Chapter 60 Loss of Strength and Acquisition

The ceiling fan in the awards auditorium spun slowly, carrying a faint scent of chalk dust.

Lu Xingchen tightly clutched the hem of his shirt, the sweat in his palms leaving dark imprints on the fabric. When the host announced, "Second prize, Lu Xingchen," he stood in a daze for half a second before reacting, his footsteps feeling light and floating as he walked up to the stage.

The person presenting the award was still that same elderly judge with reading glasses. As he handed over the gold-foil certificate, he specifically patted Xingchen's arm. "Young man, don't be discouraged. Your experimental records are more rigorous than those of some college students; it's just a pity about the samples."

Xingchen took the certificate, the edges of the paper scraping his fingers slightly. He wanted to say thank you, but a lump in his throat made it feel blocked, so he simply nodded.

The applause from the audience was sparse and scattered, not nearly as enthusiastic as the reception for the first-prize winner earlier. The boy who had built the robot model stood on the first-prize podium, the medal on his chest flashing dazzlingly. As Xingchen walked down the stage, their eyes met; the boy wanted to smile but felt a bit shy, and finally gave him a thumbs-up.

When the event ended, the hallway was packed with people.

Some parents were reprimanding their children: "I told you to check your model one more time before submitting. Do you see where you fell short now?" Other teachers were comforting their students: "Participation is what matters, work harder next time." Xingchen folded the award certificate into a small square and stuffed it into his pants pocket. The red cover felt like a hot iron, weighing him down so much he could barely lift his legs.

When he reached the entrance of the science museum, the early autumn wind whipped fallen leaves against his face, stinging slightly. He fished out the loose change from his pocket and bought a mung bean popsicle, biting into it and making his jaw ache with the chill. He hadn't felt much while receiving the award, but now, sitting on the curb, tears welled up uncontrollably—he thought of his mother staying up late to organize data, and his father saying "Just do your best," making his nose sting with a deep sense of letting them down.

"Why are you crying here all by yourself?" Someone patted his shoulder. Xingchen looked up; it was the elderly judge with the reading glasses, carrying a black briefcase in his hand.

"Grandpa, am I just that incompetent?" he asked, sniffing, the melted popsicle leaving a sticky trail of sugar water all over his hands.

The old man sat down beside him, resting his briefcase on his lap. "When I was young and doing rice hybridization experiments, I failed three years in a row. All the seedlings withered away—much more pitiful than what happened to your samples." He picked up a fallen leaf and twirled it between his fingers. "But later I realized that the failure records from those first three years were more valuable than the success of the fourth year." Xingchen blinked, not entirely understanding.

"Remember what I told you before? Scientific research values truth above all," the old man smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunching together. "You didn't win first prize this time, but you documented the process of the sample damage, and even thought of using paper slips to explain it. That is exactly what a scientist should look like."

He pointed at Xingchen's pants pocket. "This second-prize certificate is far more valuable than some first-prize ones."

On the tractor ride back to the commune, Xingchen took out the certificate and read it over and over by the moonlight. The three words "Second Prize" didn't seem quite so glaring anymore, and the judge's words kept spinning in his mind. He pulled out his experimental logbook and wrote on the last page: "Cause of sample damage: Improper fixation, failed to account for road conditions. Improvement method: Use foam boxes and cotton for shock absorption." His handwriting was firmer than before, the tip of the pen even puncturing small pits into the paper.

By the time the tractor reached the commune, the sky was pitch black. To his surprise, Lu Zhanyao was still waiting at the crossroads, his bicycle propped by the roadside, the kerosene lantern hanging from the handlebars casting a dim, yellowish glow.

"Why are you only just back? I thought you'd taken the last bus." He hung Xingchen's schoolbag on the handlebars, his hand brushing against Xingchen's arm. "Why are you so cold?"

He tucked his hand into his own jacket pocket. "Let's go home, your mother saved some meat buns for you." As the bicycle started moving, Xingchen, sitting on the back seat, suddenly said, "Dad, I didn't get first prize."

"I know," Lu Zhanyao's voice came from the front, muffled by the rustling wind. "Professor Zhang just called the military base to say you explained the soil improvement process so clearly that all the judges praised you."

Xingchen was stunned. "Professor Zhang? How did he know?"

"He asked a friend at the Provincial Science and Technology Commission to check on it, and said you're the pride of our village."

As they neared the entrance of the village, they could see the lights of the pharmaceutical factory shining in the distance. Su Yao was definitely waiting for him, making his heart feel warm and flustered. The moment the bicycle came to a steady stop, Su Yao ran out from the courtyard, her apron still dusted with flour. "Xingchen's back? Are you hungry? The buns are keeping warm in the pot." She didn't mention the award certificate, only pulling him by the hand toward the house, her palms warm.

A plate of meat buns sat on the dining table—cabbage and pork filling, Xingchen's absolute favorite. Su Yao ladled him a bowl of corn porridge and watched him eat. "Must have been tired on the road, right? Professor Zhang called just now to say you performed exceptionally well at the provincial level."

The bite of the bun in Xingchen's mouth suddenly became hard to swallow. He lowered his head and said, "Mom, I'm useless. I only got second prize."

Su Yao wiped a speck of flour from the corner of his mouth, her eyes shining brightly. "Mom knows. But Professor Zhang said the judges specifically mentioned your experimental records, saying that is the right attitude for doing scientific research." She took a red cloth bundle out of the cabinet, unwrapping it to reveal a brand-new hardcover notebook. "Mom bought this for you so it'll be easier to record data from now on."

Xingchen stroked the smooth cover of the notebook, a sudden sting hitting his nose. "Mom, I shouldn't have ruined the samples."

Su Yao shook her head. "Who doesn't make mistakes? What matters is what you learn from them. As your father often says, a fall into a ditch makes you wiser; remember it this time, and you won't make the same mistake next time."

Lu Zhanyao emerged from the inner room holding a green notebook stamped with "Tactical Review Manual" on the cover, issued by the military. "Look, after every military exercise, win or lose, we conduct a review. Which steps were right and which were wrong—we write them all down." He flipped open the notebook, its pages densely packed with symbols marked in red and blue pencils. "You should do the same. Think through everything that happened in this competition from start to finish and write it down. That's way more useful than winning a first prize."

Xingchen leaned in to look, but the symbols looked like heavenly scripts. Lu Zhanyao pointed to a page: "Take this for instance. If the attack route was chosen incorrectly, you change routes next time. For you, it means the samples weren't protected well, so next time you figure out a way to protect them." He fetched a pencil. "Come on, Dad will teach you how to do a review."

That night, the family stayed busy well past midnight. Xingchen wrote the bold characters "Provincial Competition Review" on the first page of his new notebook, dividing the space below into three columns: What went well, What went poorly, and Methods for improvement next time. Lu Zhanyao helped him analyze which parts could be detailed further, while Su Yao brewed him a cup of brown sugar water, worried he might catch a chill staying up late.

Early the next morning, Widow Li came running over, carrying a basket containing a few eggs. "Xingchen's back? I heard you won an award, here are some eggs to build your strength." With her booming voice, half the village could hear her, and before long, the neighbors flooded into the courtyard, surrounding Xingchen with questions.

"Second prize is amazing too! No one from our village has ever gone to a provincial competition before!" Erzhuzi patted Xingchen on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Old Zhou held Xingchen's certificate in his left hand, squinting at it for a long time. "This handwriting is gorgeous, much better than my boy's." Su Wan came as well, holding a cloth pouch containing a pencil case she had embroidered overnight, featuring a tiny stitched tomato on it.

"Aunt Wan, thank you." Xingchen took the pencil case, feeling a warmth spread through his chest.

Su Wan smiled. "Professor Zhang said your soil improvement method can be promoted across the village. My family wants to try it on our land next year."

Xingchen suddenly remembered the judge's words and quickly said, "I've written the method down in my notebook. We can farm together."

At noon, Professor Zhang arrived from the county town, accompanied by two officials from the Provincial Science and Technology Commission. "Comrade Little Lu, we are here for an inspection," the uncle in the Zhongshan suit said with a smile. "We looked over your experimental records and feel that these space-bred seeds have great value for rural promotion. We want to set up a demonstration point right here in your village."

Xingchen was stunned, and Professor Zhang patted his head. "This is all thanks to you. If you hadn't documented the soil improvement process so clearly, we wouldn't have thought of promoting it this quickly."

Su Yao brought out tea, unable to hide the smile in her eyes. "Professor Zhang, we really have to thank you for giving us those seeds in the first place."

While everyone was discussing matters inside the greenhouse, Xingchen squatted alone in the corner, writing the preface for his new notebook: "September 17th. I won second prize, but I learned that science isn't just about success—it's about what you learn from failure. From now on, no matter what I do, I will record everything carefully and review it thoroughly."

After finishing, he tucked the notebook into his schoolbag, feeling that it was far more precious than any certificate.

At dusk, he went to the greenhouse to check on the tomatoes. The seedlings that had once lagged behind were now growing exceptionally strong, laden with clusters of red tomatoes resembling strings of crimson beads.

Thinking of the tension before the competition, the panic during it, and the peace of mind he felt now, he suddenly realized that this trip to the provincial capital had brought him more than just a certificate—it had brought him something far more important.

Lu Shihanhua came over carrying Sui Sui, holding up a small paper windmill. "Older Brother, tell me all about the provincial capital!"

Xingchen sat down on the ridge of the field, settled his little sister on his lap, and pointed at the tomatoes. "Look at these seedlings, they didn't grow well at first, but once we figured out the method, they grew up strong. Just like Brother's competition—I didn't get first prize, but now I know what to do next time."

Sui Sui didn't understand; she just giggled and reached her small hands out to grab a tomato. Xingchen quickly stopped her. "They aren't ripe yet. When they're ripe, Brother will pick the biggest one for you to eat."

The setting sun stretched their shadows long, and the greenhouse canvas fluttered gently in the wind, as if applauding for him.

At dinner time, Lu Yuxuan returned from the stationery factory holding a freshly made pencil box printed with the words "Space Tomato Experiment Special Edition."

"Brother, use this. Next time you go to a competition, use it to hold your recording pens."

Xingchen took the pencil box and suddenly thought: even if he couldn't win first prize next time, it didn't matter. With so many people supporting him, what was there to fear?