Chapter 57: The Self-Torture Strategy
Although he knew the results wouldn't be out until tomorrow, Qin Tian remained restless, completely in no mood to do anything else. Ming Yuanxing, however, summoned her to his office. He had spoken to her a great deal yesterday, but had forgotten to discuss business.
"I've read the paper and it's very valuable. There's absolutely no problem publishing it in an internal journal. I personally think it would also be a good idea to publish it in a national journal, as it would provide strong data support for the field of thermoluminescence identification in China. I can recommend it to you, but you might need to wait in line for such a publication, and I don't think it'll be very long."
"Thank you," she said from the bottom of her heart.
"I've already sent the paper to the publishing department, and they'll include it in the next issue of their biweekly magazine. There's something else I want to discuss with you. You've been working at the library for a while now, so you might consider the title of associate researcher."
She was stunned. Associate researcher is equivalent to associate professor. It seems a bit early for her to be evaluated as such considering her age and qualifications.
Seeing her reaction, Ming Yuanxing said unconcernedly, "Don't worry about age or anything like that. No one has stipulated that you must reach that age to be evaluated. Look at Xiaotong. He's not in this system, but his level is fully worthy of the rank of researcher. That's why we don't pursue these empty titles, we only promote the virtuous and capable. Of course, while age is not important, all the necessary hard indicators must be met. The evaluation must be open and honest, and well-deserved. Including this one, you still need to write an influential paper. Take a look at this matter. If you are interested, you can prepare. First, find a direction. Writing a good paper is not easy, and publishing it takes time."
"I see. I'll go back and think about it."
She walked slowly towards the door, but couldn't help turning back and asking a question.
"You asked me to apply for the associate researcher position. Is it really because I'm qualified?"
Ming Yuanxing looked at her and laughed.
"Why? Is it not because of you or your dad? Xiao Qin, it's okay if you don't believe in yourself, but you don't believe in me."
She bowed to him shyly and ran away.
Tong Zhongyuan's day was more like a chemistry experiment than a repair. He cleaned and vibrated the bronze coin in an ultrasonic machine while adjusting the concentration and composition of the reagents. He went to the store to get a handful of coins and dropped them into different reagent ratios one by one to see the effect.
He'd already spotted something under the microscope that morning, suggesting there might be an inscription beneath the rust. That was the reason Qin Tian wanted to peel it off. The inscription was very shallow, and if he went too far, the rust and the inscription would vanish. He wasn't entirely confident about chemical stripping, so he figured he'd try to balance his strengths. He'd first use a low-concentration etchant to loosen the rust, then peel it off manually. He trusted his touch more than the uncertainty of chemical reagents' corrosiveness.
Around noon, he found the most suitable solution ratio and put the bronze coin in. He took it out every 15 minutes to observe its condition.
When Song Suiyang came back from dinner, he saw Tong Zhongyuan still at the workbench, but the table where he usually ate takeout was empty.
"Teacher Tong, have you eaten?" Song Suiyang asked.
Tong Zhongyuan raised his head, smiled at her, and picked up the bronze coins to wash them.
Song Suiyang sighed. She had already noticed that whenever he didn't want to answer a question, he would just smile. In most cases, when he smiled like that, others would forget what they were going to ask, so they naturally didn't need to answer.
After more than two hours, he used tweezers to poke at the iron and copper rust, which showed signs of loosening. He put on his goggles and opened his toolbox. Now was the time to start his work.
Time passed bit by bit, and the rust fell like snowflakes. A bronze coin he had never seen before saw the light of day again with a new rough and dull luster.
He held the coin up to the afternoon sun, its distinctive symbol reflecting a faint pattern on the back of his hand.
In a trance, he thought of her. Perhaps she would set out again soon, searching the heavens and the earth, chasing the fragments of two thousand years of history. Who would be by her side this time?
Before leaving work, Qin Tian desperately wanted to go to the restoration room to check on the bronze coin's progress, but she suppressed the urge. She didn't want to put pressure on him, and even less so, she didn't want to get too close to him over the coin. After he peeled the coin, a formal thank you would be enough. She'd taken care of him for two weeks in Xi'an, which was worth his help this time.
These two days, she met Tang Zhixu in the museum and had lunch together. She wanted to ask him about the experimental group, but people were coming and going, constantly greeting her or Tang Zhixu. She didn't want others to hear about Qin Yunjie's Alzheimer's disease, so she decided not to tell others at work. Tang Zhixu didn't bring it up, and asked her what she did on weekends. She sneered and said, "Come to my house to cultivate feelings again?" He said nonchalantly, "Yes." She thought that she would not have time during the day on Saturday, and she had to go to the hospital to check on Qin Yunjie's condition on Sunday. Only Saturday night was relatively free, but she and Tang Zhixu were familiar with each other, and it was a bit too intimate to specially invite him to her home in the evening. After thinking for a long time, she said that she would cultivate it on Sunday morning, if you could get up. He made an OK gesture.
She slept well that night, not waking until after nine in the morning. She hurried out of bed, thinking Tong Zhongyuan must already be working. Although she couldn't help much if she rushed over, she still had to show some attitude. She hurried to the empty Shanghai Museum office and pushed open the door to the restoration room. Tong Zhongyuan was indeed there, but he was not resting on the platform. Instead, he was leaning against the windowsill, looking at the view. Hearing the door open, he turned around and smiled.
"morning."
She looked around but didn't see any lab equipment. She wondered if the bronze coin was still being chemically stripped. She looked at him questioningly.
He reached into his pocket and opened his palm to her, where a coin lay quietly.
Surprised and delighted, she stepped forward and took the bronze coin from his hand. The moment her fingers touched his palm, she noticed the skin on his thumb and index finger had peeled off. It wasn't just normal peeling, but exposing new flesh, a startling sight. It wasn't like that when he took the coin from her yesterday.
"What's wrong with your hand?" she blurted out.
Tong Zhongyuan took back his hand and said nonchalantly: "It's autumn, and the skin is a little peeling."
How could it be possible? How could the skin peel off so much in just one day, and only on these two fingers? An answer rose in her mind, an answer that made her heart shrink.
"Show me your other hand," she said, looking at him.
He smiled.
"What? Teacher, check your nails?"
She took a step forward, grabbed his other hand, and spread it out. For a moment, she froze there, forgetting to breathe.
On this hand, the skin on the thumb, index finger and middle finger has peeled off, as well as the base of the palm, leaving a patch of white peeling skin and pink new flesh.
After a long moment, she raised her head and glared at him.
"Why aren't you wearing gloves?!"
He didn't answer, nor did he pull his hand away, letting her hold his wrist and open his palm.
She bit her lip, guilt gnawing at her heart like a worm. Why was she so hypocritical? Why was she still angry at him? She knew exactly why he wasn't wearing gloves. It was she who said not a single scratch could be made. With such a demanding requirement, how could he possibly wear gloves?
She lowered her head and held his wrist, his strong pulse beating in her palm.
"Let's go to the hospital now." She looked at his scarred hands and said softly.
"I've taken medicine."
She shook her head: "No, this level needs to be bandaged."
He laughed. "It's not that serious. My life has become a problem since I've wrapped my hand. It will be fine in a few days."
She lifted his hand and examined it closely, her hot, moist breath lingering on it. She gently stroked his palm. His fingers twitched. Her heart skipped a beat, too. How could it not hurt? Why had she made such harsh demands on him?
"Let's go to the hospital." She gently let go of his hand, looked up at him, and her tone was pleading.
His hand moved and gently hooked her finger, this time not because of the pain.
"Let's go to the hospital," he said.
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