sealed bag and picked up the stack of experimental records, a thick pile. From the first time to the last, the parameters of every batch of samples and the data from every test were recorded clearly.

Lin Mo stood there, looking at the items in his hands, his heart pounding violently.

He knew that once he took this step, there would be no going back.

But if he didn't, he might never be able to take that first step.

Lin Mo packed the items into his backpack, locked the laboratory door, and stepped into the rain.

The rain was heavy. Lin Mo held an umbrella, but his pant legs were still soaked through. He walked along the path toward the faculty residential area, the streetlights blurring into hazy yellow glows in the curtain of rain. Occasionally, a car would drive by, splashing water; he instinctively dodged, but his mind was entirely on other things.

He was wondering how Wang Zhenguo would react.

Would his teacher believe him? Perhaps. But his teacher would definitely ask: How did you do it? Where did the idea come from? What is the theoretical basis?

How should he answer? Say there was a mysterious system that suddenly appeared in his head in the middle of the night? Wang Zhenguo would think he'd gone mad.

Maybe he could just talk about the results without mentioning the source. Just say he accidentally discovered a new formula and the material produced had superconducting properties. As for the theoretical explanation, that could come slowly. Weren't many major discoveries characterized by experimental facts coming first, followed by theoretical explanations?

The more Lin Mo thought, the more confused he became, but his steps didn't stop.

He reached the faculty residential area. Wang Zhenguo lived on the second floor of an old six-story building. From the outside, a warm light shone through the window. Lin Mo stood downstairs, looking at that window as rainwater dripped from the edge of his umbrella, forming a small puddle at his feet.

He remembered the first time he met Wang Zhenguo.

During his senior year, he came for his graduate school interview. Wang Zhenguo sat in the middle of the panel, his hair completely silver, wearing a pair of reading glasses, looking kind and approachable. After asking professional questions, Wang Zhenguo suddenly asked, "Why do you want to do scientific research?"

How did he answer back then? It seemed he said it was because he wanted to know how the world worked.

Wang Zhenguo smiled and said, "Good, remember this original intention."

Standing in the rain and remembering those words, Lin Mo suddenly felt a bit of a sting in his nose.

He took a deep breath and entered the building.

The lights in the stairwell were sound-activated; one lit up with every step he took. Second floor, the unit on the east side. Lin Mo stood at the door, raised his hand, then lowered it. Raised it again, and lowered it again.

He didn't know what he was hesitating for. He had clearly already decided; he had clearly already come this far.

The door suddenly opened.

Wang Zhenguo stood at the door wearing loungewear, holding a trash bag. He froze for a moment when he saw Lin Mo.

"Xiao Lin? It's so late and raining, why have you come running over?"

Lin Mo opened his mouth, but for a moment, he couldn't speak.

Wang Zhenguo's gaze fell on him, moving from his soaked pant legs to the backpack he was clutching tightly. He didn't ask anything else, simply stepping aside to let him in.

"Come in."

Lin Mo walked into the house. It wasn't large, the decor was simple, and there were books everywhere. A cup of tea sat on the coffee table in the living room, still steaming, next to an open book. Wang Zhenguo must have been reading just now.

"Sit." Wang Zhenguo pointed to the sofa and sat down opposite him. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

Lin Mo sat on the sofa, placing his backpack on his knees. He looked at Wang Zhenguo; that familiar face held concern and inquiry. This old man had mentored him for four years, teaching him how to conduct experiments, how to write papers, and how to conduct himself.

"Teacher," Lin Mo began, his voice a bit raspy. "I... I have some things I want to show you."

He opened his backpack, took out the sealed bag, and then pulled out the stack of experimental records.

Wang Zhenguo's gaze fell on the blue material. He frowned slightly, reached out to take it, and examined it against the light. The material shimmered with a faint blue luster under the light, lying quietly in his palm.

"This is?"

"I made it recently," Lin Mo said. "A kind of... superconducting material."

Wang Zhenguo's hand paused. He looked up at Lin Mo, his gaze filled with disbelief.

"What did you say?"

Lin Mo took a deep breath and handed over the experimental records. Wang Zhenguo took them and flipped to the first page.

For the next ten minutes, the only sound in the room was the flipping of pages.

Wang Zhenguo looked through the records page by page. Experimental dates, raw material ratios, temperature curves, test results... every page was densely annotated by Lin Mo. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper, and the speed at which he flipped the pages grew slower and slower.

Finally, he closed the record book and looked up.

"How many experiments did you conduct?"

"Eleven times, with ten successes. That one failure was because the furnace broke; after it was fixed and I redid it, that was successful too."

Wang Zhenguo remained silent, picking up the material again and looking at it for a long time.

"Have you tested it?"

"I have. I used the four-probe method and the magnetic susceptibility method; I tested them all." Lin Mo's voice was very soft. "At minus twenty degrees Celsius, the resistance drops to zero. I also detected perfect diamagnetism."

Wang Zhenguo put the material back into the sealed bag and leaned back against the sofa. He took off his reading glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back on. He didn't speak throughout the entire process.

Lin Mo's heart was in his throat. He didn't know what his teacher was thinking—was it belief or doubt?

"Xiao Lin." Wang Zhenguo finally spoke, his voice very calm. "Do you know what this means?"

"I know."

"Do you know what it means if this thing is proven to be real?"

Lin Mo nodded.

Wang Zhenguo was silent for a while, then asked again, "How did you do it?"

This was the question Lin Mo feared most. He lowered his head, not daring to look his teacher in the eye.

"It was... just an accidental discovery. I found the formula and process through trial and error."

Wang Zhenguo looked at him with a complex gaze. Those eyes, which had navigated the academic world for forty years, seemed capable of seeing through any lie at this moment.

"Just an accident?"

Lin Mo didn't answer.

Wang Zhenguo didn't press further. He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the rain outside.

"Xiao Lin," he said with his back to Lin Mo, "you are the most honest student I have ever mentored. You don't know how to lie."

Lin Mo's heart skipped a beat.

"If there are things you don't want to say, I won't force you," Wang Zhenguo turned around. "But this discovery is too big. It's too big for only us to know about."

He walked back to the sofa, sat down, and looked at Lin Mo.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to meet a few people."

Lin Mo stood stunned.

"Teacher..."

"Don't worry," Wang Zhenguo interrupted him. "They are all old friends of mine, people who can be trusted. This thing needs more experts to verify it. If the verification proves it's real..."

He didn't continue, but Lin Mo understood what he meant.

Outside, the rain was still falling. Wang Zhenguo's voice echoed in the room, carrying an indescribable weight.

Lin Mo sat there, looking at his teacher. On that wrinkled face, there was exhaustion and worry, but more than that, there was a radiance he had never seen before.

"Teacher," Lin Mo said suddenly, "you believe me?"

Wang Zhenguo glanced at him and smiled.

"If I don't believe you, who can I believe?"