In the first half of his third year of graduate school, Lin Yan spent more than ten hours a day immersed in projects, remotely operating equipment, revising programs, and helping clients run tests. He had not even started looking for a job.
As far as he was concerned, his master's advisor, Xia Liqiang, had already recommended him to Li Jiming, a renowned professor at a 985 university. A doctoral spot was practically guaranteed.
Until Li Jiming suddenly announced: five candidates, two spots.
A materials prodigy with top papers, a top student with a national scholarship, a rival with extensive engineering experience, and another candidate working in a similar field. Every one of them seemed more qualified for a PhD than Lin Yan.
To make matters worse, the results of the projects Lin Yan had worked himself to the bone on for two years were reduced to a single line in the report by Fang Jianming, the person actually in charge:
"Participated in on-site work."
The doctoral interview was only the beginning.
His nominal advisor was a giant in academia, but his actual advisor only wanted him to keep working on projects;
between papers, patents, engineering results, and power struggles with his advisors, Lin Yan had to prove, amid this quiet war of a research life,
that no one had the right to erase his name.
