At the end of his internship, Chen Qiyu called Jiang Tong into his office. Ostensibly, it was for a performance review, but the actual evaluation had been prepared entirely by the senior sister. Jiang Tong felt confident about his results and the senior sister’s attitude toward him, so he walked into the office composed, assuming it was merely a formality.
Then, he was caught completely off guard.
"Jiang Tong, why do you want to pursue a PhD?"
Chen Qiyu sat with his fingers interlaced on the desk, his expression solemn and his gaze piercing—a stark departure from his usual affable demeanor.
"Shanshan speaks very highly of you. I’ve looked over your report; your level of work is quite good." Chen Qiyu flipped through a stapled stack of A4 papers in front of him. Jiang Tong recognized several familiar charts—his own experimental summaries and the senior sister’s comments.
"While I’ve never regretted choosing the path of biological research, these past few years I often tell my students that from a purely economic standpoint, the cost-effectiveness of a PhD is becoming lower and lower. With your intelligence, you shouldn't have any trouble finding a stable, high-paying job after graduation."
"Why must you do a PhD? Is it a simple love for research? Are you avoiding entering the workforce? Does your family think a doctorate is prestigious? Or do you want to immigrate to the US and use the degree as a springboard?"
"I truly love academia," Jiang Tong defended himself weakly. "I don't know how to make you believe me, but I haven't considered any other option besides a PhD."
"Biological research is grueling. In most professions in this world, effort yields rewards. In our field, you don't just need extraordinary diligence; you also need a bit of luck."
"The smallpox vaccine, penicillin, the double helix structure of DNA... these so-called world-changing biological achievements weren't created out of thin air by us biologists. They were already there; we simply sought them out and discovered them. It’s like finding a drop of fresh water in the ocean or a grain of gold in the desert. In the process, you will encounter failure many, many times—more times than you can currently imagine."
"Being smart isn't enough. Being diligent isn't enough. If I told you now that fifty percent of biology PhDs change careers after graduation, seventy percent never engage in cutting-edge research, and ninety percent contribute nothing to the advancement of biology, would you still choose this path?"
"I want the truth." The man’s gaze was sharp, as if he could see right into Jiang Tong’s heart. "Jiang Tong, why exactly do you want a PhD? Are you prepared for it?"
Jiang Tong took a deep breath.
"I’m not prepared."
Chen Qiyu’s expression froze.
"To tell you the truth," Jiang Tong said calmly, "I’m studying in Singapore on a government scholarship. If I apply to the US, I’ll have to pay back my entire undergraduate tuition. My family could never afford that. If I can't get a full scholarship from a US university, I’ll have to stay in Singapore and find a job."
"I’ve thought about the circumstances you mentioned, but I didn't dare dwell on them, and I felt thinking about them was useless anyway. After all, I don't live in a future of probabilities; I only live in the now. And at this moment, I haven't considered any career other than immunology research."
"I like proposing hypotheses, debating with others, and then confirming them through experiments. I like exploring the mechanisms of cell signaling pathways and searching for new proteins. I want to one day develop anti-cancer drugs that ordinary Chinese people can actually afford. I thought this way when I was a teenager, and I still think this way now."
As he spoke, his expression was gentle and his voice was not loud, yet it contained a resolute, hardened strength. He was like a vast river—flowing at a slow, steady, yet unstoppable pace, washing through narrow estuaries, scattering the jagged rocks that blocked its path, and crossing through dangerous shoals and turbulent currents to finally merge into the sea.
Chen Qiyu smiled slightly. "I see."
Jiang Tong’s eyes widened slightly. "Thank you, Professor!"
"You should thank yourself." Chen Qiyu reverted to the kindly middle-aged man Jiang Tong remembered. "You’re quite eloquent, young man. I look forward to seeing you give a presentation at an academic conference soon."
Relieved of a heavy burden, Jiang Tong hurriedly offered another round of thanks.
"By the way," Chen Qiyu called out as Jiang Tong stood up to leave, "do you have a girlfriend?"
"What?"
Seeing Jiang Tong’s bewildered look, the professor indulged in a rare moment of teasing. "The life of a PhD student is austere. You should hurry and settle things with a girlfriend before graduation so the two of you can go to the US together. That way, neither your studies nor your personal life will suffer."
Jiang Tong’s face turned bright red. He stammered and muttered a few words, his previous composure completely vanished. Finding it amusing, Professor Chen stopped teasing him and let him go.
