Zhong Ziang: “Uncle, I feel like I need to become better.”
Xie Dingyuan: “Better? How much better? Like Jiang Fuyue?”
“Mm-hmm!”
“Then you might need to be completely remade.”
“…”
“And even if you were, there’s no guarantee, because intelligence is not a simple matter. Its emergence, development, expansion, and perfection are all closely related to brain development. Put simply, the brain is the physical basis for intelligence, and its growth is tied to both genetic inheritance and external influences…”
Zhong Ziang: “…” Sorry for bothering you.
After explaining genetic factors, Xie Dingyuan was just about to analyze external factors.
“Uncle, please have mercy! I’m begging you!”
A rare smile flashed in Xie Dingyuan’s eyes. “What, did Jiang Fuyue’s moment on stage receiving her award get to you?”
Zhong Ziang stayed silent.
The car fell into a brief silence.
Finally, Zhong Ziang said, “Before, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with myself, truly; but now, I feel like everything’s wrong.”
Xie Dingyuan paused. “Why are you comparing yourself to Jiang Fuyue? Intelligence is innate. If you’re aiming to match her in that area, I suggest you give up.”
“Then what should I do?”
“Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Jiang Fuyue’s intelligence allows her to shine on the international competition stage and may even earn her a place in academia someday because she clearly knows her own strengths. Maximizing those strengths—that’s success. What are your strengths? Have you thought about that?”
“My strengths…” Lying in bed before sleep, Zhong Ziang stared at the ceiling, muttering to himself.
Jiang Fuyue’s strengths were her high IQ and academic excellence, which led her to competitions and might take her into scientific research in the future.
And himself?
What were his strengths? What kind of impact could those strengths make? And what field would he pursue in the future?
For the first time, Zhong Ziang truly examined his life and realized just how barren his past decade or so had been.
It looked vibrant on the surface but was utterly unfulfilling.
He couldn’t keep going like this, he told himself.
First things first… get a good night’s sleep, then return home tomorrow!
A man’s growth often happens in an instant.
…
After a long seven days of competition, the Chinese delegation finally set out for home.
China time, 3 p.m., the flight landed punctually at the Airport.
As Yan Zhenfeng’s group exited the arrivals hall, a crowd of journalists, who had been waiting for quite some time, swarmed toward them.
Glancing at the logos on the microphones, they noticed these were all top domestic media outlets, including several channels from CCTV.
“This…”
Yan Zhenfeng and Qin Libin exchanged bewildered looks.
“Was an interview scheduled?” they asked Sun Qun.
“No, no… I didn’t receive any call.”
“Then what’s with all these reporters?”
“Could it be because we did so well this year that they all came out in full force?”
No one truly believed this explanation.
In previous years, even when they’d earned a perfect team score at the IPhO, there had never been so many reporters right off the plane.
When interviews happened, they were brief reports arranged by higher-ups, and that was it.
The media usually chases trending topics. Journalists flock to popular events, and the IPhO is generally so cold it’s practically forgotten.
And yet, here they were.
Yan Zhenfeng: “Could a celebrity be on the same flight, and that’s what brought all these reporters?”
Qin Libin shook his head. “I doubt it. What celebrity would attract this many serious media outlets? Plus, this includes CCTV News… come on.”
“Could they actually be here for us? Oh no! They’re coming over! Get the luggage quickly! Sun Qun, go back and watch the students; keep them here for now!”
“Oh, oh, on it!”
But within seconds, the crowd of reporters surged forward.
A sea of microphones appeared in front of Yan Zhenfeng and Qin Libin: “Professors, welcome home!”
Despite the crowd, there was no chaos, and the reporters greeted them politely, which put the two professors somewhat at ease.
Serious journalists are indeed different from paparazzi.
Yan Zhenfeng: “Thank you.”
Reporter: “Congratulations to the Chinese team on your excellent performance at this year’s IPhO. We’d like to interview the returning students, especially Jiang Fuyue, if possible?”
At the mention of Jiang Fuyue, a dozen reporters’ eyes lit up.
Before Yan Zhenfeng could answer, five students emerged, lugging their bags.
So, Sun Qun’s attempt to stop them… was in vain?
Someone among the reporters suddenly shouted, “Look! Jiang Fuyue is here!”
The scene instantly grew chaotic and out of control as the journalists rushed toward Jiang Fuyue like wolves on the scent of fresh meat, each one seeming completely crazed.
Yan Zhenfeng and Qin Libin stood in the middle, like straw men caught in a stampede, left disheveled and bewildered.
Yan Zhenfeng: So much for “serious journalists are different”; apparently, they’re only serious with us—mention Jiang Fuyue, and they turn into paparazzi!
