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What could have prompted President Gao to act so urgently?

A few harsh words might have sufficed. Why the need to whisk Lin Xian away for a more severe discussion?

Chu Shan He rose from his chair, intending to follow them.

However—

“Shan He, stay here. I need to talk to Lin Xian alone.”

As Chu Shan He stood, President Gao Yan’s intense gaze pinned him back into his seat.

This left Chu Shan He in a quandary, torn between the urge to follow and the command to stay put.

In a moment, President Gao Yan and Lin Xian had vanished through the office door, their silhouettes swiftly turning the corner of the corridor.

Chu Shan He had never before seen the usually poised and respectful President Gao move with such hurried, anxious steps.

…

Bang!

The heavy steel door of a small laboratory slammed shut as President Gao Yan pulled Lin Xian inside.

Only then did he let out a sigh of relief. He gently set a thick manuscript on the lab table before turning to Lin Xian. “Mr. Lin Xian, there were things I couldn’t discuss in front of Shan He, so I brought you here for a private conversation.”

“It’s no problem, President Gao,” Lin Xian responded casually with a wave of his hand. Feeling somewhat out of his depth being addressed so formally by someone of President Gao’s stature, he quickly added, “Please, I’m just a junior here; you can simply call me a young man.”

“No, no…”

President Gao seemed momentarily embarrassed, offering a dry chuckle. He then led Lin Xian to a chair and sat down opposite him.

“Lin Xian, I hope you didn’t take my earlier remarks personally. It’s not that we—academicians and professors—don’t appreciate hearing others’ views or discussing academic matters.”

“It’s just that in our positions, we encounter numerous individuals daily who approach us with their so-called ‘academic achievements.’ Some are referrals from colleagues, which makes them somewhat easier to engage with. However, the majority are amateur scientists who claim to have made some revolutionary breakthrough.”

“These amateurs often lack fundamental theoretical knowledge, which makes them bold and full of impractical ideas. You might not know this, but our National Scientific Academy’s email, as well as my personal one, are flooded daily with messages claiming things like ‘I’ve invented a perpetual motion machine’ or ‘I’ve solved the Goldbach Conjecture.\'”

“The most frequent claims we get are about perpetual motion machines. These amateurs, not fully understanding complex concepts, often obsess over creating something deemed impossible. Just the other day, a man who had been sending us numerous emails without reply showed up at the entrance of the National Scientific Academy, adamant about presenting his theory of a perpetual motion machine that he believed would change the world. Our receptionist listened…”

“His theory involved using a pump to move water from the ground to the roof, then letting it fall to power a generator, which in turn would run the pump. He believed this created a self-sustaining cycle. We get many such examples, which is why I was a bit stern earlier. I hope you didn’t misunderstand.”

…

Lin Xian could see that President Gao Yan was genuinely concerned about how his initial comments might have come across. This anxiety suggested that the manuscript about controlled and cold fusion was probably correct, prompting a noticeable shift in President Gao’s demeanor.

Lin Xian shook his head, offering a reassuring smile. “You really don’t need to worry, President Gao. I didn’t find your words out of line at all. I’m just thankful for the opportunity to talk with you; I have no complaints whatsoever.”

Relieved by Lin Xian’s understanding, President Gao’s face brightened with a smile. “In that case, I’ll get straight to the point.”

“From what I’ve reviewed so far, the sections on controlled nuclear fusion are sound. As for the advanced concepts on cold fusion, I grasp the overall theories, but the finer details still need deeper examination and validation. The experimental data on the last page seem like they could be verified relatively quickly.”

“Shan He is certainly a trustworthy friend, but we must adhere to protocol. Discussions involving sensitive national information can’t be shared with outsiders, which is why I chose this private setting.”

“Lin Xian, I have to ask—where did this data, which is beyond our current technological capabilities, originate from?”

…

Lin Xian had carefully considered his approach to this conversation, planning to focus on the quality and significance of the material rather than its origins. This strategy had worked well before, such as when dealing with Professor Xu Yun’s manuscript.

“The background of this manuscript is quite complex,” Lin Xian began, noticing President Gao’s intense interest. “But you can be assured that its origins are completely legitimate. Up until now, only my team in the lab and you have been privy to this information. Even Chu Shan He is in the dark about the details; he only knows it pertains to controlled nuclear fusion. Therefore, the contents are highly confidential and have not been disclosed to anyone else.”

President Gao nodded thoughtfully. “I see,” he murmured, understanding that Lin Xian was hesitant to reveal more about the source. Choosing not to pry further, he shifted the conversation.

“Lin Xian, what are your plans for this manuscript? If you’re open to selling it or exploring partnerships, we should discuss that. I assure you that neither the National Scientific Academy nor the government will disappoint you.”

Lin Xian responded with a slight smile, pushing the manuscript across the table to President Gao. “President Gao, my intention in sharing this with you today wasn’t to gain fame or profit. I want to donate this manuscript to our country for free.”

“I’m not interested in financial gain, and I hope X Country keeps this work under wraps. We should continue our research in secret and not let the world know—unless one day, we actually succeed in developing a cold fusion engine.”

“I don’t seek any recognition for this. Once I leave this lab, I want no connection to this manuscript. Whatever advancements come from it should solely belong to the National Scientific Academy and our nation, without any link to my name.”

President Gao was taken aback, staring at Lin Xian with a mix of confusion and admiration. It was rare to meet someone who neither sought money nor fame, especially someone willing to give away such a groundbreaking achievement without any desire for recognition.

“Lin Xian, are you sure about this?” President Gao asked earnestly. “Your generosity is commendable, but this manuscript could secure your place in history alongside greats like Einstein. It has the potential to change the course of human civilization.”

“If you truly don’t care about personal gain, at least let me inform the government to ensure you receive the recognition and rewards you deserve.”

However, Lin Xian was resolute in his decision. He shook his head, declining the offer. Despite the eradication of the Seven Deadly Sins, organizations like Copernicus and the Genius Club still lurked with unclear motives.

Lin Xian reflected on the fates of Xu Yun, Tang Xin, and Dr. Pomsmike, who all met tragic ends after their research became public. Even in his visionary dreams, the repercussions of exposure were lethal, as seen with Big Cat Face’s father, who was captured by the Genius Club after publishing his findings.

Aware of the dangers, Lin Xian was determined to keep a low profile. His primary reason for meeting was to gain access to the Guizhou Sky Eye telescope; fame and recognition would only attract unnecessary risk.

Handing over the manuscript to the National Scientific Academy, where it could be securely managed as a state secret, seemed the safest option. He trusted President Gao, a renowned scientist devoted to his country, to honor this confidentiality.

“This manuscript should remain just between us. Please, don’t share it with anyone else,” Lin Xian requested firmly.

President Gao was initially inclined to argue for Lin Xian to accept the honor and national accolades he deserved. Yet, seeing Lin Xian’s steadfast resolve, he eventually conceded.

With a heavy sigh and a smile of admiration, President Gao responded, “It’s rare to encounter someone as selfless and principled as you these days. I respect your decision and will not press further. Rest assured, I pledge on my honor that your manuscript will remain confidential. I’ll also request the highest level of secrecy in our research from the state, without any public credit or acknowledgment. It will all belong to the state, kept strictly confidential.”

“However, Lin Xian, if there’s ever anything you need, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m not just being courteous. The state owes you a great debt, and as the sole confidant, I feel a personal obligation to assist you. I might be old, but I still wield considerable influence across various sectors.”

Laughing slightly awkwardly, President Gao continued, “They say having an elder in the family is like having a treasure. I’ve held many roles and taught many students over the years. They respect me as their mentor and will heed my call.”

Lin Xian offered a small, knowing smile, ready to make a crucial request.

“To be honest, President Gao, there is one thing I would ask of you…”