Jiang Tian believed that if he combined his knowledge of alchemy and medicine with Professor Yang’s expertise in modern pharmaceuticals, they would surely achieve rapid breakthroughs.
After Jiang Tian shared this idea with his mother, she immediately agreed.
The Wang Pharmaceutical Group planned to invest 100 million to build a new laboratory at Jinling Pharmaceutical University, and Jiang Tian would join the joint laboratory as a researcher for the group.
That day, after a reluctant farewell at the airport, seeing Qing’er off on her plane, Jiang Tian headed to the Wang Pharmaceutical Group. He drove with his mother to find Professor Huang Zhihui.
The Lantern Festival had passed a few days ago, and Jinling Pharmaceutical University had just started its new semester. The campus was filled with youthful, radiant smiles and energetic silhouettes.
Looking at the familiar trees, the lawns, and the crisscrossing paths, a long-lost smile appeared on Jiang Tian’s face.
Back in the day, he had spent four wonderful years here.
Now, scenes like faded old photographs surfaced before his eyes one by one.
The faculty and staff residential area was located on the west side of Jinling Pharmaceutical University. The buildings looked somewhat old and worn, with withered ivy covering the mottled walls. The plants and trees seemed untrimmed and messy, and the concrete pavement was full of potholes, giving off a sense of decay.
“Is this the place?”
After asking for directions along the way, Jiang Tian parked the car in front of a small building and got out with his mother.
For some reason, when he saw this small building and the surrounding plants, Jiang Tian felt a dull ache in his heart, deeply uncomfortable.
Moreover, there was a strange sense of familiarity.
His mother glanced at the unit number above the entrance and smiled wryly. “This is it. How can a distinguished university professor live like this?”
“Traditional Chinese medicine isn’t developing well right now. The Chinese herbal medicine program often fails to recruit students year after year. These professors can’t take on outside jobs like those in popular fields such as finance or computer science. They only rely on a fixed salary—what kind of good housing can they afford?” Jiang Tian said calmly.
They had contacted Luo Wen, the dean of the Chinese Medicine College, who hadn’t arrived yet. The two waited downstairs, discussing the details of their upcoming meeting.
“Tian’er, how much salary do you think we should offer Professor Yang?” his mother asked.
“They only make about seventy to eighty thousand a year at the university. If I offer him an annual salary of 150,000, he’ll probably be overjoyed,” Jiang Tian said flatly.
“Tian’er, although our Wang Pharmaceutical Group is facing difficulties, we’ve always valued researchers. We can’t offer that little. Even our most junior researchers now make an annual salary of 200,000.”
His mother gave Jiang Tian a disapproving look, as if she thought he was being too harsh.
“Don’t worry, I’ve looked into it. I heard Professor Huang has a daughter with some mental health issues, which requires a lot of expenses. An annual salary of 200,000 is like a lifeline for him,” Jiang Tian said indifferently.
At that moment, a middle-aged man, around forty, clutching a briefcase, walked over quickly.
He waved from a distance, nodding and bowing as he said, “Chairman Zhang, you’re here. I’m really sorry—a few students stopped me with questions, so I’m a bit late.”
The man was tall and lean, with a well-maintained physique that lacked the typical portly heaviness of middle age, suggesting he exercised regularly.
Though not young anymore, it was easy to tell he had been quite handsome in his youth. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a refined, courteous demeanor—elegant and polite.
But with Jiang Tian’s experienced eye for judging people, he could see a hint of cunning hidden in the man’s brows and the corners of his eyes.
“Dean Luo, no problem. We just got here, too.”
Zhang Wanqing gave a gentle smile and shook hands politely with the middle-aged man.
“Jiang Tian, this is—” His mother started to introduce them.
Jiang Tian smiled faintly and said, “No need for introductions. I know Dean Luo. He even taught me back in the day.”
Jiang Tian had a strong impression of Luo Wen, and it was overwhelmingly negative.
When Jiang Tian was in university, Luo Wen had already been the associate dean of their college, the youngest in its history.
“This, isn’t this Jiang Tian? What’s your connection with Chairman Zhang—”
Luo Wen was stunned, speaking in disbelief.
“Me? I’m just a researcher at the Wang Pharmaceutical Group’s lab,” Jiang Tian said, not revealing his true identity.
He wanted to enjoy a peaceful and pleasant campus life.
If he exposed himself as the heir of the Wang Pharmaceutical Group, making everyone tread on eggshells around him, it would be far too dull.
“Oh, well, that’s good, that’s good…” Luo Wen tried to shake Jiang Tian’s hand, but Jiang Tian didn’t even glance at him.
In fact, in the previous life, when the Wang Pharmaceutical Group was in crisis, they had also chosen to collaborate with Jinling Pharmaceutical University on research. Jiang Tian had even been called back to Jinling by his mother for a while to help set up a lab.
But they had chosen the wrong partner—none other than Dean Luo Wen of the Chinese Medicine College.
Dean Luo Wen held prestigious titles such as a recipient of the National Science and Technology Progress Award, a Yangtze River Scholar, and an expert enjoying special allowances from the State Council, enjoying great fame.
However, in reality, he was nothing more than an academic fraud. His research achievements were all obtained through bribery or outright plagiarism of papers.
During the three or four years of collaboration, he embezzled and squandered all of the Wang Pharmaceutical Group’s research funds, ultimately failing to produce anything of substance.
But back then, the Jiang family and the Wang Pharmaceutical Group were on the verge of collapse, too overwhelmed to hold Luo Wen accountable. They let him remain at large.
Seeing Jiang Tian’s indifferent attitude, Luo Wen grew irritated, puffing up with arrogance. With a disdainful sneer, he said, “Jiang Tian, back in the day, you were a good-for-nothing who skipped class all the time. I never thought you’d actually manage to land a spot in the Wang Pharmaceutical Group’s lab. Quite the skill you’ve got there!”
His voice was loud, clearly meant for Zhang Wanqing to hear.
A flicker of displeasure crossed his mother’s face—she couldn’t stand anyone disrespecting her son.
She was about to snap back, but Jiang Tian signaled her with his eyes to stay quiet, then said calmly, “Heh, Professor Luo, I only handle basic data at the Wang Pharmaceutical Group.”
“Call me Dean Luo!”
Luo Wen frowned impatiently, let out an arrogant snort, and said smugly, “Once this lab is established, I’ll be the lab director. If you work under me, you can’t act the way you did when you were a student, you know. Otherwise, don’t blame me for not considering our past teacher-student relationship.”
He was self-satisfied and condescending, as if he held Jiang Tian’s fate in his hands.
“Alright, it’s getting late. Let’s go see Professor Huang Zhihui,” Zhang Wanqing said coldly.
As they were about to head toward the entrance, splash! A basin of water came pouring down from the second floor.
Jiang Tian’s spiritual sense was razor-sharp. He quickly pulled his mother back, taking a few steps to avoid it.
But Luo Wen wasn’t quick enough. With a yelp, he got drenched.
“Damn it, you little monkey Huang, how dare you splash water on me!”
Wiping the water off his face—still faintly warm—Luo Wen stormed toward the second floor.
When the door was opened, they saw a washbasin on the floor. A young girl, barefoot in slippers, stood there flustered, her feet still wet—making it obvious she’d just thrown out foot-washing water.
The girl had a fresh, innocent look about her. Her delicate, pretty face bore no makeup, which only made her skin seem clearer and fairer.
She wore a light-colored shirt and jacket, with a soft blush on her cheeks above her scarf. Her lower half was in cropped casual pants, her figure slender and delicate.
Her gaze was alluring, her brows slightly furrowed. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, with straight strands hanging by her ears, framing her delicate jawline.
A girl like this, standing quietly there, had a kind of serene, sketch-like beauty.
Luo Wen couldn’t help but snap angrily, “Huang Ling’er, are you out of your mind again? I’m the dean of your college, and you dare splash me with foot water? Do you want me to expel you…”
The girl flinched, her expression a mix of embarrassment and fear as she stood there.
But the moment she saw Jiang Tian walk in, a flicker of resentment and disgust appeared deep in her beautiful eyes.
Jiang Tian’s heart jolted at the sight of her, and he finally understood why he’d felt that dull ache and sense of déjà vu downstairs.
He rubbed his forehead, marveling to himself—what a small world. He’d never imagined she was Professor Huang Zhihui’s daughter.
He hadn’t known her family was burdened with such hardship, that her father was truly at his wit’s end from debt, that her mother was nearly driven to a breakdown by it, or that she would take on that responsibility herself.
In the previous life, when Jiang Tian was a senior, he’d been drawn to Huang Ling’er’s beauty and charm. Seeking to heal from Chu Mengyao’s rejection, he’d pursued her when she was a freshman.
Huang Ling’er had seen Jiang Tian flaunting his wealth on campus and hoped he could help her family with their two-million-yuan debt. After some hesitation, she accepted his pursuit.
He still remembered that Christmas, when the first snow fell. He’d coaxed her into a hotel and taken her first time.
Back then, Huang Ling’er was completely devoted to him. Though she was just a freshman, she doted on him like a younger brother.
Knowing he loved gaming, she spent ten sleepless days leveling up his game account just to support him.
Every morning, she’d buy breakfast, pack it in an insulated container, and bring it to his dorm. Not wanting to disturb his rest, she’d have his roommate pass it along.
But Jiang Tian was living extravagantly then. The allowance from his mother was barely enough for his own spending, so why would he want to—or even be able to—help Huang Ling’er with her family’s debt?
He even thought of her as just a gold-digging girl.
Until one day, Huang Ling’er told him she might be pregnant. Jiang Tian promptly cut her off as if she were a burden.
The news devastated her. He heard she’d cried for three days and nights in her dorm, refusing food or water, even attempting suicide by slashing her wrists.
But she never bothered Jiang Tian again. So he dismissed it from his mind.
Around the time of Jiang Tian’s graduation, he heard that Huang Ling’er had suddenly dropped out. They said her mental state was unstable, requiring constant antidepressant medication.
Her close friend Ding Jiabei had even approached Jiang Tian, hoping he’d comfort her and ease her pain.
But back then, Jiang Tian was heartless and clueless, oblivious to the weight of such hurt. He quickly forgot about the pitiful girl.
The next time he heard about Huang Ling’er was on Christmas of 2012, a month before Jiang Tian took his own life.
Someone in the alumni WeChat group posted an obituary—Huang Ling’er had committed suicide by jumping off a building after a long battle with severe depression.
