Chapter 92 Chen Xueming's Insights

At 2:00 AM, the Gobi Desert was as quiet as if it were buried at the bottom of the ocean.

The device was still running, its low, humming sound like an endless nocturne. The photovoltaic panels shimmered with a faint blue light under the moonlight, and the wind turbine blades turned slowly, occasionally stirring up a light breeze.

Chen Xueming lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

The alcohol had long since worn off. Or rather, he hadn't slept soundly at all.

The things said at the bonfire party, the words held back in his heart for over twenty years, had finally been spoken. After saying them, he felt as if his entire being had been hollowed out, yet simultaneously filled with something new.

He turned over and reached for his phone.

2:14 AM.

The light from the screen stung his eyes. Squinting, he opened his notes app and began to type.

Lin Mo:

I can't sleep, so I'm writing a few lines to you.

I drank too much tonight, and what I said might have been incoherent, but it was all true. Now that I'm sober and my mind is clear, I want to have a heart-to-heart with you.

I started university in 1987, when I was seventeen. When filling out my application, my father asked me what I wanted to study, and I said materials. He asked what materials were for, and I said for making things. He said making things is good; if you make them, they can be used.

People in that era had simple thoughts. If it could be used, it was a good thing.

Later, I pursued my master's, PhD, and went abroad for a postdoctoral fellowship. The more of the world I saw, the more complicated my thoughts became. I began chasing impact factors for my papers, invitations to international conferences, and that phrase from my peers: "Professor Chen is amazing."

I've published in Nature and Science, won the National Natural Science Award (Second Class), and was named a Changjiang Scholar. In others' eyes, I had made it.

But I know myself, that wasn't the case at all.

Those papers were locked away in libraries after publication, unread. Those patents lay in file folders after being filed, unused. Once, I went to a factory for research and saw that the workers were still using twenty-year-old technology. I asked them why they didn't try something new. They said, "Professor Chen, the things you guys develop work in the laboratory, but they don't work in the factory. The costs are too high, the processes are too complex, and we can't afford to use them."

At the time, I thought, it's you who don't understand, it's you who lack the skill.

Now that I think about it, it was me who lacked the skill.

True skill isn't about publishing a few papers or winning a few awards; it's about making things that can actually be used, that are genuinely better than others', and that can truly prevent the country from being bullied.

Before coming here, I didn't believe Lithium Extraction from Seawater could work. After coming here, I watched you build it up bit by bit. Room-Temperature Superconductivity, Lithium-Sulfur Battery, Lithium Extraction from Seawater—every step hit the mark. I initially thought it was luck, but later I realized it wasn't. It was you, this team, and that drive to scrutinize every detail to the extreme.

Do you know what I admire most about you? It's not your "system," and it's not that you can always get data that others can't.

It's that you never shift the blame.

When the device has issues, you dive into the reactor without a word; when the data is wrong, you stay up all night to find the cause; when the pressure from public opinion is high, you shoulder all the responsibility yourself and never push it down to others.

I've been working for over twenty years, mentored dozens of students, and considered myself a good mentor. Looking back now, I'm far from it.

Li Xiao asked me the other day, "Teacher Chen, have you changed?"

I said yes, I've changed, and for the better.

I used to think that scientific research was a one-man job. My ideas, my experiments, my papers, my honors. A team? That was just people working for me.

Now I understand that scientific research is not a one-man job.

Without Li Xiao's data models, I'd still be fumbling around in the laboratory; without Zhang Zhe watching the manufacturers, who knows how long the equipment would have been delayed; without Zhao Gang and Captain Zhou guarding the place, that data would have been stolen by George long ago; without you, I wouldn't even have found the door to this field.

So tonight I said that I used to think domestic scientific research was no good, but now I know it's me who wasn't good enough.

These aren't drunken words; they are the truth.

I'm not saying there are no problems with domestic scientific research. There are problems, many of them. But over these years, the ones who are truly moving forward, truly solving practical problems, are precisely those people who have problems but are still moving forward.

I used to stand on the shore picking out faults, thinking I saw things clearly. Now that I've jumped into the water and swam a lap, I know what it feels like to struggle in the water.

It's painful, tiring, but exhilarating.

Because you know that with every struggle, you move forward a little. With every bit of progress, the device runs more steadily, the costs drop lower, and the country is less afraid of being held back by others.

I haven't tasted this feeling in over twenty years.

I tasted it today.

Thank you, Lin Mo.

Thank you for letting me join this team, thank you for tolerating my foul temper, and thank you for not saying a single harsh word when I was at my lowest.

I used to feel homeless—not because I didn't have a house to live in, but because there was nowhere that made me feel secure. Now I have one.

This Gobi Desert, this device, this group of people.

They are my home.

I've rambled on for so long, and you have to get up early tomorrow. I'm going to sleep.

Chen Xueming

3:17 AM

Lin Mo was awakened by the vibration of his phone.

He reached for his phone, squinting at the screen. Chen Xueming had sent a long message, sent at 3:17 AM.

He sat up, leaned against the headboard, and read it line by line.

Outside the window, the night in the Gobi Desert was still dark. The low humming of the device could be heard faintly, like a heartbeat.

He was silent for a long time, then opened the reply box and began to type.

Teacher Chen:

I've read your message.

I understand everything you said.

I've thought about the meaning of scientific research before too. Later, I realized—meaning isn't something you think up; it's something you create. Everything you've done over this past half-year has meaning. Lithium Extraction from Seawater, 35,000, the national announcement, the plummeting lithium prices, the bankruptcy of the blockade—these were all things you did.

Regarding the team, I agree. One person goes fast, a group goes far. This team wouldn't work without any one of us. Without you, Lithium Extraction from Seawater would still be spinning in circles in the laboratory; without Li Xiao, the data would be a mess; without Zhang Zhe, the equipment would be stuck somewhere; without Zhao Gang and Captain Zhou, we wouldn't even be able to sleep soundly.

So don't thank me. If you want to thank someone, thank this team. Thank this Gobi Desert. Thank this era.

You said you felt homeless; I understand.

I used to feel homeless too. Later, I had this team, I had all of you, and then I had a home.

Welcome home.

Sleep now, there's work tomorrow.

Lin Mo

4:02 AM

After sending it, Lin Mo put down his phone and looked out the window.

On the eastern horizon, a faint grayish-white was beginning to appear. In two hours, the sun would rise from the Gobi Desert, shining on the device, on the Prefabricated Building, and on everyone's faces.

He lay back down and closed his eyes.

The phone vibrated again.

It was a reply from Chen Xueming, with only two words:

Going to sleep.

The corners of Lin Mo's mouth lifted slightly as he turned over and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Li Xiao was the first to wake up.

She pushed open the door and saw Chen Xueming already standing next to the device, holding a thermos, just as usual.

"Teacher Chen, good morning!"

Chen Xueming turned around and smiled at her: "Good morning."

Li Xiao was taken aback.

That smile was different from before.

Chen Xueming used to smile too, but that smile was polite, distant, and had a bit of detachment.

Today's smile was real, radiating from his eyes.

She didn't think too much about it and ran over to start the day's work.

In the distance, Lin Mo also walked out of the Prefabricated Building, stretched, and walked toward the device.

Chen Xueming saw him and nodded.

Lin Mo also nodded.

Nothing was said, yet everything had been said.

The sun over the Gobi Desert was just peeking out from the horizon.

A new day had begun.