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We Can’t Go Back 41


Chapter 41

“You didn’t have to come back to oncology,” Jian Wu said, looking at the coffee table, “My dad has been gone for so many years, you can’t be trapped in the past forever.”

“It’s not that I’m trapped in the past,” Song Shuci glanced at the back of his head, “It’s just that during that time… I was very lost.”

He said, “After you left, I kept thinking about one question. Why did I choose a path that was so obviously correct in terms of career advancement, but in the end, I didn’t get what I wanted?”

Jian Wu lowered his eyes and replied: “Maybe because life isn’t like a video game, there’s no universal strategy guide.”

“You know, Jian Wu?” Song Shuci suddenly reached out and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Hm?” Jian Wu let him, not shaking him off.

Song Shuci said: “I kept dreaming about us arguing, especially the things you said to me…”

Jian Wu interrupted him: “So vengeful?”

Song Shuci just smiled: “Later, I realized you were right.”

They had so many arguments, but the only time Jian Wu truly scolded Song Shuci was just that one time.

It was after his third attempt at the postgraduate entrance exam. He didn’t get an offer, and they had planned to go out for dinner to unwind, but ended up arguing about his interview.

The interview process at A Medical University involved rotations within the research groups, followed by a formal interview. Most professors would choose their desired students during the rotations, and the interview was just a formality.

Jian Wu joined a research group along with two other students applying to the same professor. The professor assigned them a task: based on the research direction of the group, choose a topic, write a literature review in English, design a research proposal, conduct preliminary experiments, and then give a presentation two weeks later.

This task wasn’t difficult in itself, the difficulty lay in the intense competition.

The literature reviews became longer and longer, the research proposals more and more advanced. They stayed in the lab every day until past one o’clock, and Jian Wu barely had time to talk to Song Shuci during those few days.

Song Shuci kept asking if he needed help, but the professor had explicitly emphasized independent completion, so Jian Wu never let him interfere. After two weeks of hard work, Jian Wu gave a brilliant presentation, receiving much praise, but ultimately lost to another student in the group.

Although Jian Wu was a little disappointed, he wasn’t a sore loser and convinced himself to accept the reality. But Song Shuci wasn’t convinced and privately asked a classmate in that research group about the situation.

As Jian Wu was eating, Song Shuci told him: “He paid 2,000 yuan to a senior student in their group to write his research proposal.”

By then, it was a done deal. Even knowing about this shady practice wouldn’t change anything. Jian Wu didn’t like dwelling on the past, so he just said “oh,” but Song Shuci said to him: “Everyone else knows to ask for help, I told you so many times, I could have written it for you, or helped you revise it, why wouldn’t you let me?”

Jian Wu had known Song Shuci for many years, but at that moment, he felt the person before him was a stranger.

“Do you know this is cheating?” he asked Song Shuci.

Song Shuci said: “You follow the rules, but what about those competing with you? Can you guarantee they all follow the rules?”

“So it’s okay to cheat yourself just because you assume others will cheat?” Jian Wu said.

Song Shuci retorted: “Can you be less stubborn? This isn’t anything new. My supervisor even asked me to write the proposal for his own child’s science competition. You’re my boyfriend, what’s wrong with me helping you?”

Jian Wu was surprised: “You wrote the proposal for your supervisor’s child?”

“2,000 yuan per proposal, didn’t you say we’re almost out of rent money? Besides, everyone knows these science competitions, although for middle school students, are actually written by master’s and doctoral students,” Song Shuci said, “Can you be less serious?”

“Is this about being serious, Song Shuci?” Jian Wu said, “Do you still remember why you chose this major? Is this fair to the other participants?”

“I can’t worry about others,” Song Shuci said, “The most important thing for me now is how we’re going to survive in City A.”

Jian Wu couldn’t understand: “What about your principles and ideals?”

Song Shuci retorted: “Can principles and ideals help you pass the postgraduate entrance exam? Can they help us pay the rent?”

The passage of time, and new worries and troubles in life, often shifted people’s focus.

Jian Wu didn’t know when Song Shuci had become so pragmatic. Perhaps it was because his family cut off his living expenses, and financial difficulties often forced people to abandon their principles and become slaves to money. Or perhaps it was after he was dropped by his intended PhD advisor, and the rules of the world outside the ivory tower had dealt a heavy blow to his worldview.

Jian Wu looked at him, silent for a long time, then said: “Song Shuci, you’ve become someone I don’t even recognize.”

He said, “If my presence is causing you financial pressure and making you like this, then I’ll go back to City B. You can stay here, the subsidy should be enough for you, you don’t have to abandon your principles.”

Song Shuci took a deep breath: “Jian Wu, everything I’ve done, from beginning to end, was for our better future, so we wouldn’t have to be in a long-distance relationship anymore, so we could be together. You’re blaming me, but what about you? Did you really want to pass the exam, to be with me? You’ve been saying you want to go back ever since the interview ended, have you even tried to make our relationship work?”

“Haven’t I tried hard enough?” Jian Wu frowned slightly, a hint of pain in his eyes, “I’ve almost become depressed this past year studying for this damn postgraduate entrance exam for you, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t abandon my principles and let you cheat for me.”

“Song Shuci,” he said, “Please don’t make me disappointed in you.”

This was the first time Jian Wu felt a fundamental difference in values with Song Shuci.

In Song Shuci’s mind, everything could be compromised for their relationship. But Jian Wu felt that Song Shuci shouldn’t change like this for him.

This argument ended with Song Shuci refusing Lu Lizhu’s request to help his child with the science competition proposal. Later, they never mentioned it again, until today.

“Thinking about it now, I was indeed too hasty back then. Like I was blinded, not listening to reason.” Song Shuci chuckled self-deprecatingly, “So you think I’m pragmatic because of this, you think I’ll prioritize my own interests in the anatomy department and not consider other teachers, is that right?”

Jian Wu poked at the rice in his bowl, put the bowl on the coffee table, and sighed, “After all these years, I don’t know if you… ever found your ideals again.”

His voice lowered, “But I still believe in you.”

Hearing the last sentence, Song Shuci’s heart suddenly clenched. His hand on Jian Wu’s shoulder tightened involuntarily.

Jian Wu clearly felt it, but he didn’t say anything, just silently felt Song Shuci’s fingers gripping his skin.

After about half a minute, Song Shuci finally let go.

Jian Wu rubbed his shoulder and heard him say, his voice slightly hoarse: “After graduation, I received several high-paying offers, and Lu Lizhu also said I could stay at A Medical University if I wanted to. But after thinking about it for a long time, I still tried to find a PI in the field of gastric cancer research and applied for a postdoc position. It was a desperate move, I wanted to change fields, start over, not be so pragmatic, and, like you said, find my ideals again.”

Jian Wu lowered his eyes and hummed in agreement.

Song Shuci continued: “My PhD wasn’t in oncology, it was quite difficult to make such a big change, but unexpectedly, I got an offer from H University. At that time, I felt it was… fate.”

Jian Wu was silent for a while, then asked him: “Did you have a good time in America?”

“It was alright.”

He said: “The pressure was also high there, but we got off work earlier. Because the area where I lived wasn’t safe, staying late at night was dangerous, so our supervisor strictly enforced leaving the lab before dark, saying he wasn’t responsible if anything happened. Unlike during my PhD, when I would stay until midnight.”

Jian Wu said: “A blessing in disguise, then.”

“I wasn’t used to it at first, worried I wasn’t working long enough. But maybe after you dumped me, I saw the light, my mentality changed, I wasn’t so anxious about getting results anymore, I relaxed, and the results were actually better.”

“And you say you don’t hold grudges.” Jian Wu first retorted, then continued his thought, “Sometimes, when your mind is at ease, things do seem to go more smoothly.”

Throughout their conversation, Song Shuci sat slightly behind Jian Wu. Jian Wu never turned around, so Song Shuci could only see his profile. Hearing this, he looked at Jian Wu’s side profile and smiled: “Right.”

Jian Wu, not noticing his gaze, continued: “We also tell our students this… fast is slow, slow is fast.”

“That makes sense,” Song Shuci leaned closer, a hint of teasing in his voice, “I should learn more from you, Teacher Jian is a wise person.”

Jian Wu kicked him: “Cut it out.”

“I’m being serious,” Song Shuci said.

Jian Wu asked him again: “Then do you think coming here… has no development potential?”

“Why wouldn’t there be development potential? I’m the director now, I can become the dean, the president in the future,” Song Shuci joked.

Jian Wu exaggeratedly said “oh”: “I’m going to tell Dean Ling you’re coveting his position.”

“Go ahead, tell him today,” Song Shuci played along, “And tell him you’re my fiancée.”

“Who’s your fiancée?” Jian Wu slapped his leg hard.

“Ouch!” Song Shuci clutched his chest dramatically.

“Serves you right,” Jian Wu glared at him.

“Mm, serves me right.” Song Shuci couldn’t suppress his smile, chuckling for a while before calming down and becoming serious again.

He looked at Jian Wu: “Actually, if it weren’t B Medical University, I would have chosen a similar school. In this world, some people are meant to shine at the top, and some are needed to build up the middle, aren’t they?”

“There are many things I can’t change, many rules I have to follow,” he said, “But now that I’m at B Medical University, at least I can protect the anatomy department and help it develop in a direction that most people are satisfied with. As for my personal development… I can compromise on that.”

Jian Wu pondered for a while: “It’s difficult to be an idealist in a self-serving environment.”

“Mm.”

Jian Wu looked at Song Shuci: “But it’s cool.”

“Are you praising me?” Song Shuci asked.

Jian Wu turned his head away: “I’m praising the eighteen-year-old boy who told me ‘Long live ideals’ after filling out his university application.”

Idealism might have been tainted by the smell of money, but thankfully, it was the moon that illuminated the sixpence.

Song Shuci leaned closer and whispered in his ear: “Then should I not tell you that Dean Ling actually approved a ten million yuan research grant for me?”

Jian Wu’s eyes widened.

“So don’t worry,” Song Shuci patted his leg, “Don’t feel pressured, thinking I sacrificed something by coming back for you.”

“…I came prepared this time.”


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We Can’t Go Back

We Can’t Go Back

我們不可能破鏡重圓
Status: Completed Author: Native Language: Chinese
As the saying goes, lying flat is temporarily satisfying, lying flat all the time is always satisfying. Jian Wu, as one of the victims of China's ultra-intense exam-oriented education system, resolutely joined the ranks of the "lying flat" movement after failing the postgraduate entrance exam once again, choosing to fish (slack off), raise flowers (wait for death) at home. Then he broke up with his childhood sweetheart boyfriend of seven years. Diametrically opposed to Jian Wu, Song Shuci is a veritable "involution king". And he's the kind of king of involution who feels that doing anything other than studying and working is a waste of time. After the breakup, Jian Wu silently left their small home, along with the city that held several years of their love, carrying his tortoise. Until one day, he saw Song Shuci again, through the glass panel of the school conference room. The man was tall and elegant, his image as an elite intellectual hadn't changed a bit. The usually aloof dean was inviting Song Shuci to join with all sorts of jaw-droppingly generous conditions, while the latter's expression remained indifferent, clearly uninterested. But when Jian Wu turned his head away, he heard him say: "I am willing to join your school."* B Medical University is located in a remote area, and its teaching staff has always been quite average. Successfully recruiting a heavyweight scientific researcher like Song Shuci undoubtedly stirred up a heated discussion within the school. Colleague A: "The new Professor Song looks so handsome in a white coat!" Jian Wu, expressionless: "It's been stained with mouse shit." Colleague B: "Professor Song is so efficient, he's down-to-earth, and replies to messages so quickly." Jian Wu sneered: "Indeed fast, he sends messages even faster when he's cursing someone out." Colleague C: "I heard Professor Song is still single, whoever dates him will be so lucky." Jian Wu rolled his eyes: "Whoever wants this luck is an idiot."
Half a year later, Jian Wu and Song Shuci posted a photo on their WeChat Moments, holding hands and wearing rings. Colleagues: "???" Jian Wu replied: "I'm an idiot." Song Shuci snatched his phone away and hugged him from behind: "I heard you've been telling everyone I'm fast?"

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