Reborn in 1977, I will no longer be my brother's blood bag.

The next morning, at 7:50.

Lin Xiuhe was already standing at the entrance of the Automation Building. Beijing winters were getting colder and colder, and her exhaled breath quickly dissipated into the wind.

She glanced down at her watch.

At 7:58, I went upstairs.

The door to Professor Chen's office was ajar, and the light was on inside.

Lin Xiuhe knocked on the door.

"Come in." It was that familiar voice.

She pushed open the door and went in. The office hadn't changed much since her first visit—the bookshelves, the teacups, the desk piled high with documents, and the nearly dead potted plant on the windowsill was still there.

Professor Chen was looking down at the documents and didn't look up: "Sit."

Lin Xiuhe sat down.

The office fell silent, save for the sound of pages turning.

After a while, Professor Chen put the documents aside and finally looked up: "The person in charge has been decided."

"Know."

Are you happy?

Lin Xiuhe thought for a moment: "A little."

Professor Chen smiled: "That's fairly honest."

He got up to pour tea. His movements were slow, even deliberate, as if he were deep in thought.

After a moment, he suddenly asked, "Do you know why I chose you?"

Lin Xiuhe held the teacup, her fingertips circling the rim of the cup.

She had actually thought about this problem many times.

Academic performance? Public lectures? Project reviews? Or that meeting at the research institute?

It seems to have all of them, yet it also seems to have none of them.

So she shook her head: "I don't know."

Professor Chen pushed the teacup towards her: "Many people think that I value talent. But that's not true."

"What is that?"

"Judgment."

Professor Chen leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the view outside the window, as if recalling something from many years ago: "There are many people who can solve problems. There are many people who can calculate data. But there are not many who know when to persevere, when to give up, and when to take responsibility."

Lin Xiuhe remained silent.

Because she knew that Professor Chen wasn't referring to yesterday's review, but something much earlier—from the open lectures, from the discussions, from the very first time she pointed out the problems with the proposal.

"Zhao Guodong is daring. Li Mingyuan is steady. These are all advantages. But the person in charge is different." Professor Chen looked at her. "The person in charge has to make decisions. And decisions often don't have a standard answer."

This sentence silenced the office for several seconds.

Then, Professor Chen suddenly took a folder out of the drawer and put it on the table.

The folder is old, with worn edges. There are no project names on it, only a single name.

Chen Qinian. That's Professor Chen.

Lin Xiuhe was stunned for a moment.

"Open it and take a look."

She reached out and opened it.

The first page features a photograph from thirty years ago. A group of young people stand in front of experimental equipment, laughing with high spirits.

The second page contains project information. The third page is the final report. The fourth page has two large characters written on it—

【fail】

Lin Xiuhe stopped moving and slowly raised her head.

Professor Chen remained calm: "Isn't that surprising?"

"A little."

Why?

"Because you rarely mention failure."

Professor Chen laughed: "Who said that? It's just that other people don't like to hear it."

The sunlight in the office slowly moved across the desk.

Professor Chen flipped to the last page of the document: "This was the most important project I did when I was young. I worked on it for four years, and it ultimately failed. Many people left, many changed careers. Some even thought their lives were over."

Lin Xiuhe listened quietly. She realized that Professor Chen had never told anyone these things.

"Later I realized something."

"What?"

"Projects can fail. Competitions can fail. Life can also fail." Professor Chen looked at her, his voice not loud, but exceptionally clear, "But one cannot stop moving forward just because one is afraid of failure."

At this moment, Lin Xiuhe finally understood. Today's conversation was not a handover of responsibilities, nor was it project guidance. It was a lesson.

After a long while, Professor Chen suddenly asked, "Have you seen the morning star?"

Lin Xiuhe's heart stirred slightly: "I've seen it."

"How do you feel?"

"It's difficult."

"Anything else?"

"It's worth doing."

Professor Chen smiled. This time, his smile was quite obvious, as if he had finally heard what he wanted to hear.

Then, he took a key from the very back of the drawer. It was different from the one in the lab; it was older and heavier.

Gently place it on the table.

Do you know him?

Lin Xiuhe shook her head: "I don't know her."

"Research Lab"

She was slightly taken aback.

Professor Chen continued, "Many of the materials inside cannot be taken out. If you want to see them later, you can go in yourself."

She knew exactly what those words meant. This wasn't just ordinary student treatment, or even just mentorship; it was entry into the inner circle.

Lin Xiuhe stared at the key for a long time without moving it.

Professor Chen suddenly frowned: "What? You're disgusted?"

"no."

"Then why aren't you taking it?"

Lin Xiuhe finally reached out and grasped the key in her palm. It was cold, yet heavy.

The next second, Professor Chen picked up his teacup and casually said, "You can work on projects with me from now on."

The wind rustled through the branches outside the window.

Lin Xiuhe looked at the old man in front of her and remained silent for a moment.

In both her past and present lives, she knew what those words meant.

Starting today, Professor Chen will personally mentor her.

After a few seconds, she slowly stood up and said earnestly, "Thank you, teacher."

Professor Chen paused for a moment, holding his teacup. Then he waved his hand and said, "Sit down, let's skip the formalities."

But when he turned his head, he couldn't help but smile.

It was almost noon when I left the office.

Lin Xiuhe walked out of the automation building, and the sunlight fell on the keys in her hand.

She suddenly remembered her first time coming to Tsinghua University. She remembered the Red Flag Commune. She remembered the supply and marketing cooperative warehouse. She remembered that little girl who believed that studying could change her destiny.

Then she chuckled softly.

She knew that some paths had truly changed.

In the afternoon, the Qiming project team held another meeting.

Li Mingyuan and Zhao Guodong had already arrived. Seeing her enter, Zhao Guodong's first words were, "What does Old Chen want with you? Did you get scolded?"

Li Mingyuan burst out laughing: "Do you particularly enjoy seeing others get scolded?"

Zhao Guodong said matter-of-factly, "Let's be fair."

Lin Xiuhe looked at them and suddenly realized she was in a good mood: "I didn't get scolded."

"What is that?"

She paused for a moment, then said, "The teacher asked me to work on a project with him."

Zhao Guodong opened his mouth, and Li Mingyuan was also stunned. A few seconds later, the two of them realized at the same time—this wasn't a project, this was taking on an apprentice.

After a long silence, Zhao Guodong finally managed to utter, "That's really biased."

Li Mingyuan smiled and extended his hand: "Congratulations."

Lin Xiuhe grasped it.

The sun shines brightly outside the window. And the Qiming Project is about to take center stage.