When he was seven years old, someone took him out of the fire. He thought that was the beginning.
At the age of twenty-two, he passed out from hunger in a rental house, with his analysis notes on scratch-off coating structures spread out in his hand. The door was kicked open, and he thought it was the second time.
Later he realized that every step from the age of seven to twenty-two had been drawn up during the conflict fifteen years ago. Everyone thought that the grandparents were bullied to death by bullies - they were fighting for land, but they were not given it, and there was a conflict. Conflict is just the lid. Under the lid, there is an all-too-common undercurrent among geniuses.
There is no shortage of geniuses in this era. Someone overturned a three-hundred-year-old mathematical problem in three months. Someone drew out an entire country's military equipment designs with his bare hands. Someone used a broken laptop to run a climate model that others could only use a supercomputer to run.
Lin Churan is just one of them. He thought he was chasing the light. The light is chasing him.
Only in the end did he realize that the conflict had never ended. He was at the center of the storm from beginning to end.
