附近人100块钱上门

Chapter 41: The Manuscript



Lin Xian shook his head as he entered. “Professor Xu, there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not here regarding the chemical substance, nor am I representing MX Company. Our CEO clarified in the meeting that our new product launch will accommodate other products, so we won’t bother you about this matter anymore.”

Hearing this, Professor Xu Yun’s expression eased slightly. He lowered his gaze back to the microscope, delicately adjusting the fine focus knob. “Then I appreciate your company’s understanding. If only every cosmetics company had someone as considerate as Miss Zhao.”

Lin Xian stepped forward, placing the neatly arranged documents on the lab table. “Professor Xu, I brought these documents about hibernation pod fillers for you. When you have a moment, perhaps you could review them. The information might inspire and support your research.”

Professor Xu Yun was taken aback. Adjusting his glasses, he looked incredulously at Lin Xian. “You…”

He paused, then continued, “You mentioned you graduated from the School of Art and Design?”

“That’s correct.”

“You understand the field of hibernation?”

“Only the basics…”

“Then where did these documents come from?”

Lin Xian paused before answering slowly, “That, I cannot reveal.”

Professor Xu Yun sighed and chuckled. “Young man, I appreciate your intentions. But science is a complex field, especially scientific research, which cannot be reduced to simple terms or quick breakthroughs.”

“I suspect you sourced these documents from the internet or some amateur, correct? Such sources are unreliable… Please take them back.”

Professor Xu Yun waved dismissively and returned his attention to the microscope. “I will save my daughter myself.”

“But Professor Xu, you really should look at the manuscript,” Lin Xian persisted. “It contains a solution to the ‘Ice Crystal’ problem, a challenge you’re certainly grappling with, right?”

“You know about Ice Crystals? It seems you did some research, but that topic is widely discussed online,” Professor Xu Yun responded, still skeptical.

Feeling somewhat helpless, Lin Xian knew his limited understanding made it difficult to convince Professor Xu Yun, who was stubbornly scientific, skeptical of mysticism, and heavily reliant on empirical evidence.

He pushed the manuscript he had meticulously copied closer to Professor Xu Yun. “Please, when you have time, just take a glance. It won’t take much.”

Professor Xu Yun, still engrossed in his work, nodded absentmindedly, signaling Lin Xian to leave. Lin Xian didn’t linger, turned around, and exited, closing the door softly behind him.

Stepping out into the warm sunshine, Lin Xian stretched, uncertain whether the resolute Professor would ever spare a moment for the manuscript. There was nothing more he could do but respect the professor’s decisions.

“Respect others’ destinies,” he muttered to himself.

The days spent transcribing the manuscript had been physically and mentally draining. If Professor Xu Yun chose not to review it, Lin Xian had done all he could.

Inhaling deeply, Lin Xian savored the fresh air of Donghai University one last time before heading back to his duties at the company.

Since Zhao Yingjun had shelved the ‘Professor Xu Yun Moisturizing Cream Plan,’ not only did product development need to start anew, but also the marketing and copywriting for the Rhine Cat brand needed reevaluation.

“Trouble upon trouble…” Lin Xian mused. “Without the cream as our spearhead, can this new Rhine brand truly make its mark?” He wasn’t certain.

In the days that followed, Lin Xian devoted his time at MX Company to redesigning Rhine Cat, and his nights to exploring the dream world, visiting various bookstores and video stores in search of more material on Rhine Cat, seeking inspiration.

As the launch date for the Rhine brand’s new product neared, the pressure mounted across all departments, with Lin Xian feeling it acutely.

One night, back at the Donghai University laboratory, Professor Xu Yun, drenched in sweat and with his heart racing from excitement, scrutinized the microscope in what was yet another grueling experiment—his final attempt to conquer the ‘Ice Crystal Challenge.’

Wiping sweat from his brow, he removed his lab coat, threw it over a chair, and stretched before resuming his observation. The computer beside him displayed a steadily decreasing temperature.

As the temperature dropped, ice nuclei began forming at the edges of the microscope’s view, and from these nuclei, beautiful, sharp ice crystals started to crystallize.

Professor Xu Yun’s heart raced. He clasped his chest, eyes glued to the living cell in the microscope’s field. The cell was still moving; its membrane intact, its fluid flowing slowly.

“Don’t freeze… Don’t freeze…” he whispered a prayer.

The temperature continued to drop, hitting -16 degrees Celsius. Suddenly, tiny ice nuclei formed inside the cell, quickly giving rise to six symmetrical, snowflake-shaped ice crystals that rapidly spread, piercing the fragile cell membrane. The plump, active cell instantly deflated like a punctured balloon… its fluids turning to ice.

Everything froze. The once lively cell was now a frozen specimen, sealed amidst a field of snowflake crystals.

Thump. Professor Xu Yun collapsed into the chair, spent. He stared blankly at the ceiling, his voice hoarse with defeat. “Failed again…”

Removing his glasses, he set them aside and leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. As he reached for something to wipe them with, his gaze fell upon the stack of manuscript papers on his desk—messy yet meticulously written, with the words “Ice Crystal” starkly prominent at the top of the first page. As if drawn by a force, he reached out and picked up the manuscript.


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