Great Power Reclamation

When the news of the Nobel Prize announcement came, it was late autumn in Junken City. The poplar forests were dazzlingly golden, and the sky was a flawless blue.

The call went directly to the director's office at the pharmaceutical research institute. Yuan Kewang was compiling clinical feedback data after the global rollout of his new lung cancer drug; the strong tea in his hand had gone cold.

When he heard the other party's identity and purpose, his hand holding the receiver froze, his expression first solidified, and then, like water rippling in the wind, his wrinkles slowly spread with an incredible and extremely bright light.

“You mean…we…me, Teacher Ye, Teacher John, Teacher Liu…” he repeated, his voice very soft, as if afraid of shattering a dream.

After receiving an affirmative reply, he put down the phone and sat quietly for a while. The sunlight outside the window slanted down on his gray hair and his always calm face.

He slowly, very slowly leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and a clear, serene smile curved his lips upward.

That smile held the relief of a long-cherished wish fulfilled, the heartfelt joy for the mentors, and perhaps, a belated pride belonging to Yuan Kewang himself.

He fell asleep like that and never woke up again.

Myocardial infarction. The doctor said it was triggered by excessive emotional fluctuations, but he passed away peacefully without pain.

The memorial service was unprecedentedly solemn. Scholars, medical representatives, and family members of patients who had benefited from the new drug, who had come from all over the world, filled the largest hall of the Junken Funeral Home. Wreaths and elegiac couplets were piled up like mountains, many of which read "Redeemer" and "Guided One by the Stars".

Ye Feng rushed back from New York. The business tycoon stood at the front of the crowd, his eyes welling up as he looked at his father-in-law's face, which was now sleeping peacefully but seemed more serene than in life.

In his memory, his father-in-law always stayed silently in a corner of the pharmaceutical research institute or in the study at home, saying little and having a very low profile.

Only now, looking at the crowds and the solemnity of the gathering, did he truly grasp the weight contained in that silence.

Ye Yuze served as the host. He did not use a prepared speech, and his voice was slightly hoarse from restraint.
"...Comrade Yuan Kewang's life was like the red willow on the Gobi Desert, inconspicuous, but with the deepest roots. He didn't care whether his name was written first or last; what he cared about was whether the medicine could save lives and whether the road could be traversed."

"Today, the world has bestowed upon him the highest honor, not as a handout, but as the starlight he deserves. He has spent his life telling us that true greatness often lies in the perseverance of the ordinary; and that the name of history will ultimately be etched in the lives of the people."

A world-leading medical journal dedicated an entire column to a commemorative article titled "Lighting up the stars in the shadows: A pharmaceutical breakthrough that promises a new era."

The article meticulously traces his academic trajectory from early support to later leadership, praising him for "transforming cutting-edge ideas into real-world weapons for saving lives through astonishingly sustained focus and systematic work," and states:
"His passing is the extinguishing of a steady light in the scientific community; but his legacy will continue to live on in the breath of countless people."

After the memorial service, John Sr., Liu Xiangdong, and Ye Wancheng, three elderly men with white hair who had won the Nobel Prize again, did not participate in any celebrations. Instead, they walked together into the empty main laboratory of the Institute of Pharmaceutical Research.

Most of the equipment was shut down, quietly covered by dust covers. The low hum of the incubator had ceased, with only the ventilation system emitting a faint, perpetual sound. The setting sun streamed through the large window, casting long shadows of the three people.

“It’s time to retire,” Ye Wancheng said, his fingers brushing over the casing of an old centrifuge, which still seemed to retain the warm feel of years of use.

“Yes, it’s time to retire.” Liu Xiangdong nodded, his gaze sweeping over each familiar piece of equipment, as if looking at an old comrade-in-arms.

Old John tapped the smooth ground lightly with his cane: "Here, its mission is complete."

The three stood in silence for a long time, then helped each other and slowly walked out. The heavy blast door closed gently behind them, the sound of the latch locking echoing in the empty corridor, like the end of an era.

But has it really been completed?

The pharmaceutical research institute building did not remain silent for long. Soon, it was given a new identity—the "Military Reclamation Life Science Innovation Center".

The exterior has been modernized, but part of the core experimental area has been preserved as a memorial and educational base.

Next door to the lab where Yuan Kewang once worked, a new, young team has moved in. Their research is at a more cutting-edge level:

Cell therapy for neurodegenerative diseases, personalized cancer vaccines, and AI-based drug screening platforms. The sounds of discussion, keyboard typing, and the hum of new instruments starting up filled the space once again.

A young woman who had just graduated with a doctorate stumbled upon a paper experimental record dating back decades while organizing the center's archives.

The handwriting is neat and tidy, detailing the temperature and humidity for each step, and the reasons for failures are carefully marked in red.

The girl was so engrossed in watching that she exclaimed to her colleague, "So early on, and the foundation is already so solid... This kind of patience is like a spiritual practice."

Another young scientist, recruited from overseas, pointed to a yellowed group photo on the wall during a visit to the preserved old laboratory—

The photo shows the young Yuan Kewang and his three mentors standing beside a simple instrument, their smiles radiant—he says to Ye Yuze, who is accompanying him:
"Chairman Ye, the pressure is immense. It feels like working in the shadow of a giant."

Ye Yuze looked at the photo and smiled: "Their shadows are not meant to obscure you, but to be stepped on. Only by stepping firmly can you see further and stand taller."

Yuanfang, Yuan Kewang's daughter, ultimately did not follow in her father's footsteps in pharmacy, but instead became the CEO of Brothers Entertainment.

But a year after her father's death, she led her team back to the military reclamation city to begin filming a documentary about the history of pharmaceutical research in the military reclamation area, about her father, and the three elderly men.

The camera pans across the Gobi Desert, past old factories, and past brand-new laboratories, and also across the complex expression on the mother Xue Lian's face when she talks about her father, a mixture of pride, longing, and a touch of regret.

She wanted to understand where that silent, life-burning power came from.

New lung cancer drugs continue to save lives worldwide. In every medication guideline, every follow-up research paper, and every academic conference that mentions this breakthrough, the name "Yuan Kewang" is solemnly listed first, and is repeatedly remembered and cited along with his mentors.

As late autumn arrives, the leaves of the poplar trees fall, carpeting the former site of the Institute of Pharmaceutical Research—now the open space in front of the Innovation Center.

Young researchers hurried about, carrying notebooks or sample boxes, moving between the bright new buildings.

They talked about the latest literature, thorny problems, and newly obtained experimental data, their eyes shining with a light that belonged to a new era—an urgent and hopeful light.

On the memorial wall preserved in the old building, photos of Yuan Wang and three elderly people hang quietly, with an inscription below:
"Here, the story comes to an end; but the battle for human health is a never-ending one."

The wind blows from the Gobi Desert, carrying both chill and the scent of the starry sky. New lights shine all night long on the old land.

That unfinished mission has long since transformed into seeds, falling into more fertile soil, quietly breaking through the earth, and tenaciously growing towards the next tomorrow that needs healing.

Inside the newly designated "Military Reclamation Life Science Innovation Center," the air seems more vibrant than elsewhere. The traces of the old building's renovation haven't completely faded, and the plastic film on the new equipment has just been torn off, mixing with disinfectant, new building materials, and an invisible aura called "ambition."

Yang Zhenyu, 32 years old, is the head of the neurodegenerative disease project team and one of Ye Wancheng's last disciples. At this moment, he is staring intently at a batch of new neural stem cells in the incubator, his brow furrowed. The experiment has stalled again; the cell differentiation efficiency just won't go up.

He scratched his head in frustration, recalling the article he had seen that morning in a Nature sub-journal; it seemed the competitor's team had found a new path.

"Damn it, I got beaten to it again." He cursed under his breath, slamming his fist on the sterile table. The muffled sound was swallowed up by the hum of the laminar flow hood.

A cheer erupted from the lab next door. It was Shen Yi's team, the overseas-educated PhD specializing in AI drug screening, who was two years younger than Yang Zhenyu but was already a prominent figure at the center.

Shen Yi, wearing a white lab coat and smart glasses, was gesturing excitedly at a three-dimensional molecular model, surrounded by several young researchers with shining eyes.

They have just used their self-developed algorithm to extract a highly promising lead structure from millions of virtual compounds, and the initial verification results are astonishing.

Yang Zhenyu felt a little uneasy. Shen Yi's approach was too "new" and too "dazzling," seemingly from a completely different world from their traditional path, which was painstakingly developed from cells and animal models.

He recalled what Grandpa Ye Wancheng had told him before he retired: "Young Yang, when it comes to scientific research, you don't have to be afraid of new or old approaches, the only thing to be afraid of is being useless. A good approach is one that can cure the disease."

But the old man also said, "But the foundation must be solid, don't get carried away." Is Shen Yi getting a little carried away?
"Brother Yang, struggling with cells again?" Shen Yi strolled over unnoticed, holding a cup of coffee and beaming.

"How about we try our model? Feed the structure of your target protein to 'Pangu' and maybe we'll make some new discoveries."

"Pangu" is the name he gave to his AI platform, a name that evokes a sense of grandeur and power.

Yang Zhenyu smirked: "Thanks, but our problem might not be target identification, but delivery and the microenvironment. Your 'black box' approach might not be what we're looking for."

Shen Yi wasn't annoyed and shrugged: "Let's give it a try, share the data, and see how it goes."

"Back in the day, didn't the old men also 'fight' each other like this?" He gestured towards the other end of the corridor. On the wall there hung a photo of Yuan Kewang with the three old men, along with the phrase "Never Ending Chapter."

These words startled Yang Zhenyu. He recalled how, before Old John retired, he had tremblingly handed him a stack of yellowed, handwritten experimental record books.

It contains a dense record of failures and wildly imaginative conjectures from the early exploration of antibiotics and cardiovascular drugs. Some of these ideas were simply impossible to realize with the technology available at the time, yet they sparkled with astonishing intuition.

“Don’t just look at the road to success,” Old John said in broken Chinese. “Look at how we found the light in a dead end back then. Sometimes, going down the wrong road too far can also illuminate the right direction.”

And there was also Grandpa Liu Xiangdong, who patted him on the shoulder before leaving:

"Don't be afraid that young people are rushing ahead. They are standing on our shoulders, so it's only natural that they can see further. What you need to do is to solidify their shoulders so that they don't fall and can see even further, reaching places that we old guys never even thought of."

A surge of heat mixed with pressure rushed into Yang Zhenyu's heart. He looked at Shen Yi's youthful and vibrant face, then at the seemingly stagnant cells in the incubator.

Yes, the older generation passed the baton to their generation, not so that they would stick to the old ways and waste time internally.

“I can give you some of the data,” Yang Zhenyu finally spoke, his voice a little dry, “but on one condition: your ‘Pangu’ analysis process, especially the logic of weighting, must be as transparent to us as possible. We can’t just want the results; we also need to understand ‘why’.”

Shen Yi's eyes lit up: "No problem! That's exactly the kind of seriousness we're looking for! Brother Yang, if we join forces, maybe we can really make a name for ourselves!"

The collaboration was not without its challenges. The biological data provided by Yang Zhenyu's team was complex, requiring Shen Yi's algorithm to be constantly adjusted and adapted.

It's common for the two sides to argue heatedly over the interpretation of a data point or the setting of a parameter. The whiteboard in the meeting room is filled with drawings and then erased, and coffee consumption skyrockets.

But changes are also happening quietly. From massive amounts of literature and complex biological data, the AI ​​model has proposed several key hypotheses about factors affecting the cellular microenvironment that Yang Zhenyu's team had never imagined before.

Yang Zhenyu's team's solid wet experiment verification not only confirmed the role of some of the factors, but also discovered more refined regulatory levels that the model could not explain, which in turn helped Shen Yi optimize the algorithm logic.

One late night, only their project team's lights were still on in the center.

The latest joint experimental data has just been released. On the screen, a curve representing the survival rate and functional improvement of nerve cells rises sharply with an unprecedented slope and has excellent repeatability.

Everyone held their breath. Yang Zhenyu and Shen Yi exchanged a glance, both seeing bloodshot eyes and an uncontrollable, burning fire in each other's eyes.

“It’s done…” a young researcher murmured, his voice trembling with tears.

"It's not over yet!" Yang Zhenyu suddenly raised his voice, his voice hoarse with exhaustion but extreme excitement. "Animal models! Toxicity testing! Preclinical studies... There's still a long way to go! But..." He clenched his fist forcefully, "This direction is right!"

Cheers finally erupted, shaking the glass. Some people jumped up, some hugged, and Shen Yi even took off his smart glasses, tossed them around, and caught them again.

At this moment, the barriers between tradition and innovation, and the friction between experience and conflict, all seem to melt away in the face of a common goal.

They stand on the shoulders of giants, but they wield their own brand-new weapons.

The news reached the three elderly people who had already moved to a nursing home. Ye Wancheng, wearing his reading glasses, asked Ye Ling'er to read the data and brief report on his phone to him.

After listening, he remained silent for a long time, gazing at the old locust tree outside the window, which had lost all its leaves, and slowly said, "Good, good. These little brats... are better than us."

Old John saw the excited faces of the young people through the video. He tried hard to say something, but in the end, he just gave a thumbs up and repeatedly said, "Good... Very good..."

Liu Xiangdong then called the current director of the center, his voice seemingly stronger: "Tell them, don't get cocky! This is just the first step of a long march! But... this step was taken beautifully!"

A new generation of "war" has begun, with the battlefields in the microscopic world of molecules and cells, in the virtual space of algorithms and data, and even more so in countless unconquered disease domains.

The lights in the innovation center often stay on until the early hours of the morning, or even until dawn. There are arguments, confusion, and the frustration of banging on walls after failures, but there are also moments of ecstatic inspiration and tacit understandings of high-fiving to celebrate even the smallest progress.

In the corridor, photos of Yuan Wang and three elderly people hang quietly, watching over these vibrant youths. The people in the photos have gentle smiles, but their gazes seem to pierce through time, meeting the fire burning in the eyes of these young people at this moment.

Beneath the inscription "Never Ending Chapter," some mischievous young researcher secretly added a line of small text with an erasable highlighter:
"Seniors, just watch. We'll keep pushing this sky!"

The handwriting is somewhat immature, yet it exudes boundless passion and determination.

The winds of the Gobi Desert still blow, carrying the chill and vastness of the starry sky. But what travels with them now is the pulsating heartbeat of a new generation, and their deafening prelude. (End of Chapter)