Pei Jing took his comment as a compliment, his smile widening further. "I am very lucky to live in the technologically advanced twenty-first century."
"Why is that?"
"Otherwise, I might have become a notorious dark alchemist or a mad scientist," Pei Jing said with mock seriousness. "You know, like Dr. Hyde or Frankenstein."
Jiang Tong began to regret bringing up scientific research. Pei Jing’s desire to talk was growing stronger, his eyes flashing with an intensity that reminded Jiang Tong of a drug addict in the throes of a high.
Pei Jing waved a hand in the air, brimming with ambition. "It was only seventy years ago that humanity finally cracked the DNA double helix structure, and the sequencing of the human genome was only completed in 2000. Our study of what makes a human 'human' is no more advanced than our understanding of the universe. Jiang Tong, think back to the physics community of the twentieth century; when future generations look back at history, our generation will be seen as the founders and pioneers of biology."
"Just by shifting the positions of a few nucleotides, or by activating or inhibiting a few proteins, we can change the lives of billions—curing cancer, eradicating hereditary diseases, enhancing bodily functions, even achieving human immortality. I could never understand why Harry Potter became a global phenomenon when we clearly already have biology. This is the magic of the twenty-first century."
It was easy for a teenager to say such things, but Pei Jing was already a doctoral student—an adult who had to fight for the order of names on research papers and consider post-graduation employment. Jiang Tong was shaken; Pei Jing didn't just love research, he possessed a quasi-religious, fanatical faith in his career.
In one's youth, joys and sorrows are pure. However, as one grows older, the impurities of life seep in, and one's choices gradually become involuntary. Jiang Tong’s choice to study biology certainly contained an element of idealism, but it was also the result of a rational cost-benefit analysis. In front of Pei Jing, he felt a subtle sense of self-abasement. Within that shame was an indescribable jealousy, as if he and Pei Jing were both pursuing the same girl, only for Jiang Tong to discover with frustration that his rival's love was far more sincere than his own.
"What about you?" Pei Jing suddenly shifted the topic. "Why did you choose to go into research?"
Thoughts that had never been revealed to outsiders flowed out naturally. "I hope that one day I can develop anti-cancer drugs that everyone can afford."
"You're right, biotechnology is the magic of the twenty-first century, but only a few are fortunate enough to appreciate its wonders," Jiang Tong said softly. "Lenalidomide can allow patients with multiple myeloma to live for more than two extra years. Herceptin can extend the progression-free survival of breast cancer patients by a third. That is, provided the patient can afford the ten-thousand-dollar monthly medical bill."
"Do you know what the per capita income of an ordinary Chinese family is?" Jiang Tong gave a bitter laugh. "Maybe ten thousand RMB a month."
His mother's face surfaced in his mind. It was edematous and deformed, a sallow complexion tinged with a ghostly pale. Wrinkles and scars crawled across her face like spiderwebs. Her thick, dark hair had fallen out in clumps during chemotherapy, leaving only a sparse, thin layer that couldn't hide the glint of her scalp no matter how she tried to cover it.
Her physical body still persisted, but the pain had caused her soul to rot and deform. She spent most of her time in a stupor and only a small portion awake. When she was conscious, she was irritable and slow-witted, spreading her agony as much as possible to everyone around her.
She was better now; she could stay at home to recuperate, watering flowers and basking in the sun every day. But Jiang Tong knew better than anyone that this was only a temporary reprieve. The tumor cells would eventually make a comeback, regrouping and growing in the liver, the lungs, or some other unknown organ. Each time they were repelled, the next offensive would only be more ferocious.
If they were wealthy enough—if his mother could have had regular checkups and early treatment, if they had raised the money sooner, if he could have sent her to Singapore for medical care—would everything have been different?
Or even earlier. If his father hadn't gone far away to Africa to earn money, would his mother have exhausted her health toiling for the family's livelihood? If she had remained a happy housewife, would she have ever fallen ill?
Pei Jing looked him up and down. With his intelligence, it was impossible not to realize certain things.
"I apologize to you," he said solemnly. "Some of the things I said before may have been inconsiderate."
Jiang Tong smiled. "That was a long time ago. I should be the one thanking you for letting bygones be bygones and giving me the chance to keep working in the lab."
When he stepped out of the laboratory, the first glimmers of dawn were appearing. Jiang Tong hadn't slept all night, yet he felt exhilarated, his steps light. Fragments of many people and events flashed uncontrollably through his mind. The sight of his father's back the last time he left home; the silent dinner on the night before his mother remarried; the family members of patients lying scattered across the hospital lobby at midnight on their own makeshift bedding. And Xiao Fengtai—the way they looked when they first met. Standing in that luxurious study, Xiao Fengtai had reached out to him, a check held between his fingers. The check had fluttered up and down, like a small white flag.
