My IQ has been increasing year by year.

Beijing.

The compound of a military materials research institute outside the Third Ring Road.

A dozen or so people were sitting in a multimedia conference room.

At the end of the long table stood an academician.

Seated on both sides were experts in aerospace dynamics and solid-state physics from across the country.

Professor Liu was sitting in the second seat on the right.

He didn't use the large projector on the wall, nor did he present a PowerPoint presentation of hundreds of pages.

He only had one copy of the paper in his hand.

The copies are passed around the table one by one.

The above are three short formulas.

When it was handed to a middle-aged man wearing glasses, he glanced at it and frowned.

"Old Liu, who derived this formula?"

The middle-aged man raised his head.

"One of my students," Professor Liu said.

The man pushed the paper back to the center of the table.

"When you dealt with titanium-aluminum alloys, you completely ignored the microscopic dislocation slip system, and you also directly treated the effect of temperature gradient as a constant. Under non-equilibrium conditions, this kind of one-size-fits-all approximation is theoretically untenable."

Several experts around him nodded in agreement.

Materials science is a discipline that is rigorous to the core.

Professor Liu did not refute, but simply picked up the thermos in front of him and took a sip of water.

"Regardless of how theoretically sound it may seem, it ran 120 sets of data in our lab, and the predicted stress drop point was absolutely accurate," Professor Liu said. "The ideal environment of the lab cannot represent real-world conditions."

Another expert chimed in.

The academician at the end of the long table remained silent.

He looked at the photocopy in front of him.

Three lonely lines of formula.

"Xiao Zhang."

The academician suddenly spoke up and called out to the technician standing next to him.

"exist."

"Go to the machine room and retrieve the classified file from three years ago when the Red Eagle engine failed its test run."

The meeting room fell silent for a moment.

That was a painful lesson in the history of the development of a new type of engine in China.

At high speeds, the turbine blades broke off without warning, rendering the entire test run unusable.

The technician ran out quickly.

A few minutes later, the technician ran back with an encrypted USB drive and plugged it into the computer in the conference room.

A long string of complex raw data popped up on the screen.

"Substitute the highest temperature at that time and the centrifugal strain rate generated by the rotation speed into this formula."

The academician pointed to the paper on the table.

The technician was typing on the keyboard.

The only sound in the conference room was the clatter of keyboards.

"Let's run the predicted critical point," the academician said.

The progress bar on the screen flashed.

A number popped up.

894.25 MPa.

Subsequently, the technician retrieved the actual sensor records from the time of the accident.

0.12 seconds before the blade completely shattered.

The actual stress curve showed a slight dip.

The peak reading at the time of the fall was 894.25 MPa.

The two decimal places are completely identical.

It was quiet.

No one exclaimed in the conference room.

The middle-aged man who had just been questioning the formula's somewhat crudeness stared at the numbers on the screen, his mouth slightly agape, unable to utter a single word. The academician leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a while.

"There's no need to argue anymore."

The academician tapped his fingers twice on the table.

"If you can't figure out the microscopic mechanisms, don't try to calculate them. Being able to predict fatigue fracture 0.1 seconds in advance is a lifesaver in engineering." He looked at Professor Liu.

"Old Liu, this is very important."

The academician placed the paper in his hand on the table.

He didn't look at the dizzying array of overlapping numbers on the screen; his gaze remained fixed on the three lines of equations on the paper.

The academician's voice wasn't loud, but everyone in the conference room could hear it clearly.

"This phenomenological parameter touches upon the universal baseline of metal fatigue fracture. It not only applies to our current classified model, but it will most likely work the same way with other alloys as well." The academician raised his head, his gaze sweeping across both sides of the long table.

"We have to send it out, and not only send it out, we have to send it out quickly."

The atmosphere in the meeting room changed as soon as he said that.

The middle-aged man with glasses who had just raised the question sat up straight.

"Send it out?"

The middle-aged man frowned.

"Academician Wang, the composition ratio of this batch of titanium-aluminum alloy is a top secret that was pressed down by the final assembly team. The extreme temperature and stress drop threshold of our test run are all our trump cards." "Submitting this set of raw data along with the formula to foreign journals is like showing others the data of our new engine. According to regulations, this absolutely cannot be published." The middle-aged man's words were firm.

The other people present didn't speak, but they nodded in agreement.

For those involved in national defense and military industry, secrecy is a red line etched into their bones.

The academician wasn't angry.

He picked up the teacup in front of him, blew on the tea leaves floating on top, and took a sip of water.

Put down the teacup.

"I understand the confidentiality rules."

The academician looked at the middle-aged man.

"But in the scientific community, there are no secrets that last forever."

The academician stretched out his finger and tapped the edge of the photocopy paper.

"Since an undergraduate student from Huizhou can break through this barrier with a pen, how long do you think it will take for those top-tier laboratories across the ocean, which are receiving huge amounts of funding, to catch up?" No one in the conference room responded.

"One year? Or two years?"

The academician spoke in a calm tone, but with a heavy weight to it.

"Once they independently figure out this phenomenological model and publish it publicly first, this standard for predicting fractures will be attributed to foreigners." The academician looked at the experts on both sides of the long table.

"At that time, the world's aerospace materials testing will all use their models as the standard, and our own military enterprises will have to reluctantly cite their literature and abide by their rules when conducting research and development." "This fatigue prediction technology was first developed by our people."

The academician tapped on the table.

"We not only need to use it to save lives, but we also need to show it to the world and firmly grasp the first right to develop the theory in our own hands." The middle-aged man was silent for a while after listening.

His previously furrowed brows relaxed slightly, but he still stared at the paper.

"I understand the big picture, but what about the classified data?"

"If we can't cross this line, how can we write the article?"

"Who said we were going to release classified data?"

The academician pushed the paper back to Professor Liu.

"What we want to assert our sovereignty over is this mathematical framework. The formula is just an empty shell; it recognizes patterns, but not the materials themselves."

"Strip it off."

The academician answered very concisely.

"This phenomenological model is not classified. Lao Liu, after you return to Huizhou, go and buy the most common commercial TC4 titanium alloy on the market, and use this formula to run the civilian data again." The academician's tone left no room for doubt.

Professor Liu closed his notebook.

"clear."

The conference room door opened.

The attendees gradually left.

Professor Liu tidied up the documents on the table and left the conference room.

Someone called out to him in the hallway.

"Old Liu, any plans for tonight?"

Professor Liu turned around.

He is the deputy director of a top materials research institute in Beijing, and his surname is Chen.

During the meeting, he sat opposite Professor Liu the whole time.

"There's a quick dinner at the institute tonight. After that, I have to catch the night train back to Huizhou. I need to get back quickly and work on the data for the shell replacement," Professor Liu said. "Come over to my place for a cup of tea. It won't delay your train."

Deputy Director Chen walked over and patted Professor Liu on the arm.

Professor Liu followed him to a small meeting room at the end of the corridor.

The door closed.

Deputy Director Chen poured Professor Liu a cup of hot tea.

"Old Liu, were those three lines of formulas at the meeting really derived by your students?"

Deputy Director Chen sat down on the sofa opposite.

"Yes, a junior in college."

Professor Liu blew on the steam rising from the teacup.

Deputy Director Chen smiled.

"The younger generation is truly formidable."

He paused for a moment.

"Old Liu, the academician just said that we need to rush to publish the journal. For your USTC, from buying materials to rebuilding the experimental environment and then running data that meets the standards of top journals, it will take at least a month or so, right?" "About that."

"Too slow."

Deputy Director Chen shook his head.

He leaned forward.

"My institute happens to have a batch of data for TC4 civilian titanium alloy that is half-finished. All the parameters are readily available, and the equipment is all imported. The accuracy is much higher than the old machine in your lab." Professor Liu didn't speak, waiting for him to continue.

"Use our data as the cover, charts, and introduction. I'll have the postdocs in my group work through the night to finish it for you, and I guarantee the article will be submitted within a week," said Deputy Director Chen.

Professor Liu put down his teacup.

"Chief Chen, there's no need to trouble you with that. We can finish the run ourselves."

"Old Liu, don't rush to push."

Deputy Director Chen waved his hand.

"This article was submitted to the Journal of Materials Science. The editor-in-chief is one of those picky foreigners. You want an undergraduate student to be listed as the first author? The reviewers will think we are joking about academics. It might be rejected in the first review. Look at Professor Liu."

"What should we do? Let's list that postdoc who returned from overseas in our group as the first author. He's quite well-known in the international community, and his advisor is a big name. Let's list him as the second author, or co-first author." Professor Liu's face darkened.

"This isn't just for the sake of being safe," Deputy Director Chen said in a low voice.

"There's a budget of 20 million yuan to be allocated for the next phase of the General Assembly. As long as our institute's name is on this article, I guarantee that the bulk of that budget will go to your USTC." The meeting room was quiet.

Professor Liu looked at Deputy Director Chen, who had a sincere expression on his face.

He didn't get angry, nor did he slam his fist on the table.

He simply reached out and picked up the file bag that had been placed on the coffee table.

"Old Chen, those three lines of formula were painstakingly extracted by Dayong after spending months in the library."

Professor Liu's voice was calm, but there was no room for negotiation.

"Without these three lines, all the imported equipment in your institute will only produce a bunch of useless data."

Deputy Director Chen's smile froze on his face.

I don't know whether the Journal of Materials Science recognizes undergraduate students.

Professor Liu stood up.

"But I know they'll definitely accept the equation that can calculate the break point. If they reject the paper just because the first author is an undergraduate, then that journal is blind. I'll just submit it to another one." Professor Liu picked up the file bag.

"My lab has a simple rule: whoever produces the core product gets their name listed first."

He looked at Deputy Director Chen.

"Old Chen, I want the funding, but I don't want my students to think that this industry is about seniority and making deals to get ahead." After saying that, Professor Liu didn't look at the other person's expression anymore.

He turned around, pushed open the door to the reception room, and walked out.